The scent of jasmine clung to the air—sweet, sharp, dizzying.
Golden sunlight spilled through sheer curtains. Velvet sheets whispered under her fingers, too smooth. Her skin—too pale. Her limbs—too still.
This wasn't her bed.
This wasn't her body.
Sera's eyes snapped open. Her breath hitched, a tight, panicked sound.
Where… was she?
She pushed herself upright, and pain slammed into her skull like lightning. Her vision cracked in half. She gasped, gripping the blankets like they might anchor her to reality.
Her thoughts scrambled for meaning.
The book.
That black leather thing with no title, just thick pages of strange ink and whispering symbols. She had opened it on the train. Just once.
And then—this.
Was this a dream?
Had the book… devoured her?
A voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
"Lady Sher, you're awake!"
A woman in a nurse's uniform rushed to her side, brown eyes wide with relief, her voice too warm for how cold Sera felt.
"Thank the gods. You've been unconscious for two days."
Sera blinked, trying to focus. "Lady… Sher?"
The name rang foreign. Wrong.
"I'm Eliya. Your personal nurse. I'll fetch the Duke and the young master—"
"Wait!" Sera gripped the edge of the blanket. "What's happening? Where am I?"
But Eliya had already disappeared, footsteps fading down what sounded like a long marble corridor.
Sera's heart slammed in her chest.
Sher?
She looked around, then toward the ornate mirror on the wall.
The face that stared back wasn't hers.
Pale skin. Crimson-rimmed eyes. Wavy dark hair spilling across silk pillows.
She touched her face.
The stranger did too.
This isn't me.
No doubt now.
> That cursed book… it didn't just transport me.
It replaced me.
But why this body? Why this woman?
What had she stepped into?
---
The heavy doors opened with a slow, echoing creak.
A man strode in—military coat over broad shoulders, dark boots striking the marble like thunder. He moved with the weight of command, the coldness of war in his eyes.
The room stilled around him.
"So… you've decided to wake up," he said, curt and measured.
Behind him, a bespectacled man—probably a doctor—stepped forward but hesitated.
"Your Grace… she may need rest—"
"I didn't ask for your opinion," the man snapped, never breaking stride.
He stopped at her bedside, towering above her, gaze like a knife.
"Are you ready to speak again, Sher? Or do we continue this game of silence?"
Sher. Again.
Sera blinked, heart pounding. Her mind reeled, but her mouth moved on instinct.
"...Who are you again?"
Gasps rippled through the room.
Even the doctor froze mid-motion.
"You're joking," the man said, voice lowering into something dangerous.
He stepped in closer. Too close.
"You've forgotten your husband?"
Sera flinched. Husband?
A maid behind him whispered, "She's never called him anything but 'you' or 'get out.'"
The doctor frowned. "Could be memory trauma… though physically, her injuries were minimal."
Still stunned, Sera didn't look away.
> So he's her husband?
His face was cut from ice, but there was something else—tension—in the tight line of his jaw. A flicker of hesitation behind the steel.
Was he always this cold?
Or had Sher made him this way?
Either way… this wasn't a healthy marriage.
And more importantly—was he part of whatever cursed fate the book had dragged her into?
---
Another figure stepped forward—a tall, reserved woman with sharp eyes and a professional air.
"My lady," she said gently, "this is Duke Cassian Verrien Darevell."
She hesitated a beat longer.
"And your son—Karthius—is at the estate. He's five."
A son?
Sera's stomach dropped.
She had a child?
The woman's tone softened. "Would you… like to see him?"
Sera's throat tightened.
A child who had just lost his mother… because of her.
He didn't ask for this.
He didn't deserve it.
"Yes," she whispered. "I want to see him."
Silence again. Even heavier this time.
"She said yes?" Eliya blinked like she couldn't believe it.
Cassian's gaze lingered on her face. His mouth twitched—something close to a reaction, then buried again beneath command.
"…How convenient," he muttered. Then, louder: "Bring him."
---
Sera stared at the door after he left, trying to quiet the pounding in her chest.
Why had they all reacted like that?
What kind of woman had Sher been?
And what kind of legacy had she left behind?
---
[Hallway – Moments Later]
A small boy sat quietly on a bench, silver-blonde curls haloing his head. He clutched a wooden lion in his lap.
"Young Master," a maid whispered, "your mother has asked for you."
He flinched.
Then slowly stood.
---
[Back in the Bedroom]
The boy entered the room, eyes lowered. Small. Still. Fragile.
"I'm sorry," he said in a soft voice.
"I just came once to see… because you weren't opening your eyes. I won't come near your room again."
His voice cracked halfway through. Like he expected to be punished.
Sera felt her heart twist.
She saw it instantly—too easily. That fear. That distance.
She'd seen children like this before.
Ones who'd been rejected long before they were understood.
> This was the boy.
> The one from the story.
> The child whose mother aba
ndoned him.
> The boy who became destruction.
