"What?!"
"So, that's just the end for her?"
"Pathetic!" A young, beautiful lady, dressed in a luxurious designer outfit and in her early twenties, frowned. She was engrossed in the new historical novel she had picked for the week out of her many classic historical fiction collections and was extremely annoyed with the female side character, Ysabel Rosenhart, who couldn't stand up for herself. Her father—the Viscount had forced her to marry the old Duke who was twice his age. Ysabel, after getting married to the old man committed suicide the following week.
"Pfft! She could have poisoned the old man and gotten away with it by saying the old fool caught an illness. Why lay waste to her own life?" The lady hissed and flipped to the next page to continue reading. She still has a chapter or two left before she is done with the book.
"Young mistress!"
"The Master has been searching for you. He's quite furious." A maid in a brown and white uniform rushed behind to inform her.
The pretty lady very much intrigued with the book she was reading, waved the maid off with her left hand without sparing a glance at her. "Tell him you didn't see me."
"Fiora!" Someone yelled her name and she immediately recognized the voice to be her father's. Fiora let out a small sigh, closed the book in her hand, and hid it behind her back. Facing her father, she managed to put a small smile on her face.
"Father?" Her voice sounded surprised even though she knew the reason why her father came looking for her. She was the daughter of the wealthiest tycoon in the country and heiress to the Harts group. Everyone knew her as the tyrant heiress who never listened to rules and was always stubborn. She believes women should have a voice of their own and make decisions that are deemed fit.
Fiora's Father, Raymond Hart, CEO of the Harts group halted in his tracks, his three guards stopped five feet away from him. "You." He growled, pointing his index finger at Fiora.
She could smell trouble.
"Why didn't you show up for the Shaw's gala party? You were meant to meet your fiancé." Her father fumed.
"Uh..." Fiora let out an uneasy laugh while moving backward towards the staircase. Her father was trying to arrange her hand in marriage for the Shaw's family, second richest family in the country but Fiora was not interested in their son. He was nothing but a nuisance who lavished money in public and was a classless womanizer. She wants nothing to do with such a man that was why she refused to attend the event.
Fiora scrunched her face, knowing her father wouldn't easily let her off the hook without an explanation. "Answer me!" The poor man looked like he was about to have a mini episode as a result of his daughter's nonchalance.
"I-I... uhm, I forget?" she chuckled awkwardly. Mr. Hart's eyes widened, his face turning red from rage as he stared unbelievably at his daughter.
"You forgot?" He glared.
"You spoiled brat!" He tried to close the gap between him and his daughter and give her a good smack on the head but Fiora moved back without taking cautious steps, unaware she was close to the start of the staircase, and flinched when her father raised his hand. She lost hold of herself and tripped.
Mr. Hart witnessing the whole thing play out got scared and lunged forward trying to save his daughter but it was too late. "Fiora!"
Fiora stumbled down the stairs, losing control of herself as she struggled to reach the rails of the staircase and hit her head hard on the edge of the last step. The book in her hand lay open on the floor next to her and the blood gushing from her head flowed right into the book. Fiora felt numb while feeling a surging amount of excruciating pain all over her before her vision blurred out and turned completely black.
"What is wrong with you, Ysabel?" The viscount of Calderwyn was speaking to his daughter who seemed distant.
"I'm speaking with you." He squeezed his face before snapping his fingers at her face.
"Ysabel!"
Fiora heard distant voices, her vision was slightly impaired. When she regained her sight, she noticed something strange. A strange-looking man in his mid-forties was standing right in front of her but that's not what caught her attention. It was his dressing. The man was wearing an ancient deep burgundy doublet that had a fine taste of golden embroidery on it. Only then did she notice what she herself was wearing.
Her dress. Why was she draped in a long full gown? It looked old and authentic. Classic old. Like medieval times.
Slowly, Fiora's eyes drifted to the woman sitting gracefully on a chair, her delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of the cup from which she sipped tea. Fiora accessed the fine jewelry she was putting on, her long flowing gown which was dusty rose in color. It had minimal floral embroidery designs, no exposed shoulders, and a high neckline. Her hair was packed in a style that was far from modern. Everything about her was screaming old nobility.
