In the Monroe family mansion, Veledriana Monroe was the undisputed owner. The grand estate, nestled in the heart of the sprawling city, was a symbol of her family's status and power. Living within its elegant walls were her younger sister, brothers, and their aging father—figures who represented the noble lineage of the Monroe name. She was not only the head of the family but also the most powerful magician in the Volandria Kingdom as royalty. Veledriana's magic was both feared and revered because it had the power to change the very balance of power within the realm.
The world around her was opulence and technology-a society of modern times in which the impossible had been accomplished. Cities shone high with skyscrapers. Airships flew between cities; magic technology was a side besides science. It was that world of possibilities where magic and innovation make everything possible.
And so, within the body of Veledriana lived someone else.
As Veledriana continued to walk through the mansion, the echo of her own footsteps rang hollow in her ears. 'This isn't me,' she thought, her hand instinctively brushing the silver hair that flowed down her back. 'I'm not the Veledriana Monroe of this world.'
The large wooden doors creaked softly as Veledriana stepped into the breakfast hall. Sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, casting long beams across the polished wooden floor. The scent of freshly baked bread, rich coffee, and eggs filled the air, blending with the soft hum of morning conversations.
At the long, marble dining table, her younger sister, Emilia, sat with her legs crossed, casual enough to sip from a fine porcelain cup. Her eyes were lifted as she saw Veledriana enter, a smile curving her lips but her expression still sleepy. Beside her, her younger brother, Alistair, was already digging into a hearty meal, unconscious of the world around him as he shoveled the food into his mouth.
At the head of the table, their father—an elderly man with a sharp, regal presence—looked up from his plate, his face softening in the way it always did when he saw his eldest daughter. His white hair, though graying, still held a certain strength, and his deep-set eyes reflected years of wisdom and experience.
"Ah, Veledriana," he said warmly, his voice hoarse with age but steady. He laid down his silver fork and gestured toward an empty seat beside him. "Come, join us. It's a beautiful morning."
Veledriana froze at the sound of her name. Veledriana. Her pulse quickened. A knot formed in her stomach as she absorbed the familial scene before her—this wasn't her family, not in the traditional sense. This was a role she was supposed to play, a person she had become.
She cast her eyes towards Emilia and Alistair. They were too distracted by their own interests to notice her hesitation. Her father's smile was kindly expectant.
Moving ahead, she walked towards her father's chair. It let out a small screech as she seated herself upon it. The silence, broken only by the tinkling of silverware against one another, hung within the air for a moment as she folded her hands properly onto the table, an eerie feeling of being observed built up.
Noticing the silence, Emilia raised an eyebrow but said nothing instead and offered a teasing grin. "You look well this morning, Sister. I see the royal duties are treating you nicely."
Alistair, his mouth half full, gave her a distracted nod but mumbled something that sounded like nothing.
Her father's eyes softened, gazing at her with a searching look that seemed almost profound. "I trust you slept well, my dear?" His voice was gentle, but there was a depth to it, a weight that suggested he saw more than he let on.
Veledriana's fingers twitched; the voice of the system still echoing in her head. The heart you possess.
"Better than I expected, Father," she replied, her voice a smooth blend of authority and warmth, sounding more like Veledriana than herself. The words felt almost instinctive now, rolling off her tongue like a long-practiced routine.
Her father nodded slowly, seeming satisfied with her response. "Good. We have much to discuss today, but for now, enjoy your meal. You've earned it."
She looked down at the spread before her: delicate fruit on a plate, warm bread, and steaming tea. The rich meal seemed almost incidental compared to the questions swirling in her head.
As she reached for her fork, her thoughts began racing. 'Why am I playing a role in a world that doesn't belong to me?'
Her gaze shifted to Emilia, who was now watching her with a knowing smirk, and Alistair, who had already returned to his breakfast. 'This family....do they sense that I'm not truly her?'
The peaceful morning in the breakfast hall was shattered in a moment.
The door to the room had swung open violently, hitting against the wall. A servant stood in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes wide with panic, his hand grasping the frame as though he could steady himself upon it. His voice was cracked, breathless and urgent.
"Milady! Master! There's someone. someone outside!"
The words barely registered before the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, the sound thudding against the marble floors with an ominous rhythm. The servant's fear was palpable, and his frantic eyes darted between the family at the table.
Veledriana's heart stammered. Her breath was held in her chest as cold fear washed over her. A shiver ran down her entire body as her instincts screamed out to her to react-but she remained frozen for the length of a heartbeat, allowing the others around her a burst of fear before bursting into action.
Emilia's hand shot up to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief, her usual teasing expression replaced by sheer terror. Her body stiffened, her grip tightening around her teacup as she pulled it closer, as though it could shield her from the unknown danger.
Alistair let his fork drop from his hand, and it clattered against the plate with a sharp metallic sound that sent through the silence like thunder. His mouth had gone dry, and his bold self went out of the window, gazing wide-eyed at the door.
Veledriana's father stood, his features darkening as a flicker of worry crossed his face. He lost strength to his standing posture, which spoke that he too felt the weight of this unannounced presence.
Then, like in an answer to the sudden silence, the heavy footsteps seemed to grow louder and the floor beneath them seemed to tremble as something massive moved towards the door.
Without warning, the door was thrown open farther, and what stood in the doorway froze everyone in their tracks.
A figure, at least twenty feet tall, shrouded in dark, flowing robes, filled the entire doorway. The silhouette was imposing, and it wore a hood to cover its face, but those dark, glowing eyes piercing through the shadows chilled the air in the room. The air itself seemed to thicken, as if the world was holding its breath at the presence of this being.
The form was unmistakable. A reaper.
The space around the figure seemed to distort and wrinkle, and there was that smell of death: cold, suffocating, rank.
Veledriana's pulse was racing; her body was trembling with something more than fear—the overpowering urge to respond, to defend. But she had a glimpse of this thing, this impossible strength, and she was stunned, paralyzed.