"It's been a week…" she whispered into the empty room.
A week since she possessed this body.
A week since she opened her eyes in this strange mansion.
And a week since everyone around her started addressing her as Lady Aysel.
Aysel.
A beautiful name for a pretty girl.
She crossed the room toward the wardrobe, stopping before the wide, plain mirror beside it. She hadn't come to admire herself—yet she couldn't look away. Aysel was like a doll sculpted far too perfectly to be real.
Soft, ethereal beauty wrapped in quiet mystery. Her heart-shaped face held delicate lines; her pale, moonlit skin seemed flawless.
Silver-blue eyes, calm yet impossibly deep, carried a misty crescent glow that pulled anyone in if they stared too long. If that glow ever dimmed, she would lose something unimaginable.
Her lips were small and naturally peach-tinted, and her hair fell in soft silver-ash waves, loose curls brushing her shoulders, middle-parted and perfectly framing her eyes. Moonlight woven into silk. A winter girl—cold to behold, yet strangely pleasant.
And yet, every time she admired this body, a tiny guilt pricked her—someone had lived this life before her, and Rhea had no idea what became of that girl.
Rhea tore her gaze away from the mirror and scanned the room. Everything was new. Too new.
If this world was supposed to be like the magical fantasy novels she had read, something was undeniably wrong with Aysel's life.
Because despite being the duke's daughter, living in a sprawling mansion full of servants…
no one actually paid attention to her.
Not a glance.
Not a question.
Not even a passing, "Are you alright, my lady?"
After waking up as Aysel, Rhea spent days in bed trying to cope with the absolute chaos her life had become. This wasn't a story she could flip through and understand.
This was reality—messy, confusing, painfully silent.
By the fourth day, she couldn't stand it anymore.
She slipped out of her room, hoping to catch whatever gossip the maids whispered behind closed doors. Anything could help her piece together who Aysel was… and what she had stepped into.
"You know Lady Aysel woke up, right?"
A maid with carrot-colored hair grumbled.
"Annie flew past me like a startled bird the other day," another said. "But His Grace didn't even visit."
"If she weren't Duke Adonis's daughter, she would have—"
"Back to work."
It was demanding.
A sharper voice, which cut through the hallway—likely the head maid.
Footsteps scattered.
Rhea's shoulders dropped in disappointment. It wasn't much… but it was something. And in this silent mansion, "something" was enough to start with.
No one spoke to her all week, beyond a few perfunctory seconds from servants. It was as if she were invisible here too.
'Aysel must have hated it. Too dull… too isolating.'
Rhea felt unexpected sympathy for the original owner of this body—not that she herself had lived any better.
She also learned her age from a passing maid's gossip.
'This body was too weak for a twelve-year-old girl. Frail, fragile… was she starving herself?'
Questions swarmed Rhea's mind. She had nothing better to do in this silent mansion.
*Knock, knock*
Her thoughts snapped in half.
Not loud—just sharp enough to jolt her fully awake.
She glanced at the clock. As expected.
"Come in, Annie," she said.
Aysel's voice slipped out of her mouth. Soft, pleasant… completely unfamiliar. No matter how many times she heard it, Rhea couldn't get used to the idea that this gentle voice belonged to her now.
Annie walked in carrying a silver tray—lunchtime already.
Annie Burke, Baron Burke's eldest daughter, Aysel's personal maid. She entered every day to carry out her tasks: cleaning, dressing her like a porcelain doll, and bringing meals at exact times without fail. Diligent, precise, almost robotic.
Rhea walked past her to close the door, only to find Annie already arranging the table neatly.
Don't you think you should at least say a word to me, Annie? Rhea pouted inwardly, then brushed it off.
"Is someone visiting? I saw a lot of commotion outside," Rhea asked, part curiosity, part loneliness.
"No, my lady. His Grace has scheduled a servants meeting within the dukedom. That is all I know," Annie replied.
And the conversation ended just like that.
Rhea continued setting the dishes—neat, clean, perfectly placed. If there was one thing she loved in this life as Aysel, it was the food. It always tasted absurdly delicious. At least starvation wasn't on her list of problems.
She remembered something she'd been wondering.
"Annie, are my tutors not aware that I am awake? Shouldn't they start showing up?"
The teachers had become so unenthusiastic that they simply stopped coming—and no one cared enough to question it.
She had to show some interest in studying; the only way to understand this world was through books and tutors.
Annie's expression remained neutral, but Rhea could tell she had expected the question.
"My lady, as you are still not completely recovered, His Grace instructed them to put your studies on hold," Annie answered smoothly.
Practiced. Too practiced.
Aysel's life… it was intriguing. Enough that Rhea devoted herself to quietly investigating everything without drawing suspicion. Naturally, she started with the only person who interacted with her beyond the bare minimum—Annie, of course.
And one thing about Annie was how she slipped too smoothly through certain questions. For instance, the other day while Rhea was taking a bath and Annie was helping her wash her hair—
"Annie, is it that my father is busy? Or does he simply not know I'm awake?"
For the briefest moment, the reflection of her in the bathwater twitched. Not anger. Not irritation. Something softer—sadness, maybe. Pity.
"His Grace is away visiting the northern mines, my lady," she replied.
Her eyes lowered, shadowed, unreadable.
This place… these people… nothing was simple.
"Uh—I understand, Annie."
Rhea startled herself with how small her voice sounded. Fragile, as if carried by someone else's breath.
A strange rush tightened her chest. The air around her felt charged—unsteady, as if something invisible wavered.
Annie panicked, her voice rising sharply.
"My lady, please control your emotions. You'll trigger the instability again!"
Rhea froze, utterly confused.
Not her emotion—at least, she didn't recognize it.
Why?
Was this the original Aysel's lingering… something?
It didn't feel like her own.
Well, that was it.
Rhea didn't exactly sit around reflecting on that bizarre incident. She shoved it into the 'deal with later' corner of her brain. Unfortunately, 'later' had arrived a bit too soon.
Annie was staring at her, concerned as Rhea picked at the food without actually eating.
"Is it not to your liking, my lady?" she asked.
Rhea's fork hovered midair. Without thinking, she blurted out something entirely out of context.
"I want to go to the library."
Annie blinked. "The library, my lady? Right now?"
Rhea shrugged, suddenly aware of how abrupt it sounded, yet an inexplicable urgency had taken hold of her. It wasn't hunger—or even a whim—it was something else, a pull she couldn't quite name.
She was already planning her next move. Information. That was what she needed. If the tutors weren't available, she'd find another way. And of course, this place had to have a library—like all the fantasy novels promised. It should have.
"Well, we can go, my lady, but only after you eat your lunch," Annie said, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Rhea froze. That was the first time. She had never seen her smile before. And somehow, it made the library—and the mystery she was chasing—feel just a little less daunting.
But she was determined now.
She would find the one who brought her here—no matter what it took.
______________
©Aelune_writes