Chapter 3 - Hunger and Rebellion

  ? ? ?

  SO THIS is the life of Celeste.

  I always thought she was the lucky one—born with a golden spoon shoved so far down her throat she probably tasted the silver, too. Personal maids at her beck and call, dresses that cost more than my entire existence, a life that screamed "Envy me, peasants!"

  But I was wrong. She isn't lucky at all.

  She is a living puppet with no agency. A marionette. A doll with strings attached to every breath, every choice, and every soul-crushing detail of her day.

  And now, I’m the one inhabiting this body. I know it’s not her fault—Celeste didn't ask to swap souls with me—but my stomach? My life? It feels like I just got blindsided by a brick made of betrayal and terrible timing.

  I thought hijacking her "perfect" life was a blessing. The joke’s on me. This life is nothing but deceit wrapped in a glittering cage. And guess who’s the new canary? Me.

  I feel like the universe just slapped me and said, "Lol, blessing? Who do you think you are?"

  I refuse to be a puppet forever.

  I cried myself to sleep last night—a full-on, "ugly-cry" special. My cheeks were puffy and my eyes were so swollen I could barely see.

  I’m starving. Because of course, the Grand Duke—whom I now refuse to acknowledge as "Father"—decided I needed to "learn the value of suffering." As if he hasn't been making Celeste suffer her entire life.

  No food. No servants. No mercy. I’m locked in my room like a forgotten treasure chest.

  I think this is where I'll die

  I ruffled my hair in frustration. What a cursed life.

  The betrayal stings the most. Only Rana, Nyx, and I knew I went to the Imperial Library. I was a hundred percent sure no one else saw us. I even told the butler I was going out to buy dresses. So how? How did the Grand Duke find out?

  Rana wouldn't betray me. She’s been Celeste’s loyal maid for eight years; she’s basically her shadow. That leaves Nyx. That "ice queen" facade of hers is definitely hiding secrets.

  Anyway, one problem at a time. I’ll deal with her later. Right now, I need to act.

  I have a plan. If I want to make it up to Celeste for stealing her body—and honestly, for surviving this hellish life—I have to at least give her freedom. When she eventually comes back... she won't find any strings attached to her.

  "I’m done acting like a puppet. This marionette is going to move on her own."

  It’s time for a rebellion.

  ? ? ?

  I AM SO FREAKING HUNGRY. Two days. Two whole days since the "punishment" began. My stomach is a war zone. My energy is tapped out, and my brain has stopped functioning for anything that isn't edible.

  How am I supposed to plan a revolution when my own tummy is revolting?

  A sudden knock on the door jolted me out of my misery.

  My eyes flew open. Is the nightmare over? Is this heaven? Did the Food Gods finally hear my prayers? I rushed to the door, only to find the hallway completely empty. What the...? Who dares prank me when I’m this close to starvation?

  I swear, I’m gonna punch—

  I was ready to throw a fit until I looked down. At the foot of the door sat a small wooden tray: three pieces of bread and a glass of water.

  My eyes welled up. Aww... my sweet, glorious Rana. I knew you wouldn't abandon me.

  I glanced around, but she was nowhere in sight. Heroic stealth mode: engaged. I figured she couldn't get caught, or she’d be locked up right next to me. I grabbed the tray and eased the door shut.

  Thank you, huhu. I'm so hungry.

  I didn't waste a second. I tore into that bread like a wild animal. I felt a pang of guilt, though; I knew Rana must have gone through a lot of trouble just to sneak this in.

  ★

  For eight consecutive nights, Rana snuck me food. Always under the cover of darkness, likely to avoid the prying eyes of the household staff.

  It’s been eight days now. All this punishment for a simple trip to the library? That man is a psycho.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Suddenly, the door swung open with a heavy thud. Two familiar figures wheeled in a cart laden with a breakfast so extravagant it looked like royalty itself had fainted onto the tablecloth.

  It was Rana and Nyx.

  I had to physically wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth. I think my drooling is getting out of hand.

  "My Lady, your breakfast is ready," Rana said softly.

  "Rana! I missed you!" I scrambled up and ran toward her.

  "Careful, My Lady," she said, gently guiding me toward the table.

  "Wait, am I allowed to eat now?" I asked, hesitating.

  "Yes, My Lady. The Grand Duke has lifted your punishment."

  I glanced at Nyx. She was pouring tea with her usual, frozen precision. My eyes narrowed. One day, I will unravel that mask.

  Rana left to prepare my wardrobe—apparently, it was time for a bath. Do I smell that bad?

  I dug into the feast like a famished predator. Honestly, I felt like I could eat the entire palace, stone walls and all. When Rana returned, she was carrying two dresses dripping with ruffles, gems, and enough sparkle to blind a sun god. Elegance? Check. Over-the-top? Absolutely.

