"...My Lady?"
A gentle knock echoed through the bedroom.
"My Lady, your bath has already been prepared."
Vivienne frowned beneath the blankets.
"...Five more minutes..."
Another knock.
"My Lady?"
"..."
"Hm?"
She slowly opened her eyes.
Warm sunlight filtered through ivory curtains, painting the bedroom in soft shades of gold.
She blinked once.
Twice.
"..."
"This isn’t my room."
Her voice came out surprisingly calm.
Perhaps because her mind was still half asleep.
She sat up and quietly looked around.
Cream-colored walls trimmed with elegant moldings.
A crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Fresh flowers arranged near the windows.
Everything was refined.
Elegant.
Tasteful.
It certainly wasn’t the bedroom she’d fallen asleep in.
She rubbed her eyes.
"...Did I dream so hard that my subconscious hired an interior designer?"
Another knock came from outside.
"My Lady?"
Vivienne answered almost instinctively.
"I’ll be there in a moment."
The footsteps outside faded.
Only then did she swing her legs over the side of the bed.
"...Okay."
"So either..."
"I’m dreaming."
"Or..."
She slowly looked around the unfamiliar bedroom once more.
"...I honestly have no idea."
A quiet laugh escaped her.
Nothing about this made sense.
But strangely...
She wasn’t frightened.
Only curious.
Her gaze wandered around the room until it landed on an opened envelope resting neatly atop the bedside table.
Curious, she picked it up.
The elegant handwriting immediately caught her attention.
Vivienne Beaumont.
She blinked.
"...What a coincidence."
She unfolded the letter completely.
St. Albion University
The name immediately sounded familiar.
She continued reading.
We are pleased to inform you that, following the release of additional places...
Then—
...you have been admitted from the waiting list...
Vivienne froze.
"...Wait."
Waiting list?
Why...
Why did that sound so familiar?
She read the sentence again.
Then once more.
St. Albion.
Waiting list.
Vivienne Beaumont.
The pieces slowly drifted together inside her head.
Her eyes widened.
"..."
"...No way."
She lowered the letter.
"Did I..."
"...transmigrate?"
The word sounded ridiculous.
She immediately laughed at herself.
"No."
"Most likely I’m dreaming."
"I’ve reread The Duchess’s White Moonlight so many times my brain finally decided to cast me in it."
She nodded as though she’d solved the mystery.
"That actually makes much more sense."
Then she stopped.
"...Wait."
She stared blankly at the acceptance letter.
"If I’m really Vivienne Beaumont..."
Her brows slowly knitted together.
Another memory surfaced.
House Beaumont.
The beautiful villainess.
The childhood engagement.
...
...
"...Anthony Ashford."
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then both hands immediately flew to her mouth.
"...I’m engaged to Anthony Ashford?"
Complete silence filled the bedroom.
Her heart suddenly began beating much faster.
"No..."
"No way..."
She looked back at the letter.
Then around the unfamiliar room.
Then back at the letter again.
"...Okay."
"If this really is The Duchess’s White Moonlight..."
"...then..."
Her eyes suddenly widened.
"Oh!"
"The mirror!"
She hurried toward the vanity.
For years, she’d imagined what the infamous Vivienne Beaumont truly looked like beyond the illustrations printed on the covers of the books.
Now...
She could finally see.
Vivienne slowly lifted her eyes.
Silence.
A breathtaking young woman stared back.
Long blonde hair that shimmered beneath the morning light.
Blue eyes as clear as a summer sky.
Delicate features.
Rosy lips.
The sort of beauty that seemed almost unreal.
Vivienne unconsciously leaned closer.
"So..."
"This is Vivienne Beaumont."
She gently touched her own cheek.
Warm.
Soft.
Completely real beneath her fingertips.
She turned her face slightly to the left.
Then to the right.
Studying herself with genuine curiosity.
Another smile slowly spread across her face.
"...Good."
A quiet laugh escaped her.
"This helps."
She wasn’t saying it out of vanity.
She simply understood one undeniable truth.
Vivienne Beaumont was famous for her beauty.
It was one of the greatest advantages the character possessed from the very beginning.
If she truly was going to become Vivienne Beaumont...
At least she wouldn’t be starting at a disadvantage.
She smiled at her reflection again.
"So..."
"I’m really engaged to Anthony Ashford."
Even now, it sounded unreal.
The Anthony Ashford she’d spent years reading about.
The Anthony Ashford she’d argued over with other readers every time a new season was released.
The Anthony Ashford who eventually fell in love with Evelyn Sinclair.
Her excitement slowly gave way to determination.
"Well..."
"If I’m really Vivienne Beaumont..."
She smiled sheepishly at herself in the mirror.
"I’ll do my best."
She had no intention of becoming the obsessive fiancée everyone in the novels’ comment section loved to criticize.
But...
