The message was kept in the drawer, but the words were engraved in my heart.Do not trust him.
The manor had not changed. The chandeliers still glittered with warm light.The portraits still watched in silence. The floor still creaked in the same places it always had.
I wished time would stop here.
And yet, something was different. Or perhaps — I was.
I stood before the mirror, staring at the girl who once begged to escape this fate.
In my last life, I had cried the night before the engagement. I had wept like a child — knees on the floor, throat raw, refusing to marry a man I barely knew. The Duke was distant. Cruel in silence. Unreachable. I hadn't loved him. Not then. I had feared him.
I remember gripping Mara's sleeves, whispering,
"Please... there must be another way."
Mara — my maid since I was ten.Raised beside me in the Viremond estate. She braided my hair before lessons. Snuck sweets into the library.Held my hand through the funerals of every person I loved... until hers.
She was only a year older than me.
The one person I never suspected.The one person who never betrayed me. And yet, for me, she died.
I will never let Mara die again.
She fastened the final clasp on my gown now, silent and steady — as if she, too, remembered a version of me that broke too easily.
But that girl is gone.
This time, I did not cry.
The sound of hooves split the silence like thunder. He was here.
I stood at the top of the staircase, hands resting lightly on the rail.Composed. Perfect.A duchess-to-be sculpted from porcelain and calculation.
The entire manor moved like clockwork. Servants rushed. Footsteps echoed. Windows flung open. And outside, his obsidian carriage came to a halt beneath the archway.
Lucian Noctare.Duke of the North.My fiancé.My future murderer.
He stepped out.
No change in his posture. No warmth in his expression. He wore his titles like armor — and his silence like a sword.
Exactly as I remembered.
Good. Let him come as he always did.
He approached the doors with practiced ease, trailed by aides and guards.
My pulse flickered.
The butler bowed deeply.
"Duke Noctare. Welcome to House Viremond."
Lucian gave a single nod before his eyes rose to meet mine.
And at that moment, our past wrapped its cold hands around my throat.
He looked at me the same way he did on the day he killed me.
With nothing.
No softness.
No cruelty.
Just distance, polished into civility.
"Liora," he said with quiet formality. "You're well."
My smile was flawless.
"You're early."
"Noctare waits for no calendar," he replied.
It was meant to be charming.It wasn't.
He held out a box.
"I brought a gift. For today."
That was new.
Mara stepped back, startled.I took it slowly, keeping my expression unreadable.
Inside, cushioned on velvet —a violet hairpin.
My fingers twitched.
It was the same one.
The same hairpin I wore the night I died.
A violet. My favorite flower.
Except... I never told anyone that.
I never said it aloud.
Not in the last life.
Not in this one.
"You once mentioned you liked violets," Lucian said, watching me. "Or... perhaps I assumed."
I looked up at him.
He wasn't lying.
He wasn't hiding anything.
He didn't know.
So why does the past keep echoing back to me in pieces no one else should carry?
Lucian remained quiet beside me as we walked the halls.
The marble echoed our steps — perfectly in sync. An illusion of unity.
In my last life, I had spat fire every time he spoke. Every word from his mouth had felt like poison. I'd questioned every decision. Dismissed every attempt at civility. And he had grown tired of me.
I gave him reasons to hate me, I thought. But I will not do that again.
Not because I forgave him.
But this time, I knew the game.
"You walk confidently today," he said at last, his voice low."The fever must've left you stronger."
"A near-death experience tends to shift one's priorities, Your Grace," I replied, smiling politely.
"Lucian," he corrected. "When we're alone."
Another line from our previous life. But this time, it didn't cut as deeply.
"Of course… Lucian." I offered a practiced warmth. Just enough.
He studied me.
Not fondly. Not with suspicion. But like a man watching chess pieces move differently than he remembers.
"May I speak with you privately?" he asked — just loud enough for nearby staff to hear.
A performance. An orchestrated show of closeness. In our last life, I had refused. Stormed away. Proved the rumors true.
But now?
"Of course," I said softly. "Though I must confess… the morning has been long. I'd like to rest a while, if you don't mind. You should too."
"I'll wait," he said, ever so gracious.
"Then allow me to retire for now."
"We'll talk soon. Lucian."
Back in my chambers, the door closed behind me with a gentle click.
"Wait outside, Mara," I said calmly. "I won't be long."
She hesitated only briefly.
"Yes, my lady."
I waited until her footsteps disappeared.
