Olivia let out a weary sigh, her delicate fingers wiping the sweat from her brow as the oppressive heat of the midday sun bore down on her. The relentless rays filtered through the thick, faded cotton curtains of the grand Victorian room, casting sharp, shimmering beams that only intensified the oppressive air. This offered her no respite, no relief from the sweltering task at hand.
"Haa..." She muttered under her breath, her long, black hair falling out of her carefully crafted low bun as she moved toward the curtains. With a soft flick of her wrist, her simple copper ring caught the light, glinting briefly in the haze of the room. Its oxidation causing it to turn blue around the edges.
A sudden noise shattered the silence, and Olivia froze, her breath catching in her throat.
"Wh-wha..." A hoarse, faint voice, barely above a whisper, broke through the air.
Her heart leapt in her chest, and before she could think, Olivia's head snapped around. She had scarcely turned when she felt a sharp twinge of pain in her neck, but it was nothing compared to the shock that awaited her.
Eyes wide, she beheld her Lady—her little Lady—stirring on the vast, canopy-draped bed, her fragile form shifting beneath the silken sheets. Her eyes blinked open, dazed and bleary.
A breathless gasp slipped from Olivia's lips as her hands instinctively cupped her mouth. She stumbled toward the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. Without thinking, she seized a glass of warm water, her hands trembling, and the liquid sloshed within it.
She screamed in a voice that was high-pitched with panic, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush.
"O-oh, the heavens! Lady Leroux has awoken!"
Her voice echoed beyond the doors, reverberating down the vast, empty hall.
"Sh-She has awakened!"
♛
"Ugh..." A sharp pain radiated through Nepheli's skull. Her head throbbed mercilessly, and it felt as though a thousand tiny, sadistic hands were hammering at the delicate bone of her cranium, each pulse intensifying the agony. It was as though the pain had multiplied tenfold, overwhelming her senses, drowning her in a sea of torment.
"She has awakened!" The voice—a loud, shrill sound—pierced through the haze in her mind, sending shockwaves through her fragile consciousness.
Nepheli's body trembled, her senses assaulted by the ringing cry. A tearful groan escaped her lips as she curled further into herself, instinctively clutching at the sheets beneath her. Her eyes, blurry with exhaustion, slowly blinked open, and they caught only a flicker of light before her vision blurred again.
The pain was unbearable. Her body felt weak, bruised, as though it had been put through some cruel trial. Her stomach twisted in uncomfortable knots, a gnawing nausea that made the world spin dizzyingly.
'It hurts... Please, make it stop...' The thought lingered in her muddled mind, but before she could even process it, another wave of pain wracked her body.
"Urghk–!"
She choked, barely able to draw a breath, then something cool was pressed to her lips—water, perhaps—but it was lost to her senses as another surge of nausea overcame her. Without warning, Nepheli turned violently, and the world became a blur as she expelled something vile and thick from her body. The liquid poured out in torrents, and her body convulsed with each violent expulsion.
"Oh my gods! Help, somebody help!" A voice—distant, frantic—seemed to scream from somewhere far away, but Nepheli could only focus on the revolting sensation of something solid and foreign working its way up from deep within her. She gagged, her throat burning as her chest heaved, the agony twisting her features into a grimace. Her jaw strained, her skin stretched taut as her veins pulsed beneath the surface.
"A-ah! Ugh... haa–"
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the vile liquid ceased its relentless surge. Nepheli gasped for air, her chest trembling as she collapsed back onto the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks in silent shame. Her trembling hand reached out, desperate to wipe away the remnants of the nightmare, but all she could find was fabric—drenched in sweat and the stench of her own body's impurities.
"What the fuck was that..." she murmured, her voice a hoarse whisper. Her wide eyes stared down at the pool of liquid beside her, a sight so alien, so repulsive, that she could hardly bear to look at it. It was odd too, too unnatural to even be called vomit. It was pale in color, a dirty clear reminiscent of the substance on a birthed newborn.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, each beat a reminder of how her nerves felt aflamed. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she gathered what little strength she could muster. Slowly, her gaze drifted to the voice she had heard earlier, the one that had called out so frantically.
