The invitation arrives three days after my second meeting with Cassian.
Thick cream paper, expensive but not ostentatious, sealed with unfamiliar wax the color of midnight. I break it open over breakfast while Father reviews correspondence across the table.
---
*Lady Adeline Kael,*
*I understand you've recently taken an interest in business ventures that polite society finds questionable. How delightful.*
*I find myself in need of a intelligent conversation partner who isn't terrified of my reputation. Would you do me the honor of joining me for tea at the Midnight Salon tomorrow at the third hour past noon?*
*Don't let the name intimidate you. We serve excellent pastries.*
*Seraphine Yu*
---
I read it twice, my heart rate picking up speed.
Seraphine Yu. Lady Seraphine, daughter of Marquis Yu, known throughout court as the Villainess. In the original novel plot that this world apparently follows, she was supposed to be the antagonist—cruel, manipulative, determined to destroy the heroine through social schemes and political machinations.
In my first life, I'd been warned away from her repeatedly. Cassian's mother had made it clear that associating with "that woman" was beneath a future duchess's dignity. I'd obeyed, like I'd obeyed everything else.
And in doing so, I'd missed the chance to know what might have been my greatest ally.
Because I remember now—Seraphine had approached me once, at a garden party about a year into my engagement. She'd made some comment about the weather, clearly testing whether I'd respond. I'd given her the coldest shoulder possible, terrified of Duchess Helena's disapproval.
Seraphine had smiled like she'd expected nothing else, and walked away.
I'd never seen her try again.
"Adeline?" Father's voice breaks through my memories. "You look troubled. Bad news?"
"No. Actually, I think it might be very good news." I pass him the invitation. "What do you know about Lady Seraphine Yu?"
Father's expression shifts immediately to concern. "That she's dangerous. Brilliant, certainly, but ruthless in her business dealings and social maneuvering. She's built an empire of information and influence that makes even the Crown Prince cautious. Why?"
"She's invited me to tea."
"Absolutely not." Father sets down the invitation like it might bite him. "Adeline, I've supported your business ventures and your choice to refuse Duke Vere. But associating with Seraphine Yu is where I draw the line. The woman destroys reputations for sport."
"Or maybe that's just what people say about powerful women who refuse to play by expected rules," I counter. "Father, she runs successful businesses, commands respect from merchants and nobles alike, and apparently wants to meet with me. That sounds like exactly the kind of person I should know."
"She's called the Villainess for a reason—"
"By people who are threatened by her." I lean forward. "Think about it, Papa. A woman who built her own power base, who doesn't need marriage or family connections to matter—of course society paints her as villainous. She's living proof that women don't need men to succeed."
Father is quiet for a moment, clearly torn between protective instinct and recognition that I might have a point.
"What does she want with you?" he finally asks.
"I don't know. But I intend to find out." I retrieve the invitation. "The Midnight Salon is neutral territory—public enough to be safe, private enough for real conversation. I'll take Mina as chaperone. One tea meeting, Papa. If she's truly as dangerous as rumored, I'll know quickly enough and won't return."
"And if she's not dangerous, but wants to use you for some scheme?"
"Then I'll be flattered that someone thinks I'm worth scheming with." I smile at his alarmed expression. "Papa, I'm trying to build a life outside traditional paths. That means connecting with people who've done the same. Seraphine Yu is the most successful businesswoman in the empire. Why wouldn't I want to learn from her?"
He sighs, the sound of a father realizing his daughter has made up her mind. "You're too much like your mother. She had this same stubborn determination to befriend people everyone warned her against."
"And were those friendships valuable?"
"Almost always." He picks up his tea, resignation clear. "Fine. One meeting. But Adeline—be careful. Seraphine Yu doesn't do anything without purpose. If she's reaching out to you, it's because she wants something."
"Good," I say. "I want something too. Maybe we can help each other."
---
The Midnight Salon occupies a discreet building in the capital's cultural district, tucked between an art gallery and a bookshop. The exterior is elegant but understated—dark wood, subtle gold accents, windows curtained in deep blue silk.
I arrive exactly on time, Mina trailing behind me with obvious nervousness.
"My lady, are you certain—"
"Completely certain." I push open the door.
Inside is nothing like I expected. Instead of the dark, intimidating space the name suggests, it's warm and inviting. Soft lighting from crystal lamps, comfortable seating arranged in intimate groupings, the scent of coffee and jasmine. A few other patrons occupy distant corners, speaking in low voices.
