Ophelia barely slept.
Not because the bed was uncomfortable.
Honestly, it was probably the softest thing she had ever laid on in her entire life.
The pillows alone felt expensixve enough to pay three months rent back in London.
No, the problem was the fact that she had apparently died… and woke up inside another woman’s body.
Which was mildly concerning.
The large mirror across the room remained covered after yesterday’s incident.
Apparently, fainting after staring at your own reflection was enough to terrify the servants.
Ophelia still didn’t know if what she saw had been real.
Maybe it was stress.
Maybe she hit her head too hard before dying.
Maybe her brain simply decided to stop functioning properly.
All valid possibillities.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
“My lady?”
The maid from yesterday slowly entered the room carrying a tray.
Ophelia remembered her name now.
Emily.
Apparently she had been serving “Lady Ophelia” since childhood.
Which was awkward considering Ophelia herself still felt like an imposter wearing someone else’s skin.
Emily carefully placed the tray down beside the bed.
“You should eat something.”
Ophelia looked at the food silently.
Tea.
Bread.
Fruits.
Rich people breakfast.
“Did rich people not discover noodles yet in this world?” she muttered absentmindedly.
Emily blinked.
“My lady?”
“Nothing.”
Ophelia quickly picked up the teacup before she embarrassed herself further.
The moment her fingers touched the porcelain
A sharp pain shot through her head.
Her breath caught instantly.
A woman’s laughter echoed faintly inside her ears.
Then whispers.
“She’s too weak.”
“She won’t survive winter anyway.”
Ophelia suddenly dropped the cup.
CRASH.
Tea spilled across the floor.
Emily gasped loudly.
“My lady!”
Ophelia stared at her trembling hands.
The voices disappeared immediately.
But the emotions stayed.
Cold.
Cruel.
Mocking.
Like they weren’t her own.
Emily quickly knelt beside the broken porcelain looking worried.
“Are you hurt?”
“No…” Ophelia whispered slowly.
“I’m fine.”
Which was definiitely a lie.
Because she was becoming increasingly convinced this house was haunted.
And somehow that wasn’t even the worst part.
Emily hesitated before speaking carefully.
“The doctor said the side effects from your fever may take some time to disappear.”
Fever.
Right.
That apparently was the official explanation for why Lady Ophelia Ashbourne almost died.
Convenient.
Ophelia looked away quietly.
“Emily.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“What kind of person was I before this?”
The maid froze slightly.
And that alone answered more than enough.
Ophelia noticed it immediately.
The hesitation.
The nervousness.
People became careful whenever the original Ophelia was mentioned.
Like they were scared of saying the wrong thing.
Emily lowered her gaze.
“You were very quiet.”
That wasn’t suspicious at all.
“And?”
“You rarely left your room.”
“What else?”
Emily looked conflicted now.
Ophelia sighed softly.
“Emily, I almost died. I think I deserve honesty.”
The maid bit her lip nervously before finally speaking.
“People thought you were fragile.”
Fragile.
Weak.
Sickly.
It seemed the original Ophelia had spent most of her life being treated like she and would break at any second.
Something about that made Ophelia strangely sad.
Not because of herself.
But because she could still feel traces of emotions that didn’t belong to her.
Loneliness lingering in the corners of the room.
Fear hidden beneath silence.
Almost like the original owner of this body had suffered quietly for a very long time.
Ophelia looked down at her hands again.
Who exactly had Lady Ophelia Ashbourne been?
Another knock suddenly echoed through the room.
Emily immediately stood up straighter.
A middle-aged woman entered seconds later dressed in elegant dark clothing.
Her sharp eyes landed on Ophelia instantly.
Countess Ashbourne.
Ophelia somehow recognized her immediately despite never meeting her before.
Which was horrifying in its own way.
The Countess walked toward the bed gracefully.
“You’re awake.”
No warmth.
No relief.
Just observation.
Like she was studying something.
Ophelia forced a small smile.
“Appayrently.”
The Countess’ expression shifted slightly, almost surprised by the response.
For a second, silence filled the room.
Then,
“You’ve changed.”
Straight to the point.
Ophelia nearly laughed.
Well yes.
Technically speaking, an entirely different person was currently occupying her daughter’s body.
That usually caused changes.
“I almost died,” Ophelia replied carefully.
“That tends to affect people.”
The Countess stared at her for a long moment.
Ophelia stared back calmly even though internally she was fighting for her life.
The woman finally spoke again.
“Lord Vale be will visiting today.”
And there it was.
The fiancé.
Alekxander Vale.
Even the name sounded intimidating.
Emily visibly tensed beside her.
Which honestly did not help.
Ophelia frowned slightly.
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“Shouldn’t it?”
Okay.
Now she was definitely scared.
The Countess moved toward the window slowly.
“You and Lord Vale are to be married within the year.”
Right.
The dead noblewoman starter pack apparently came with a terrifying fiancé included.
“How romantic,” Ophelia muttered under her breath.
The Countess turned sharply.
“What?”
“…Nothing.”
This body was going to get her killed for real this time.
The older woman studied her carefully again before finally speaking.
“Do not embarrass this family during his visit.”
And just like that, she left.
The second the door closed, Ophelia exhaled dramatically.
“…Your family here is terrifying.”
Emily looked horrified.
“My lady!”
“What? Was I wrong?”
“No but you cannot say things like that out loud!”
Ophelia rubbed her forehead tiredly.
Everything about this situation felt unreal.
The noble family.
The strange memories.
The whispers.
The fact she apparently had an emotionally unavailable aristocrat fiancé waiting downstairs somewhere.
Honestly, dying had become significantly more stressful than expected.
Emily suddenly looked toward the mirror nervously.
“My lady…”
“What?”
“The servants have been talking.”
That was never a good sentence.
“Talking about what?”
Emily hesitated.
“They said after your illness…” Her voice lowered slightly.
“You began hearing things.”
Ophelia’s stomach tightened slightly.
Because the terrifying part was,
They were right.
Before she could respond, another sharp pain suddenly hit her head.
Stronger this time.
Ophelia grabbed the edge of the bed instantly.
Voices flooded her ears again.
A woman crying.
Footsteps.
Then a man’s voice.
Cold.
Calm.
Familiar.
“If she remembers anything, they’ll kill her.”
Ophelia’s breathing stopped.
The voice belonged to him.
Lord Vale.
Then another voice whispered softly beside him.
“She already knows too much.”
A sudden image flashed violently across her vision.
Blood.
A silver ring falling onto marble floors.
And a pair of dark eyes staring directly at her.
Ophelia gasped sharply as the vision disappeared.
Emily rushed toward her immediately.
“My lady!”
But Ophelia barely heard her.
Because one thought kept repeating inside her mind.
This wasn’t just transmigration.
Something was deeply wrong with this family.
And somehow,
Lord Alekxander Vale was standing right at the center of it.