What's going on? Fiora thought. Her eyes were darting around the strange place she was in. This wasn't her father's luxurious villa or his study room. This place bears resemblance to old chamber rooms with intriguing old school interior decor that she had seen several times in TV shows for ancient dramas. Perhaps she was in a movie but had she not just fallen down the stairs when her father was scolding her? How then is she here?
"Are you even listening to me?" The man in front of her caught her attention and she snapped out of her thoughts, blinking at him.
"Huh?"
"I know this came as a shock to you but you will marry the old Duke and that's final." The strange-looking man pressed and Fiora squeezed her face in confusion.
Old Duke?
"Ex-excuse me?" Fiora uttered, noticing the high pitch in her voice but didn't seem to mind it as she cleared her throat and stared at the man.
"Gracious goodness." The man sighed, closing his eyes briefly and running two fingers on his temple. He turned to look at his wife who was helping herself with tea while being oblivious to the situation on the ground.
"Lenora, would you mind speaking some sense into your daughter?" Irritation etched on his face.
Fiora stared at the woman who paused midway between letting the rim of the cup touch her lips and carefully setting the cup on its plate on the table. The woman's striking blue eyes met with hers and she noticed the small smile that appeared on her rather thin lips.
"Ysabel dear, be a good girl and listen to your father. Will you?" She tilted her head slightly and Fiora had never been more confused than she already was.
Ysabel? That name sounds familiar to her.
"You're the daughter of the Viscount and it's your duty bring this house to great spotlight." The woman spoke.
"Is this some sort of drama?" Fiora snickered trying to hide her amusement.
The man hearing what she had said snapped. "Drama you say?" He jabbed his index finger at Fiora. She stumbled backward because of the man's aggressive attitude.
"Fine, this discussion is already finalized. You have no say in the matter to begin with." The man spoke in rage before storming out of the room.
The woman sitting on the chair let out a sigh and rose from her seat, smothering her full dress. Fiora watched her. The woman smiled softly and moved closer to her. "Ysabel, you shouldn't be giving your father such a hard time, you know he's short-tempered."
Fiora wondered why the woman kept calling her Ysabel, so she took the courage and asked. "Why do you keep calling me Ysabel?"
The woman was taken aback slightly but only smiled. "That's because you're Ysabel Rosenhart, daughter of Viscount Rosenhart. Don't tell me you've forgotten who you are." She poked her finger jokingly on the tip of Fiora's nose.
Fiora was stunned. She, Ysabel Rosenhart?
She remembered that the name Ysabel Rosenhart belonged to the female character of the historical novel she was reading. Fiora stared at the woman again. How could she be Ysabel Rosenhart? As she tried to put the puzzles together. A sharp pain coursed through her head.
Her feet grew weak and she staggered backward, fear gripping her. She had heard of cases like this but never believed it was true. People transmigrating into novels, becoming one of the characters, and the like.
This can't be true. She thought to herself.
"Ysabel, are you alright? You look pale." Worry lay heavy on the woman's face.
Ysabel? Had she become the character who was forced to marry the old Duke and committed suicide afterwards? A side character with not much significance?
No, it can't be.
Women of this era were too dumb and followed whatever orders they were given by the men. Their ideology was that a perfect woman should not be rebellious and should not have any right to question how they're being treated.
The thoughts alone were sickening to Fiora.
She clutched her head while the woman helped her to one of the couches in the room.
If she could remember vividly the man who just left the room was the greedy Viscount who treated his daughters as pawns.
And this woman holding her with concerns is Ysabel's mother? The viscountess who had pushed her own daughter to doom with her sweet words.
Fiora was still finding this hard to believe. Though she could remember this scene in the book where Ysabel's father broke the news of her marrying the old Duke and Ysabel broke down in tears.
"Am I really Ysabel?" She questioned again. The woman's brows furrowed a bit as she stared at her daughter's face. "Why do you keep asking if you're Ysabel or not? Did you hit your head before coming into the room?" The mother asked calmly.
Fiora pinched her wrist, the stinging pain she felt made her realize that this wasn't a dream.
She had truly transmigrated into the novel as Ysabel Rosenhart.
Now that she had gotten an insight into what was happening. She will be a new Ysabel and not the dumb one written in the book.