Chapter 2

How could he betray her?

Isabel—no, October now—stared at the ceiling, memories flooding her like a tide that refused to recede. Her thoughts spiraled backward, desperate to grasp at moments that once held meaning. The laughter. The soft promises. Humble beginnings woven with secret dreams, whispered over late-night calls and early morning texts. His voice, once comforting, now echoed like a curse.

They met at a friend’s gathering—one of those too-loud, too-crowded college parties where everyone tried to look like they weren’t trying at all. Fate, as it turned out, was a little obnoxious. He’d seen her from across the room and made a beeline through the chaos. He was persistent. Charming. Relentless.

Six months.

Flowers delivered to her dorm. Thoughtful notes tucked in her textbooks. Random gifts—her favorite snacks, a little plush panda she never admitted she loved. He’d been everything she thought she wanted. He’d made her believe in a forever she’d never dared dream of.

And now?

He was the biggest mistake of her life.

She scoffed, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. “I should’ve listened to my gut… stuck to my guts… anything would’ve saved me from this hell.”

Her voice was brittle in the silence. She turned her head, eyes unfocused. “Did he even cry for me?” she whispered. The question felt like shattered glass in her throat.

She already knew the answer.

Of course he didn’t.

He probably sought out comfort in another woman’s arms before her body was even cold. Maybe someone close. Maybe someone who’d known. Her stomach churned at the thought. What if someone she trusted—someone who smiled in her face—had watched her fall apart and said nothing?

It broke her. Again.

Stay positive, she told herself. Forced optimism was better than despair. It was the only thing she had left. I can’t fall apart. I can’t.

But her composure cracked again when she thought of her parents.

Their faces hovered in her mind like ghosts. She remembered her mother’s stern eyes, her father’s long silences. The disappointment that simmered under every conversation. But she’d loved them. Despite it all, despite the weight of expectation and the choking rules, she had loved them deeply.

They never understood her.

She had dreams they didn’t approve of, friends they didn’t trust, a heart they couldn’t control. And they tried—oh, how they tried—to protect her. But protection felt like prison when you couldn’t breathe.

That leash was why she left. Studying abroad had been her escape. Her rebellion. Her freedom. For the first time in her life, she’d chosen her own story.

And yet, they’d been right. About him.

Her fiancé. Ex-fiancé, she corrected sharply.

It was the only thing they’d ever been right about.

The sound of a knock jolted her from the pit of her memories.

A sharp rap. Then another.

“My Lady October? Are you awake?” came a voice, gentle and unfamiliar. Familiar.

October blinked, sitting upright.

Right. This wasn’t her bed. These weren’t her sheets. And that voice didn’t belong in her world.

“Lady October, it’s time to wake up.”

That name again. October.

Her name. Now.

She dragged a hand over her face and stood, feet finding the plush rug beneath her. Her bones felt too heavy for this body, like her soul hadn’t fully settled into the flesh. She crossed to the door and opened it slowly.

A young woman stood on the other side—average height, clad in a soft-toned uniform that whispered of nobility and decorum. Her honey-blonde hair was pinned with care, her green eyes sharp but kind.

“Good morning, my lady,” the maid said, bowing low.

October’s lips moved before her brain caught up. “Good morning to you too, Gloria.”

The name hit her tongue with unsettling familiarity.

Gloria. How did she know that?

Her head throbbed as if she'd just crammed for three exams back-to-back. Everything was hazy—flashes of a life not hers, names she hadn't learned, memories that weren’t shaped by her own choices.

“May I enter, my lady?” Gloria asked, her tone gently curious.

“Oh—of course.” October stepped aside, mortified by her hesitation. God, I don’t even know where the bathroom is.

“I’ll prepare your bath,” Gloria said, gliding toward the inner room with practiced grace.

October followed her with her eyes, trying to mask her disorientation. The walls felt too tall, the ceilings painted with delicate gold filigree. Everything was beautiful and wrong.

How do I know her name? How do I know anything at all?

Her temples throbbed. The dual weight of two lives threatened to crush her. Hers—and October’s. Isabel’s sorrow, October’s burdens. Layered and inseparable.

“My lady?” Gloria had returned, a quiet concern tightening her brow. “Everything is ready.”

“I’m fine, Gloria,” October said automatically. “Just… a mild headache.”

“I’ll bring you something for it after your bath.”

“Thank you.”

“My lady, I’ve also laid out your dress for today,” Gloria added. “Shall I assist you with your nightclothes?”

October flinched, then quickly masked it. “No, thank you. I can manage. Please attend to your other duties.”

Gloria bowed again, quietly respectful, and withdrew from the room.

As soon as the door shut, October let out a shuddering breath. Her hands trembled as she reached for the hem of her nightgown, slowly peeling it away. The bath’s steam beckoned her like a promise, and she slipped into the water with a soft hiss.

The heat soaked into her bones. Her muscles finally began to unclench.

Okay. First things first…

What the actual f**k is going on?

She stared blankly at the tiled wall across from her. Her thoughts raced.

She remembered dying.

Not metaphorically—actually dying. She remembered the cold, the panic, the fading. And now… she was here. Alive. Breathing. But not herself.

Her reflection in the water was different. Her face was softer, her skin paler, her eyes a different shade. But behind those eyes was her.

And someone else.

This girl—October—was broken. Sad. Haunted. Her soul tasted like sorrow and secrets. What kind of life had she lived? What kind of mess had Isabel just inherited?

“God,” she muttered, sinking lower into the bath. “Please let this be a fever dream. Let me wake up in a hospital, hooked up to beeping machines, with a sexy nurse and a juice box waiting.”

No such luck.

This was real.

Somehow, impossibly, this was real.

So now I’m trapped in the body of a noblewoman with abandonment issues, family trauma, and probably a cursed engagement.

Great. Just great.

Maybe there was a prophecy too. A kingdom to save. A war to stop. Some ancient dragon about to rise.

She let out a broken laugh.

“Wait… is this the plot of a manhwa?”

The words echoed against the marble walls, and she covered her face with her hands.

She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to be a princess, or a noble lady, or whatever tragic heroine October had been. She wasn’t brave enough for this.

But she’d already died once. She wasn’t going to lie down and let this new life crumble too.

Wiping a tear from her cheek, she whispered, “Alright, October. Let’s find out what mess you left behind.”