Aria/Seraphina Voss
I died clutching my phone at 2 AM, probably from the third energy drink and fifteenth cup of coffee of the day. Heart gave out right there in my corner office, surrounded by quarterly reports and merger documents. Twenty-eight years old, worth fifty million, and dead from being a workaholic. My mother would say "I told you so" if she wasn't already six feet under.
Now I'm staring at some kid's face in a ridiculously ornate mirror.
This isn't my face. I've got twenty years of skincare routines and expensive procedures to thank for my looks, not whatever genetic lottery this pale, violet-eyed teenager won. The silver hair is pretty, I'll give her that, but everything else screams "spoiled rich girl" instead of "I built an empire from my dorm room."
Seraphina Voss. I know because her memories are rattling around my head like loose change, and because I recognize this face from the cover of that trash romance novel my assistant kept reading during lunch breaks. The villainess who gets executed for being a jealous brat.
Great. I went from running a Fortune 500 company to inhabiting a dead girl walking.
"My lady, your father wishes to see you before the engagement ceremony."
The maid hovering by the door looks terrified. In the original Seraphina's memories, I can see why—this girl threw screaming fits over everything from wrinkled dresses to cold tea. What a waste of resources.
"Fine. Tell His Grace I'll be there in ten minutes."
I need time to think. This engagement is happening tonight, and in three months, Prince Damien will order my execution for attempted murder. The original Seraphina tried to poison the heroine because she was obsessed with keeping her prince. Pathetic strategy, honestly. If you want to eliminate competition, you don't use poison like some medieval amateur—you destroy their reputation, cut their funding, turn their allies against them.
But first, I need to survive long enough to build a power base.
The wardrobe is full of frilly nonsense that screams "decorative object." I choose a deep red dress that actually has some backbone to it, minimal jewelry, hair pulled back. If I'm going to blow up this engagement, I need to look like someone with agency, not a pretty accessory having a tantrum.
Walking through the halls, I'm cataloging everything. Servants who flinch when they see me, guards who look bored at their posts, artwork that's worth more than some people's annual salaries. The Voss family has money and military power, but they're clearly not leveraging it properly. No wonder Seraphina ended up as a sacrificial lamb.
Duke Adrian Voss is waiting in his study, and I can see where this body gets its genes. Sharp features, calculating eyes, the kind of presence that commands rooms. He's reading financial reports, which tells me he's not just another useless noble.
"Father." I don't curtsy or simper. I'm not sixteen anymore, even if this body is.
His eyebrows go up. "Seraphina. You seem... different tonight."
"I've been thinking about the engagement. About what it really means for our family's position." I sit down without being invited, crossing my legs like I'm in a board meeting. "This alliance gives us access to the crown, but it also makes us vulnerable to court politics."
He sets down his papers, looking genuinely interested for the first time in any of Seraphina's memories. "Go on."
"Prince Damien is intelligent, but he's bound by tradition and his father's expectations. If I marry him as the dutiful, empty-headed fiancée everyone expects, I become disposable the moment someone more useful comes along." I lean forward. "But if I position myself as a partner rather than a prize, that changes the dynamic entirely."
Something shifts in his expression. "What are you proposing?"
"That maybe it's time people saw what a Voss daughter is really capable of."
Before he can respond, there's a commotion outside. Through the window, I can see the royal carriage arriving with enough pomp and ceremony to announce the prince's arrival to half the kingdom. Golden horses, silver armor, the whole theatrical production designed to remind everyone who holds the power here.
Prince Damien steps out, and even I have to admit the man is impressive. Tall, dark hair, the kind of sharp features that probably make ladies swoon at court functions. He moves with the confidence of someone who's never doubted his place in the world.
Too bad I'm about to give him his first real surprise.
"Shall we greet our guests?" Duke Voss asks, offering his arm.
"Absolutely." I take it, already planning my next move. "I think tonight's going to be very educational for everyone involved."
As we walk toward the main hall where hundreds of nobles are waiting to witness this engagement, a translucent blue screen flickers into existence in the corner of my vision.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATED. WELCOME, PLAYER. FIRST MISSION LOADING...]
What the hell is that supposed to mean?