And now he stood here. Fragile. Real.
Her son.
She hadn't just woken into a fantasy.
She'd woken into the beginning of a tragedy.
A world on the edge of ruin.
---
The smell of jasmine hit her first—sharp, sweet, dizzying. It clung to her like a warning she didn't understand.
Sunlight spilled through thin curtains, gold and harsh. She blinked against it. The sheets under her fingers were velvet, soft, smooth—but wrong. Too soft. Too… perfect.
Her skin felt cold, too pale. Her body too still.
This… wasn't her bed.
And it wasn't her. Not really.
Her eyes snapped open. A small, panicked sound escaped her throat.
Where… where was she?
Pain shot through her head like lightning, and her vision cracked in jagged lines. She clutched at the blanket, fingers curling into the soft fabric as if it could anchor her to reality.
Her mind scrambled. The book—the black leather one. No title. Just pages filled with symbols that whispered when she opened it. She remembered glancing at it once, on the train. That was it. Just once.
And now… this.
A voice cut through her thoughts.
"Lady Sher! You're awake!"
A woman in nurse's clothes ran to her side. Relief washed over her brown eyes, warm and frantic. Sera felt none of it.
"Thank the gods. You've been out for… two days," the nurse said.
Sera blinked. "Lady… Sher?" The name felt wrong. Heavy. Not hers.
"I'm Eliya. Your nurse. I'll call the Duke and the young master—"
"Wait!" Sera grabbed the blanket, yanking it up. "What's happening? Where am I?"
Eliya was already rushing toward the door. Footsteps echoed down the long, marble hallway.
Her heart slammed.
Sher.
Her gaze drifted to the mirror across the room.
The face staring back wasn't hers. Pale skin. Eyes rimmed in red. Wavy dark hair spilled across the pillow.
She touched her face.
The reflection did the same.
This… wasn't her.
> That cursed book… it didn't just move me.
It… replaced me.
But why this body? Why this woman?
What had she stepped into?
---
The door creaked open—slow, deliberate.
A man entered, tall, broad shoulders, military coat brushing the floor. Boots clanged against the polished marble like distant thunder. His eyes were cold, sharp… dangerous.
The air seemed to freeze.
"So… you decided to wake up," he said. Voice flat, clipped.
Behind him, a doctor with glasses stepped forward, hesitated.
"Your Grace… she may need rest—"
"I didn't ask you," the man interrupted, stepping closer, eyes like knives.
He stopped at her bedside. Towering. Silent but heavy, like the air had weight now.
"Are you ready to talk, Sher? Or do we keep this little game of silence?"
Sera's chest raced. Her thoughts spun. Her mouth moved before she could stop it.
"…Who are you again?"
Gasps. Shuffling. A quiet cough from the doctor.
"You're joking," the man said, low and dangerous.
He leaned closer, close enough that she could smell leather, faint wood smoke, something sharp.
"You forgot your husband?"
Sera flinched. Husband?
A maid whispered behind him, "She never called him anything but 'you' or 'get out.'"
The doctor muttered, "Memory loss… but she wasn't injured badly enough."
Sera stared. Her heart pounded.
> So he's her husband?
Ice in his eyes, jaw tight, like he was holding something in. Something dark.
Was he always like this? Or had Sher made him this way?
Either way… this wasn't love.
And worse—was he part of the curse that dragged her here?
---
Another figure stepped forward—a tall woman, sharp-eyed, calm.
"My lady," she said softly, "this is Duke Cassian Verrien Darevell."
She hesitated, then added, "And your son—Karthius—is here. He's five."
Sera's stomach fell.
A son?
The woman's voice softened. "Would you… like to see him?"
Sera's throat closed.
A child who had just lost his mother… because of her.
He didn't deserve this.
"…Yes," she whispered.
The silence afterward was thick.
"She said yes?" Eliya blinked, surprised.
Cassian's eyes stayed locked on her. Mouth twitched—almost a reaction, gone in an instant.
"…How convenient," he muttered. Then louder: "Bring him."
---
Sera stared at the door long after he left. Her heart refused to slow.
Why did everyone look at her like that?
What kind of woman had Sher been?
What kind of mess had she stepped into?
---
Hallway – moments later
A little boy sat on a bench. Silver curls fell across his face. A small wooden lion rested in his lap.
"Young Master," a maid said gently, "your mother wants to see you."
He stiffened, small shoulders curling inward. Slowly, carefully, he stood.
---
Back in the room
He stepped in, eyes downcast. Fragile. Quiet.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I just came to see once… because you wouldn't wake up. I won't come near again."
His voice cracked. Small, tentative. Like he expected a scolding he didn't deserve.
Sera's chest ached.
> This was the boy.
The one from the story. The child whose mother left him. The boy who grew into ruin.
And now he was real. Fragile. Waiting.
Her hand twitched. She wanted to reach out. She wanted to comfort him. But words stuck somewhere between fear and disbelief.
