Evelyn had been so obsessed with phonk—American, Brazilian funk, South African, and the rest. Any variety available for consumption, she readily devoured.
It had gotten so intense that she got into learning languages, mostly associated with phonk, and somehow ended up with an arsenal of languages you ordinarily wouldn't expect a person to learn without a specific purpose.
Not only languages, but dance moves as well, all in the comfort of her room.
She was a phonk mistress!
...If she said so herself.
Evelyn laughed. Oh, the good old days, when her joy was endless and her passion blazing like a flaming stone.
Perhaps lost in the nostalgia, she remained afloat, watching the rats hitting every move she could recall.
The songs never stopped, phonk after phonk kept playing, and Evelyn had never felt so elated in such a long while.
You know that feeling where you put your playlist on shuffle, and banger after banger lines up, and for a moment of glee, you experience what it means to be loved by the universe? Yeah, this was exactly what she felt at the moment.
Perhaps due to how much fun she was having, it took her a long while before she came to realize how odd everything truly was.
'Indeed, what is this?' she pondered.
'A dream?'
As soon as the thought appeared, it expanded until the last bubble clouding Evelyn's mind cleared up, and then she realized.
"Ah!"
The light flooded her vision, the simple yet large room painted in shades of brown and grey, the soft duvet and pillow, the lampstand left on her table, along with her messily kept pen and open journal all came to view.
Had she crawled into bed in a sleepy haze? Evelyn stood up and walked towards the mirror, which hung a short distance away from the large wardrobe.
She stared into the mirror for a long while, small pale hands caressing the chubby face, and then the mirror's smooth surface.
"Hah."
Only then did Evelyn come to understand a critical truth. She had never truly digested this so-called transmigration of hers.
She strolled around her room, aimlessly caressing any structures she met along the way. Only now did she realize how big Verity's wardrobe was, so much so that a kid could completely disappear within it.
She could only imagine how many times the original Verity hid in there to cry.
After taking her sweet time, she sat back on the bed.
This room truly was too simple, like the Castellan couldn't be bothered to cosy it up for a child, only placing in the barest necessities.
It didn't even have a chair for sitting down, only the small stool beside the table for writing.
Though the bed was really large, unnecessarily so, it was at least comfortable, very soft, and fitting for a soothing sleep.
"I...," Evelyn murmured, "I am now Verity."
The old her died in a freak accident, didn't go to the afterlife to meet with her beloved parents, but instead transmigrated into a child, precisely the villainess of some story world.
Something akin to a haze seemed to have lifted from Evelyn's mind, and she let out a helpless chuckle in trepidation.
So, what now?
***
The hall of the Castellan's manor at night was huge and desolate, and for someone like Evelyn with a bad sense of direction, a literal kryptonite.
However, having visited the young miss's room a tangible number of times, Evelyn had become so fully accustomed, she could walk right in with her eyes closed.
She would rather not, though, and with her lamp, she made her way to Rosanna's room until she stood face to face with the huge door.
Putting her entire weight on the door, she laboriously pushed and managed to make a crack wide enough for her to slip in.
Inside was vastly different from the dark gloomy halls.
Just like her, the young miss liked sleeping with the lights left on, and coming in, what first struck Evelyn was the immense difference between their rooms.
She was no fool; obviously, she knew a difference was inevitable, but the disparity truly left one speechless.
One word: luxurious. Two: extremely luxurious.
The decorations alone could buy triple the entire décor in Verity's room.
It had a walk-in closet, and there was another room within the room, which seemed to be the young miss's playroom, where she stocked all her play items, including the ones from Verity.
Opening the windows of the room revealed a beautiful view of the Castellan manor's garden, and a very fresh and chilling air holding a subtle floral flavour drifted in.
The sleeping Rosanna shivered and Evelyn quickly closed the window.
Her bed, chairs, and tables were filled with toys of various types and fresh flowers that created an aesthetically beautiful encirclement that made the room look more like a fairy princess's room than a human child's.
And the colour palette? Generous was an understatement.
Pastel colours with a soothing effect, sharp colours across certain intervals, and a mix of both in certain parts all combined critically to form a pleasing aesthetic.
Evelyn winced.
After all these visits, did she really never notice this?