Her reflection's black, slightly curled hair spilled around her shoulders like a dark silk mantle. Those icy obsidian eyes pinned her in place, glittering with cold power that didn't belong to her. Every delicate line of that face, high cheekbones, faintly curled lips, skin pale as pearl — it was wrong, wrong, wrong, it's not hers, it's Evelyn.
Sayaka's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. Then her breath caught, chest tightening so hard it hurt.
"…EVELYN SEREPHIELLE ARLOIS."
The name came out ragged, ripped from her throat, and echoed through the ornate bedroom like a curse. It felt too heavy, grand, and deadly to belong to her. Her heart slammed so hard it could crack her ribs. Panic swelled, a surging flood that burst out in a piercing, strangled scream.
The reaction was quick. A flurry of hasty footsteps echoed beyond the door. The handles clattered, and the double doors smashed against the walls. A swarm of well-dressed maids and uniformed butlers poured in, skirts whispering, vests tense and frantic, eyes wild with fright.
Milady Evelyn! Are you harmed? What has scared you? "
"Someone get the royal physician—!"
"Alert His Highness's personal guard immediately—! "
Sayaka could only stand there, half-turned away from the mirror, watching as a dozen heads ducked into hurried bows. Her heartbeat sounded in her ears.
Evelyn Serephielle Arlois.
She stood in the villainess' body.
And based on how these servants scattered, it seems that even her panicked scream was enough to throw the entire estate into disarray Before she could generate a single rational thought, much alone breathe, a sudden sensation rocked through the mattress.
Buzz, buzz...
Then, frighteningly familiar, delicate melodies began to permeate the room. The opening theme of Mystic Love is a lovely, glittering piano melody topped with gentle harp notes. The same lovely music that would welcome her every night on her little phone screen, promising ridiculous pixelated romance, as it started to sing.
"Do not say goodbye, oneul-eun saeloun sijag-ida~"
It sounded weird in this huge chamber, complete with golden sconces and silent terror. Like a mocking lullaby. Sayaka's gaze dropped to her phone, which lay half-buried in the sheets, its screen gleaming with benign pastel hues. Her stomach twisted horribly.
… and yes, the game she was playing is a Korean Otome Game.
"No… NO NO NO!"
Her attention shifted to the swarm of maids and butlers huddled near the door, wringing their hands, eyes wide, and nearly in tears of perplexity and panic.
A strained panic ripped across her chest.
"GET OUT!"
Evelyn's exquisite voice was tinged in icy venom, and the command came out sharper than she intended, chilly and dictatorial. Her countenance changed into a nasty, piercing gaze. The effect was immediate. The servants let out gasps like startled birds. The skirts snapped. Polished sneakers slipped on marble. Her voice was enough to cover the sound that was playing from her phone.
They all stooped down in frantic dread, whispering apologies as they scrambled over each other to escape. Within seconds, the room was empty again, with only the echo of their receding mayhem and that calm, horrific piano ringtone still ringing on her bed.
Sayaka peered at it, breathing in tiny bursts.
"eodideunji neowa hamkke isseulge... My Mystic Love"
It was still playing. Her phone seems impossibly close to her, as if to mock her with the one story she was never intended to live.
Sayaka staggered forward, grabbed the phone with shaky fingers, and nearly dropped it to the floor. The exquisite notes of Mystic Love continued to dance mockingly through the air, bright and lovely, but completely out of place in this echoing mansion. She punched at the screen, turning off notifications with a rapid swipe, her breath coming too quickly. The sudden hush resonated louder than the music did.
Without thinking, she climbed back onto the large bed, burrowing herself behind the heavy covers like a child hiding from a monster in the closet. Only her huge, obsidian eyes peered out, the phone clasped hard against her breast as if it could vanish or explode at any moment.
Her breathing was raspy and shallow under the covers. The heavy duvet smelled strongly of lavender and sun-warmed fabric, so real it made her head spin.
"What the hell is even happening right now…" She murmured it to no one, her voice cracking with the final word.
Then, with trembling determination, she released one hand and pinched her cheek. Hard. A searing sting spread across her skin. Sayaka winced and rubbed the place. The anguish did not dissipate into the airy, drifting nothingness of a genuine dream. It persisted, as tenacious as the cold cushion beneath her head and the elaborate canopy above.
"It's clearly a dream. Right? Has to be. I mean, my phone is with me. How else would it work? "
But her gut gave a sickening twist, indicating otherwise. Dreams weren't always this brutally brilliant, filled with the aroma of roses and furniture polish. And in her dreams, the phone never felt so real in her hand.
Her eyes widened, and breath caught in her throat.
What if someone is still lurking outside?
Listening? Watching?
With her heart pounding, Sayaka pushed aside the mound of sheets and crept out of bed on wobbly feet. She padded across the thick carpeting, each step soundless in the oppressive silence of the room, until she reached the big double doors. She cracked them open just enough to see into the hallway. No one. Only polished flooring stretched on, accented by the glow of wall sconces and the subtle aroma of beeswax.
With a nervous breath, she yanked the door firmly closed, resulting in a huge thump that echoed down the corridor. Then, fumbling slightly, she twisted a small golden latch until it clicked, securing herself inside. Sayaka twisted on her heel and virtually lunged back across the room. She dove into the bed, grabbed her phone with white-knuckled fingers, and brought her knees up under her nightgown like a child hiding contraband under the covers.
Whatever was going on, whatever horrific reality this was — she need answers.