From Pawn to Power

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Everything froze around me. It felt like the world had slapped me upside the head and told me to stay still. My brain, though? It was on overdrive, trying to piece together this madness.

Like, what the hell just happened to me?

I got transmigrated. Into a freakin' novel. A character who dies. In a way that's supposed to gut me.

Out of everything, this was what hit me?

And the worst part? I don't even remember the damn story fully. This wasn't some literary classic I'd devoured on a sleepless night, no. This was some crappy, throwaway book I picked up because it was on sale and I had nothing better to do.

I used to laugh at how stupid the plot was—A weak female lead and some hotshot noble son bumping into each other in the street, falling in love at first sight. Love at first sight? Seriously? Who writes this garbage?

But now?

Now, I'm Cecilia Von Arlen.

Cecilia, the girl who doesn't even get a chance to live her own damn life.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

I wanted to scream, to let it all out, rip my hair out, but no. These people—they keep staring at me, eyes locked, waiting for me to do something.

For God's sake, get outta my face.

"Cecilia… are you okay, sweetie?"

She says it again, this woman. Her voice thick with worry. And that's when it hits me. Oh, hell. This was supposed to be my mom, wasn't it? The lady who's now my mother?

What the hell is going on?

"Uh…" What the hell do I say to that? "Am I okay?" Hell no, I'm not okay. I'm trapped inside a body in a book, about to get killed, and I don't even remember the full story.

But instead of telling her that? I go with the safest, most rehearsed answer I could come up with.

"I… I'm fine." My voice cracks, betraying the lie, but she doesn't notice.

Her face softens, and she leans in, running her hand through my hair. Instinctively, I jerk back.

Nope, nope, nope.

No, lady, I don't know you. You're not my real mother, and I sure as hell don't have time to bond with some stranger. Not today.

Her face drops like I just kicked her puppy.

What the hell is wrong with everyone?

The whole room looks at me like I've just committed a crime—like I'm the villain in their little drama.

Excuse me, but God killed me, threw me in someone else's life, and now I'm supposed to play happy family?

And then there's Theodore. Oh, Theodore. He's the classic pain in the ass. Always has something to say, never keeps it to himself.

"Now look at her. Acting all dramatic, playing the victim." He scoffs, like I'm the one in the wrong here.

I throw him a glare so cold, it could've frozen time. Dramatic? Me? Dude, I'm in a damn novel! You think I'm supposed to be calm about it?

"Theodore," the Grand Duke barks. His voice is low, dangerous. Like it's already too late for you if you piss him off.

Theodore shrugs, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He mutters something under his breath, but he shuts up after that.

Finally, the Grand Duke steps in, taking control of the situation. His gaze sweeps across the room like he owns the place—which, with his title, he probably does.

"It seems like she needs more rest. Let's leave."

Finally! A break! I want to shout a big "thank you," but I just nod internally. They all file out one by one, throwing me these worried looks like I'm some fragile vase. The Grand Duke lingers for a moment, before he nods at the maid.

"Take care of her," he orders.

The maid gives a sharp nod, curtsying. "Yes, Your Grace."

The door shuts with a heavy click, leaving me alone in the room. The silence is almost too loud.

How am I supposed to handle this?

I sink back into the bed, the softness of the pillows almost mocking me. This whole thing? It feels like a damn nightmare, one I can't wake up from. My chest is tight, like the air has turned to molasses.

I hear the maid step forward again. Her voice is soft. "If you need anything, please ring the bell, miss."

"Bell?" I mumble, still foggy in my brain.

She points to a golden bell on the side table. My eyes practically pop out of my skull. A golden bell?

I stare at it. It's tiny, but it gleams like it's straight out of a royal vault.

Without thinking, I pick it up, staring at it like it's the most precious thing on Earth. I put it to my mouth—and bite it?

I stop myself mid-bite. What the hell am I doing?

I quickly set it back down, my cheeks burning. "Focus. Focus, Eun-Byun Lee… Focus."

I almost chuckle at myself. What the hell did I just do? I'm losing my mind.

The maid's still standing there, looking like a lost puppy. I clear my throat, forcing myself to snap back to reality.

"Okay," I say, trying to sound in control. "I'll ring for you if I need anything."

She smiles, nodding politely. "Of course, miss."

And with that, she leaves, closing the door behind her.

Finally, I'm alone.

For a second, I just breathe, trying to center myself. I tell myself to calm down. But then I see it—the mirror.

What does she look like?

I can't stop myself. I walk over to it, barefoot, the floor cool against my skin. I don't even care. The slippers can stay where they are. I stare at the reflection of her—Cecilia Von Arlen.

But, damn...

This girl—Cecilia? She's unreal.

Her hair, black like a raven's wing, flowing down her back like she stepped out of a shampoo commercial. Her eyes? Blue, and not just any blue, but the kind that could pull you in and swallow you whole.

She's too perfect. Too... too perfect.

For a second, I stand there, just staring at her. Staring at me. What the hell is going on? This isn't even real.

But then, I remember.

Her death. Her brutal, bloody, tragic end.

The men dragging her into a cold dungeon, beating her, leaving her to die in pain, alone. She never got a hero. No one came to save her. She died, suffocated by silence and darkness.

And now I'm her.

"No way… No fucking way…" I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief.

I pace back and forth, my thoughts a whirlwind of rage and confusion.

I didn't ask for this. I didn't sign up for this.

I've been through enough in my life. Barely surviving, just trying to make it through each day. And now? Now I'm stuck in this perfect, doomed body?

I stare at my reflection again, my fists clenched.

I don't belong here.

But no matter how much I hate it, I'm stuck.

I walk over to the balcony, taking in the perfect sky. It looks like a painting, the blue too clean, too fake.

"Hey, God… are you kidding me?" I yell at the sky. "Is this some kind of punishment? Or a sick joke?"

But of course, there's no answer.

I huff and walk back inside, exhausted. I didn't even know why I felt so drained. Maybe it was everything hitting me all at once—the shock, the confusion, the weight of living someone else's nightmare.

I look at the bed, the soft pillows tempting me.

"Forget it. I need sleep," I mutter, and collapse on the bed. "Then, I'll figure this shit out."

And just like that, I fall into a restless sleep.