  "Why are you preparing my formal dresses?" I asked.

  "You will be attending a tea party hosted by the daughter of Count D'Arden, My Lady."

  Tea parties. I remembered reading about this in the etiquette books. Noble ladies host these "gatherings" to strengthen alliances and expand their social circles. In other words: a noble excuse to sip tiny cups of liquid gossip.

  ? ? ?

  BY MIDMORNING, I was fully armored in silk and lace. I learned that my attendance was a direct order from the Duke, which made my blood pressure spike instantly.

  Rana opened the door to the carriage house. "Your carriage awaits, My Lady."

  The ride was torturously long. I tried to maintain the "Perfect Noblewoman" persona—hands folded, back straight, a polite, vacant smile—but my mind was a chaotic checklist:

  Step one: Figure out Nyx’s secrets.

  Step two: Free Celeste.

  Step three: Eat something that isn't just bread.

  By the time the D'Arden estate came into view, I was already emotionally spent. The gardens looked like they had been painted by angels with too much free time, and the "house" looked like it charged rent just for looking at it.

  And there she was. Estella Amora D'Arden. Celeste’s childhood friend. My supposed ally. My potential Emotional Support Noble. I was going to need a friend if I wanted to survive this nightmare. I was prepared to cling to her for dear life.

  "Celeste!" Estella waved, her voice ringing out like a silver bell. My stomach flipped. Friendly flips? Nervous flips? I don't know.

  "Estella! Hi! It’s been... ages!" I waved back, flashing too much teeth. I was trying way too hard not to ruin the act. I was channeling my inner "Fake-Friendly Cindy."

  You're so fake, Cindy.

  Seriously, her smile was brighter than the sun. Combined with her shimmering blonde hair, she looked like a high-fantasy Barbie doll. But I reminded myself: she’s a friend. Or Celeste’s friend. Regardless, she was helpful.

  As we walked toward the garden, I realized everyone was already seated. I was the last to arrive. Well, that's embarrassing.

  Rana immediately took my wrap and settled me into a chair, fussing over my sleeves and my posture. Meanwhile, Nyx hovered in the corner, silent and watchful. I knew she’d report every blink and breath to the Grand Duke.

  The garden fell silent. Not a polite silence, but the "everyone is judging whether you're a goddess or a threat" kind of silence.

  The table was a marvel of silver trays, steaming porcelain, and desserts that looked like they’d been crafted by tiny pastry gods. Every lady there—Soquina, Keithlynn, Avriea, and several others—stared at me like I’d just descended from the heavens on a cloud made of diamonds. OA.

  I smirked internally.

  Celeste’s reputation preceded her: the polite, charitable, graceful genius who never stepped out of line. Their smiles were masks for their inner panic. To them, she was too perfect, too untouchable.

  Yes. Fear me. I’m the perfect puppet you all adore.

  Then I felt a pang of shame. Shocks, It would be shameful to Celeste if I ruined her image. Better behave.

  Estella seemed oblivious to the tension. She leaned in like a hyperactive sunbeam. "You simply must tell me about your trip to Crezen! And I heard about your visits to the Imperial Library! And also—"

  Wow, she's VERY talkative, girl. I thought noble ladies were all about "quiet grace." Apparently not this one.

  Crezen? The other empire? And wait—is the entire capital updated on my itinerary? The gossip moves fast here. It feels like I’m back on Earth.

  It looked like I had my work cut out for me. Apparently, only the Vespera Duchy knew I had "amnesia."

  I sipped my tea, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. Confidence is key. Or at least, pretending is. NYAHAHAHAHA.

  "Ah... yes, it was fascinating!" I laughed lightly, praying no one could hear the panic in my lungs.

  "Oh, that must have been so easy for you," Estella beamed. "Especially with your fiancé’s connection."

  There it was again. The fiancé thing. I had no clue who he was. Is he handsome?

  Lady Soquina leaned forward, her voice smooth as silk but sharp as a dagger. "Special access, you say? How very impressive, Lady Vespera. I hope the books were... enlightening."

  "Extremely," I replied coolly, letting my tone carry the weight of I know more than you do.

  Meanwhile, Lady Keithlynn was eyeing my dress so hard I thought her hands were twitching for a measuring tape. Nah ah, back off, sis. Shoo!

  "Lady Vespera," Avriea piped up. "Since you mentioned Crezen, surely you know the meaning of their royal emblem?"

  She smiled sweetly, but the atmosphere shifted. The other ladies looked concerned—not for me, but for Avriea. I was the Grand Duke's daughter; she was just a Viscount’s daughter. She was playing with fire. But hey, points for bravery.

