Royal Novelty Island was more than just jewels and fountains.
It was a place of height and power. The higher you lived, the brighter your lantern burned.
From the palace balconies, the island looked divided and ordered. The upper district shone with crystal chandeliers and smooth marble floors. Silk dresses rustled across ballrooms. Golden ceilings reflected candlelight like tiny stars.
But beyond the rose gardens and decorative bridges, the lower part of the island was different.
The air smelled of salt and smoke. Fishermen who once owned the eastern docks now paid rent to stand on the same wood their grandfathers had built. Families pushed out by "royal expansion" squeezed into stone houses too small for sunlight. Children learned to bow before they learned to read.
Money and investment had come like a blessing.
But only some people were chosen to benefit.
And the chosen lived behind the castle walls.
---
And among those walls stood a duchess who did not really exist.
Erika pressed her fingers lightly on the pendant at her collarbone — her father's necklace.
It was no ordinary necklace.
At the center was a small oval mirror, sealed in crystal, no bigger than a coin. The glass did not reflect faces.
It reflected possibilities.
Her father had once said:
"Magic is not trickery, Erika. It makes the world see what you choose to show."
Earlier that morning, in the privacy of her chamber, she had whispered the magic words in the necklace's mirror.
The air shimmered.
Her reflection changed.
Not erased — just sharpened. Her face looked more aristocratic. Her posture corrected. Her voice became smooth and polite. Even her aura changed, like silk over steel.
She did not become someone else.
She became a perfect version of herself.
The Duchess Elara Valenwood was not a lie.
She was Erika — magnified, strong, untouchable.
The spell did not change her heart. Only how the world saw her.
And in Royal Novelty, appearances mattered.
---
Erika arrived at the island gates. Guards marched in shining silver armor. Their halberds glimmered in the morning sun. Trumpets sounded to announce her arrival.
She walked to the counter and handed over a silver watch — her mother's gift. The gatekeeper looked at it carefully. Then he nodded and let her through.
Not Erika.
Lady Elara.
She walked under the arch, feeling the necklace warm against her throat.
Every move, every glance, every word — she would be Sophia Valenwood. Zoe's former best friend. Leonardo's secret crush.
Sophia's mother, Ophelia, had long connections with Erika's father. That made Erika's disguise believable.
---
The castle was massive and proud.
White marble towers showed the victories of past rulers. Stained glass told the story of generations. Golden railings curled along wide staircases.
It was beautiful.
And cold.
Duchess Elara stood on the west balcony. Her gloved hands rested lightly on the stone.
But beneath the silk and gold, beneath the perfect posture and polite words —
Erika's heart was steady. She was watching. Calculating. Remembering.
From here, she could see both worlds.
Behind her, a private reception hosted by Queen Seraphina. Nobles discussed trade routes and investments. Crystal goblets chimed.
Ahead, the lower district lay dark, untouched by chandeliers.
The necklace pulsed softly. Magic demanded focus. Any slip and the illusion of Sophia could fall apart. But Erika's purpose was stronger than fear.
---
Inside the ballroom, music played.
Zoe Laurent entered like quiet thunder.
Her family owned the Laurent Shipping Consortium — ships carrying marble, steel, silk, and goods. Her father paid for the harbor rebuilding. Her mother ran the Royal Philanthropic Circle, handing out bread while managing contracts behind the scenes.
Zoe was not cruel.
But she had privilege protecting her.
When her eyes met Elara's across the room, the necklace pulsed. Recognition always challenged magic.
Zoe had known Erika before exile. Before reinvention. Before this island.
For a moment, the mirror flickered — almost revealing the girl behind the duchess.
Erika steadied herself.
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