As spring unfurled its gentle blossoms across Seoul, the vibrant colors of cherry blossoms danced in the breeze outside the hospital window. Inside, Jiwon Park lay on a stark white bed, her body frail and worn, surrendering to the relentless grip of cancer. Her once bright smile had faded into hollow cheeks, and her dull brown eyes were clouded with fatigue, gazing vacantly at the ceiling. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor was a constant reminder of her struggle, a cruel juxtaposition to the life blooming outside.
A nurse entered the room, her pace quickening as she approached Jiwon's bed. The nurse, a woman with kind features framed by dark curls, furrowed her brow at the sight of Jiwon. She checked the monitors, her heart sinking as the readings dipped dangerously low.
"Jiwon," she murmured softly, "can you hear me?"
The words felt like a desperate lifeline, but Jiwon did not respond, her energy all but spent.
Seeing the alarming decline in Jiwon's vitals, the nurse hurriedly stepped out of the room, her heart racing as she crossed the threshold.
"Doctor! We need you in Room 312, now!" The urgency in her voice echoed in the sterile corridor.
Once the nurse had vanished, the quiet enveloped Jiwon once more. She shifted her gaze towards the window, watching as petals fluttered serenely, a stark contrast to her own turmoil.
A heavy weight settled in her chest—she understood, in some deep part of her, that this was perhaps the end. With a resigned sigh, she lay back against the pillows, a surprising wave of peace washing over her. For the first time in weeks, her body felt lighter, as if it could finally let go. And then, just like that, everything faded away.
In an instant, Jiwon jolted awake, her heart pounding and breaths shallow. Confusion swirled within her as she took in her surroundings. She found herself in a lavishly adorned room, complete with opulent draperies and a canopy bed that seemed to shimmer like a jewel. The tapestries on the walls depicted scenes of grand banquets and noble festivities, all draped in hues that echoed the blooming spring outside.
Suddenly, a flurry of movement caught her eye. A maid—young and vibrant—rushed to her side. The maid had a mane of fiery red hair that cascaded like a waterfall, contrasting sharply with her fair complexion. Her bright green eyes were wide with worry, glistening with an emotion that felt oddly familiar to Jiwon. "Lady da Ville!" she exclaimed, her voice tight with concern.
"Are you alright?"
Jiwon blinked in confusion, still processing her surroundings. "Who…who are you?" Her voice was hoarse, a whisper echoing from a throat unused to speaking.
"I'm Rose," the maid replied, kneeling beside her. "I'm here to take care of you." The earnestness in Rose's gaze pierced through the fog of bewilderment. "You gave us quite a scare, my Lady. You fell into a deep slumber. I feared..."
"Why am I here?" Jiwon interrupted, her heart racing again, but not from fear this time—more from the strange sense of entitlement in the way Rose referred to her. "What is this place?"
Rose's expression shifted to one of disbelief, her eyes darting to Jiwon's, searching for some recognition. "Lady Emeline da Ville, you're in your home—Castle da Ville! You must remember…" Her voice was laced with urgency, a plea for Jiwon to recall what seemed so distant.
The name struck Jiwon like a bell ringing in the silence.
Emeline da Ville.
It echoed hauntingly in her mind, a name she felt she should know, yet it slipped through her fingers like sand. "I—I swear, I don't…"
"Lady Emeline!" Rose pleaded, grasping Jiwon's hand gently. "You must rest. You've been through so much."
Jiwon stared into Rose's worried eyes, the world around her blurring into a haze of confusion and curiosity.
"What happened to me?" she whispered, the weight of her previous life dissolving into the illusion of this new reality. Deep down, she could feel the threads connecting the two worlds fraying.
Rose's hand tightened on hers, her touch grounding. "You were unwell," she murmured. "But you're safe now. You're awake..."
Jiwon immediately stood up to look in the mirror, carefully standing to see her reflection that was most definitely not her.