This wasn't just a dream world.
This was… the beginning of a tragedy.
A world about to break.
---
The smell of jasmine hit her first—sharp, sweet, dizzying. It clung to her like a warning she didn't understand.
Sunlight spilled through thin curtains, gold and harsh. She blinked against it. The sheets under her fingers were velvet, soft, smooth—but wrong. Too soft. Too… perfect.
Her skin felt cold, too pale. Her body too still.
This… wasn't her bed.
And it wasn't her. Not really.
Her eyes snapped open. A small, panicked sound escaped her throat.
Where… where was she?
Pain shot through her head like lightning, and her vision cracked in jagged lines. She clutched at the blanket, fingers curling into the soft fabric as if it could anchor her to reality.
Her mind scrambled. The book—the black leather one. No title. Just pages filled with symbols that whispered when she opened it. She remembered glancing at it once, on the train. That was it. Just once.
And now… this.
A voice cut through her thoughts.
"Lady Sher! You're awake!"
A woman in nurse's clothes ran to her side. Relief washed over her brown eyes, warm and frantic. Sera felt none of it.
"Thank the gods. You've been out for… two days," the nurse said.
Sera blinked. "Lady… Sher?" The name felt wrong. Heavy. Not hers.
"I'm Eliya. Your nurse. I'll call the Duke and the young master—"
"Wait!" Sera grabbed the blanket, yanking it up. "What's happening? Where am I?"
Eliya was already rushing toward the door. Footsteps echoed down the long, marble hallway.
Her heart slammed.
Sher.
Her gaze drifted to the mirror across the room.
The face staring back wasn't hers. Pale skin. Eyes rimmed in red. Wavy dark hair spilled across the pillow.
She touched her face.
The reflection did the same.
This… wasn't her.
> That cursed book… it didn't just move me.
It… replaced me.
But why this body? Why this woman?
What had she stepped into?
---
The door creaked open—slow, deliberate.
A man entered, tall, broad shoulders, military coat brushing the floor. Boots clanged against the polished marble like distant thunder. His eyes were cold, sharp… dangerous.
The air seemed to freeze.
"So… you decided to wake up," he said. Voice flat, clipped.
Behind him, a doctor with glasses stepped forward, hesitated.
"Your Grace… she may need rest—"
"I didn't ask you," the man interrupted, stepping closer, eyes like knives.
He stopped at her bedside. Towering. Silent but heavy, like the air had weight now.
"Are you ready to talk, Sher? Or do we keep this little game of silence?"
Sera's chest raced. Her thoughts spun. Her mouth moved before she could stop it.
"…Who are you again?"
Gasps. Shuffling. A quiet cough from the doctor.
"You're joking," the man said, low and dangerous.
He leaned closer, close enough that she could smell leather, faint wood smoke, something sharp.
"You forgot your husband?"
Sera flinched. Husband?
A maid whispered behind him, "She never called him anything but 'you' or 'get out.'"
The doctor muttered, "Memory loss… but she wasn't injured badly enough."
Sera stared. Her heart pounded.
> So he's her husband?
Ice in his eyes, jaw tight, like he was holding something in. Something dark.
Was he always like this? Or had Sher made him this way?
Either way… this wasn't love.
And worse—was he part of the curse that dragged her here?
---
Another figure stepped forward—a tall woman, sharp-eyed, calm.
"My lady," she said softly, "this is Duke Cassian Verrien Darevell."
She hesitated, then added, "And your son—Karthius—is here. He's five."
Sera's stomach fell.
A son?
The woman's voice softened. "Would you… like to see him?"
Sera's throat closed.
A child who had just lost his mother… because of her.
He didn't deserve this.
"…Yes," she whispered.
The silence afterward was thick.
"She said yes?" Eliya blinked, surprised.
Cassian's eyes stayed locked on her. Mouth twitched—almost a reaction, gone in an instant.
"…How convenient," he muttered. Then louder: "Bring him."
---
Sera stared at the door long after he left. Her heart refused to slow.
Why did everyone look at her like that?
What kind of woman had Sher been?
What kind of mess had she stepped into?
---
Hallway – moments later
A little boy sat on a bench. Silver curls fell across his face. A small wooden lion rested in his lap.
"Young Master," a maid said gently, "your mother wants to see you."
He stiffened, small shoulders curling inward. Slowly, carefully, he stood.
---
Back in the room
He stepped in, eyes downcast. Fragile. Quiet.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I just came to see once… because you wouldn't wake up. I won't come near again."
His voice cracked. Small, tentative. Like he expected a scolding he didn't deserve.
Sera's chest ached.
> This was the boy.
The one from the story. The child whose mother left him. The boy who grew into ruin.
And now he was real. Fragile. Waiting.
Her hand twitched. She wanted to reach out. She wanted to comfort him. But words stuck somewhere between fear and disbelief.
This wasn't just a dream world.
This was… the beginning of a tragedy.
A world about to break.
---