The next morning, the Ardent estate's back garden—usually reserved for leisurely strolls—had been transformed into an improvised training ground.
Veloria stood in the center of the grass in simple attire, her long silver hair tied loosely at the back. She inhaled deeply, adopting a stance ingrained from years of military training.
"All right. Warm-up first. Fifty squats. Should be easy."
Three squats in, she collapsed onto the ground.
"Dear gods… are my muscles made of pudding?"
Fina, the young maid attending her, paled instantly.
"Your Grace! Are you hurt?!"
Veloria waved a hand, gasping.
"Don't panic. I'm fine. Just… this body… it's not cooperating."
She struggled to her feet, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Once, she could train for hours without stopping. Now, even a brisk ten steps felt like running a marathon.
"Fine," she muttered, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Push-ups next."
She lowered herself to the ground, getting into position. Fina covered her mouth, a mix of horror and curiosity in her eyes.
One. Two.
Veloria's arms shook violently. On the third push—thud! She collapsed flat.
"…Humiliating," she muttered, staring at the grass.
Fina knelt beside her, torn between worry and admiration.
"Your Grace… perhaps you should stop. Duchesses aren't supposed to—"
"Supposed to what? Sweat? Stay strong? Protect themselves?" Veloria cut in, voice calm but eyes sharp.
"Precisely because I am a Duchess, I must be stronger. Otherwise, everyone will see me as prey."
Fina fell silent, awed and slightly terrified.
Veloria gestured sharply. "Bring me a wooden sword. I need to test something."
Moments later, Fina returned with a training blade that had long gathered dust. Veloria grasped it. Though her body trembled, her instincts surged: the stance, the weight shift, the swing—all precise, military-trained movements.
"Good," she whispered. "Muscle memory is still intact. Now, the body must catch up."
Fina's eyes widened. "You… you really are different, Your Grace."
Veloria smirked.
"Just call me the new Duchess."
She continued drills, stumbling and falling repeatedly. But each time her body failed, her mind reminded her: I've already died once. I will not repeat it.
By noon, she finished a hot bath, her muscles sore but her spirit ignited. Sitting at her vanity, her silver hair cascading down, she allowed a sly, mischievous smile to form.
A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Your Grace Duchess Ardent, Duke Eldric requests an audience."
Veloria nearly choked.
"What?! Now?!"
Fina panicked.
"Your clothes! You're still in casual dress! What if—"
"Relax, Fina." Veloria waved dismissively.
"He's my fiancé, isn't he? Do I really need to doll up for someone who barely glances my way?"
Fina gaped. This was not the Duchess she had once known.
Moments later, Eldric entered. Handsome, composed, raven-black hair tied neatly, every step radiating noble grace. He carried documents, clearly business, not pleasure.
Veloria glanced at him briefly and sipped her tea, not rising.
"Oh, Eldric. Sit if you want. Or would you prefer standing for dramatic effect?"
Eldric paused, eyes narrowing. Normally, Veloria would greet him with bright smiles and shining eyes. Today? Nonchalance, even a touch of mockery.
"…You're different," he said finally.
Veloria arched an eyebrow.
"That seems to be everyone's favorite line lately. If I say I've changed, is that against the rules?"
Eldric almost smiled—almost—but remained composed.
"I've come to ensure you're prepared for the ball tonight. Rules must be observed. Your reputation… is fragile."
Veloria straightened, gaze sharp.
"Reputation only shatters if I care. Trust me, Eldric—I'm more interested in profit than gossip."
He studied her, long and searching. Something unfamiliar burned in her violet eyes: determination, wit, and a spark of humor he had never seen.
"…I do not recognize you," he murmured.
Veloria's lips curved into a sly grin.
"Good. That means I've succeeded in becoming someone new."
The room fell silent. Fina hovered in the corner, wide-eyed.
Veloria added lightly, almost playfully:
"And if there's good food at the ball, make sure I get plenty. I'll need the energy after training."
Eldric blinked.
"…Training?"
Veloria's smile turned mysterious.
"Yes. Things you wouldn't understand."
For the first time, Eldric couldn't respond with his usual cold detachment. His gaze shifted, faintly curious, drawn to the unfamiliar in Veloria's expression.
Veloria, meanwhile, sipped her tea casually, reclining as if the world were her stage.
"You seem different today," Eldric finally said, measured, tinged with surprise.
"I always seem different," she replied lightly, eyes narrowing slightly. "People call it evolution."
"And yet," he said slowly, studying her, "I do not know you."
"That's the point," she murmured, a sly smile at the corner of her lips.
