The first thing I learned as Lysander Hale was that standing in silk pajamas while panicking did nothing to help the situation. The second thing I learned? I wasn't alone.
"Ahem."
I whipped around to see a man standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He looked like he'd been plucked straight from a fashion magazine, with slicked-back hair, a sharp jawline, and the kind of tailored suit that screamed, I'm too rich to care what you think.
"Lord Lysander," the man said, his tone professional but tinged with irritation. "Your mother is waiting for you in the drawing room. You're already late."
Lord? Drawing room? Oh, this was bad.
"Right," I said, trying to sound confident while my brain scrambled to process the absurdity of it all. "Of course. Just, uh… give me a moment."
The man frowned but gave a curt nod before leaving, shutting the door behind him. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"Okay, Aaron," I muttered to myself, pacing the room. "You're in the body of Lysander Hale. A fictional character. In a fictional world. That's fine. Totally fine. You just need to figure out what's going on without dying of embarrassment or, you know, actual death."
I threw on the outfit hanging over the chair—a ridiculous ensemble of ruffled sleeves and embroidery that screamed nobleman trying way too hard—and took a moment to examine myself in the mirror. The face staring back was frustratingly perfect, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and a smirk that could charm its way out of a duel.
"If nothing else," I said, adjusting my cuffs, "at least I'm hot now."
——
The Hale estate was exactly what you'd expect from one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom: marble floors, chandeliers the size of carriages, and so much gold trim it felt like the walls themselves were showing off. As I made my way to the drawing room, I passed by servants who bowed slightly and avoided eye contact.
"Morning, Your Lordship," one of them murmured as I walked by.
"Good morning," I replied, trying not to sound like a complete fraud.
The drawing room was just as over-the-top as the rest of the place, with velvet sofas, gilded mirrors, and an enormous painting of a man who looked like he'd never smiled a day in his life. Sitting on one of the sofas was a woman who could only be described as intimidatingly elegant.
This was Lady Margot Hale, Lysander's mother. I recognized her from the game, where she spent most of her time delivering icy glares and sharp comments that could leave anyone trembling.
"Lysander," she said, her voice as smooth and cold as a polished diamond. "You're late."
"I, uh… overslept," I said, offering her the kind of awkward smile that probably made me look like a fool.
Her eyes narrowed, and I felt like she was dissecting me with her gaze. "That's unlike you."
"Well, you know," I said, trying to play it cool, "even perfection needs a break sometimes."
To my surprise, Margot raised an eyebrow, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Hmph. Sit down."
I did as I was told, taking a seat across from her. That's when I noticed two more people in the room.
On one side of the sofa sat Cedric Hale, Lysander's older brother and the golden boy of the family. He was every bit the charming, responsible heir the game made him out to be, with a dazzling smile that could probably end wars.
On the other side was Cassandra Hale, the youngest sibling and a sharp-tongued firecracker who spent most of her screen time in the game arguing with Lysander. She looked up from the book she was pretending to read, her eyes narrowing at me like she already suspected something was off.
"Finally decided to grace us with your presence, Lysander?" she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"I live to serve," I shot back, leaning into the persona. If I was going to survive this, I'd have to channel every ounce of charm Lysander was supposed to have.
Cedric chuckled. "It's good to see some things never change."
Margot cut in before Cassandra could fire back. "Lysander, I expect you to behave yourself today. We have important guests arriving this evening, and I won't have you embarrassing this family with your antics."
"Guests?" I asked, keeping my tone casual while internally panicking.
"The Corvelles," Margot said, her sharp gaze locking onto mine.
Oh.
Oh!
The Corvelles. As in Anastasia Corvelle, the villainess?. The woman who is the rival/enemy to the main heroine in a game where my entire existence was designed to revolve around someone else's story.
"Of course," I said, smiling as convincingly as I could. "I'll be on my best behavior."
Margot gave a small nod, satisfied for now.
——-
As the conversation drifted to Cedric's upcoming business ventures and Cassandra's "rebellious" hobbies (she was apparently learning to fence in secret), I sat there quietly, trying to piece together everything I knew about the world of A Court of Eternal Blossoms.
The Hales were one of the most influential families in the kingdom, rivaled only by the Corvelles. The story revolved around Serena, the heroine, navigating a web of romance, political intrigue, and a frankly absurd amount of dramatic confrontations.
My role? To be the charming-but-irrelevant love interest who gets rejected and forgotten by chapter two.
But not this time.
If Anastasia was coming here tonight, that meant I had a chance to rewrite everything. No pining after Serena. No playing along with the script.
"Alright,," I thought, glancing at the chandelier above. "You've got one shot. Time to charm the villainess, or be painstakingly and publicly humiliatied, by said Villainess."
This thought alone motivated me to bring on the charm…hopefully.