It was... a maid?
Nepheli's body recoiled instinctively, pushing herself back against the cold wooden headboard as her eyes narrowed. Her mind, fogged with confusion and fear, finally grasped the figure before her—a strange woman, eyes wide with a mix of concern and terror. In a damn maid outfit of all things.
"W-what the fuck?! Who are you? What do you want from me?" Her voice trembled, low and threatening as her gaze darted frantically around the vast room. She took in every detail—the tall, carved marble pillars, the delicate floral patterns on the light turquoise wallpaper, the intricate white borders that framed the walls. The room was beautiful, but it felt alien to her, she felt as if she was suffocating in its opulence.
Her pulse quickened. Something was wrong. Something was horribly, terribly wrong.
Nepheli did not hesitate.
After snapping at the wide-eyed maid to leave with a weak command—lest the walls close in and panic take hold—Nepheli watched as the woman stumbled out, lost and flustered, disappearing beyond the door. And so she was left alone, awake, shaken, and defiled.
Her heart pounded, a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Sweat gathered in the hollow of her sternum, a cold contrast to the heat crawling beneath her skin. Her lips, parched and cracked, parted as ragged breaths slipped through, shallow and uneven.
"What..."
'What's happening? I thought I— I—'
Then, all at once, it crashes over her. A wave of memories, sharp and unrelenting. Her head snaps up, the rancid taste on her tongue momentarily forgotten. Numb now, everything else fades as instinct takes hold—she stumbles from the bed, desperate to move, to understand, to breathe.
Every step she took was laced with fear. With denial. With anticipation. With something dangerously close to excitement.
And then she saw herself.
A breath hitched in her throat as she took in the stranger staring back at her through the mirror's silvered glass. A manic giggle bubbled up, unbidden, slipping past her lips—sharp, breathless. A rush filled her veins, a dizzying high not unlike the drug Black Wind.
"Holy shi—"
The frame was familiar yet foreign. The foundation of her former self remained—the tan skin, the body shape she once knew—but gone were the acne scars, the dark under-eyes. In their place was a smooth, luminous complexion, the kind women in her old world would have killed for. Her hair, once unruly, was now impossibly long, cascading down her back— even the back of her thighs in silken curls. Midnight black—so dark it seemed to swallow light itself.
But her eyes... her eyes unsettled her the most.
A deep, wine-dark red. Maroon. Blood.
A streak of white curled from the base of her forehead where a small patch of skin was a lighter than the rest, entwining itself with the dark strands—a stark contrast against the raven black, like a silver thread woven into obsidian. Her features were sharp yet striking, a beauty mark resting just beneath full lips that carried the soft flush of pink. Her jawline, refined and sculpted, lent her an air of quiet cruelty. Her eyes, naturally down-turned, held a lazy, lidded look—until she experimented with her new face, pulling her lips into a slow, deliberate smile.
That was when they sharpened.
Cold. Calculating. Wicked.
Befitting of a villainess.
She pinched her cheeks, fingers ghosting over unfamiliar skin. Her expression remained unreadable, but inside, her thoughts roiled. As if she were an intruder beneath this borrowed flesh. And wasn't she?
A shaky sigh left her lips as she took in the final detail—her youth. Sixteen, maybe seventeen at most.
'Okay. Okay. This— this is fine.' The trespasser tells herself.
It was not fine.
Not yet, at least.
Nepheli drifts back onto the bed, artfully dodging the foul puddle of something best left unexamined. She lands with a sigh, limbs flung wide, hair cascading in careless curls over the sheets. Tired eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling, she lets the name roll off her tongue with a wry little smile.
"Ah... so Irenea Leroux is who I am now, hm?"