Lyra Etheridge, a modern-day psychologist, wakes up in the body of Aris Devereux, a villainess in a popular web novel she once skimmed out of boredom. In the novel, Aris is a shallow and envious aristocrat destined to face ruin for tormenting the st...
The afternoon lingered on, warm and golden, yet the tension between Aris and Helena remained palpable. Despite their surface civility, Aris knew she couldn't fully trust Helena—at least, not yet. The old Aris had despised her for reasons that still haunted the edges of Aris's mind. Even though she was no longer bound by that old personality, she couldn't forget the shadow it left behind.
As the luncheon came to an end, Aris excused herself and wandered through the garden, her mind swirling with questions. The Duke's sudden interest in her actions troubled her. Was he testing her loyalty? Or was it something else? It was hard to tell what he truly thought of her now. But one thing was clear—he was watching, closely.
Just as she reached the marble fountain at the heart of the garden, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Lady Aris."
Helena had followed her, her soft footsteps barely making a sound against the cobblestones. Aris turned to face her, masking her surprise with a neutral expression.
"Yes?" Aris said, folding her hands in front of her.
Helena hesitated, her green eyes flickering with uncertainty. She looked so delicate, almost fragile in the afternoon light—like a heroine from a tragic love story, lost in a world that wasn't quite her own.
"I... I wanted to talk to you privately," Helena said, her voice trembling slightly. "About what happened yesterday."
Aris's gaze narrowed. She could sense Helena's discomfort, but she wasn't sure what to make of it. "Go on."
Helena stepped closer, clasping her hands together. "I know that... in the past, we were at odds. I was the heroine, and you... well, you were painted as the villainess. But I don't believe in those labels anymore. I want to understand why things became so strained between us."
Aris blinked. The honesty in Helena's voice was disarming, but it also left her feeling exposed. Helena was right—the old Aris had played the villainess to perfection, sabotaging Helena at every turn. But that wasn't who Aris was anymore. Not truly.
"The truth is," Aris began, her voice steady, "I don't know why either. I only know that I'm tired of playing a role that was forced upon me. I want something different."
Helena's eyes softened, and she smiled faintly. "I feel the same way. It's strange, isn't it? We're supposed to be enemies, but... I never wanted that. I always thought there was more to you than the rumors suggested."
Aris studied Helena, trying to gauge the sincerity behind her words. Could it be that Helena had always seen through the old Aris's facade? It was hard to believe, but something about Helena's open nature made it possible.
Before Aris could respond, the sound of footsteps drew their attention.
The Duke had returned.
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His hair shimmered even in the late afternoon light as he approached them, his expression unreadable as always. Aris's heart skipped a beat as his eyes locked onto hers, cool and assessing. He stood a few feet away, his presence commanding the space between them.
"Father," Aris greeted, masking her unease. "You've returned."
The Duke inclined his head slightly, his gaze shifting briefly to Helena before returning to Aris. "It seems the two of you have become quite close," he remarked, his voice low and even.
Aris stiffened. Was he... testing her again?
Helena, sensing the tension, quickly curtsied and excused herself. "I'll leave you both to talk," she said softly before disappearing back toward the house.
Once they were alone, the Duke's gaze never wavered from Aris. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a strange intensity in his eyes—a challenge, perhaps.
"You've changed," he said simply.
Aris swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. Was it a compliment? A warning? She couldn't tell.
"I'm not the same person I used to be," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.
The Duke's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. "No, you're not. And that intrigues me."
Aris froze, the weight of his words sinking in. For years, she had longed for his approval—had done everything to earn it, to no avail. But now, it seemed that her transformation had caught his attention in a way she never expected.
But was it admiration? Or suspicion?
Before she could ask, the Duke stepped closer, his eyes softening just slightly—just enough for her to catch the fleeting glimpse of warmth beneath his stoic exterior.
"You're not as weak as I once thought," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Perhaps... I've underestimated you."
Aris blinked, her heart pounding in her chest. Was this... praise? From her father?
She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she watched as the Duke turned and walked away, his silver hair catching the fading light of the day. His departure left her standing alone by the fountain, a whirlwind of emotions churning inside her.
For the first time in her life, Aris felt like she had earned a sliver of respect from the Duke. But at what cost?
She had changed—but was it enough? And would it be enough to rewrite her fate, to escape the role she had been cast in?
The answer, it seemed, was still just out of reach.
