Vela's vibrant pink curls cascaded gracefully down her slender neck, resembling a waterfall of spun gold.
Her blue eyes held a mysterious depth, like two endless pools of secrets.
Small, pink lips adorned her face, contrasting elegantly with her porcelain skin. Beauty had been handed down for generations, and Vela was its masterpiece.
Vela stared into the shattered mirror as her trembling hand released a giant shard of glass, sending it plummeting to the floor, where it shattered with a deafening crash.
Shock washed over her, and she sank to her knees, the sharp edges of broken glass biting into her skin.
"Ha-ha-hah!" Vela's laughter burst forth, tinged with disbelief.
"How could it be?" she muttered incredulously.
Only moments ago, she was a twenty-one-year-old history student.
But now, she was in possession of another person's body that had lived millenniums before.
Transmigration—a concept she only read about in science fiction and thought to be something impossible—was now a reality, and every single second of this other person's life was now hers.
Vela fixed the maid with a dead-eyed stare, her smile more foreboding than any thunderclap.
The girl quivered, her already pale skin taking on an almost ghostly pallor as her body trembled.
"M-Miss Vela?" she croaked out, voice barely above a whisper.
Before Vela could respond, the maid turned and sprinted away, her cries echoing down the hall like a dirge.
The momentary distraction was broken by a harsh prickling sensation radiating from her hand.
She lowered her gaze to find dozens of tiny cuts caused by the glass, which had embedded itself within her skin upon impact.
Applying pressure to stave off the inevitable blood loss, Vela whispered in anguish,
"This really hurts."
Vela's door creaked as it swung open, revealing the figure of Raphael Von Kaylon, the Zestrian mage prodigy and second child of the Kaylon family.
His red hair glimmered in the light like a blazing fire while his bright hazel eyes pierced Vela's own, he was the splitting image of his father.
His ears twitched slightly as he cleaned his lenses on his shirt before looking directly into Vela's curious gaze.
"You know," he began,
"When people said you'd gone mad, I never believed it."
His voice lowered to a dangerous whisper as he leaned closer.
"But now, here you are trying to gouge out your own eyes..."
Vela's eyes drifted away in shame, realizing that contact lenses had not yet been invented and colored contacts were but a mere fantasy to them.
She finally knew that trying to remove lenses that weren't there must have seemed horrifying to the maid.
Raphael's lips curled into an insidious smirk as he studied Vela closely, like some oddity trapped in a case of unfamiliar specimens labeled.
"Enigmatic Remnants of Fallen Dynasties."
Vela couldn't help but think,
"What is his actual problem?"
Vela could feel her heart racing in her chest, struggling to make sense of the bewildering dynamic between herself and her brother.
The guidebook had provided little insight into the matter, leaving her plunged headlong into the situation as she desperately tried to comprehend what was happening.
Raphael exuded a palpable air of dominance, his condescending tone grating on Vela's last nerve.
Her icy stare spoke volumes as she refused to give in to his authority.
A timid maid calling out "miss" shattered the oppressive silence, providing Vela with the cue.
"Brother Raphael," she uttered tersely, her words landing like lead weights.
Astonishment washed over Raphael's face, unsettling Vela even more under his intense gaze.
"The other maid was beheaded for spreading such barbaric rumors about you,"
Raphael said coldly, turning abruptly and slamming the door behind him.
As Raphael disappeared from view, Vela was left alone with her thoughts.
'Did I do something wrong?'
she wondered, the weight of Raphael's words sinking in.
"Miss Vela! What in the world happened to your dress?!"
Miranda, the maid gasped, a look of concern spread across her face.
Though Miranda smiled warmly, Vela couldn't help but feel uneasy as she watched Miranda's hand hovering near her pocket as if gripping something concealed when she walked further into the room.
With trepidation, Vela noticed that Miranda's finger tapped lightly on the arm of the chair in a steady drumbeat - like a warning of impending terror. Vela stood rooted in place, wary of any looming danger.
As if reading her mind, Miranda called out softly,
"Miss? Will you let me tend to your wounds?"
Taking an unsteady breath, Vela slowly moved forward and carefully took a seat, trying not to disturb any of the glass shards strewn about the wooden floor.
The shattered glass crunched beneath Miranda's feet as she made her way over to dark oak shelves.
"Miss, the duke said I should prepare you for your medical checkup."
Miranda said softly. Despite her words, a deep sadness seemed to linger in the air.
"Oh, thank you, remembering she woke up with bandage"
Vela replied kindly, unaware of Miranda's inner turmoil.
Vela watched silently as the maid retrieved a box from atop one of the shelves and slowly unfurled bandages around her hands and knees.
She winced at the contact, sending a chill down Miranda's spine as the bloodstained gauze gently grazed Vela's skin.
Miranda hastily attempted to do what little she could to wrap up Vela's wounds.
Yet, nothing seemed adequate due to her clumsy movements.
"This is annoying" The maid murmured as she flung the bandages back into the box.
Miranda advanced leaving the wounds be, lifting a brush and caressing it with her fingertips.
Vela gazed in confusion at the chaotic tangle of bandages strewn over her legs.
"Isn't she going to finish what she started?" she thought,
"May I style your hair?" Miranda's words were a gentle murmur in the air.
Vela, who had been locked in a trance of confusion, gave a solemn nod.
Miranda rotated the chair around so Vela could catch sight of herself in the looking glass.
Vela's gaze deepened as she stared at her reflection, disbelief washing over her as it finally sunk in—she wasn't dreaming. This was happening.
Miranda's fingers clung to Vela's delicate tresses as she wove it into a tight braid.
She glanced down at Vela with a mix of sadness and loathing, her knuckles turning an ashen hue from her crushing grip on Vela's hair.
Vela let out a quiet moan of distress, her eyes squinting shut.
"It's too tight," she piteously whispered.
Refusing to relent, Miranda pulled harder, her heart a cold stone in her chest, intent on punishing Vela for the death of her younger sister, the very maid Raphael asked to be beheaded.
Every desperate yank felt like daggers slicing through Vela's scalp.
Miranda gave one final ferocious tug and released her hold from Vela's hair.
Vela's head hit the hard table with great force as she pulled away, a horrible thud sounding out in the room.
"What the hell...."
Vela wretchedly touched the side of her head in agony and Her fingertips came back stained with blood.
Blood began dripping down Vela's forehead and onto her pristine gown.
She gazed into the mirror and watched as red trails streamed down her ivory face, painting her white dress deeper shades of burgundy.
An agonizing pain shot through her as she tried to take a step forward.
She felt her knees buckle as the blood streamed from the wound on her head, blurring her vision.
She tilted her head to face Miranda whose face was broken between fear and happiness.
Miranda lay in a heap on the floor with tears streaming down her face, leaving an air of dread.
"It really hurts,"
Vela whimpered. In spite of her dreading heart, she stood and began a slow walk towards the bedroom door in hopes of fleeing the dreadful nightmare before it worsened further.
With every movement she made, the ache in her head intensified. Vela lunged forwards, both desperation and terror fueling her veins.
A loud thud resonated through the room as she stumbled to the floor, her sweltering grip clamped on the door handle for one last try.
The door swung open.
"Miss!"
shrieked a maid who was passing by. Chaos ensued as Miranda escaped from view just before anyone could react.
Medical professionals scrambled forward and fought diligently against time to stop the bleeding, but their efforts were doomed; she had already succumbed to unconsciousness.