This isn't real. This can't be real. I don't want to believe, please. Take me back, take me back.
She stumbled out of bed, the silk sheets pooling around her legs. Havoc moved immediately, catching her by the arm before she could fall.
"My lady!" he exclaimed, panic flickering across his face. "You're still weak-"
"Don't touch me!" Nicole cried, wrenching her arm back, her voice cracking with disbelief and fear. "This isn't happening. I'm not her. I'm not Seraphina!"
The room fell silent.
Havoc froze where he stood, the faint sound of his breath shaking in the quiet.
"No, my lady! Please, calm down." He gently took hold of her arms, pulling her closer to steady her trembling frame. His hand moved slowly across her back, brushing in soft, soothing strokes.
"Shh… it's alright," he whispered, his voice calm and steady.
He cradled Nicole carefully, holding her the way a brother would: Protective, warm, and gentle.
Outside, wind stirred the curtains, scattering petals of white roses across the floor like snow.
And as Nicole stood there, trembling in another woman's skin, the echo of the god's voice from her dream whispered faintly in her mind. She was holding onto Havoc and she pulled away gently.
"Rewrite." The voice whispering in her head.
The same voice that once spoke from the light.
Her knees weakened, and tears filled her eyes as the weight of that command sank into her soul.
She wasn't dreaming. She was Seraphina.
Her heart nearly stopped.
No way. No freaking way.
"I'm," she whispered shakily, staring at her reflection. "I'm inside the book."
Havoc frowned, confusion flickering across his features. "My lady? What did you say?"
She looked back at him, eyes wide, breath trembling. "I- I can't believe this… I was just… I was reading-" She stopped herself, her hands shaking. "Just scanning, I MEAN!"
Havoc stepped closer, his voice low, cautious, gentle, though his eyes darted over her as if searching for wounds. "You must still be feverish, my lady. Don't speak nonsense. Rest."
Nicole blinked rapidly, her mind spinning. Havoc. She knew him. She had read about him. The cruel, emotionless general who once executed Seraphina with his own hands…
Yet now, he was here. Crying. Holding her hand.
The irony hit her like a blow.
"Havoc, right?" she asked softly, testing his name.
He nodded slowly, confusion deepening. "Yes, my lady. You truly don't remember me?"
Nicole forced a shaky laugh, trying to hide the panic bubbling in her chest. "Remember you? Uh… right. Totally. You're the, uh…" she glanced at his armor, "… the scary guy with the sword thing." I let it all out on a laugh.
He blinked.
For a heartbeat, Havoc just stared, stunned. Then, to her surprise, his lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.
His stoic composure cracked completely. Seraphina had never spoken to him like that. Never smiled. Never teased.
".. You're different," he murmured, almost to himself. His eyes softened, confusion melting into something gentler. "Your voice… even your eyes. They're warmer."
Nicole blinked back tears. She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. Because this. this moment, was because of her ignorance- "Stupid, why did I even said that? Rewrite, rewrite. Rewrite your face, Nicole."
Then,
She clutched the blanket to her chest, her white-golden hair spilling across her shoulders. "I'm alive," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Oh my god… I'm really alive."
Havoc stepped closer again, his voice trembling. "You are, my lady. By some miracle, you returned to us."
Nicole looked up at him, at the man whose hands once killed Seraphina.. and saw the pain flicker in his eyes. The guilt. The quiet devotion.
Her voice softened. "Thank you… for staying by my side."
He looked taken aback. "It's my duty, my lady."
"No," she said gently, shaking her head, smiling faintly through her tears. "It's kindness."
Havoc's throat tightened. He bowed his head slightly, unable to meet her eyes. "If it means keeping you alive," he murmured, voice trembling, "then I'll be kind a thousand times."
Nicole's chest ached. The sunlight glowed behind him, washing the room in gold. She looked out the window, the peaceful garden, the palace grounds. Everything was exactly as it had been described in the book.
Except now… she was here.
Alive. Inside Seraphina's body.
And this time, she wouldn't let the story end in blood.
"Maybe… this is Seraphina's second chance," she whispered.
"This time, I'll change it all. This time, they won't break me. And when vengeance comes… I'll make sure even the gods will remember my name."
Wow, I'm so cool in that line.
Havoc's pov: why is my lady speaking by herself..? Could it be. She is out of her mind?! No. She can't be.
"I must report this to the Crown Prince," Havoc said quietly, wiping the faint trace of tears from his eyes.
"The Crown Prince… Maverick?" she repeated, her heart pounding like it wanted to escape her chest.
"You mustn't call His Highness by name, my lady. If someone hears-"
She pressed a finger gently to his lips. "Shh!."
A faint blush bloomed across Havoc's face, his heart beating to the rhythm of her touch. Her fingers stilled his words, and with quiet reverence, he caught her hand in his.
