Sound came first.
Glass breaking.
Then voices.
"Lady Priscilla, please calm down!"
"I'm not going back to see him — how many times do I have to say it?!"
Oriana's eyes flew open and a sharp pain shot through her head. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to understand where she was. The ceiling above her was enormous, decorated with golden moldings and a chandelier far too elegant for any place she'd ever seen.
She blinked several times.
This wasn't her room.
It wasn't the hospital either.
She sat up slowly and felt something strange the moment she lifted her hand. Her skin looked different. Whiter, finer. Long dark hair fell over her shoulders like a cascade and that alone was enough to freeze her whole body.
"No," she murmured.
The door swung open and a woman in a maid's uniform rushed in.
"Lady Priscilla, thank heavens you're awake! I thought you'd truly lost consciousness forever."
Oriana's stomach dropped the moment she heard that name.
Priscilla.
The maid hurried over.
"Are you feeling ill? I'll call the doctor."
"Wait." Her voice came out hoarse. "What's today's date?"
The woman frowned.
"The date?"
"Just answer me."
"June fourteenth."
Oriana stopped breathing for a second.
June fourteenth.
The day after Priscilla abandoned the duke.
She remembered that chapter perfectly.
She remembered the cruel words, the public humiliation, the way the entire nobility began despising Priscilla after she broke the engagement with Ender Hall once he lost his sight.
Her head started pounding harder.
The scenes appeared one after another inside her mind — the novel, the characters, Ender sitting alone in that dark room while Priscilla told him she wasn't going to waste her youth on a blind man.
Oriana felt nauseous.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
The maid kept watching her with concern.
"Lady Priscilla, I really am calling the doctor."
"No, I don't need one."
"But you hit your head when you fainted, and you've been acting very strangely since yesterday."
Yesterday.
Right.
The breakup had just happened.
Oriana pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to breathe slowly. Everything felt too real — the weight of the sheets, the faint perfume in the room, the ache in her body.
She wasn't dreaming.
She'd died.
And now she was inside the novel.
The maid spoke again, quieter this time.
"The baron asked about you a moment ago."
Oriana raised her head.
Priscilla's father.
Dorian Van.
In the novel he barely appeared because he spent most of his time sick and busy trying to save the family from debt. The original Priscilla hardly paid him any attention.
"Where is he?"
"In his study, though..." The woman hesitated. "He's not feeling well today."
That she remembered too.
The debts.
The family's ruin.
The creditors.
It all began right after the breakup.
Oriana got out of bed slowly and nearly lost her balance standing up. The maid rushed to steady her.
"Lady Priscilla, easy."
"I'm fine. I think."
Walking in this body felt strange — like wearing new shoes that hadn't broken in yet. The room was enormous compared to her old apartment, but there was something sad about it. The furniture was elegant though neglected, and the flowers by the window had dried out.
The entire mansion seemed exhausted.
As they walked down the hallway, two maids began whispering the moment they spotted her.
"I heard the duke didn't say a word when she broke the engagement."
"I heard he smashed a glass after she left."
"Shh, keep it down."
Oriana felt secondhand embarrassment.
Yeah, Priscilla had been terrible.
When they reached the study, the maid knocked softly.
"My lord, Lady Priscilla is here."
Silence for a few seconds before a tired voice answered.
"Let her in."
Oriana stepped inside slowly.
The man behind the desk looked up immediately. Dorian Van was younger than she'd imagined while reading the novel — maybe because the illness made him look drained. He had deep dark circles, long dark hair in disarray, and stacks of documents piled in front of him.
But the moment he saw his daughter, his expression changed.
"Priscilla, I heard you fainted."
The concern in his voice was so genuine that Oriana went still.
"I'm fine."
"That's clearly a lie. Your face is white."
He tried to stand quickly and ended up coughing hard before bracing himself against the desk. Oriana reacted almost on impulse and walked toward him.
"Don't get up so fast."
Dorian stared at her in surprise.
She was surprised too.
Because the gesture had come out naturally.
The baron smiled faintly.
"Now you're the one scolding me."
Oriana lowered her gaze, uncomfortable.
She didn't know how to act around him. He wasn't her father, and yet the way he looked at her hurt a little.
As if he genuinely loved his daughter.
Dorian sighed wearily before sitting back down.
"I heard rumors from the capital this morning."
Of course he had.
The entire nobility had to be talking about the scandal.
"Father..."
"I'm not going to ask why you ended the engagement," he said calmly. "If you've already made that decision, arguing won't change anything."
Oriana felt a knot in her throat.
Because there was no anger in his voice.
Only weariness.
"There's something you should know, Priscilla," he continued, arranging some documents. "The family's situation has gotten worse these past months. I'd planned to resolve some of the debts through that marriage, but we'll find another way."
She looked at the papers on his desk. Seals. Contracts. Numbers.
Enormous debts.
And suddenly she understood something important.
The novel never really explained how hard Dorian Van fought to protect his daughter.
Everything had always been told from the duke's side.
Oriana thought of her own family and looked away.
She didn't want to go through another life feeling useless.
She didn't want to spend another life waiting for the end.
Dorian watched her in silence.
"Do you regret it?"
She raised her head.
"Regret what?"
"Breaking the engagement."
Oriana took a few seconds to answer.
"No. But I do regret a lot of other things."
The baron seemed confused by the response.
And honestly, so was she.
Because she was speaking as both Oriana and Priscilla at the same time.
Dorian let out a small, tired laugh.
"You've been talking strangely lately."
"Maybe I hit my head too hard."
"Or maybe you're finally growing up."
She barely smiled.
After leaving the study, she walked through the mansion alone for several minutes. The servants kept watching her oddly, as though expecting another fit of arrogance at any moment.
The original Priscilla had a horrible temper.
That she remembered too.
She reached an old kitchen at the back of the first floor. It was practically abandoned — full of boxes, dust-covered utensils, and a broken window letting in cold air.
But the moment Oriana stepped inside, something in her settled a little.
Kitchens. Flour. Sugar.
This she understood.
She approached a worktable slowly and ran her hand across the surface.
Dust. Lots of dust. A voice came from behind her.
"Lady Priscilla... what are you doing here?"
An older cook was watching her, completely baffled.
"Thinking."
"That worries me a bit."
She laughed quietly.
"Me too."
The man kept staring at her strangely.
"Do you need something?"
Oriana looked at the empty shelves for a few seconds before speaking.
"Is there still flour in this house?"
"A little."
"Butter?"
"Very little."
"Eggs?"
"If the chickens haven't fled the debts, yes."
She let out a more genuine laugh this time.
The cook's eyes went wide.
That woman had probably never laughed like that in front of the staff.
Oriana took a deep breath.
"I want to use this kitchen."
"I'm sorry?"
"And I want to sell pastries."
Silence.
The man blinked several times.
"Lady Priscilla... do you actually know how to cook?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"That stung a little."
"Forgive me, but two months ago you set boiling water on fire."
"That was a complicated situation."
The cook ended up laughing despite trying to hold it in.
And that small reaction made something inside Oriana feel lighter.
Because it had been a very long time since she'd talked to someone so normally.
The man crossed his arms.
"And what kind of pastries are you planning to sell?"
She looked around the kitchen one more time.
Then smiled slowly.
"The kind that make people want to come back tomorrow."
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