The heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind her with a thunderous crack, echoing through the opulent halls of Arkwright Manor. Seraphina stormed into her private office, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor like daggers punctuating her fury.
Her silver hair shimmered faintly in the dim light filtering through shattered glass panes—remnants of an earlier outburst when she'd nearly destroyed the windows overlooking the gardens.
Her hands trembled as she clenched them into fists, nails digging crescents into her palms. Dark energy coiled around her fingers, dark tendrils of power writhing like living shadows.
They lashed out wildly, tearing apart papers on her desk, shattering vases lining the walls, and sending books crashing to the floor. Each object that fell seemed to amplify her frustration rather than quell it.
"Why does this keep happening to me?" she hissed under her breath, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.
Her blue eyes were glassy, unfocused, as though staring at something far beyond the material world. She reached for a stack of documents atop her mahogany table and hurled them across the room, scattering ink-stained pages everywhere.
One document floated gently to the ground, landing face-up. Divorce agreements.
Written neatly in bold letters at the top of the page, mocking her.
"Divorce?" she spat, stomping over and picking it up.
"How can I even divorce him now!? That insufferable bastard has conveniently lost his memory!"
Her voice rose to a shriek, reverberating off the walls. She crumpled the paper in her fist before flinging it towards the wall.
Two figures entered cautiously—one tall and commanding, clad in sleek black armour adorned with intricate silver filigree; the other shorter but equally imposing, dressed in pristine maid attire with a stern expression etched onto her face.
"Your Grace" said the first figure, Evelyn Hartley, Seraphina's second-in-command and trusted advisor. Her voice was calm, measured—a stark contrast to the chaos swirling around the duchess.
"You must calm yourself. This isn't helping."
Beside her stood Head Maid, Marguerite, whose sharp green eyes scanned the wreckage with a mix of exasperation and concern.
"Please, Your Grace" Marguerite added softly, stepping forward.
"Let us help you."
Seraphina turned to them, her gaze fiery yet tinged with despair.
"Help me?" she snapped, her tone venomous.
"Do you know what he's done? Do you understand how much damage that man has caused in just two years?"
Lady Evelyn crossed her arms, her posture unwavering.
"I do, Your Grace. But losing control won't solve anything."
Marguerite nodded. "Yes, please sit down. We'll talk about it rationally."
Seraphina collapsed into her chair, which groaned beneath her weight. Dark tendrils of energy slithered back into her body, leaving the room eerily silent except for the occasional rustle of fallen debris.
She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as she exhaled sharply.
"He ruined my territories" she began, her voice low and bitter.
"Nearly bankrupted one of my most prosperous regions, Onastin because of his reckless investments. I had to clean up after him, pouring countless resources into repairing what he destroyed. And then…" She paused, swallowing hard.
"Then there's the cheating."
Evelyn arched an eyebrow. "The affair?"
"Yes the fucking affair!" Seraphina screamed, slamming her fist onto the table.
"That disgusting human dared cheat on me—with a competitor, no less! A woman who sought to undermine everything my family and I have ever fucking built. How could he? After everything I sacrificed for him! I waited patiently so he could get 'ready', be 'worthy' only to fuck some other bitch?"
Marguerite winced visibly, averting her gaze. "We know. It's unforgivable, Your Grace."
"And let's not forget the gambling scandal!" Seraphina continued
"He burned down an entire establishment during one of his drunken escapades. People died, businesses destroyed—all because he couldn't control himself. Two years, Evelyn. Two fucking years of unspeakable crimes, and now…" She trailed off, her voice cracking.
"Now he claims amnesia. Convenient, isn't it? 'Hey look at me I don't remember jack shit'"
Lady Evelyn exchanged a glance with Marguerite before speaking carefully.
"Perhaps it's true, Your Grace. Perhaps he truly doesn't remember."
"So? Why now?" Seraphina demanded, rising abruptly from her seat.
"Why at this exact moment? Is it some ploy to avoid accountability? To manipulate me further?"
Marguerite stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Seraphina's hand.
"We may never know, Your Grace. But regardless of his intentions, you hold all the power here. You are the Duchess of Arkwright, one of the most influential nobles in the realm. Even without the royal family's backing, your authority is unmatched."
Seraphina sighed heavily, sinking back into her chair.
"You're right." she admitted reluctantly.
"But it still infuriates me. I married him because of politics—he came from House Whiteford, our allies. He took my name after the cheating, promising change, loyalty and support. Instead, he became a parasite, feeding off my wealth and influence while destroying everything in his path."
Lady Evelyn tilted her head thoughtfully. "Let us observe him, see whether or not he's tricking us with his amnesia."
"Perhaps you're right" Seraphina murmured.
Back in the luxurious bedroom, where Aric was.
Aric woke up from his nap, his mind foggy. Sunlight streamed through the repaired balcony doors, casting golden hues across the room.
A soft knock preceded the entrance of a young woman carrying a tray laden with food and water.
"Good morning, Master Vayne..." she greeted timidly, bowing deeply. Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her unease.
Aric frowned, sitting up slowly. Something about her demeanor struck him as odd.
"Morning" he replied cautiously. "Is everything alright?"
The maid froze mid-step, her hands visibly trembling. Without meeting his gaze, she placed the tray on the bedside table and muttered,
"Forgive me, Master Vayne! Everything is fine!" She turned to leave, covering her face with her free hand as though shielding herself from his presence.
"Wait" Aric called out, confused. "Did I do something wrong?"
She hesitated, her back stiffening. Then, without another word, she scurried out of the room, leaving him alone once more.
Aric stared after her, bewildered. What just happened?Why did she look so afraid?
His thoughts drifted to the countless romance manhwa he'd devoured during his previous life—the ones where arrogant nobles abused their power, mistreating those beneath them simply because they could.
Wait am I… one of those bastards?
Panic bubbled inside him as fragments of memories—or lack thereof—surfaced. He recalled Seraphina mentioning marriage, her stern gaze filled with thinly veiled contempt.
Had he been cruel to her too? And what about the maid? Clearly, she feared him—or at least, whoever he used to be.
His gaze fell upon the screen, where Ivy's glowed faintly against the digital backdrop.
[Ah, you noticed, didn't you?] she said, her mental voice tinged with amusement.
Noticed what? he shot back irritably. That everyone seems to hate me?
[Well, 'hate' might be an understatement] Ivy replied,
[But yes, your past self wasn't exactly… well-liked.]
I gathered that. Aric muttered darkly. Care to explain why, Ms Ivy?
Before Ivy could respond, her form flickered and vanished, retreating to her own space.
Are you kidding me? My own system left me alone too? What the fuck is wrong with this body!?
Alone again, Aric leaned back against the pillows, staring blankly at the ceiling. Doubt gnawed at him, twisting his stomach into knots.
Who is this Vayne guy really? What kind of person did he become?
In the depths of her virtual sanctuary, Ivy paced anxiously, her red hair flowing behind her like liquid fire.
She accessed file after file, sifting through data streams that painted a grim picture of the body chosen for Aric.
"This is bad!" she muttered aloud, her usual composure faltering. "Really bad."
The files revealed damning evidence of Vayne Arkwright's misdeeds: financial ruin, infidelity, destruction. It was as if fate itself conspired against her plans, forcing her to work with someone whose reputation was already irreparably tarnished.
She wiped sweat from her brow, exhaling sharply. "What have I gotten myself into?