The sun had long fallen when I left the safety of my chamber. Torches flickered along the corridors, painting the walls in red light and shadow. Every echo of my boots reminded me I was walking through the home of a man everyone feared—Lucien Vale, the villain who had died once already.
Yet tonight, that man was me.
I stopped before the grand doors of the western hall. Laughter and soft music spilled through the crack. The servants had whispered that Lady Ana Everleigh, the Duke's daughter, was visiting to discuss the estate's debts.Ana. The woman whose betrayal had ended Lucien's life—whose final words had ended mine.
My pulse hammered in my throat. "Get a grip, Evan," I whispered. "She doesn't know you're not him."
I pushed open the door.
The hall glowed with candlelight. Courtiers turned at once, falling silent as if a ghost had appeared. At the center of the room stood a woman in a silver dress. Chestnut hair curled over her shoulders, eyes bright like amber glass. Her lips parted slightly when she saw me—shock, disbelief… fear.
"Lord Lucien," she said softly, curtsying. Her voice trembled, but she didn't look away.
I forced a calm smile. "Lady Ana. You look… well."
It felt strange speaking to the woman who, in another timeline, had ended my life. She had been Lucien's light and doom, both. Now, standing here, she looked too human—fragile even—to match the monster in my memory.
"You shouldn't be on your feet," she said quickly. "After the—after the capital…"
"After dying?" I asked, and her eyes widened. "Rumors of my death were premature."
The crowd around us shifted uneasily. I dismissed them with a flick of my hand, and the hall emptied. Only Ana remained, clutching the edge of her dress.
Silence.Then she whispered, "You've changed."
I almost laughed. If only you knew how much.
"I realized death teaches better than books," I said. "Tell me, Lady Ana… why did you come here?"
She hesitated. "The council fears you'll rise against the crown again. I was asked to ensure the Vale family remains… contained."
So she was still their pawn. Just like in the novel.
I stepped closer. "And what do you fear?"
Her breath caught. "That you'll make the same mistake twice."
I studied her face—the same one I'd hated and loved through every chapter I'd read. Now, up close, I saw the faint scars beneath her left ear, the tiredness in her eyes. The novel had never shown those.
Maybe she wasn't the cold traitor I remembered. Maybe she was just another prisoner of the story.
"Perhaps," I said quietly, "this time I'll make different ones."
Before she could reply, the air shifted. A faint hum of mana rippled through the hall—the signature of someone using a detection spell.They're watching us, I realized.
I moved in an instant, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. She gasped, cheeks flushing, but I raised my other hand and whispered a barrier incantation. The walls shimmered faintly before returning to silence.
"No one can hear us now," I said. "Tell them whatever you wish later. But right now, you'll listen."
"Lucien—"
"I'm not the man you think I am." The words left my mouth before I could stop them. She frowned, confused. I forced a grin to cover it. "That man died in the capital. I'm simply the shadow he left behind."
Her eyes softened, just a little. "Then prove it," she whispered. "Prove you're not the monster the world remembers."
Challenge, fear, and a hint of something else—hope—sparked between us.
I let her go, stepping back into the half-light. "Very well," I said. "But if I must change this world's story, I'll need you to stop standing in my way."
Ana's gaze lingered on me a moment longer before she turned toward the door. "Be careful, Lord Lucien. The council won't forgive another rebellion."
She left, her scent—jasmine and steel—fading into the corridor.
I exhaled slowly, hands trembling. My first meeting with her hadn't ended in blood. That alone was a miracle.
Still, the barrier hummed faintly, reflecting my distorted reflection back at me."I'm rewriting the story," I murmured. "Even if it kills me again."
Somewhere beyond the manor walls, thunder rolled—low, warning, alive.
And I knew: the real battle had just begun.