"No one's coming to save us—we both learned that the hard way. If we want to survive, we have to rewrite the story ourselves."
***
Evelyn sighed as she stepped into Seraphina's chambers, the heavy oak door closing behind her with a dull thud. The room was luxurious, adorned with silken drapes and gilded furniture, yet it felt unbearably cold. No warmth seeped from its opulence, only an oppressive sense of isolation.
She tossed the worn book she had taken from the library onto the desk, her mind still reeling. The Golden Finger. Rewrite destiny. A price to pay. It all sounded like the cryptic ramblings of an author too fond of their own mystery. And yet, there was something chillingly real about it.
She leaned against the ornate wood, her amber eyes sweeping the room—lavish, elegant, and utterly suffocating. She didn't belong here.
She crossed to the vanity, her reflection in the gilded mirror catching her off guard. The face staring back at her was beautiful, ethereal even, but unfamiliar. Seraphina Aveline's face, not Evelyn Monroe's. Her fingers grazed her cheekbone as if touching it might anchor her to the reality she was struggling to comprehend.
"Rewrite destiny," she murmured, her thoughts returning to the fragmented passages of the book she had read. "But at what cost?"
Her gaze drifted to the plush bed at the center of the room. She needed rest, though her restless mind doubted she would find it. With a resigned sigh, Evelyn climbed onto the bed and sank into the sea of silk and velvet.
As she stared up at the intricate canopy, memories stirred. In her past life, as Evelyn, she had read a book that mentioned Seraphina Aveline. But she hadn't finished it.
I didn't even finish that damned book, she thought, groaning. "Who's pulling the strings here? And why would they use Seraphina as their scapegoat?"
Seraphina's memories were a haze in her mind—fragments that felt foreign yet intimate. Evelyn could recall the girl's humiliation at court, the mocking laughter of noblewomen, and the sneering disdain of lords. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't piece together who had orchestrated her downfall.
The room was silent, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. Evelyn closed her eyes, willing herself to piece together the fragments of her thoughts. Someone wants chaos, and Seraphina was the perfect pawn—timid, alone, easy to frame.
Her fingers itched to return to the library, but exhaustion pinned her to the bed. As her gaze wandered the room, something on the nearby shelf caught her eye—a small, unassuming leather-bound book. A small leather-bound book lay partially hidden beneath a lace doily. Curiosity piqued, Evelyn reached for it. The cover was unmarked, but as she flipped it open, she realized it was a diary.
Seraphina's diary.
The neat, slanted handwriting was unmistakable, and the first entry was dated years ago. Evelyn hesitated, the weight of invading someone's private thoughts pressing against her conscience. But Seraphina's life was now hers, inextricably entwined. Perhaps within these pages lay the key to understanding the girl whose body she now inhabited.
***
"I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe it's because no one listens to me, and these pages can't judge me. Or maybe it's because I feel like I'm disappearing, little by little, with no one noticing. They call me the Jewel of the Court, but jewels are just ornaments. They sparkle, but they have no life of their own. I wonder if I'm like that. Something to be admired from afar, but never truly known."
The words hit Evelyn like a punch to the gut. She flipped to another entry, unable to stop herself.
"Mother says I must be better. Prettier. More obedient. She says beauty is my only worth, and if I fail at that, I'm nothing. She doesn't understand how exhausting it is to be perfect. I smiled again today. It's the only thing I know how to do that keeps people from seeing me for what I am—small, frightened, and alone. Mother says my beauty will be my salvation, but beauty is fleeting. What happens when it's gone? Will anyone see me then?"
Evelyn's chest tightened. She flipped to another page.
"Lady Mallory called me a 'pretty doll' again today. She smiled while saying it, but I could hear the venom behind her words. She thinks I don't belong here, that I'm just a face without substance. Maybe she's right."
Evelyn flipped to another entry.
"Today, Lady Clarisse tripped me in the ballroom. I fell into the cake, and everyone laughed. Mother said it was my fault for being clumsy. She said a real lady would have balanced herself better. But how can I balance when my world is always tilting?"
Evelyn frowned, her chest tightening as she read more. Entry after entry painted a picture of Seraphina's life—a lonely existence filled with bullying and isolation. The nobles envied her beauty, and the suitors who courted her sought only her status. No one had ever seen her for who she truly was, and Seraphina had stopped trying to make them.
One passage caught Evelyn's attention.
