When the last chord of the waltz died and the nobles began to drift into side chambers like so many overdressed shadows, I let the role of Seraphina Vale slide over me like an evening cloak—too heavy, too tight, and embroidered with enough thorns to draw blood.
But I couldn't afford to be Ivy Greene right now.
Not in a world where decorum could be as lethal as daggers, and the smile of a royal consort was more terrifying than a blade at your throat.
I kept my expression serene as I drifted down a marbled corridor toward the west wing, trailed—inevitably—by my personal maid. Dahlia. Short, sharp-eyed, loyal to a fault... to the old Seraphina. I'd have to keep an eye on her.
Once we were alone, I stopped at an arched window that overlooked the palace gardens.
"Tell me, Dahlia," I said, voice low, eyes scanning the moonlit hedge maze below, "did you taste the wine before it was served?"
She blinked. "My lady?"
"The engagement wine. Mine was... unusual."
Dahlia frowned, ever so slightly. "As always, I followed the tasting protocol. Lord Asch prepared the tray himself tonight."
Asch.
That rang a bell. In the novel, he was a low-ranking noble—Seraphina's second cousin. Played minor roles until he randomly turned up at the end, weeping over her corpse. Strange, how many background characters had suddenly become pieces on the board.
I turned to face her fully. "Send someone to watch him. Quietly. And tell the kitchen staff I'll be personally inspecting my meals from now on."
Dahlia hesitated, but nodded. "Yes, my lady."
I could feel her curiosity tightening like a snare, but she said nothing. Good girl.
As she left, I allowed myself a single deep breath.
One attack on Day One.
That was faster than I'd expected. I remembered the original Seraphina being ruthless, cruel, and easy to hate—but she wasn't stupid. The girl had enemies lined up like suitors. Poisoned wine was just the first card thrown.
And yet… I had something the original Seraphina never did: a cheat sheet.
The plot. The timeline. The names of those who smiled with daggers and kissed with curses.
More importantly: I knew exactly when her downfall would come.
The Harvest Festival. Three months from now.
That's when she'd be framed for treason and executed. Unless I beat them all to the punch.
---
Back in my chambers, I pulled open the vanity drawer and retrieved what looked like a simple black-bound diary.
The previous Seraphina had used it to write petty complaints about ball gowns and court gossip. But I had a different plan.
Inside, I began my list:
---
✒️ Operation: Rewrite the Script
Avoid Death Flag #1: Poisoning the heroine — Survived and defused (barely)
Enemy Suspect #1: Lord Asch (possible pawn or opportunist)
Track: Prince Kael's movements / current opinion of me
Acquire: Magic tutor (must learn basic warding spells)
Investigate: Seraphina's cursed lineage (unmentioned in early volumes)
---
I tapped the quill thoughtfully.
The real Seraphina's story was about vanity, pride, and falling victim to her own malice. But this wasn't her story anymore. This was mine now. I wasn't going to win hearts with tragic love letters or swoon-worthy glances.
I was going to win by playing the long game.
"Let the heroine have her sunshine," I muttered to the candlelight.
"I'll build my empire in the dark."
And maybe—just maybe—survive long enough to burn this story to the ground.
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