A hostess appears immediately—a young woman in an elegant black dress.
"Lady Adeline Kael?"
"Yes."
"Mistress Seraphine is expecting you. Please, follow me."
She leads us through the main room to a private alcove separated by silk screens. Beyond them, a woman sits reading what appears to be a financial ledger, a teacup at her elbow.
Seraphine Yu is striking rather than traditionally beautiful. Sharp cheekbones, dark eyes that miss nothing, black hair with subtle red undertones pulled into a sleek arrangement. She wears crimson and black—colors that would make most women look harsh but somehow make her look powerful.
She glances up as we enter, and her lips curve into what might be a smile.
"Lady Adeline. How refreshing—you actually came." She closes the ledger, gesturing to the seat across from her. "I half expected you to send a polite refusal."
"I considered it," I admit, settling into the chair. Mina hovers uncertainly by the screen. "But curiosity won out."
"Curiosity is underrated as a virtue." Seraphine signals the hostess, who begins preparing tea. "Your companion may sit as well. I don't bite, despite rumors to the contrary."
Mina perches on a chair near the edge of the alcove, clearly ready to flee at the first sign of danger.
"So," Seraphine says, studying me with those sharp eyes. "You refused Duke Cassian Vere, started a mining partnership with Jin Sera, and befriended Princess Mirae. All within two weeks. Either you're remarkably ambitious or remarkably foolish."
I blink. "How do you know about Princess Mirae?"
"I know about everything worth knowing." She sips her tea. "That's my business—information. And you, Lady Adeline, have become suddenly very interesting information."
"Because I refused a duke?"
"Because you changed." She sets down her cup, leaning forward. "Two months ago, you were a vapid creature desperate for Duke Vere's attention. You giggled at his non-jokes and agreed with his every word. Now you're negotiating business deals and refusing advantageous marriages. What happened?"
The directness is startling. Also refreshing—I'm tired of people dancing around questions.
"I grew up," I say simply. "Realized the person I was becoming wasn't someone I wanted to be."
"People don't change that drastically overnight."
"Maybe I'd been changing for a while and finally acted on it."
Seraphine's eyes narrow slightly, like she's trying to solve a puzzle. "You're lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth. But that's fine—everyone has secrets. The question is whether your secrets make you interesting or just troublesome."
"Which do you think?"
"Interesting." She smiles, sharp and amused. "Troublesome would be boring. Interesting means you might actually be worth my time."
The hostess returns with pastries—delicate things that look too pretty to eat. Seraphine takes one without ceremony.
"Why did you invite me here?" I ask. "Father seems to think you want to use me for some scheme."
"Your father is partially correct. I do want something from you." She bites into the pastry, apparently unconcerned with my reaction. "But not what he fears. I'm not going to destroy your reputation or manipulate you into political disasters."
"Then what do you want?"
"A friend." The word is said casually, but there's something underneath it. Loneliness, maybe. "Someone intelligent enough to have real conversations with. Someone who isn't terrified of me or trying to use me. You'd be surprised how rare that is."
I study her, searching for the trap. "You want friendship from someone you just accused of lying?"
"I said you weren't telling the whole truth. That's different from lying." Seraphine sets down her pastry. "Adeline—may I call you Adeline?—I'm going to be honest with you. More honest than I've been with almost anyone. Can you handle that?"
"Try me."
"I'm lonely." The admission is stark, unadorned. "I built an empire of influence and business connections. I'm successful, powerful, wealthy. And I have exactly zero people I can trust with anything real. Everyone wants something from me—information, connections, favors. No one wants to just... know me."
The vulnerability is unexpected from the so-called Villainess. Also deeply familiar.
"I understand that," I say quietly. "Loneliness in the middle of crowds. Being valued for what you provide rather than who you are."
"Yes." Relief flashes across her face. "Exactly that. And when I heard about you—about this marquis's daughter who suddenly started choosing her own path, refusing powerful men, building businesses—I thought perhaps you might understand. Might be someone I could actually talk to."
"So this is a mutual loneliness support group?" Despite the heavy topic, I smile. "That's almost sweet."
Seraphine laughs, surprised and genuine. "God, when you put it like that it sounds pathetic. Two noble ladies bonding over being social outcasts."
"Are you an outcast?"
