Everything in here felt strange to her, a life she never imagined she would live in years to come. She had once thought that even in her next life, she would still be paying debts she couldn't finish in this one before she died.
But now, even this luxury felt too expensive for her to afford. Like it was too hard, and had always been hard for her.
She must have offended the gods in her past life—or perhaps her ancestors had. Because what she was being punished for now couldn't possibly be just her own wrongdoings. It had to be a punishment for the whole country, and she had been chosen as the one to bear it all.
She looked at herself in the mirror once more.
Raya Calder? Not quite.
Seraphina Hart? Not really.
If not for the gray eyeballs staring back at her, she might not have believed this was still her.
Now she looked a little Raya, a little Seraphina.
If she had been told earlier that she would one day act like or pretend to be Seraphina Hart, she would have argued with whoever said it. But here she was.
Whether she liked it or not, she had to pretend to be Seraphina.
Because in this house, being herself was no longer an option.
The shoes were another story. She chose the flattest pair she could find. The heels from yesterday were still punishing her.
When she entered the training room again, Elena was already waiting.
"Ah," the woman said, eyeing her dress. "We're finally beginning to look the part."
Raya didn't comment. This woman was one of her nemesis.
"Today," Elena continued, flipping a page on her clipboard, "we work on presence. And voice. Seraphina's voice commands rooms without shouting. It's melodic, deliberate, and always composed. Let's see how far off you are."
The lesson began.
Elena had Raya read a series of phrases from a script. At first, Raya's voice wavered—too casual, too stiff, too sharp.
"Again," Elena instructed.
Raya tried to smooth her tone.
"Again."
Her throat was starting to feel dry.
"Again. This time, no fidgeting. Seraphina doesn't tug her sleeves when nervous."
Wait—she was just holding her sleeves out of anger, not nervousness. Although she was a little nervous, it wasn't enough to show. But they moved on.
The lesson dragged on. Raya's eyes burned from lack of rest. Her voice cracked once, and Elena raised a brow. "Control, Miss Calder. Always. Even pain must be swallowed with grace."
The next segment was on gait and posture. Raya was handed a book—hardcover, weighty—and instructed to walk with it balanced on her head across the hardwood floor.
The first attempt, the book toppled.
Elena clicked her tongue.
Second try: it lasted longer, but a turn caused it to tumble.
Again. And again.
By the fifth round, her neck was aching. Her shoulders stiffened from trying to hold everything still.
Still, she kept going.
Elena finally nodded, just once. "Better. But we're far from where we need to be."
Next was stairs—walking up and down in heels without holding the rail, maintaining perfect posture. It felt like a circus trick, especially after everything else.
Raya gritted her teeth through it.
The final task was conversation. Elena sat across from her like an interviewer.
"You're at a fundraiser. A senator approaches. You're Seraphina Hart. Now smile and greet me."
Raya put on a forced smile. "Good evening, Senator."
"Too stiff. Try again."
"Senator, how lovely to see you."
"Now you sound flirtatious. Seraphina isn't desperate. Again."
After seven attempts, Elena sighed. "You're letting you seep in. Your sarcasm. Your awkward charm. That has to go."
Raya's nails dug into her palm. "So… I have to erase myself just to become someone else?"
"No," Elena said sharply. "You have to layer yourself. Seraphina must sit on top. Like a mask you never remove."
It hit hard.
Like a confirmation of everything Raya feared. That she was disappearing.
Lunch was brief. Raya barely ate. Her body was sore, but she didn't complain.
After a short break, she was handed another dress, longer, heavier—for elegance training. She walked the length of the mirror-lined room again and again, learning how to turn without twisting the fabric, how to pivot gracefully, how to sit without wrinkling silk.
Elena corrected her gently once, then more firmly.
By evening, Raya's throat was hoarse, and her steps faltered. But she kept going.
Because stopping meant failure. And failure meant her father would suffer.
Finally, Elena clicked her pen and set down her clipboard.
"We'll resume tomorrow. Rest well, Miss Calder. You'll need it."
Grigor escorted her back to her room. He didn't speak.
