After returning to the palace in my family's private carriage, the driver excused himself to buy some sweets for his little daughter's birthday, which happened to be today. I found no reason to refuse, so I told him to do as he wished.
As soon as the driver left, I hesitated, gazing at the bustling road through the carriage window. Why not indulge myself today and take a stroll through the market? The sun was still shining, and the day had not yet faded into evening. After a moment of thought, I made up my mind. I left a note on the seat to inform the driver that I would return within ten minutes, then stepped out and headed toward the market.
The marketplace was full of life, where the voices of vendors intertwined with children's laughter and the chatter of passersby. The market I had chosen was different—it was a simple place frequented by the poor and common folk, yet it overflowed with energy. Here, people struggled to earn their daily bread, but their faces were not devoid of contentment.
As I wandered, a small stall caught my attention, behind which stood an old fortune teller. I never believed in fortune tellers, always considering them mere frauds seeking money. But as I walked past her, I heard her whisper words that made me freeze in place:
"A witch from another world... walking here unprotected."
I stopped, turning to her in shock. Was she talking about me?
The fortune teller lifted her gaze toward me, smirking as she spoke in a mysterious tone: "A human from another world... reincarnated in a frail and weak body."
A shiver ran down my spine. I couldn't stop myself from replying, "I don't know what you're talking about, Grandma. I was born and raised here."
She slowly shook her head, as if pitying me. "You do not see the truth, but I do. The soul of this body follows you wherever you go. If you don't believe me, come closer, and I shall draw how it haunts you."
I stepped back two paces, unwilling to approach. I didn't need to see anything. Fear crept into my heart as if the old woman had unveiled a secret no one was meant to know. I turned away and left without looking back, but her words echoed in my mind:
"The soul of this body follows you..."
I returned to the palace, lost in thought. The fortune teller's words repeated endlessly in my head. Could she be right? Was the original soul of this body still lingering, trying to reclaim it?
When I first met Monica in this world, she told me that Arwa had admired Kyle Strathmore, but he never saw her as a match because she was too young in his eyes. That was in the early months of my reincarnation when all I cared about was survival. But now, after eight months, I had completely forgotten that this body was never mine to begin with.
Had the time come to return it to its rightful owner?
I sat on my bed, gazing at the moonlight that seeped through the window, casting silver threads onto the floor. Closing my eyes, I whispered:
"Oh, soul of this body, grant me time... I will give you what you never dreamed of. I will make Kyle Strathmore love you, no matter the cost. And when your story is complete... I will leave and let you return to your body."
I didn't know if the soul could hear me, but I wanted to believe it did. I wanted to believe this body would remain mine until I achieved my goal.
Just then, the windows burst open, a strong breeze scattering the papers on my desk. The air swirled into the room as if carrying an unseen response. My platinum hair fluttered under the moonlight, its glow reflected in the mirror, making me appear like a specter searching for its fate.
Yes... there was no other way. I had been reincarnated here for one purpose only, and I had to fulfill it, no matter what.
Kyle Strathmore... will be mine.
The next day, I received a request from my father, Duke Othman Valleska, to proceed with the engagement ceremony. The engagement was private, without any grand celebrations—just a warm family gathering. I wore a soft, pale pink dress with a simple hairstyle that reflected my calm demeanor. It wasn't something I considered worth much effort, but it was an inevitable step.
We gathered at Rose Palace, the residence of the Strathmore family. The reception was warm, especially from Aunt Sara, who couldn't hide her excitement and joy. As for Count Denis Strathmore, he was very welcoming, even placing a gentle kiss on my forehead as he said warmly:
"I'm happy that you'll be my daughter, Arwa."
The atmosphere was filled with warmth. However, my supposed fiancé, Kyle, had yet to appear. As I enjoyed my drink, my mother, Elenora, turned to Aunt Sara and asked:
"Your Grace, where is the groom? He's late. Is he not excited about this meeting?"
Sara chuckled lightly and replied, "He'll be here any moment. He's preparing for the day. Don't worry, Duchess."
After that, the conversation shifted to other topics—the usual aristocratic chatter about fashion, jewelry, and noble family affairs.
Finally, Kyle Strathmore arrived. He wasn't dressed up for the occasion as I had expected, but he still looked handsome. He wore a white shirt and cream-colored trousers, along with a light hood that matched the informal nature of the meeting. His blond hair was neatly styled, and his green eyes, the color of the forest, only added to his charm. What caught my attention the most were the black glasses he wore, giving him an air of mystery.
Kyle shook my father's hand and said, "How are you, Uncle? I hope you're doing well."
My father responded with a smile, "I'm well, my boy. Thank you for asking."
Then Kyle turned to my mother, bowing slightly before saying, "How are you, Duchess Valleska?"
Elenora returned his greeting with a warm smile, "I'm well, thank you for asking. And you?"
Kyle let out a light chuckle before responding in a calm voice devoid of any real emotion, "I'm well now that I've seen you."
My mother shook her head playfully. "You're quite the charmer."
I chuckled softly while standing beside my mother. But when Kyle turned to me, he simply said "Hello" coldly. It wasn't just a formal greeting—I felt as if his eyes held a hint of anger toward me. I responded with a calm and respectful greeting before sitting beside my mother.
However, Count Denis wasn't satisfied with that.
"Arwa, sit next to your fiancé," he said in a firm yet gentle tone.
I hesitated, gripping my mother's gown as if seeking protection, but my uncle noticed my hesitation. He stood up, walked over to me, and gently took my hand, guiding me toward Kyle before seating me beside him. The space between us was uncomfortably close, and I could feel his cold demeanor. Was he displeased with this engagement?
My uncle smiled, then signaled to the servants to bring the rings.
When the velvet box was placed before us, my uncle eagerly opened it, revealing two exquisite platinum rings adorned with small diamonds. The ring meant for me was stunning—simple yet elegant, just as I liked.
"Kyle, place the ring on your fiancée's finger," my uncle said with excitement.
A shiver ran through my hand as I extended it toward him. The sensation was strange, as if my heart was about to explode. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I couldn't bear the look he gave me. I quickly averted my gaze, trying to hide my embarrassment, but my face burned with the heat rising to my cheeks.
As soon as he placed the ring on my finger, applause filled the room. Everyone was happy about this engagement.
Then my uncle Denis said, "Kyle, my dear son, on this wonderful day, why don't you take Arwa for a stroll in the garden? It would be nice for you both to get to know each other better."
Kyle, who seemed displeased with everything, sighed lightly before forcing a smile. "Of course, Father."
Then he turned to me, looked at me directly, and said, "Arwa, shall we take a walk in the garden?"
I responded calmly, trying to act naturally, "It would be an honor to accompany you."
I stood up slowly, and together we walked toward the garden, under the watchful eyes of the guests.
As we reached the garden, silence settled between us. The air was fresh, and the scent of flowers added to the tranquility I felt. But Kyle's silence was heavy.
"Is this engagement against your will?" I suddenly asked, unable to bear the tense atmosphere any longer.
He stopped walking, looked at me coldly, then said, "I won't lie to you, Arwa. I didn't choose this engagement, but it's reality now."
A sting of pain pricked my heart, but I maintained my composure. "So, will we just be strangers who are married?"
He laughed bitterly. "Isn't that what happens in most aristocratic marriages?"
I replied calmly, "Perhaps. But I don't want to be just a wife without value."