“Who are you?” she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop herself.

He remained silent, his expression unwavering, but the room felt heavy with unspoken tension. It was as if he was evaluating her, searching for something she couldn’t fathom. Why does he look at me like that? The distance in his eyes, the unfamiliar sharpness in his demeanor—it was all wrong. The Damian she knew would have cracked a joke by now or teased her about being dramatic. But this man’s silence was suffocating.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her head. Images and memories flooded her mind—memories that didn’t belong to her. Faces, names, and scenes she’d never experienced flashed before her eyes, leaving her breathless. When the pain subsided, she looked up at the man before her in stunned realization.

Ethan… His name surfaced in her mind, as if she’d known it all along. This is Ethan. He’s not Damian. He’s… my fiancé? Calla’s lips twitched with irony. Just when I thought I could escape marrying him, I end up engaged to him in another world.

She let out a bitter sigh. Our parents would be thrilled if they knew. But she could also recall how the engagement was more of a political alliance between two powerful families—cold and formal, with no room for love. A marriage without love. That must be tough.

Yanking her hands free from his grip, she squared her shoulders and looked at him fiercely. If he was anything like the cold, reserved male leads she read about in her novels, then she had a pretty good idea of what to expect.

Great. So I’m stuck here, she muttered to herself, eyeing him carefully. If I have to play this role until I find a way back home, then so be it.

A sudden thought crossed her mind, and a small smile tugged at her lips. If I’m in this world, then the person who originally inhabited this body must be in mine. Poor girl. But… Calla’s smile grew wider. If it’s Damian on the other side, I’m sure he’ll take care of her.

Straightening up, she glanced around the room, then back at Ethan. Now, it’s my turn to figure out how to navigate this world—and maybe have a little fun along the way.

She lowered her head in a respectful bow. “I apologize, my dear lord. I haven’t fully recovered from the dizziness and ended up displaying such disgraceful behavior,” she said softly, her tone surprisingly polite and sincere.

The sudden shift in her demeanor made Ethan pause, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to decipher her intent. But instead of questioning it, he brushed it off and turned to the maids. “Take care of your lady,” he commanded.

The maids quickly bowed and murmured their assent, rushing to Calla’s side.

Just as Ethan was about to leave the room, she suddenly called out, “About our engagement… I’ll make the most of it.” Her words hung in the air, causing him to turn back, brow furrowed in confusion.

I’ll help, she thought to herself, recalling the fragments of memories that weren’t hers. The previous owner of this body had truly yearned for a deeper connection with Ethan, something real. If that’s what she wanted, then I’ll see it through—until I figure out how to get back to my world.

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＊＊＊

Ethan couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease as he left the room. Rosalie’s sudden change in attitude, the unexpected line about making the most of their engagement—it all felt… different. He frowned, wondering what she was up to. Something’s definitely going to happen. I can sense it.

As he stepped into the hallway, Felix, his trusted secretary, fell into step beside him. “It appears that someone poisoned Lady Rosalie’s wine,” Felix reported calmly, his voice low enough to ensure no one else overheard.

Ethan’s eyes darkened at the news. “Find out who did it,” he ordered sharply.

“Yes, my lord,” Felix replied with a slight bow before hurrying off to carry out the command.

Ethan glanced back at the door of Rosalie’s room, his jaw tightening. Just what game is being played here? he thought, a sense of foreboding settling in his chest. Whatever it was, he intended to get to the bottom of it.

＊＊＊

Calla sipped on her tea, savoring the rich flavor as the maids fussed around her, brushing her hair and adjusting her attire for the day. Ah, what an expensive tea. What a nice day to be alive, she thought with a grin, amused by her own thoughts.

“My lady, you’re scheduled to meet your parents for breakfast,” Ruby, one of the maids, reminded her gently.

“Okay!” Calla responded, casually making an ‘OK’ sign with her fingers. The maids exchanged bewildered glances at the unfamiliar gesture, but Calla only smiled, letting them finish their tasks.

By the time she was fully dressed, she couldn’t help but feel a bit exasperated. Wow, it takes forever just to get into a dress. She glanced at the elaborate gown in the mirror, layers of fabric and intricate embroidery weighing her down.

As she made her way down the hall, she found herself constantly lifting the heavy skirts to keep from tripping over them. With each step, she sighed quietly to herself. I really admire nobles for managing to wear these cumbersome things every day. They must have legs of steel, she thought with a wry smile, imagining herself dragging the dress through the entire day.

Calla entered the grand dining hall, feeling slightly overwhelmed by its sheer size and opulence. Taking a deep breath, she approached her parents, who were seated at the leftmost end of the massive table.

“Good morning, Father. Good morning, Mother,” she greeted, dipping into a small curtsy that she hoped looked respectful enough.

Her parents barely looked up from their plates, giving her a curt nod. “Good morning, Rosalie,” her mother replied, her tone formal and detached. Her father simply gestured toward her seat at the far end of the table, wordlessly dismissing her.

What the hell is this setup? Calla thought as she took her place all the way on the opposite side of the room, feeling the distance acutely. She tried not to let it show on her face as she settled in.

She took her seat, and as soon as she settled in, the chef presented a lavish array of dishes for breakfast. Her eyes sparkled with delight. Woah, look at all this food! she marveled, practically salivating at the sight. Just as she picked up her fork, she heard a sharp clink of glass.

Her father had cleared his throat, drawing her attention. In her world and in this one, her parents looked strikingly similar, yet there was something about them here that felt so distant—strict and imposing.

“Now, your engagement with Ethan has been confirmed. You’ll begin making public appearances together. I expect you to uphold the image of the perfect daughter of the Mills House,” he stated firmly, his voice cold and authoritative.

Calla straightened in her seat and nodded obediently. “I understand.”

Her father continued, launching into a long-winded explanation of the benefits of their union with the Cromwell House—their influence over the kingdom’s trade and properties, and their direct ties to the royal family. Calla tried to listen, but her stomach had other plans. It growled softly, making her inwardly groan. I wonder when he’ll stop talking.

After what felt like ages, her father finally concluded his lecture and returned to eating. Calla breathed a silent sigh of relief, a smile forming on her lips as she eagerly dug into her long-awaited breakfast.

He’s so strict, but he reminds me of Dad, she thought, her heart softening just a little. It was a strange comfort—an odd familiarity wrapped in formality.