Roselle’s POV
I stared at the mirror, unable to move.
My heart pounded so hard that I could hear it in my ears.
The woman staring back at me had long, dark hair that fell over her shoulders.
Her skin was smooth and pale, her face softer than mine had ever been.
Even her eyes were different.
I slowly raised my hand.
The woman in the mirror did the same.
I touched my cheek, then my lips, as if doing so would somehow prove that what I was seeing wasn’t real.
But it was.
“What…?” My voice came out much softer than I expected.
I stumbled backward and looked around the room.
That was when I finally noticed just how strange my surroundings were.
I was standing inside a large walk-in closet filled with clothes.
Not the simple dresses worn by the women in Valoria.
Not even the corset gowns I was used to seeing on noblewomen.
These clothes were completely different.
Dozens of beautiful outfits were arranged neatly along the walls.
Shoes were lined up beneath them, expensive-looking bags sat on shelves, and jewelry was displayed in small boxes.
I turned slowly, trying to make sense of everything.
There was a large bed on one side of the room.
Beside it was a small table with a strange object resting on top of it.
The walls were decorated with paintings, and several lamps stood around the room.
Everything looked unfamiliar.
Too unfamiliar.
I looked down at myself.
The clothes I was wearing were nothing like my armor.
There was no sword at my side.
No metal covering my chest.
No sword buried in my chest.
No scar to remind me of the betrayal I had just experienced.
No blood staining my hands.
My hands.
I lifted them again.
They were small.
Soft.
Delicate.
Much like the hands of the noblewomen I had sometimes admired from afar.
But these weren’t my hands.
They didn’t resemble the hands that carried a sword through countless battles or the ones that bore the scars of every hardship I had endured.
I grabbed my chest and froze.
There was no wound.
No blood.
No sword had pierced through me.
Yet I remembered it clearly.
If not for the fact that I could still vividly remember the look on Alan’s face as his sword thrust into my chest, I might have convinced myself that it had all been a dream.
But it hadn’t been.
I staggered backward until my body hit the wall.
“No…” I looked at the mirror again.
The unfamiliar woman staring back at me looked just as frightened as I felt.
“This isn’t me.” My breathing grew faster.
“Where am I?” I looked around once more, hoping something, anything, would give me an answer.
But there was nothing.
No soldiers.
No commanders.
No familiar weapons.
No castle walls.
Nothing that belonged to the world I knew.
For the first time since becoming a General, I felt completely helpless.
I had faced thousands of enemy soldiers without fear.
I had stood on battlefields surrounded by blood and death and never allowed myself to tremble.
But standing in this strange room, staring at a face that wasn’t mine, I had no idea what to do.
Who was this woman?
And more importantly… What had happened to me?
Knock.
Knock.
The sound of someone knocking on the door startled me.
For a moment, my first instinct was to hide.
It felt as though I were an intruder who had somehow wandered into someone else’s home and would be discovered at any moment.
“Ma’am, the guests are outside waiting for you before the funeral officially begins.” A voice came from the other side of the door.
My mind immediately began to race.
Funeral?
Whose funeral?
What was happening?
I didn’t understand anything.
But I knew one thing.
Standing here doing nothing wasn’t going to give me any answers.
“Come in,” I responded.
The moment the words left my mouth, I frowned.
My voice.
It sounded so soft.
So delicate.
For a second, I was almost irritated by how different it sounded.
Then I remembered that there were no knights standing before me.
No soldiers waiting for my orders.
No one expecting to hear the strong voice of General Alice of Winchester.
That thought calmed me slightly.
But only slightly.
I still wasn’t sure I could ever get used to hearing such a strange voice come from my own mouth.
A lady waltzed into the room, looking pristine and proper.
But the moment she saw me, she immediately stopped and took a deep bow before speaking.
I blinked at her.
From her actions alone, I could tell that I must be someone of great importance.
For a woman of her class and position to bow so respectfully to me meant that whoever I was in this strange world, I was clearly someone she was expected to respect.
“The guests are all seated, and the members of the DeLuca Family are waiting as well. All that remains is your presence before they can begin the ceremony…”
She suddenly stopped speaking.
Her eyes had moved to my face.
She took a step closer, worry spreading across her features.
“Ma’am, I don’t mean to pry, but you look really pale.” As she spoke, her eyes moved around the room as though she were searching for something.
Then they suddenly lit up.
She had spotted something.
I followed her line of sight and saw an empty bottle lying not too far from where I had been lying when I first woke up.
She quickly walked toward it and picked it up.
“Did you consume the contents already?” She brought the bottle closer to her nose and inhaled.
“Is that why you look so pale?” She hurried back toward me, her expression becoming even more concerned as she looked me over.
But before I could answer, she spoke again.
“I know I’m stepping beyond my boundaries by saying this, but I know how difficult it must be to deal with the loss of your husband and the situation that is about to unfold. But you don’t need to kill yourself.”
“Kill myself?” I repeated.
“I know the smell of poison when I detect one.” She held the bottle up for me to see.
“This poison is called Black Veil. It is strong enough to cause dizziness, weakness, blurred vision, and eventually unconsciousness, but it isn’t strong enough to kill you.” She paused, studying me with a sympathetic expression.
“That explains why you look so pale and disheveled.”
I stared at her.
This was the first time I had ever received such a sympathetic look from a woman.
Most noblewomen I had encountered in my life had looked at me with disgust.
Some looked at me with envy.
A few looked at me with admiration.
But this… This was different.
She was genuinely worried about me.
I didn’t know how to react to it.
For some reason, her sympathy made me feel strangely flustered.
It was an unfamiliar emotion, one I didn’t particularly like.
I quickly decided to change the subject.
Besides, I wasn’t the one who had drunk the poison.
I still didn’t understand what was happening or whose body I was in, but there was one thing I knew for certain.
I would never willingly end my own life, no matter how difficult things became.
“What about the ceremony?” I asked simply.
The moment I mentioned it, her expression changed, as though she had suddenly remembered the main reason she had come to see me.
“Oh!” She quickly placed the bottle aside.
“I’ll go to the kitchen and prepare a detoxifying tea for you to help counter the poison in your system.” She pointed toward the bathroom.
“While I’m gone, go and take your shower. I’ll be back before it’s time for you to get dressed.”
I stared at her.
A shower?
Detoxifying tea?
A funeral?
A husband I apparently didn’t remember?
And a poison I had supposedly taken?
There were far too many questions running through my mind.
But if I wanted answers, I knew I couldn’t stand around looking confused forever.
I had survived battlefields where one wrong decision could cost thousands of lives.
Surely, I could survive a strange room and a mysterious funeral.