"M-My lady…" he stammered.
- In the novel, Havoc loved Seraphina deeply, enough to give up everything for her. But he changed when she rejected him. (He was Duke Caesars adopted son, Seraphina's biological father.)
She looked into his eyes, her heart aching with quiet worry. Then, despite the ache, she smiled softly, as if to ease his pain.
"Havoc…" she whispered, pulling her hand away before touching his face gently, tenderly.
His cheeks flushed crimson, his heart betraying him. No matter how he tried, he couldn't hide it.
"You're blushing," she teased lightly.
That's right. That's right, keep blushing. Eckkk!!! I really love handsome, tall and daddy types men!
'N-No! I am not." His voice faltered, flustered.
She chuckled softly. "Thank you so much for taking care of me while I was sick," she said sincerely, her fingertips still grazing his warm skin.
"S-Stop…" he muttered, averting his gaze.
"Why?'' she laughed softly. "I was just saying thank you for taking care of me."
"I didn't take care of you," Havoc said sharply, his voice turning cold again. "His Highness did."
"H-Huh…?" She blinked in surprise.
Havoc truly cared for me, didn't he? He was always by Seraphina's side, but in death... Ugh! Nevermind.
"Havoc…?"
"Yes, my lady?" he replied, his voice steady yet uncertain.
With a determined spark in her eyes, she straightened. "Take me to His Highness."
"W-What? No, please…" he murmured, worry clouding his gaze. "Your body is still recovering, my lady."
"Pretty, please? Take me to him!" she said with a bright smile, though her gaze was firm.
"I said no," he whispered, the words trembling as if they hurt him to say.
She fell silent, and a strange sadness crept into her chest. She didn't know why, but his refusal hurt.
Havoc looked away, heart twisting at the sight of her downcast expression. ".. Fine," he muttered at last. "I'll come with you."
She remembered in the novel, the crown prince, Maverick. The one who did not believe her. The one who is too cruel to her. The one Seraphina caught kissing another woman.
As they walked down the corridor, she kept talking, her voice light, teasing, sometimes careless. Yet, no matter what she said, Havoc didn't seem annoyed. If anything, he seemed alive again.
Is my lady alright? he thought. She didn't even recognize me earlier. There's no way she's just being kind because she's dying.
Noticing his faraway look, Nicole tilted her head. "Havoc? Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice full of warmth.
"I should be the one asking if you're alright," he said gently, his voice calm and warm, he was noticing I was shaking, he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder.
"Oh, right. Haha. I didn't even notice I was shaking. I guess I was just nervous to face the Crown Prince."
He gave me a gentle, comforting smile before slowly opening the door.
The heavy doors opened with a slow, echoing groan.
The chamber beyond was draped in gold and crimson, the emblem of the royal house gleaming beneath the light that spilled through the tall windows.
And there he was. Prince Maverick, the breathtakingly handsome but cruel prince.
He stood near the balcony, sunlight tracing the edges of his white hair, white as clouds. The light that once softened him now only sharpened the shadows along his face.
A book hung loosely in his hand, its page forgotten. His posture was composed, distant. Too still.
Like a statue carved to remember a man long gone.
Nicole froze at the sight, her pulse stuttering.
This was it. The moment she'd feared most.
The first time Seraphina faced him again, the man she loved the most, but the man who betrayed her.
"Your Highness," Havoc said softly, bowing low. "Lady Seraphina has awakened."
The quiet in the chamber deepened.
Maverick didn't move at first. The air around him felt heavy, unreadable.
Then, slowly, he turned.
The sound of the book snapping shut echoed through the chamber.
For a heartbeat, his sapphire-green eyes met hers, those eyes that once softened at her name. Now they were cold, unreadable, the way winter stares at the remains of autumn.
"Seraphina," he said at last.
No tremor. No warmth. Only a name spoken like a memory he wanted to erase.
Nicole lowered her gaze slightly. "Your Highness," she said gently, bowing. "It's… been a while."
His eyes swept over her, the pallor of her skin, the trembling in her smile, but his face remained calm.
Then his jaw tightened. "You shouldn't be here," he said curtly. "You're still unwell."
"I insisted," she replied quietly, forcing steadiness into her tone. "I didn't want to keep you waiting."
"You overstep, as always," he cut in, the faintest edge of ice in his voice. "You should have stayed in bed."
Nicole's heart stung, but she held her composure.
Havoc's eyes narrowed slightly at Maverick's tone, but said nothing.
Nicole took a small breath. "I heard… you stayed by my side," she said softly. "While I was asleep."
Maverick looked away, his fingers tightening around the spine of his book.
"I did what was expected," he said flatly. "It was my duty as your fiancé."
The words hit harder than any blade.
Not for what he said, but for how coldly he meant it.
- Vivi (⌒‐⌒)