Deeper Character

The door to Delphia's chambers closed with a soft click, and for the first time since she had woken up in this new body, she was completely alone.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant hum of activity throughout the manor. The light of the late morning filtered through the heavy navy curtains, casting long shadows across the ornate furnishings.

She sat on the edge of the bed, taking off her shoes and letting out a slow breath, the weight of her new reality pressing down on her. The grandeur of the room felt suffocating—too much gold, too much marble, too much everything.

It was a room that screamed wealth and power, yet it held none of the warmth or comfort of a home. She rubbed her temples, trying to push away the persistent ache that had lingered since she'd woken up in this body. It was exhausting, pretending to be someone else—especially when that someone was a villainess, destined for a tragic end.

Her eyes wandered across the room, taking in the lavish decor with fresh eyes.

Everything about Delphia's life had been meticulously curated—down to the very placement of the vases, tapestries, and embroidered cushions that adorned the room. But the more she looked, the more she felt the absence of something real, something meaningful.

It all felt... Hollow.

She stood and began pacing, her stocking-lined feet light against the polished floors. As she moved, her gaze fell upon a large, intricately carved wardrobe against one of the walls. Something about it's age called to her, a quiet tug at her curiosity.

Approaching the wardrobe, she opened the doors slowly, half-expecting to find only expensive gowns and luxurious fabrics. But her eyes were drawn to a small drawer near the bottom, hidden away beneath the layers of clothing.

It was a small alcove of drawers that were built into the design. Kneeling down, she pushed the cloth aside and hesitated a moment before pulling it open. Inside, nestled among some old scarves and gloves, was a small, tarnished silver locket—the size of a half dollar. Her fingers brushed over the cool metal, and as she lifted it from its hiding place, a faint sense of familiarity stirred within her.

She clicked the locket open.

Within, a delicately detailed portrait was painted on one side—an elegant woman with the same ashy rose-gold hair as Delphia, her eyes a softer, gentler shade of gold—her mother, and the title below it read: Grandmage Ophelia Zeloch. She was a high figure in the Magic Tower?

The other side of the locket held a lock of hair—light and brittle with age, but clearly cherished.

Her thumb brushed over the top of the strands gently as she stared at the portrait, a strange heaviness settling in her chest. So this was Delphia's mother, she thought, her mind piecing together fragments from the novel. She vaguely recalled a mention of the mother's death in passing, but it had been overshadowed by the melodrama between Calista and the Crown Prince. The novel had made Delphia seem so distant, so cold, that it had barely registered.

But this locket… It told a different story.

Her fingers closed around it, snapping the locket shut, and she placed it gently to the side. Reaching forward again, she rummaged deeper into the drawer, her curiosity piqued.

There, beneath the scarves, was something else—a small, leather-bound journal. Worn and frayed at the edges, it looked like it had been in her possession for a long time. She hesitated for a moment before carefully picking it up, her thumb running over the rough leather cover.

Delphia kept a journal? The thought struck her as odd. The woman she had read about—the sharp, manipulative villainess—didn't seem like someone who would confide in a private journal.

Grabbing the locket and journal, she stood and moved to the bed, sitting cross-legged and opening the book, the pages were yellowed with age. The first few entries were short, almost indecisive in tone. They spoke of mundane things—social events, dresses, the Estate—something that a five-year-old child would write about. But as she flipped through the pages, the entries grew more detailed, more personal.

July 14th 1537

Mommy has been sicker than usual. The doctor said he can't make her better no matter how hard he tries. I see Daddy trying to be brave, but his eyes are sad. He's already missing Mommy, even though she's still here with us.

August 3rd 1537

She left. Mommy isn't here anymore. I don't know how to breathe, how to go on. Everything feels so empty without her. Daddy says I have to be brave, but how can I? How can I carry this heavy feeling all by myself?

The entries grew darker after that, tinged with grief and anger. There were mentions of her father's distant behavior, how he had remarried too quickly, how Delphia had felt isolated in her own home; She wrote of the pressure she felt from her family to maintain their status, to be the perfect daughter, to uphold the Vosswell name.

When she was fifteen, there were mentions of Zypher Thorne—her arranged engagement to him, and the resentment she had harbored from everything. She almost forgot that 'Delphia' was engaged to Zypher; Of course the Villainess would be paired with the Villain, why wouldn't they be?