"I've been used as a scapegoat again. Lady Clarisse blamed me for spilling wine on her dress, though I wasn't even near her. The others laughed and agreed, of course. Sometimes, I wonder if I was born just to be someone else's shadow. A forgotten character in a story where the spotlight will never find me. Mother says I should keep my head down and be quiet. A lady's strength is in her silence, she says. But all I want is to scream! Why can't anyone see that I'm more than what they say I am?"
Lady Clarisse—who is she? Evelyn flipped to another entry again.
"Today, Mother scolded me again. She said I embarrassed the family by speaking out of turn during dinner. It wasn't my fault—the Duke's daughter called me 'a porcelain doll without a brain.' I tried to defend myself, but my words only made things worse. Everyone laughed."
Evelyn's fingers tightened around the book, her chest tightening with a pang of empathy. She turned the page.
"I saw Kael again today. He smiled at me and said my dress looked pretty. It was the first kind word anyone has spoken to me in weeks. I think Kael is my only friend. But even with him, I feel like a burden. He's kind because he's Kael, not because I'm worth it."
A lump formed in Evelyn's throat as she read further. Page after page, Seraphina's words painted a picture of a lonely, isolated girl—mocked by the court, ignored by her family, and trapped by the expectations of her station.
"Sometimes, I wish I were the protagonist of a story. Like the ones in the books I read. The heroes are always so strong, so brave. They fight for what's right, and people love them for it. But I'm not a hero. I'm just… a side character. A pretty face to decorate someone else's narrative. For my part, I'm just a shadow. A 'Villager C,' who watches the hero from afar and dreams of having just one moment of their bravery. One piece of proof that I matter. Maybe that's all I want. Just a little proof that I'm not invisible"
Evelyn blinked back unexpected tears. You weren't just a side character, Seraphina. You were human, and you deserved better.
"I've tried so hard to make people see me, but it doesn't matter. To them, I'm just Lady Seraphina—vain, shallow, and disposable. Even when I do everything right, they still find reasons to hate me. Maybe it's easier to just… disappear. If I didn't exist, would anyone even notice?"
The weight of those words hit Evelyn like a punch to the gut. "I notice," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I see you."
The Duchess of Hallowmere laughed again when I tripped today. I heard her whisper to her ladies, 'She's a rose with thorns—beautiful, but nothing but trouble.' I didn't cry this time. I wanted to, but I couldn't.
Kael says I'm too softhearted. Maybe he's right. But what does it matter? Soft hearts bruise easily, but they also heal, don't they?
Seraphina hadn't just been lonely; she had been invisible in the ways that mattered. To everyone but Kael, she was a doll—a silent, compliant figure they could manipulate. And even Kael, as loyal as he was, couldn't truly shoulder the burden of Seraphina's pain. She hadn't let him, afraid to burden him further.
"Maybe we're not so different," she muttered, her voice tinged with bitterness. "We both learned the hard way that no one's coming to save us. That if we want to survive, we have to do it on our own."
But even as the words left her lips, a small part of her resisted. Seraphina had wanted more—proof that she mattered, that she wasn't just a bystander in her own life. And now that life is mine. What am I going to do with it?
Evelyn closed the diary, her fingers trembling. The raw vulnerability in Seraphina's words hit her like a tidal wave. For all her beauty and status, Seraphina had been utterly alone.
"Life is solitary," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You're born alone, you die alone."
But as she stared at the diary in her hands, she wondered if that belief had been a shield rather than a truth. Was Seraphina's loneliness a reflection of what Evelyn feared most for herself?
The thought struck like lightning, and she setting a diary on the bedside table. She couldn't read anymore tonight.
Rising from the bed, she paced the room, her mind racing. Seraphina had wanted to be someone, to have her life mean something. Evelyn understood that longing, even if she wouldn't admit it aloud.
Her pacing brought her to the window, where the moonlight spilled into the room. She pressed her palm against the cool glass, gazing out at the vast garden below.
"Maybe…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Maybe I can rewrite this fate. For both of us."
But how?
The soft rustle of the curtains startled her, and she turned quickly, half expecting to see someone lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing. Just the stillness of the night and the haunting echo of her own thoughts.
Her gaze fell back to the diary, its presence both a comfort and a weight. She walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, picking it up again.
"Alright, Seraphina, let's see where your story leads."
Evelyn walk to the window, where the moon hung low over the estate gardens. The silvery light bathed the flowers in an ethereal glow, and for a moment, Evelyn felt a sense of calm.
But the peace was short-lived.