Eleanor stood before the tall mirror, her emerald eyes scanning her reflection. Her gown shimmered in the soft light, a masterpiece of gold and cream fabric adorned with delicate embroidery. Jewels adorned her neck and ears, their brilliance almost distracting from the golden curls that framed her face. It was her first time wearing something so opulent, and she felt like she had stepped into another life entirely.
"This is real," she whispered to herself, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt. Her reflection stared back, regal and poised, but beneath the surface, she still felt like the maidservant she once was. The transformation was overwhelming.
A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts. "My lady," came Greta's voice, her maidservant. The door creaked open, and Greta stepped in with a bow. "The carriage is ready. Lord Elias is waiting."
Eleanor nodded, taking one last glance in the mirror. "Thank you, Greta. Let's go."
The palace loomed ahead, an architectural marvel that gleamed under the glow of a thousand lanterns. Its towering spires reached for the heavens, and the grand arches at the entrance seemed to beckon her into a world she had only ever dreamed of. Memories stirred in her mind—Lady Eleanor had visited this place before. But for the Eleanor who had come from another life, it was both mesmerizing and intimidating.
Stepping out of the carriage, she caught her breath. The marble steps stretched endlessly upward, and nobles dressed in the finest silks and jewels filled the entrance hall. Eleanor's heart raced as she joined the flow of people, her steps careful and measured, trying to blend in despite her nerves.
Inside, the grandeur of the palace hit her all at once. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above, their light casting intricate patterns on the polished floors. The air buzzed with chatter and laughter, and the faint notes of an orchestra playing in the background added to the enchantment. Eleanor's mind couldn't help but marvel at the opulence.
But amidst the splendor, her gaze landed on a familiar figure. Lady Seraphine Aldridge stood near the grand staircase, surrounded by a circle of admirers. Seraphine's raven-black hair was styled to perfection, her deep blue gown clinging to her like a second skin. She was stunning, commanding attention effortlessly.
Eleanor's stomach tightened. She remembered Seraphine well, not just from Lady Eleanor's memories but from her own past life. Seraphine had been her mistress, a woman who reveled in power and control. As a maidservant, Eleanor had been on the receiving end of Seraphine's sharp words and impossible demands. Now, they stood as equals—or so it seemed.
Lady Seraphine's icy gaze met hers. A smirk spread across her lips, and she stepped forward, her admirers parting to make way. "Lady Eleanor," she drawled, her voice sweet but laced with venom. "What a surprise to see you here, especially after that dreadful accident. One would think you'd still be resting."
Eleanor maintained her composure, summoning the grace and confidence that Lady Eleanor had been known for. "It's true. I am fortunate to have survived. Perhaps the gods believe I have unfinished business in this world."
Seraphine's smile faltered for a split second before she recovered. "How poetic," she said, her tone clipped. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon. But I suppose resilience runs in the Hawthorne family."
Eleanor chose not to respond. She had learned in her previous life that engaging with Seraphine rarely ended well. Instead, she offered a polite smile, a subtle dismissal that she hoped would end the conversation.
Before Seraphine could press further, a loud voice rang out through the hall. "His Royal Highness, Prince Adrian!"
All eyes turned toward the grand double doors as they swung open. Eleanor's heart raced as the prince entered. He strode into the room with a commanding presence, his broad shoulders draped in a black and silver military jacket that accentuated his regal bearing. His face was sharp, his jaw set in a hard line, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the room with a cold detachment.
Eleanor's breath caught in her throat. It was him—the beggar she had saved in her previous life. But he wasn't the same. Gone was the timid, grateful man she had met in that dark alley. In his place stood a prince who seemed untouchable, his demeanor exuding power and authority. His gaze never lingered on anyone as he walked to the center of the hall, as if the entire gathering was beneath his notice.
Eleanor's confidence wavered. How was she supposed to make him fall in love with her? This man was nothing like the beggar who had thanked her with tears in his eyes. His aura was intimidating, almost impenetrable. Doubt crept into her mind, and she questioned whether she was truly capable of completing her mission.
As Prince Adrian reached the center of the hall, he raised a hand, signaling for silence. The crowd hushed instantly, all eyes fixed on him. His voice was deep and steady as he addressed the room. "Thank you all for attending tonight. Your loyalty to the crown does not go unnoticed."
Eleanor barely heard the rest of his speech. Her thoughts were consumed by the daunting task ahead. How was she supposed to connect with him, let alone make him fall for her, when he seemed so unreachable? She clenched her fists, her resolve wavering.
Then, as if sensing her inner turmoil, the System's voice chimed in her mind.
"Ding! New quest alert: Make the prince laugh!"
Eleanor's eyes widened. Of all the tasks the System could have given her, this seemed impossible. Prince Adrian didn't look like he had laughed in years. How could she possibly accomplish this?
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The gala was just beginning, and she needed to find a way to approach him. But as she glanced around the room, she realized she wasn't the only one vying for his attention. Nobles, ministers, and ladies of the court all angled themselves toward him, eager to curry favor.
Eleanor felt the weight of the challenge pressing down on her. The night was young, but she already felt like she was running out of time.