  I couldn't ignore it. If I didn't answer, the gossip would ruin me.

  A trap. A hundred percent, mid-boss level trap.

  My mouth went dry. My brain started flipping chairs in panic. I didn't know the Crezen emblem; I’d only seen the name in a book once. I barely knew where it was on a map.

  I opened my lips to bluff when a sudden pressure hit my temples, like someone was touching the inside of my skull.

  Then, a flash.

  A vision of a girl’s hand turning a page. A thick book with gilded edges. A familiar silver crest painted on parchment.

  And I heard a voice—my voice, but not mine—whispering:

  "Loyalty in truth. Valor in moon’s silence."

  The vision snapped back like a rubber band. I gasped so softly no one heard. Wtf was that?

  But the answer was sitting on my tongue.

  "Of course," I said, smiling with a serenity I didn't feel. "It symbolizes loyalty in truth... and valor in moon’s silence. Crezen’s rulers believe strength is proven quietly, not loudly."

  Lady Avriea’s expression froze.

  She bowed her head. "Impressive, Lady Vespera."

  I nodded with Celeste’s perfect, serene expression. But inside, I was trembling.

  Because that wasn't me. Those weren't my memories. Celeste’s memories were starting to leak through the cracks.

  Estella chuckled and continued chattering as if nothing had happened. The conversation flowed from fashion trends to scandals involving a Baron’s son. I answered when needed, smiled when expected, and laughed in all the right places.

  Step one of my rebellion: gather allies.

  Step two: survive this tea party without fainting.

  Step three: eat like a normal human being.

  ★

  The party finally ended, thank the heavens. My cheeks ached from the fake smiling, and my spine felt like a human chandelier.

  As the servants cleared the cups, Estella touched my wrist. "Lady Celeste, walk with me?"

  Her voice was calm and gentle—nothing like the hyperactive sunbeam from earlier. We walked down a path lined with pale pink roses. It was peaceful. Romantic, even, if I weren't shaking with nerves.

  Estella stopped under a vine-covered archway and faced me. Her expression was searching.

  "Lady Celeste..." she said slowly, "you have changed."

  My heart dropped into my shoes.

  "H-ha? Changed? Me? No way..." I laughed, weak and trembling.

  But Estella didn't smile.

  "No. This is different." She stepped closer, her eyes softening. "The Celeste I knew... she was quiet and careful. Always thinking three steps ahead. But today... you laughed. You cracked jokes. You’re speaking freely. You did not measure your every move like you used to. You looked..."

  She hesitated.

  "You looked lighter."

  My pulse went wild. Can she see me? Does Cindy shine through the cracks that easily? God, I hope not.

  "People... change, Lady Estella," I managed to say.

  "Yes," she agreed softly. "But not overnight."

  I had no answer. What was I supposed to say? That I hit my head and suddenly grew a personality?

  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear—a surprisingly intimate gesture. "I am not upset. If anything, I am relieved."

  I was taken aback. "Relieved?"

  "I was worried about you. You’ve been so distant these past months. Cold and unreachable... especially after what happened. Whatever changed... maybe it’s a good thing."

  That hit deeper than I expected.

  "My father even asked if something happened between you and your fiancé," Estella added casually, then winced. "I didn't mean to pry."

  That fiancé again.

  "It’s nothing," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Really. Nothing happened."

  It was a blatant lie, but it was all I had.

  Estella watched me quietly, then smiled. "Whatever it is, I’m here, okay? You don't have to tell me. Just... don't disappear again."

  Something in her tone stung. Celeste mattered to her. And here I was, wearing Celeste’s skin like a knockoff coat.

  "I won't," I whispered. Estella beamed so genuinely that guilt punched me in the ribs.

  She linked her arm with mine. "Good. Now, let’s go before the others think we’re gossiping about them."

  For someone living the "perfect" life... Celeste was terribly lonely.

  ? ? ?

  ? Tevian Codex ?

  Tea Parties and Noble Etiquette

  (AKA: How to not embarrass yourself in front of people with too much money)

  Political Weapons: Tea parties and balls aren't social events; they are tools for gathering intel.

  (Cindy’s note: Akala ko tamang inom lang ng mga overpriced tea.)

  Hunger Management: Don't think about food too much.

  (Cindy’s note: Good luck, self.)

  The Greeting Hierarchy: Lower ranks always greet first. Nod, bow, or curtsy. Don't overdo it or you'll look desperate.

  (Cindy's note: In other words, it’s a pride contest—Rich People Version.)

  No Spilling: Don't spill the tea—literally or figuratively.

  Mandatory Gossip: If you aren't asking questions, you aren't playing.

  (Cindy’s note: Survival tip—Pretend to care.)