Chapter 5
The next morning started with the realization that no one was going to bring me breakfast.
Which, frankly, felt like a personal attack.
So I went to the kitchen.
Alone.
Like a responsible, self-sufficient, tragically downgraded former human.
The moment I stepped in, the atmosphere shifted.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just enough.
A pause in movement. A slight lowering of voices. A few glances that lingered longer than necessary.
Ah.
Fame.
Not the good kind.
I walked forward anyway, because dignity is a choice, and I was choosing-very deliberately-to pretend I still had some.
A few servants snorted under their breath. One or two looked at me with something dangerously close to pity, which, in my opinion, was worse.
I ignored all of it.
Gracefully.
Internally, I noted every single face.
For completely reasonable and absolutely non-petty reasons.
I reached the counter and picked up what was apparently my breakfast.
I looked at it.
Then looked again.
"This is it?" I murmured.
Porridge.
And a slice of bread.
I stared at the bowl for a long second.
"Well," I said under my breath, "what exactly was I expecting? A happy meal? A drive-through? 'Welcome to McDonald's, Your Highness, would you like fries with your existential crisis?'"
No one laughed.
Uncultured.
I picked up the tray and turned, walking out with what little pride could be salvaged from carrying porridge as a defining moment in my life.
-
The noise faded the moment I stepped back into the corridor, replaced by the quiet, polished stillness of the palace.
I walked slower this time.
Thinking.
Because now that I wasn't actively drowning or being personally offended by carbohydrates, my brain had decided to function.
Which was unfortunate.
After breakfast, I did what any rational person in my situation would do.
I went looking for information.
Because if I was stuck in this story, I needed details-the kind I had conveniently ignored while reading because, at the time, none of it felt relevant to my survival.
That was clearly a mistake.
"Alright," I muttered softly, balancing the tray as I walked, "let's review."
I was Cassiane Valerith Ardentia.
Daughter of King Alaric Eryndor of the Eryndor Kingdom.
My mother-Valerith Ardentia-of the fallen dukedom.
Right.
That explained the name.
That explained... a lot of things, actually.
"The future villainess," I continued under my breath.
Emotionally unstable.
Magically explosive.
Canonically dead.
And currently-
underfed.
Underinformed.
And very much alive.
I exhaled slowly.
"Alright," I said. "That's something."
The queen-Seraphine.
The legitimate heir-Princess Lysenne Eryndor.
Golden child. Beloved. Everything functioning.
And then-
me.
A complication.
"The timeline," I said quietly. "That's the important part."
After some careful questioning-subtle, not suspicious, mostly-I had confirmed one thing.
I was sixteen.
I stopped walking.
That mattered.
Because if I remembered correctly, Cassiane didn't fall apart immediately.
There were stages.
Isolation.
Curiosity.
Attachment.
And then-
everything went wrong.
Which meant I hadn't reached that point yet.
I hadn't met him.
The prince.
I stared ahead, the corridor stretching out in front of me, suddenly too quiet.
"That's... good," I said carefully.
A pause.
"Good," I repeated, as if saying it twice would make it more convincing.
Because it meant I still had time.
Time to not fall in love.
Time to not lose my mind.
Time to not lose control of my magic and get exiled.
Time to not die dramatically in front of a very judgmental audience.
I nodded once, more for structure than confidence.
"Simple," I said. "Avoid the prince. Avoid emotional damage. Avoid becoming a magical problem."
A beat.
I frowned slightly.
"...That sounds achievable."
Another pause.
Then I sighed.
"Which means something is definitely going to go wrong."
-
And for the first time since waking up here-
that didn't feel like sarcasm.
It felt like a warning.