She stepped back, her breath escaping in a shudder as reality crashed upon her with the weight of an avalanche. The striking image in the mirror was both foreign and all too familiar—she was Emeline da Ville, the tragic heroine from a novel that once echoed through the recesses of her memory. It was a story woven with threads of sorrow, where love flourished amidst the backdrop of war, only to wilt under the cruel blades of betrayal.
The pale blonde hair that cascaded around her shoulders gleamed like spun silk, the luminous waves dancing softly with her every movement. Those piercing pale blue eyes held an ethereal quality, reflecting a world filled with both promise and foreboding. Her skin was flawless, with a porcelain smoothness that seemed untouched by the passage of time or the cruelty life had dealt her in her past existence. The delicate, rose-tinted lips formed a perfect bow above a thoughtful smile that felt so alien yet hypnotizing.
Jiwon's heart raced as fragments of Emeline's story flitted through her mind—pieces of endless hope intertwined with inevitable despair. She recalled how Emeline had loved the Emperor of the North, her kingdom's lifelong enemy, and how that love had ultimately led to her demise. Executed for treason, Emeline's fate was a tragic consequence of her devotion.
Thoughts of the dark-haired Emperor, fierce and enigmatic, flashed like lightning in Jiwon's consciousness, igniting a familiar resentment. She had resented Emeline for trusting him and for believing in a love destined to end in tragedy. Yet now, standing in the exquisite garments of nobility, Jiwon felt the weight of a role that came with expectations she had never asked for.
Rose quickly grasped Jiwon's hand, her eyes wide with concern. "Don't get up too quickly, my Lady," she urged her voice a comforting balm in the chaos of Jiwon's thoughts. Without waiting for a response, she hurried out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the lavish corridor as she called for a physician.
In a daze, Jiwon remained rooted in front of the mirror, the reflection staring back at her tightening her jaw with apprehension. She felt a shudder of fear; she was now in the skin of Emeline da Ville, and it filled her with dread—the dread of repeating the same tragic path woven into the fabric of that life. What if she succumbed to the same fate, ensnared by betrayal and sorrow?
Just a few minutes passed before the door burst open, and a physician with wheat-colored hair swept into the room, his demeanor both professional and warm. He swiftly approached her, examining her with keen, attentive eyes.
"Lady Emeline," he declared, a reassuring smile spreading across his face, "you are quite well. A bit of exercise will be beneficial, but your healing is spectacular—almost miraculous, if I dare say."
Rose returned to Jiwon's side, her expression animated with excitement. "See? It's a sign from the gods!" she exclaimed, nearly bouncing on her heels.
Jiwon felt a knot of unease twist in her stomach. Could it be that the original Emeline had perished, leaving her soul to inhabit this body? The thought buzzed through her mind, unshakable, but it slipped away as quickly as it arrived when Rose continued speaking.
"I must inform Marquess da Ville," Rose announced, shifting her attention to her duties. Jiwon's heart sank at the mention of family.
Thoughts of Emeline's past flickered in her mind—her mother's tragedy, dying during childbirth and leaving the girl to grow up under the shadow of disdain from her relatives. The only warmth came from Clarence da Ville, her elder brother, who seemed protective but was ever so close to uncovering the truth behind Emeline's secrets.
As she searched for clarity, Jiwon grappled with the fleeting memories of how Emeline had met the Emperor amidst lavish galas and poignant dialogues. Faces blurred, moments shimmered, and slips of conversations faded into nothingness. She frowned deeply, struggling to grasp them, when Rose noticed her expression.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her concern palpable.
Jiwon shook her head, forcing a smile onto her lips. "I'm alright. Nothing is wrong," she replied, but the tremble in her voice was undeniable.
She felt the weight of an impending doom settling over her like an ominous cloud. Surely, she would regain those memories soon, she convinced herself. Maybe then, she could find a way to escape the tragic ending that awaited Emeline.
But if only Jiwon knew what was truly unfolding in the extensive shadows of Castle da Ville, perhaps she would understand the precarious balance of fate she was about to tip, unwittingly drawing closer to the same fate she so desperately wanted to avoid.