Once inside, Raya shut the door and sagged against it. She slipped off the heels and changed into her washed dress again.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Posture straight. Dress perfect. But her eyes?
Still hers.
She climbed onto the bed and curled under the covers.
Sleep didn't come quickly. Her mind was full of steps, tones, books on her head, the name Seraphina repeated a hundred times.
Tomorrow would be harder.
And she had to survive it.
—
Days had passed since Raya had been dragged into this world.
Days of silence from Adrian Blake. Days of grueling training. Five days of eating breakfast under Grigor's heavy stare, trying to remember which fork was for salad and which was for fish. Five days of pretending she wasn't terrified.
She still wore a stiff smile when Elena corrected her posture. Still flinched slightly when Grigor passed too close. But something inside her had started to shift—not comfort, not safety, but… tolerance.
She could tolerate this now.
This morning, she'd woken up without waiting for Grigor to knock. She had already showered and changed into one of the simpler gowns from the closet—a pale blue A-line dress with modest sleeves. It still wasn't her style, but it didn't scream "Seraphina" as loudly as the others.
Grigor had only nodded when she entered the dining room. He no longer barked orders or gave her that cold glare. He simply passed her a plate and said, "Eat." It was the closest thing to peace they'd had.
Adrian had not been back these days. Just her, Grigor, Elena, and some other men outside the house.
After breakfast, she made her way to the training room before being summoned. She didn't knock. She didn't wait. She just entered.
Elena raised an eyebrow from behind her clipboard. "You're early."
Raya shrugged. "I figured I'd warm up."
Elena said nothing, but there was a flicker of approval in her eyes.
Today's session began with advanced posture—walking and stopping precisely on certain marks while keeping her shoulders back and chin up. They moved on to speech training: diction drills, poise under questioning, and voice modulation. Raya no longer stumbled through her sentences. She was beginning to sound… polished.
Not Seraphina.
But not the old Raya, either.
By mid-morning, they transitioned into public presence training. Elena stood in front of the mirror with her.
"Watch your hands when you speak. Don't fidget."
Raya nodded. "And no biting my lips, right?"
Elena almost smiled. "Exactly."
It was a strange thing, this slow unraveling of herself. She didn't even notice how natural it had become to reach for objects with her right hand now. When she signed her name during writing drills, she used "Seraphina H." every time, as instructed. The letters were steadier now—not perfect, but passable.
She missed her father. Missed Anna. Missed the simplicity of her past life, even if it had been full of pain and exhaustion. At least there, she had still been herself.
Now she was a shadow, learning how to wear someone else's skin.
After lunch, Elena moved into more intense roleplay exercises. Posing as reporters, staff, and business elites, she threw rapid questions at Raya, forcing her to think fast and answer like Seraphina.
"What is your investment interest in Blake Enterprises' overseas expansion?"
"Do you intend to continue your philanthropic efforts this year?"
"Is it true you and Adrian Blake met in Florence?"
Raya answered each question with a fabricated grace that she hadn't possessed just days ago. She was learning the lies. Practicing the part.
After a long silence, Elena finally spoke. "You're improving."
Raya raised an eyebrow. "That's the first compliment I've heard since I got here."
"Don't let it go to your head."
When training ended for the day, Raya walked back to her room alone. Grigor had stopped escorting her by now. She wasn't sure if it meant he trusted her or simply didn't care anymore. Either way, she was glad for the distance.
In her room, she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands resting in her lap.
Some days ago, her legs had trembled with every step. Her stomach twisted whenever Adrian's name was mentioned. But now?
Now, she was adjusting. Learning to play the game. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.
She stood up and walked to the mirror. Her reflection didn't startle her anymore. She brushed her fingers over her cheek, tilted her chin slightly.
She looked the part.
Almost.
But her eyes… her eyes were still Raya's.
The door creaked open behind her.
Grigor's voice, low but not threatening, came through. "Dinner's ready."
She turned and gave a small nod. "I'll be down in a minute."
He didn't reply. Just closed the door.
Raya looked back at her reflection once more. Then whispered, "One more day down."