"I want to meet the heroine," I told Seraphina over tea, watching her reaction.
She blinked. "You mean Lady Alaira? You've… never spoken to her directly before."
Exactly.
In the original novel, Evelyne hated Alaira on sight. She mocked her humble origins, publicly humiliated her, and—most fatefully—accused her of seducing the Crown Prince. That accusation was what sealed Evelyne's fate.
But I wasn't Evelyne anymore. And something told me that if I wanted to understand what was happening to this world—and survive—I needed to meet the person who was supposed to be the star of it.
"I have a feeling," I said, "that she might know something. Or at least… sense something's wrong."
Seraphina gave a slow nod. "She'll be attending the spring banquet in three nights. I'll make sure you're seated near her."
That night, I couldn't sleep. Again.
Because when I went to check the timer—out of habit, or dread—I saw it flicker. Just once. Like it glitched.
28 days left.
Then it changed again.
27 days.
My time had just skipped ahead.
No reason. No event. Just… gone.
Like someone else was now holding the pen