Let me get one thing straight right off the bat:
I did not sign up for this.
No one asked me if I wanted to be reborn. No one asked me if I wanted to be a teenage noble girl. And definitely no one asked me if I wanted to spend my second life at some fancy-schmancy magical academy full of rich, stuck-up, probably magical pricks who think their shit doesn't stink.
But here I am.
Standing at the gates of the Arcadia Royal Academy for the Gifted and Probably Rich, wearing a uniform that makes me look like a walking cupcake, my hair done up in some bullshit elegant braid that took three servants and an hour of my life I'll never get back, and clutching a stupid little satchel like it's going to save me from whatever bullshit awaits me inside.
Oh, and did I mention I'm fucking terrified?
Not that you'd know it by looking at me. Nope. According to everyone around me, I'm the picture of noble grace and poise. Calm. Collected. Perfect little Lumière Elaris Caelum von Arandale, future jewel of the kingdom, pride of House Arandale, blah blah blah.
Inside? I'm screaming.
Like, full-on, "I'm gonna die alone surrounded by assholes" kind of screaming.
"Smile, Lumière. You're making a scene."
That's what my older brother — or whatever the hell he is in this body's family tree — said to me ten minutes ago as I stood there, mouth agape, staring at the academy like it just insulted my mother.
He looked like every generic anime pretty boy you've ever seen: tall, silver-haired, piercing blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and the kind of smug expression that made me want to punch him in the throat. His name is Caelan Arandale, twenty-two, heir to the family, future duke or whatever, and the human equivalent of a walking ego with legs.
He was wearing the same uniform as me, except somehow he made it look cool. Of course he did. Why wouldn't he?
"You're embarrassing the family," he added, adjusting his gloves like the world revolved around his ability to look fabulous.
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but considering I was surrounded by servants, guards, and what I could only assume were a bunch of nobles waiting to see the "prodigal noble girl" arrive, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
For now.
Instead, I pasted on the most fake, plastic smile I could muster — the kind that says "I'm better than you and you know it" — and said, "Of course, brother. How silly of me. I wouldn't want to embarrass the great House Arandale by existing."
He raised an eyebrow. "That's… oddly sarcastic."
"Must be the noble blood," I replied sweetly.
He didn't look convinced. Good.
"Welcome, Lady Lumière!"
Cue the applause.
As soon as I stepped through the gates, a bunch of students — all dressed in the same stupid uniforms but with slightly different badges and ribbons to show off their "house" or whatever — turned to stare at me like I'd just descended from the heavens or shit gold bricks.
Some clapped. Some bowed. A few girls whispered to each other and giggled. One dude actually dropped his books trying to get a better look at me. Asshole.
I wanted to flip them all off. Unfortunately, noble etiquette — or whatever the hell my new family forced into my brain during the last three days of "preparation" — dictated that I had to act like a perfect little lady.
So instead, I smiled. Widely. Too widely. Like a maniac.
"Lady Lumière!" a voice called out. "So good to see you again!"
I turned to see a short dude with curly blond hair, bright green eyes, and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. He was wearing the uniform and some kind of red sash that screamed "I'm important, bow before me."
"Oh, joy," I muttered under my breath.
"Who's that?" I asked Caelan, nodding toward the idiot.
"That's Adrian Riven," Caelan said, his tone dripping with disdain. "House Riven. Third son. Insufferable. Thinks he's charming."
"And?" I asked.
"He's got a crush on you," Caelan added flatly.
I blinked. "What?"
"He's been writing you letters since last year," Caelan continued, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Didn't you read any of them?"
"I've been dead for twenty-eight years," I snapped. "Give me a fucking break."
Caelan just sighed, already regretting whatever cosmic mistake led to my existence.
"And here are your room assignments!"
A stuffy-looking woman in a dark robe — probably a teacher or some shit — clapped her hands to get our attention. She had the energy of a wet sock and the personality of a tax auditor.
"First-years will be staying in the East Wing. Lady Lumière, you've been assigned to Room 207, sharing with Lady Seraphina. Please report there after the opening ceremony."
I blinked. "Sharing? As in… a roommate?"
"Yes, Lady Lumière.It's traditional for first-years."
"Oh, fantastic," I muttered. "Just what I needed. A stranger in my room judging my every move while I try not to die of secondhand embarrassment."
Caelan smirked. "You'll survive."
"Says the guy who doesn't have to live with a random noble girl he's never met."
The Academy Itself: AKA Hell Disguised as a Castle
The inside of the academy was… exactly what you'd expect from a fantasy noble school. Huge stone hallways. Flying banners. Magical torches that didn't need fire. Students walking around like they owned the place (because most of them probably did). And a general vibe of "we're better than you and you know it."
I followed the crowd like a lost sheep, trying not to trip over my own dress, my new heels, or my crippling self-doubt.
"So…" I said to Caelan, falling into step beside him. "How bad is this place, really?"
He shrugged. "It's not that bad. Just… don't embarrass the family. Don't get into duels. Don't flirt with the princes. Don't challenge the teachers. Don't use magic irresponsibly. And for the love of the gods, don't curse in public."
I raised an eyebrow. "No cursing, huh?"
"Especially not cursing."
I grinned. "No promises."
Room 207: Enter the Roommate from Hell (Maybe)
My room was… fine. I guess. Big. Fancy. Lots of velvet. A giant window that overlooked the academy gardens. A four-poster bed that probably cost more than my old apartment back in Korea. And sitting in the middle of it all?
A girl.
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Pouty lips. A dress that probably required its own zip code. And the kind of resting bitch face that could freeze lava.
She looked up as I walked in, and her expression shifted from bored to "who the fuck are you and why are you in my space?"
"Hi," I said awkwardly. "I'm Lumière. I guess I'm your new roommate?"
She stared at me for a long moment. Then she stood up, walked over to her side of the room, and dropped her bag with a thud.
"I'm Seraphina," she said coldly. "Don't touch my stuff."
"Noted," I said, dropping my own bag onto the bed with a sigh. "Don't worry. I plan on hating you silently from across the room like a normal person."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Kidding," I said quickly. "Sort of."
She didn't look amused.
Neither was I.
And that was how my glorious academic career at the Arcadia Royal Academy began.
With a fake smile.
With a cursed uniform.
With a roommate who hated me on sight.
With a brother who thought I was a walking embarrassment.
And with five (yes, five) love interests who hadn't shown up yet but were definitely on their way.
Oh, and did I mention I had absolute power and no idea how to use it responsibly?
Yeah. This was gonna go great.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]