Darkness surrounded her. Not the comforting kind of darkness where the world was simply asleep, but an unsettling void that swallowed every sense. Eleanor floated in it, weightless and uncertain, her thoughts as scattered as the stars she couldn't see.
Am I dead?
The memory came rushing back—the cold steel of a blade slicing through her chest, the beggar's terrified eyes as she pushed him aside. Pain, panic… and then nothing.
But this wasn't nothing.
Suddenly she heard a voice from somewhere. She couldn't see who or was what it, but she could hear it. And she felt nothing as if she doesn't have a body.
"Ding! Welcome, Eleanor!"
She jolted, or at least, she thought she did.
"What… what is this?" she stammered. "Where am I?"
"You're in the transitional void between lives," the voice said, bright and cheerful, as if explaining the rules of a game. "Congratulations on your heroic sacrifice! It's earned you a second chance at life."
"Second chance?" Eleanor repeated, she still couldn't believe the voice. "I'm dead, right? You don't just… get second chances!"
"Oh, but you do! Under certain circumstances, anyway," the voice chirped. "And you, dear Eleanor, are among the rare few deemed worthy."
A mix of confusion and unease churned inside her. She couldn't see the voice's owner, yet it felt omnipresent, surrounding her.
"Worthy? For what?"
"To fulfill an extraordinary mission!" the voice declared. "You've been chosen for reincarnation in a new life—but with one condition."
Eleanor swallowed hard. "And what's that?"
"You must make Prince Adrian fall in love with you within one year."
The words hung in the void, impossible and surreal.
"What?" she whispered. "What do you mean, fall in love'? Who is Prince Adrian? Why does this matter?"
"Let me explain," the voice said, its tone almost too patient, like a teacher indulging a slow student. "When you died, you disrupted the threads of fate in a rather… significant way. That beggar you saved? He was pivotal to the balance of this world. Your actions created a void—a ripple that needs mending. And so, you've been selected to fix it."
The beggar. Eleanor's mind raced back to the filthy man in tattered clothes, the one she couldn't just walk past when she saw the blade glint in the assassin's hand. He'd looked so scared, so desperate. And now, he was supposed to be important?
"How does making some prince fall in love with me fix anything?" she asked, incredulous.
"Because," the voice said, almost smugly, "the beggar you saved is Prince Adrian."
Eleanor froze. She felt like her heart skipped even though she knew she didn't have it now.
"That's impossible!" she exclaimed. She shook her head even though she wasn't sure if she still had it. "He wasn't a prince. He was—"
"A prince," the voice interrupted. "He was temporarily exiled and in disguise. The prince is crucial to the kingdom's future. And now, thanks to you, he's back where he belongs. But there's a problem—he's become… difficult."
"Difficult?"
"Closed off. Distrustful. Bitter. You see, his exile wasn't exactly a vacation. Now he's the crown prince, but he's pushing everyone away—including those who need him most."
Eleanor's head spun. This was absurd. She was a servant girl, a nobody. How was she supposed to make a prince fall in love with her?
"I'm sorry," she said while her voice was shaking, "but I think you've got the wrong person. I'm not… I'm nobody…"
"You can," the voice insisted. "And you will. You've been given an advantage—a new identity. You'll be reborn as the daughter of one of the most powerful nobles in the kingdom, the Duke of Hawthorne. You will have the beauty, wealth, and status at your disposal. Everything you need to complete your mission."
Eleanor didn't know whether to laugh or cry. What the system proposed to her was everything she didn't have in her previous life. "But I don't know anything about being a noble! I've spent my life scrubbing floors and serving tea!"
"Then you'd better learn quickly," the voice said, unbothered by her panic. "Time waits for no one—not even the reincarnated."
"What happens if I fail?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The voice hesitated, just for a moment, and when it spoke again, it was colder.
"Failure means your second life ends, and the balance of fate remains broken. Neither outcome is ideal." The voice's tone become serious. Like it was giving her a warning.
Her stomach—or whatever stood in for it here—dropped.
"So, no pressure, then," she muttered bitterly.
"You'll be fine!" the voice said, cheerful once more. "You're kind, and resourceful, and you've already shown you're willing to risk everything for others. You just need to… channel that into romance!"
Romance. The word felt foreign to her. Love had never been something she'd thought about, let alone pursued. Her life as a servant hadn't exactly left room for it.
"But I don't even know him," she protested. "How am I supposed to make someone like that love me?"
"You'll figure it out," the voice said lightly. "Besides, I'll be here to help! Think of me as your personal guide—or System, if you will."
"System?"
"Yes! I'll provide you with quests to complete, all designed to bring you closer to Prince Adrian. Succeed, and you'll earn rewards to help you on your journey. Fail, and… well, let's not focus on that!"
Eleanor sighed. "This sounds like a nightmare."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. It'll be fun! Now, are you ready to begin?"
"Wait—" she started, but the void began to shift, the darkness peeling away like a curtain. A blinding light enveloped her, and the voice echoed around her one last time.
"Good luck, Eleanor. Remember: one year. Make it count!"
Then everything went white.
~~~
When Eleanor opened her eyes, the emptiness was gone. Instead, she found herself lying on a bed so plush it felt like clouds beneath her. The room around her was beyond anything she'd ever dreamed of—gilded mirrors lined the walls, silk drapes cascaded from towering windows, and a chandelier glittered overhead, casting soft, golden light across the space.
Her heart raced as she sat up, taking it all in. This couldn't be real. It was too grand, too perfect, like something out of a fairytale.
Then her eyes caught on the mirror across the room, and she froze. The face staring back wasn't hers—not the freckled, ordinary face she'd known her whole life. Instead, a vision of beauty gazed back: golden curls framed delicate features, and a pair of vivid emerald eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Eleanor's breath hitched.
Who was this person in the reflection? And what had happened to her?
"Oh no," she breathed.
"Ding!"
The voice—no, the System—chimed in her head.
"Welcome to your new life, Eleanor! Your first quest will be arriving shortly. Good luck!"
Before she could respond, a loud knock sounded at the door.
"Lady Eleanor," a servant called, "your father wishes to see you in the drawing room."
Her father. The duke.
Eleanor stared at the door, her pulse racing. This was her new life, her new identity. And somewhere out there, the beggar-turned-prince was waiting, icy and untouchable.
The thought s
ent a shiver through her.
One year.
She just needed one year.