Then, the silence wrapped itself around me like a cloak. Not peace. Not rest.
Something colder.Something watching.
The room was still. Too still.
I sat at the edge of the bed, the gift box resting on my lap — unopened since Lucian had handed it to me in the hall. I hadn't dared to look again until now.
Not with eyes trained for truth.
I lifted the lid.
The violet hairpin shimmered on its velvet bed — delicate, intricate, too familiar.
My fingers hovered just above it.
In my past life, I had bought this exact hairpin from a traveling merchant in Noctare. Three weeks after the wedding.
A moment of defiance.A useless attempt to feel like I still had choices. Lucian had never seen it. He'd never cared to.
And yet… here it was. Gifted before the engagement had even begun.
That alone was enough to set my pulse racing.
Is he remembering?No. He couldn't be.
But something else pulled at me.
The velvet lining. It wasn't smooth. Not like it should've been.
I brushed my thumb across the corner.
Rough.
I pressed in — and the fabric peeled back slightly, revealing a crease. A fold.
There, tucked behind the padding like it had been sewn into the box itself… was a note.
My heart stopped.
Same hand. Same sharp lettering. No seal. No signature.
Just six words:
"You bought this in Noctare."
I dropped the paper.
The weight of the room shifted.
It wasn't Lucian. It couldn't be. He never saw the pin. Never asked where I got it.
So who was this? And how did they know?
The message hadn't come from Lucian. But it had come with his gift.
Either someone was watching him closely…Or someone else had placed the message there — before the box ever reached his hand.
"You bought this in Noctare."
A fact only I should know.
Unless someone else had lived it too.
I pressed the lid closed. Slid the note back beneath the velvet. And stood.
The sun had begun to fall beyond the windows, spilling golden light across the floor like melted amber.
Lucian would be waiting. Pretending affection. Wearing his crown of cold silence.
Let him wait.
Because someone else —someone far more dangerous —had just made their move.
The sitting room was quiet. Too elegant.
The kind of space designed for diplomatic smiles…and slow betrayals.
Lucian sat across from me, posture perfect. A glass of chilled wine untouched at his side.
I hadn't touched mine, either.
The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable. It was calculated. Polished. Polite.
Every second felt like a blade held by the handle.
"It's been a long time since we've spoken in private," he said, eyes scanning me like parchment he couldn't read.
"We haven't had many opportunities to speak at all," I replied gently. "Not in ways that matter."
"And do you think this conversation will matter?"
I smiled.
"I think every word you say does. Especially now."
My fingers toyed lightly with the violet hairpin resting on the arm of my chair — not worn, just displayed.
Let him see it. Let him wonder what I was thinking.
"About this," I said, letting my thumb trace the petals, "it's beautiful. Thoughtful. I just found myself wondering… how you chose it."
He blinked once. A barely-there pause.
"The court jeweler presented options. I picked one that felt appropriate."
"Appropriate?"
"You've always carried a certain… elegance. Violets felt subtle. Not too loud."
He leaned back slightly.
"Do you not like it?"
"I do," I said quickly, letting my smile tilt just enough. "In fact, I was surprised. I didn't think you remembered details like that."
"You never spoke of flowers. Not to me," he said plainly.
There it was.
He doesn't know. He didn't choose it because of what it meant.He doesn't remember the merchant in Noctare. The night I bought it for myself, trying to feel whole again.
"Then I suppose you chose well by instinct," I murmured.
I slipped the pin into the box, closed the lid, and set it aside.
"You've changed," he said quietly. "You carry yourself… differently."
"Do I?"I met his gaze directly."Perhaps I simply learned how to be a duchess faster than expected."
"You were never slow," he said — and it almost sounded like praise. Almost.
"And yet you barely looked at me till now."
His eyes narrowed — not in anger. In recognition.As if I'd said something he'd forgotten.
"Perhaps I see you more clearly now."
A lie or a wish.
Either way, I wasn't the one being studied anymore.
We stood at the same time. He offered his arm. I didn't take it.
"Rest well, Liora."
"And you, Your Grace."
He froze — just for a second — at the formality.
I turned without waiting for his reply, the violet box secure beneath my hand.
Inside, I already knew what I would do next.
This wasn't about Lucian anymore. He didn't write those notes. He didn't know what I'd lost. He didn't remember.
But someone did. And they had touched his life, too — just enough to reach me.
I shut the door behind me. Locked it.
And for the first time in this new life,I exhaled the lie I had been breathing.
So you're watching "him." Then I'll watch "you."