Rose's eyes fluttered open, the air heavy with the scent of roses. She blinked, trying to clear the haze clouding her mind. Her surroundings were unfamiliar, and the soft, melodic sounds of a distant harp drifted through the air. She sat up, confused. The room was opulent, the walls adorned with gold filigree and the faint shimmer of chandeliers above. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a strange warmth flooded her veins.
What is this place?
She swung her legs off the bed, the silk of the sheets brushing against her skin. Rose stared down at her hands — delicate, unscarred, as if she hadn't lived the life that had ended so tragically.
The memories came rushing back: betrayal, heartache, and the deep, unforgiving grip of death. She had died. She remembered the coldness of the blade, the weight of her final breath. But here she was, alive. It didn't make sense.
She stood quickly, her mind racing. How could this be happening?
She rushed toward the full-length mirror, her reflection staring back at her in shock. She wore a regal gown — deep crimson and gold — the very attire of royalty. Her heart skipped. She knew this dress. She had seen it once in a memory that felt too distant to touch. This… I'm a princess?
Before she could process further, the door creaked open, and a man in royal garb entered. His eyes were sharp, his presence commanding.
"Rose," he said, his voice soft yet firm. "You're awake."
Her breath caught. Kyle.
"Why… why am I here?" Rose whispered, her voice trembling. She hadn't seen him in years, and yet there he stood, as though nothing had changed. Kyle — her lover in a past life, the man she had loved with all her heart. He had been part of her world, and yet, they had been torn apart in the cruelest of ways. She had lost him before, and now she was seeing him again, as though no time had passed.
"You're the princess," Kyle said, his voice steady. "You've been resting. The King and Queen are waiting for you."
Her mind was a whirlwind. She didn't know how she could possibly be the princess of this kingdom, how any of this was real. But one thing was certain: the life she had known — the one that had ended in death — was gone. She was here, in this strange palace, surrounded by people she didn't remember and yet felt inexplicably connected to.
"Come with me," Kyle continued, his gaze soft but insistent. "The King and Queen need to see you."
Before she could question him further, another voice rang out, deeper and more authoritative. "Indeed, Princess. Your presence is required."
Rose turned, her heart skipping a beat. The man standing at the entrance was tall, regal, his dark hair neatly tied back. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto hers with a depth that felt as if he could see right through her. Prince Christopher.
Her breath hitched. She had heard of him in whispers — the crown prince of Althea, rumored to be as cold as the winter winds. But what did he want with her? Why was he here?
"Come," Christopher said with a slight bow, his tone respectful yet distant. "The Kingdom needs its princess. It is time for you to reclaim what is yours."
Rose stood there, torn between confusion and the strange pull of destiny that seemed to beckon her forward. The life she had lost was gone, but in its place was something far more complicated. A crown. A prince. And Kyle — the man who had once been her everything, now standing at her side as if nothing had changed.
With a final glance at Kyle, she took her first step toward the unknown.