"I am… a new version."
Fina, holding the tea tray, blinked in disbelief. Duchess Ardent discussing market prices, physical training, and wealth instead of etiquette—her mistress had become a completely new person.
Veloria set down her cup deliberately.
"And don't tell anyone I'm changing. Just say I'm… exploring a new hobby. Understood?"
"Y-yes, Your Grace." Fina stammered.
Veloria reclined back, letting out a soft laugh.
"Imagine it… a Duchess obsessed with market trends and physical conditioning. The other nobles would call me mad."
Yet this was exactly what fueled her. In a world of pomp and etiquette, true power lay in strategy, strength, and wealth.
She flexed her fingers critically. Pale, delicate, untested—so unlike the calloused hands of a soldier. Yet beneath the fragile surface, instincts remained.
"All right, Veloria," she muttered, eyes gleaming violet.
"You are no longer a soldier in the barracks. You are a Duchess in a palace of intrigue. But the principle stays: whoever holds the blade and the gold… wins."
Her eyes sparkled.
"And this time, I will not die in vain. I will live—filthy rich."
Veloria stood from the grand chair, her silver hair catching the last rays of the fading sun through the tall windows. She stretched her arms, testing the strength of this new body, noting each tremor and weakness with meticulous attention. Every muscle, every joint, was a puzzle to be solved—and she intended to master it all.
The estate was silent, save for the distant chirp of birds and the soft rustle of the curtains. Yet in that stillness, Veloria felt a storm within—a fire that refused to be contained. She would not be the delicate Duchess who fainted at a minor inconvenience or gasped after climbing stairs. No. She would forge herself into a force no court intrigue, no scheming noble, could dismiss.
Walking to the mirror, she studied her reflection, her violet eyes sharp and calculating. "Every gesture, every glance, every word… they will learn to respect—or fear—the new Veloria." She ran her fingers through her hair, now tied neatly behind her back, imagining it as armor rather than decoration.
Her thoughts shifted to Eldric. That icy, composed Duke who had always measured her against a phantom of the old Duchess. How easy it would have been to bend, to smile and apologize, to play the part expected. But Veloria had survived bullets and betrayal; she would not bow to etiquette and whispers.
"If tonight's ballroom is a battlefield," she murmured, "then I will enter fully armed. Not with steel and gunpowder this time, but with wit, strategy, and wealth. They will see me coming—or they will regret not noticing."
She moved to the table and picked up a ledger, flipping through pages with the precision of someone who once calculated logistics for military operations. Numbers, commodities, market trends—all of it danced before her eyes. Silver and gold were not just wealth; they were tools, weapons as powerful as any sword.
A quiet knock interrupted her focus. Fina appeared, still trembling slightly, holding a tray of tea. "Your Grace, dinner is prepared. And… the ballroom preparations are nearly complete."
Veloria glanced at her, a small, sly smile forming. "Good. Let them see me. Let them underestimate me. That is always a mistake." She set the ledger down and lifted her chin. "And Fina… remind me to make sure my training continues tomorrow. Every day counts."
"Yes, Your Grace," Fina whispered, both awed and terrified.
As the evening approached, the grand doors of the Ardent estate opened to reveal the glittering ballroom. Crystal chandeliers reflected light across polished marble floors. Nobles in elegant attire mingled, whispers carrying intrigue and judgment in equal measure.
Veloria entered, her posture flawless, her violet gaze scanning the room with the precision of a soldier marking a battlefield. Every step was deliberate, each smile calculated—not weak, but a tool of observation. She noted alliances, rivalries, and subtle movements that betrayed intention.
In that moment, she understood the truth of her new life: battles here were fought not with bullets, but with influence and intelligence. Wealth was her ammunition, knowledge her shield. And she would not simply survive—she would dominate.
She lifted her teacup, eyes narrowing slightly as Eldric approached, his expression carefully neutral. He still did not recognize her entirely, and that was to her advantage. "Shall we dance?" he asked, voice steady, though a flicker of curiosity betrayed him.
Veloria inclined her head slightly, her lips curving into a confident, knowing smile. "Only if you can keep up."
As music filled the ballroom, she moved gracefully, a perfect Duchess in appearance, yet beneath the elegance, every step was calculated, every motion a test of her renewed strength and strategy. Tonight, she would not merely survive a social gathering—she would stake her claim in a world of power, wealth, and subtle conquest.
And for the first time, Veloria Ardent truly felt alive—not as the soldier who had fallen, nor the Duchess who had once been a pawn—but as a force reborn, determined, and unyielding.
The night had begun. And Veloria was ready.