The Aftertaste of Regret

I finished my breakfast quickly, barely tasting the food. A sharp ring startled me, and I glanced to my side, spotting a phone on the bedside table. It must be Amara's. Curious, I leaned over and saw that Eirik was calling.

The name that flashed on the screen made my stomach churn: "My Husband." Disgusting. How could anyone be proud of having this scum as their husband? I clenched my teeth, feeling bile rise in my throat.

But I still answered the call. I wanted to hear what this dog had to say.

As soon as I pressed the green button, his voice, rich and magnetic, spilled through the speaker. For Amara, it must have been soothing once, but for me, it was nothing but nails on a chalkboard.

"I'm really sorry, Amara," he said, his tone laced with fake sincerity that anyone could see through. "I didn't mean to leave you alone last night, but I had something important to take care of."

There wasn't a shred of truth in his words. He sounded irritated, as if apologizing to me was some great burden. This bastard really thought he was something special.

"It's fine, Eirik. Don't worry about it," I replied, forcing sweetness into my voice even though all I wanted to do was hurl a string of insults that would scorch his entire family tree.

"I understand that you need space, so I won't bother you anymore." My words were like a thin veil hiding my seething anger. I could practically hear him sigh in relief, the sound only deepening my contempt.

"Good," he said, his voice now carrying a sickening arrogance that made my skin crawl. "But you still need to keep sending me money, don't forget that."

I didn't even bother responding. My thumb hit the red button, and the call ended with a sharp click. I stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to calm the rage boiling within me. How dare he? How dare this pathetic excuse of a man think he could keep demanding from me?

No wonder the system had sent me here. The thought of Elara ending up with this snake was enough to make my blood run cold. He tried calling again, but I blocked his number with a satisfied smirk. Good riddance.

Just then, the door to the bedroom opened, and the servant who had brought me breakfast stepped inside, her demeanor composed and professional

. "Madame Lyselle, since you've finished, I will take the tray." She approached the bed, gathering up the empty dishes with the practiced ease of someone used to this routine.

"Wait," I said, my voice sharper than intended. She stopped, her expression unchanged, waiting patiently. "Yes, Madame? Is there anything you need?"

I hesitated for a second, considering my words. "Actually, I'd like to go outside. Just for a walk."

The smile I offered her was meant to be charming, but she didn't seem moved. Her face tightened slightly, and she shook her head. "I cannot allow that, Madame. Your parents have given strict orders. After all, how can I be sure you won't try to meet Eirik?"

Her gaze met mine, and I could feel the weight of her suspicion. There was something unnervingly sharp in her eyes, like she could see right through me. But then an idea sparked in my mind a way out.

"What if you come with me? That way, the problem is solved," I suggested, scratching my head as if I hadn't already thought this through.

She stared at me for a few moments, her brows knitted in consideration, before letting out a reluctant sigh. "Very well. Get ready; we'll leave in thirty minutes."

I watched her leave, feeling a rush of triumph. Amara of this world must have been madly in love to be kept on such a short leash. I quickly headed to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would wash away the grime of my earlier conversation with Eirik.

The bathroom was a sight that left me speechless. Marble walls gleamed like polished jewels, the golden accents so ostentatious they almost hurt to look at. A chandelier hung from the ceiling yes, a chandelier in a bathroom as if this was a ballroom instead of a place to shower.

I couldn't help but mutter under my breath, "This is insane... What kind of person needs this much luxury just to wash their ass?" The sheer extravagance was nauseating, but I stepped under the waterfall-like showerhead, letting the hot water cascade over me.

"Goddamn, this is ridiculous," I hissed as I scrubbed my skin. The luxury felt more like a prison than a comfort.

Fifteen minutes later, I was out and wrapped in a plush towel that probably cost more than my rent back home. I made my way to the dressing room, opening the closet with a sense of dread. And there it was a sea of dresses, skirts, and frilly, feminine outfits that looked more suited to a doll than a human being.

My jaw tightened in annoyance. I hated dresses. I hated skirts. I wanted my jeans, my T-shirts, my shirts anything that didn't make me feel like I was playing dress-up.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally found something that seemed tolerable a simple blouse and a pair of tailored trousers that didn't scream "princess." I threw them on and glanced at myself in the mirror.

A stranger stared back at me a serious, mature woman with an ethereal beauty that felt almost unreal. My hair, smooth and glossy, cascaded down my shoulders like a dark river, and my once blemished skin was now flawless, with a soft blush that made me look like some kind of fairytale royalty. My eyes, a deep violet, were almost hypnotic. I barely recognized myself.

I left the room, feeling oddly detached from the reflection that had looked back at me. As I descended the grand staircase, every servant I passed bowed or greeted me with the utmost respect. It was suffocating.

Finally, I found the servant who had agreed to accompany me, standing in the living room, dressed differently from before. Her outfit was crisp and formal a tailored suit with a high-collared blouse, giving her a sharp, almost intimidating presence.

She looked every bit the no-nonsense guardian I remembered her to be. Tall, with piercing eyes and an air of authority that demanded respect. Her name suddenly flickered in my mind: Mira. That was her name.

Mira looked at me, her expression unwavering. "Are you ready, Madame?"

I nodded, swallowing down the mixed emotions that churned within me.