"By choice, mostly." She refills our teacups with practiced ease. "I could play the game if I wanted—simper and flatter and pretend to be harmless. But that would mean sacrificing everything I've built. My businesses, my independence, my self-respect. So I'm the Villainess instead, and people fear me rather than understanding me."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is. But less exhausting than being empty." She meets my eyes. "You said something similar to Duke Vere, I heard. That marrying him would destroy you slowly. Make you an empty shell."
"How did you—" I stop. "Your information network."
"Is very thorough, yes. I have someone in the Kael household staff." She says it without apology. "Don't look alarmed—she doesn't report on anything private. Just social events and general household business. It's how I knew Duke Vere had visited you."
"Twice," I admit. "He visited twice."
Seraphine's eyebrows rise. "Did he now? After you refused him?"
"He wanted honest conversation. To actually get to know me, apparently."
"And?"
"And it was... complicated." I pick at my pastry, not quite meeting her eyes. "He's not what I expected. More self-aware than I gave him credit for. Also more damaged."
"Damaged how?"
Should I tell her about the curse? About Cassian's admission that he doesn't know who he is beyond his roles?
"He's spent his entire life suppressing emotions," I say carefully. "To the point where he doesn't know what's real about himself anymore. He's just... performing expected behaviors. Being the perfect duke without any idea who he is underneath."
Seraphine is quiet for a moment. "That's actually rather sad."
"It is." The realization sits heavily in my chest. "Which makes refusing him more complicated than it should be."
"You're reconsidering?"
"No." The answer is immediate. "I'm just... understanding him better. And understanding doesn't change the fact that we're fundamentally incompatible."
"Are you?" Seraphine tilts her head, studying me. "Or are you afraid that you might be more compatible than you want to admit?"
The question hits too close to home.
"I died once loving him," I say before I can stop myself. Then freeze, realizing what I've just revealed.
Seraphine goes very still. "What did you say?"
Panic floods through me. I can't take it back—the words are out there, hanging between us like a confession.
"I meant—" I scramble for an explanation. "I meant it felt like dying. The person I was becoming, while desperately seeking his approval. It was killing me slowly."
Seraphine's eyes are sharp, calculating. "That's not what you said. You said 'I died once loving him.' Past tense. Specific."
"It was a metaphor—"
"You're a terrible liar, Adeline." She leans forward, voice dropping. "What aren't you telling me?"
I could deny it. Deflect. Make excuses until she stops asking.
But I'm so tired of carrying this alone. And Seraphine just admitted to her own loneliness, her own desire for real connection.
What if I told her? What if I trusted someone with the truth?
"If I tell you something impossible," I say slowly, "will you promise to at least consider it might be real before deciding I'm insane?"
"That depends. How impossible are we talking?"
"Very." I take a breath, then plunge forward. "I've lived this before. All of it. I was engaged to Cassian, married him, spent three years as his duchess. And then I died—poisoned at my own wedding banquet. When I woke up, I was twenty again, three years in the past."
The words hang in the air. Seraphine's expression is unreadable.
Then: "Time regression."
I blink. "You believe me?"
"I didn't say that. I said time regression." She picks up her teacup, apparently calm. "It's theoretically possible, according to certain schools of magic. Extremely rare, usually fatal to attempt, but not impossible. The question is whether you're telling the truth or if you're delusional."
"I'm telling the truth." Relief floods through me at not being immediately dismissed. "I know how insane it sounds—"
"Actually, it explains quite a bit." Seraphine sets down her cup. "Your sudden change in personality. Your business knowledge that seems too advanced for someone your age. The way you look at Duke Vere like you've already lived your entire marriage with him." She pauses. "How did you die? You said poisoned?"
"At my wedding banquet. Or what would have been my wedding banquet—it happened three years from now, in the timeline I lived before." The details spill out now that I've started. "Isabel Park poisoned my wine. She wanted Cassian. And he just... stood there. Watched me die without trying to save me."
"Isabel Park." Seraphine's voice turns cold. "That simpering creature who acts sweet while destroying people behind their backs?"
"You know her?"
"Unfortunately. She tried to spread rumors about my business practices last year. I destroyed her credibility so thoroughly she didn't show her face at court for months." Seraphine's smile is sharp. "If she poisoned you in another timeline, I'm even less sorry about that."
Despite everything, I laugh. "You're taking this remarkably well. Most people would think I'm insane."