Neither did she intend to quietly hand Anthony over.
After all...
She was his fiancée.
The story hadn’t even begun yet.
A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts.
"My Lady?"
Vivienne blinked.
"Oh."
"Coming."
She took one last look at the girl in the mirror.
Then smiled.
"Whether this is a dream..."
"...or something much stranger..."
"...I’ll just go with the flow."
With that, she turned and walked toward the door.
Vivienne opened the bedroom door.
Waiting outside was a young woman dressed neatly in a black-and-white maid’s uniform.
She curtsied gracefully.
"Good morning, My Lady."
"Good morning."
The maid looked mildly surprised.
Only for a moment.
Then she smiled.
"Your bath is ready."
Vivienne nodded.
"Thank you."
As the maid led the way, Vivienne quietly followed.
Everything she saw felt strangely familiar.
Not because she’d been here before.
But because she’d imagined these places so many times while reading.
The carved wooden doors.
The pale marble floors.
The blue-and-gold wallpaper.
House Beaumont.
She had pictured it countless times.
Actually standing inside it felt...
Oddly nostalgic.
As though she’d returned to a place she’d somehow visited only in her imagination.
The maid pushed open another door.
Beyond it lay an elegant dressing room connected to a spacious marble bathroom.
Steam rose gently from the already prepared bath.
"My Lady?"
The maid smiled politely.
"Would you like me to assist you?"
Vivienne almost answered yes.
Then she remembered.
She didn’t know how much assistance the original Vivienne normally accepted.
Better to be safe.
"I can manage."
"Very well."
"I’ll prepare your clothes."
Once the maid stepped outside, Vivienne let out a slow breath.
"...Okay."
"So far..."
"So good."
The bath itself was wonderfully relaxing.
If this really was a dream...
Her subconscious had spared no expense.
By the time she finished dressing, the maid had already arranged her hair into soft curls tied with a pale blue ribbon.
Vivienne looked into the mirror once more.
She couldn’t help smiling.
"...Cute."
Not overly glamorous.
Just...
Elegant.
Youthful.
Very much the sort of young lady one would expect from the daughter of an old noble house.
The maid stepped back with an approving smile.
"You look lovely this morning, My Lady."
"Thank you."
Vivienne accepted the compliment happily.
Compliments always had a way of brightening her mood.
The maid blinked ever so slightly.
"...Shall we head to the dining room?"
Vivienne nodded.
"Lead the way."
Together they walked through House Beaumont.
The mansion was quiet.
Morning sunlight poured through tall windows.
Portraits of previous generations lined the corridors.
Fresh flowers decorated almost every corner.
Vivienne admired everything with quiet fascination.
Not because it was luxurious.
Luxury had never been unfamiliar to her.
But because...
This was House Beaumont.
A place she’d visited hundreds of times in her imagination.
She almost expected Anthony Ashford to walk around the next corner.
The thought made her smile.
’Please let this dream last until I meet him.’
Just once.
She wanted to see whether the man she’d spent years imagining really looked the way she pictured him.
The maid opened a pair of grand double doors.
"The Duke and Duchess are waiting for you, My Lady."
Vivienne took a small breath before stepping inside.
A long dining table occupied the center of the room.
At its head sat a dignified gentleman reading the morning newspaper.
Beside him, an elegant lady was quietly enjoying her tea.
Both looked up as Vivienne entered.
The Duchess smiled immediately.
"Good morning, darling."
Vivienne returned the smile almost instinctively.
"Good morning."
For a brief second...
She forgot to call them Father and Mother.
Thankfully, neither seemed to notice.
"Come," the Duchess said warmly.
"Breakfast is getting cold."
Vivienne took her seat.
Conversation flowed gently over breakfast.
The Duchess asked whether she’d slept well.
The Duke occasionally commented on the morning headlines.
Vivienne mostly listened.
Whenever she answered, she kept her replies simple.
The less she said...
The less likely she was to reveal something strange.
Still...
The atmosphere surprised her.
She’d expected distant aristocrats.
Instead, she found parents who clearly adored their daughter.
It was...
Nice.
Wonderfully nice.
As breakfast drew to a close, the Duchess smiled across the table.
"Don’t stay up reading tonight."
Vivienne looked up.
"...Why?"
The Duke lowered his newspaper.
The Duchess chuckled.
"My goodness."
"Have you forgotten already?"
She smiled knowingly.
"Tomorrow is your first day at St. Albion University."
Vivienne froze.
Tomorrow.
Not next week.
Not next month.
Tomorrow.
A smile slowly spread across her face.
Anthony Ashford.
Evelyn Sinclair.
Damian Blackwood.
The story she’d read for years...
Would begin tomorrow.
She lowered her eyes to hide the excitement threatening to spill across her face.
’Whether this is a dream...’
’Or something much stranger...’
’I really hope tomorrow comes quickly.’