October 19th 1547

I had a meeting with Zypher today. He's 19 and obviously smart, but he's so distant and emotionless towards me. I can't shake the feeling that I'm just a pawn in this whole thing. Our families are all about the 'alliance' and the control it gives them, nobody cares about what I actually want.

But who am I kidding? What I want has never meant anything to anyone in the first place.

February 7th 1548

I hate this. I hate all of it. The endless appointments, the stupid expectations, the way everyone just expects me to smile while they decide my future for me. They act like I should be grateful, like I should just accept being handed off like some prize.

Zypher is… fine. More than fine, actually. He's confident, always knows what to say, and somehow manages to make people like him without even trying. He never looks nervous, never seems unsure. And, okay, he's ridiculously good-looking—not that it matters.

But he's not him. He's not the Crown Prince.

It doesn't matter how smart or capable he is. He won't give me the future I wanted, the one I dreamed of. My family took that from me. They took everything from me. Now I'm stuck in this fate they picked out like I'm some piece in their perfect little game. And I'm supposed to act like I'm okay with it?!

I won't. I'll pretend, sure. I'll play the role they want me to play. But I will never, ever accept this. Not now. Not ever.

She flipped through more pages, finding entry after entry filled with sadness, frustration, and a deep sense of isolation.

This wasn't the 'Delphia' she remembered from the novel. This wasn't the caricature of a villainess driven by petty jealousy and malice. This was a woman who had been shaped by grief, by the pressure of expectations she had never chosen.

Her fingers stilled on the last entry, dated just weeks before the current events she was in—her age: twenty. Wow, I lost ten years of life? Or did I gain an extra ten now? She didn't realize that Delphia was so young in the novel compared to her own age.

November 12th 1552

Everyone expects me to play my part, to be the perfect 'noblewoman,' to marry Zypher and strengthen our families' ties. But I feel like I'm drowning. There's no one I can talk to. Father barely looks at me anymore. He only sees the Vosswell heir, the one who will carry on our 'legacy.' Seraphina and Lucian—Father's new family—look at me like an outsider in my own home.

Sometimes I think it would be easier if I just disappeared.

She closed the journal slowly, the weight of Delphia's words pressing heavily on her heart.

This wasn't the villainess Calista had described. Delphia had been so much more than that—a girl who had lost her mother, who had been thrust into a world of power and politics without anyone to truly support her. She had been forced to play a role, just as the new Delphia was now doing, only the old Delphia had spiraled under the weight of it all.

She sat there for a long moment, staring at the closed journal in her lap.

In a way, she could relate too.

She had never been close to anyone in her previous life—never allowed herself to care about others; Every time she did, they always abandoned her. She had grown up in a harsh, indifferent world, where survival had been the only goal she pursued. Empathy hadn't been a priority. She hadn't needed anyone before they rejected her first.

But now, she was beginning to understand that Delphia's story wasn't as simple as it had seemed. She wasn't just a villainess. She had been a young woman, burdened by the expectations of a family that had seen her as little more than a political pawn; She had been lonely, scared, and ultimately, driven to desperate actions by the crushing weight of duty and grief.

No wonder Delphia had fallen so easily into jealousy and obsession, she thought, closing her eyes for a moment.

The original Delphia had been searching for something—anything—to fill the void her mother's death had left behind. She had clung to the idea of love with Alaric, perhaps because it had been the one thing she thought could give her life meaning again. Still, the realization of Delphia's inner world made her chest tighten with a strange kind of sorrow.

She didn't sign up to feel anything when she had been thrust into this world. She had only wanted to survive. But now, she couldn't ignore the depth of the emotions she had uncovered.

It wasn't just about survival anymore; It was about fixing a story that had been far too cruel to someone who had never deserved it. With a newfound sense of determination, she stood and returned to the closet, placing the journal and the locket back in their hiding place. Delphia's memories, her struggles, and her fears—she would honor them. But she would not repeat the same mistakes.

As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, her gold eyes met the gaze of a woman who had been given a second chance. And for the first time, she realized that maybe—just maybe—she could use this new life to change more than just her fate.

I won't let Delphia's story end the same way.