I retired to my chambers that night and started writing down things that changed in the plot.
Firstly, Lyra was never supposed to appear until the Royal academy which was not until September. I entered this story on January and it was currently march, so Lyra wasn't supposed to appear for another six months.
What went wrong? It seems like my change of attitude also changed the plot. It seems the more I act less than the original Elara the more things would change.
Secondly, in the original plot, the Prince fell for Lyra the moment he set eyes on her but his attitude earlier was cold and he barely acknowledged her.
I dropped my feather pen and looked at the points I had written down. As I was reminiscing a knock sounded on the door of my chambers.
Three sharp taps. It didn't sound like Marianne, hers was lighter as if trying not to offend the door but this one was harsh and unapologetic. I didn't move immediately. Instead, I stared at the door like it had personally offended me.
"Lady Elara," the voice came again. Calm. Controlled. Familiar in a way that made my instincts tighten. "I know you're awake."
Sebastian. One of my hot guards.
I stood slowly.
"You're getting too comfortable knocking like you own the place," I said as I approached the door.
A pause.
"You don't lock it."
"…That's not the point."
I opened the door.
Sebastian stood there in full uniform, posture straight, expression unreadable in the way that always meant he had already decided what I should be doing.
Edward was behind him, leaning slightly to one side like he was only half-invested in existing.
"What?" I asked immediately.
Sebastian didn't answer right away.
Instead, his eyes flicked past me into the room, the scattered notes, the ink, the half-written thoughts about Lyra, the Academy timeline, the deviations.
His gaze returned to me.
"You're thinking too loudly again," he said.
I blinked.
"That's not a thing."
"It is when you pace at night."
Edward sighed softly. "She does pace."
"I do not pace," I corrected instantly.
A beat.
Then both of them looked at me.
I sighed.
" strategize with movement."
Sebastian exhaled like he had expected worse.
"You have a visitor request," he said.
That pulled my attention sharply.
"Now?"
"It was delivered ten minutes ago," Edward added. "From House Callister."
That name made the air feel slightly heavier.
Valentina Callister.
The so-called future "friend" of the Saintess and, historically speaking, someone who enjoyed turning alliances into weapons. I narrowed my eyes.
"Why would she request a meeting at this hour?"
Sebastian handed me a sealed letter. I took it and broke the seal. The message was short.
To Lady Elara,
You are requested at House Callister gardens tomorrow at the fourth bell. High tea will be served, and the manor guards have been notified of your arrival. We have urgent matters of the court to discuss.
Bring your wit, and perhaps your taste-tester.
Do not keep me waiting,
Lady Valentina of House Callister.
I stared at it.
Then slowly folded it back and let out a deep sigh.
Sebastian watched me carefully.
"You're going."
"I don't have a choice" Besides it was the perfect opportunity to try to get Lady Valentina on my side. In the book, Lady Valentina and Elara were competing for the prince' heart. It was all useless though at the end because Lyra ended up with the prince. Later, Valentina became one of Lyra's trustworthy friends and helped her bring down Elara. But if I could get on Valentina's good side, that could all be avoided.
"Thanks for delivering the letter"
"Our pleasure" Edward replied. As I turned back into the room I thought I saw Sebastien's hand on Edward's butt but I shook it off as part of my imagination.
I locked the door to my room to do more thinking.
This was earlier than expected.
Just like Lyra and like everything else. The plot wasn't just shifting anymore, It was accelerating and it wasn't asking permission. I placed the letter on the desk beside my notes. Then added a new line beneath my previous notes.
Valentina Callister — moved up timeline.
I stared at it for a moment.
"…Fine," I said quietly.
"If the story wants to change early, then I'll just have to learn how to read it faster."
Another knock sounded on the door.
"Lady Elara, are you in there?"
Marianne's voice flooded through the door as I walked up to open it.
Enter," I said.
The door opened quietly.
She stepped in carrying a tray of food balanced with practiced precision, warm bread, fresh fruit, and something steaming in a porcelain cup that smelled faintly of herbs and honey.
Dinner in this world consisted mostly of bread and soup. I missed the meat pies and instant noodles of my old world but we can't always get what we want.
"You haven't eaten properly," Marianne said simply, as if it were a fact that overruled all arguments.
"I've eaten," I replied immediately.
She set the tray down on the small table near the window, then glanced at my desk at the letter and at the notes.
At the words I probably should have hidden better. Her expression didn't change.
"You're organizing things again," she said.
"It helps me think," I replied.
Marianne looked at me directly not like a servant or someone afraid of the Viremont name but like someone who had known me long enough to notice when I wasn't acting like myself.
"You've been thinking more than usual and eating less." She said softly.
I opened my mouth and closed it again because that was annoyingly accurate.
Instead I walked toward the tray and the steam curled upward, warm and real in a way that grounded the room more than any reflection ever could.
I picked up the cup.
"I'm fine," I said.
Marianne didn't respond immediately, instead she just watched me take a sip.
Then: "People who say that usually aren't."
I made no comment as I looked down at the cup again. Then back at the desk and at the mirror beyond it at the reflection that still felt like it was watching even when I wasn't looking directly at it.
"Something's changing," I said quietly.
Marianne's gaze sharpened slightly.
"In you?" she asked.
I hesitated then shook my head once.
"No."
A pause.
"In the story."
No one spoke immediately after that.
Marianne's eyes lingered on me for a long moment.
Then she simply said, "Then eat while you think about it."
I let out a small breath that might've been a laugh if I allowed it to fully form.
"Bossy," I muttered.
"I raised you," she replied.
I let out a small chuckle and took another sip.
"Fine," I said quietly.
"If the story is going to keep changing…"
I glanced once more at the mirror.
"...then I'll just have to change faster."
Marianne stayed as I finished my food and gathered the tray of empty dishes and left.
The chamber was quiet except for the faint rustle of curtains against the window. Moonlight spilled across the floor in thin, pale strips, cutting the room into uneven pieces.
My reflection waited for me.
It always did.
Elara Viremont stood there in a perfect posture, composed expression and short dark hair that looked alive.
I studied her face for a long moment.
Then I raised my hand and the reflection followed exactly.
No delay. No distortion. No hesitation.
But that wasn't what bothered me anymore. What bothered me was how natural it felt, like I had never been anything else.
"You're getting too comfortable," I murmured to the mirror.
The reflection didn't answer, of course. It never did.
But for a brief second, so small I almost convinced myself it wasn't real, I thought I saw her eyes shift.
Not mine.
Hers.
Like she was looking back at me as a witness.
I exhaled slowly.
"Stop doing that," I said under my breath.
I finally looked away from the mirror.
But the feeling didn't leave.
It stayed behind my eyes like an afterimage as if the reflection hadn't stopped looking just because I did.
As I got comfortable in my bed, I didn't sleep immediately. I thought of the possibility that the original Elara might be trapped in this body but sleep took over before I could dwell on it.