"Most people are boring." She refills our tea again. "And Adeline, if you're lying, you've constructed an elaborate and pointless fantasy. If you're telling the truth, you've been given an extraordinary second chance. Either way, you're far more interesting than anyone else I've met this year."
"So you believe me?"
"I'm reserving judgment. But I'm willing to entertain the possibility." Her eyes sharpen. "Which means I need to ask—if you've already lived this timeline and know what's coming, why are you changing things? Why refuse Duke Vere when you already know how it ends?"
"Because I don't want to live it again." The answer comes from somewhere deep. "I don't want to spend three years making myself smaller, trying to earn love from someone incapable of giving it. I don't want to die at twenty-three having never lived for myself."
"So you're choosing differently."
"Every chance I get."
Seraphine leans back, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Oh, I like you. I like you very much." She raises her teacup in a mock toast. "To choosing differently. And to friendship between outcasts."
I lift my cup, clinking it against hers. "To friendship."
We drink, and something settles in my chest. Relief, maybe. Or the beginning of real trust.
"So," Seraphine says, setting down her cup. "If we're going to be friends—real friends—I should probably tell you my secrets too. Fair exchange."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." She takes a breath. "I'm not just gathering information for fun or profit. I'm building a network because I'm planning something. Something that will shake the entire empire's power structure."
My heart skips. "What kind of something?"
"A coup." She says it casually, like she's discussing the weather. "Not violent, not military. But Crown Prince Alexander is dangerous—to women, to commoners, to anyone without power. He's going to be a terrible emperor. So I'm gathering allies, building leverage, preparing to shift power away from him when the time comes."
I stare at her. "You're planning to... what? Install a different heir?"
"Or reform the system entirely. I haven't decided yet." She smiles at my expression. "Shocking, I know. The Villainess is actually trying to save the empire from a genuinely villainous prince. The irony isn't lost on me."
"Why are you telling me this?" My mind is racing. "If I told anyone—"
"You won't." She sounds absolutely certain. "Because you understand what it's like to see the future and try to change it. And because I'm offering you something valuable—a place in a network of powerful women working to reshape society. Women like Jin Sera, who I introduced to business opportunities. Women like Princess Mirae, who I've been quietly supporting for years."
"Mirae knows about your plans?"
"Not yet. But I'm watching over her, making sure Crown Prince Alexander's attention doesn't become dangerous." Seraphine leans forward. "I'm building something, Adeline. A coalition of women who refuse to be powerless. And I think you could be an important part of it."
My head is spinning. Five minutes ago we were discussing loneliness. Now she's recruiting me for a political revolution.
"I need time to think about this," I manage.
"Of course." Seraphine's smile is understanding. "I'm not asking for an answer today. Just... consider it. Consider that your second chance at life might be about more than just avoiding personal tragedy. Maybe you're meant to help change the whole system."
The idea is simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.
"I'll think about it," I promise.
"Good." She stands, smooth and graceful. "Now, shall we discuss something lighter? Like why Duke Vere is apparently obsessing over you despite your refusal?"
"How did you know about that?"
"Because he attended three social functions this week and was noticeably distracted at all of them. Daniel Hwang has been fielding questions about the Duke's unusual behavior." Seraphine's eyes gleam with amusement. "You've disturbed him. Badly. It's quite entertaining to watch."
"I'm not trying to disturb him."
"I know. That's what makes it so effective." She links her arm through mine—a gesture of surprising familiarity. "Come. Walk with me. Tell me about these meetings you've been having, and I'll tell you what I know about Duke Vere's curse. We might as well share information properly if we're going to be allies."
As we walk through the Salon toward the gardens behind it, Mina trailing at a respectful distance, I realize something has shifted.
I came here expecting to maybe gain a business contact. Instead I've found an ally who knows my deepest secret, who's planning to reshape the empire, who understands loneliness and choosing your own path.
I've found, improbably, a friend.
"Seraphine?" I say as we step into afternoon sunlight. "Thank you. For believing me. Or at least not immediately calling me insane."
"Thank you for trusting me with the truth." She squeezes my arm gently. "We outcasts need to stick together, Adeline. The world is hard enough without facing it alone."
And standing in the garden of the Midnight Salon with the notorious Villainess at my side, I think that maybe—just maybe—I'm building something better than the life I lost.
Something worth fighting for.