I woke up convinced the universe was mocking me.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains again, softer this morning, as if trying to kill me into a false sense of security. I lay there for a full minute, staring at the canopy, before yesterday's overheard gossip slammed back into my brain.
"Sir Cassian will be stationed closer to the inner estate."
And then I scream.
Internally.
Very quietly.
I stared at the ceiling, heart pounding like I'd just been sentenced to execution—or marriage. Possibly both.
Okay. Breathe. Calm down. You are a villainess now. A feared noblewoman. Not a fangirl who just found out her bias moved next door.
I rolled out of bed with purpose. Today would be strategic. Controlled. I would simply... observe. From a safe, villainous distance. Like a responsible stalker—observer.
Mira entered with the breakfast tray, took one look at me, and hesitated.
"My lady... are you quite all right? You look as though you're planning a murder."
Perfect.
"That's the idea," I said coolly, sitting at the vanity. She set the tray down and began brushing my hair. I watched my reflection like an enemy.
Today's goal: look intimidating but not overly flashy. The original novel's capture targets supposedly fell for Seraphina's "pure, simple" charm. So, I logically, if I dressed too extravagantly, Cassian might dismiss me as another shallow noble.
I chose a simple dark gray gown—elegant, high-necked, minimal embroidery. Hair in a severe knot. No jewelry except a single silver pin.
Mira stepped back. "You look..."
"Like I'm about to commit a crime?" I supplied.
She coughed. "Very... severe, my lady."
Excellent.
I descended the stairs with measured steps, chin high, expression cold. Servants scattered like startled birds.
Phase one: successful intimidation.
Phase two: locate target.
I heard hime before I saw him—low voice giving instructions near the east corridor. My pulse spiked.
Professional. Detached. Just a casual patrol observation.
I slipped behind a pillar. Peeked.
There he was.
Cassian Veldt.
Uniform immaculate. Gloves fitted perfectly. Expression focused as he spoke briefly with another knight.
Breathing.
Existing.
Dangerously handsome.
He was speaking to a guard, pointing at a map. Sunlight slanted across his face—gentle eyes, calm mouth.
I ducked back behind the pillar.
Too obvious. Too close.
I moved to a tree.
Peek again.
Why was he taller than I imagined.
I moved again. This time behind a statue.
Another peek.
Why did he look better in motion.
This was fine.
Totally normal.
Except—
"Is that Lady Liriel?"
"Is Lady Liriel... watching someone?"
I stiffened.
Another whisper. "Is that intimidation?"
"Should we... report this?"
Why we're people staring at me like that.
I glanced around.
Servants. Knights. All pretending not look while absolutely looking.
Cassian finished his instructions. The guards saluted and left.
Cassian turned—and started walking directly toward my statue.
Wait... He's moving this way.
This is it. This is where I die of embarrassment and get reincarnated again—probably as a turnip.
Ahh, Why did I think hiding behind a statue of a man in a toga was subtle? He's going to see me and think I'm some kind of weirdo who collects noble sightings like trading cards.
I pressed myself against cold stone, heart hammering so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
Don't move. Maybe he'll walk past. Maybe the ground will open up and swallow me whole—
The footsteps stopped.
Right in front of me.
And, I died.
Not metaphorically.
My soul left my body. But... Damn, he's even hotter up close.
I realized three things at one: my hand had curled into the edge of his cloak like I'd found a lifeline in a storm; my head had tilted sideways in blind panic, eyes half-lidded as if I'd just inhaled too much perfume; and my face was flushed so bright I could've passed for a summer rose left out in midday sun.
THIS WAS NOT HOW DIGNIFIED FANGIRL WORKED.
THIS WAS HOW DERANGED ADMIRERS LOOKED RIGHT BEFORE THEY GOT ESCORT OFF ESTATE GROUNDS.
My brain scrambled for the cold, arrogant retort a villainess ought to deliver. Instead, my mouth ran ahead of my common sense.
"I—was inspecting security."
His brow lifted slightly.
I let go of his cloak like it was hot iron, tried to step back, and promptly smacked the back of my head against the pillar.
Trapped.
"Inspecting," he repeated, voice neutral. "By hiding behind three pillars, a tree, and statue?"
Heat flooded my face. "Efficiency."
A pause.
His eyes flicked to where my hand had been on his cloak. Then back to my face.
I waited for suspicion. Accusation. Anything.
Instead, he inclined his head—polite, restrained. "If you have concerns about estate security, Lady...?"
He didn't recognize me.
Of course he wouldn't.
I was dressed plainly. No insignia. No announcement. Exactly as planned.
And in the original novel, Liriel and Cassian barely shared scenes until much later. Valeria was staying at Noctyra Manor because House Noctyra oversaw her debut season while her parents were abroad on diplomatic duty.
Cassian, being a viscount on temporary knight assignment, wouldn't know every noble face.
Before I could retreat with semblance of grace, new footsteps approached—fast and heavy, echoing off the stone floors. Another shadow fell over us, and I tensed, instinct screaming danger.
Shit. Gotta get out of here before someone spots me—a villainess lurking by pillars is not a good look.
Then—
A hand caught my wrist.
Firm.
Controlled.
I gasped softly.
In one smooth motion, he twisted my grip—not painfully, just enough to steady me, and guided me back against the wall, his body angled between me and the approaching noise.
Close.
Too close.
His forearm blocked my escape route. His other hand pinned my wrist gently but decisively to the stone. Knight training. Duty response. Muscle memory.
Silence stretched between us, thick as honey.
His voice came low and calm.
"Forgive, my lady—but unannounced figures loitering near security posts warranty caution. I need to know who you are before I release you."
He... Just touch me??
I stared at him, mouth opening and closing like a malfunctioning fish.
Think. THINK.
Crying would be suspicious.
Swooning would be humiliating.
So I did the only thing I could.
I flipped the script.
"Release me," I said coldly.
Immediately, he stepped back, releasing my wrist and lowering his arm.
"My apologies," he said, bowing swiftly.
Ah~ even his apology sounds gentle.
I turned slightly away, pretending disinterest while my heart tried to escape my chest.
"Be more careful," I added coolly. "Grabbing noblewomen tends to cause problems."
"Yes, my lady."
I took three dignified steps away.
Then panicked.
What if Valeria saw this.
What if someone recognize me again.
What if—
I turned back abruptly. "And knight."
He looked up at once.
"Try not assume intent where there is none," I said sharply.
Then, without waiting for a reply, I fled.
Literally fled.
Down the path.
Around the corner.
Behind a hedge.
I did not stop running until my lungs burned.
I leaned against a tree, clutching my chest.
"That," I whispered, "was catastrophe."
Still.
He touched my wrist.
He spoke to me.
He looked confused...
I stared at my wrist—the one he'd held, then lifted it slowly to my cheek, pressing the cool skin there.
"I'm not washing this hand for a week," I mumbled to the empty garden, feeling utterly ridiculous and not caring one bit.
Man, I could not afford to let anyone see this side of me.
~🫶