Chapter 3: Experiments in Madness

Arc I – The Possession Begins

Chapter 3: Experiments in Madness

Mira had always considered herself a woman of science—at least the kind of science that involved late-night online theories, anime logic, and overanalyzing fictional relationships.

Now, apparently, she was also a pioneer in the field of soul physics.

Step one: establish the parameters of the curse.

Step two: avoid dying again.

Step three: maybe, possibly, definitely not fall in love with the Duke.

Easier said than done.

---

Mira crouched behind a rose bush, holding a notepad stolen from the Duke’s office. She had drawn a ridiculous chart titled "Distance vs. Emotional Contamination."

A maid peeked over, concerned. “My lady… why are you hiding in the garden with measuring tape?”

“Science,” Mira said solemnly. “Vital experiments. Please, carry on.”

The maid bowed awkwardly and fled, muttering something about eccentric nobles.

From the balcony above, Adrian’s exasperated voice drifted down.

“Seraphina, why are you spying on my office from the bushes?”

Mira froze. “I’m not spying! I’m… measuring!”

“Measuring what?”

She squinted up at him. “Love!”

Adrian went completely still. “…I beg your pardon?”

Mira scrambled. “Not our love! Like—platonic, metaphysical, hypothetical love! It’s for science!”

He stared down at her, long-suffering. “Do I even want to know?”

“No, you don’t.”

“…Good.” He turned to leave, but his voice echoed faintly in her mind:

You’re insufferable.

She grinned. You love it.

He stopped. “…Did you just—?”

“I said nothing!”

“Yes, but you thought—”

“Experiment concluded!” Mira yelled, running for her life.

---

By dinner, Mira had documented the following:

When Adrian was within 15 meters, her thoughts leaked.

When she thought about him (even while apart), the connection flickered faintly—proof of emotional resonance.

When she blushed, the connection strengthened.

Her conclusion:

“I’m scientifically doomed.”

She was still muttering to herself when Adrian walked in, dressed in dark formal attire for the evening council. He looked tired, but composed, every inch the untouchable Duke.

Mira’s brain, of course, betrayed her immediately.

He looks like a villain about to attend his own redemption arc.

Adrian paused mid-step. “Excuse me?”

Mira’s spoon clattered. “Nothing!”

“Something,” he said flatly. “You were narrating me again.”

“I can’t help it! It’s an involuntary thought reflex!”

“You call me a villain in your reflexes?”

“Well—you look like one! You know, all broody and tragic!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remind me why I haven’t thrown myself into the river yet.”

“Because deep down, you enjoy the attention,” she said sweetly.

He froze, then gave her a look that was one part disbelief, one part—if she wasn’t mistaken—amusement.

“You’re impossible,” he said again, but softer this time.

And yet you’re smiling, her mind teased.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Being in my head.”

“Stop being in mine, then!”

“Not how this works, apparently.”

---

The next few days blurred into a strange domestic chaos.

Mira, bored and terrified in equal measure, decided to channel her energy into something “productive.”

Her plan? Matchmaking.

If she couldn’t fix her own love life (or whatever cursed version of it existed here), she could at least improve everyone else’s.

By the end of the week, the staff wing was abuzz with new gossip.

The stable boy and the gardener’s apprentice had started “accidentally” taking tea breaks together.

Two maids, formerly rivals, were now co-conspirators in hiding Mira’s “experiments.”

Even Adrian’s steward had developed a suspicious fondness for the baker.

Mira beamed proudly from her seat in the parlor. “Love is in the air,” she whispered.

Adrian’s voice cut through her thoughts immediately.

And chaos follows right behind it.

She jumped. “I thought you were at the council!”

“I was,” he said, stepping into the room. “But my ears started ringing, which now means you’re up to something.”

She pouted. “You’re so distrustful.”

“I have reason.” He eyed the table strewn with papers. “Are these—?”

“Relationship flowcharts,” she said brightly. “For the household.”

Adrian blinked. “The household.”

“Yes! I’m optimizing morale through emotional synergy!”

“You’re… matchmaking my staff.”

“I prefer the term ‘emotional architect.’”

He stared at her for a long, painful moment. “You’re insane.”

“Scientifically so,” she agreed cheerfully.

---

Later that evening, after Adrian left muttering about “lunacy disguised as logic,” Mira returned to the mirror.

Seraphina appeared, faint and flickering, as though caught in static.

“You’re… fading more,” Mira said softly.

Seraphina smiled sadly. “Your energy anchors me here. But the bond between you and Adrian grows stronger. It is… pulling me away.”

Mira frowned. “That’s not fair. You’re the real owner of this body.”

“And yet, you are the one he listens to.”

“That’s only because he hears me by accident!”

Seraphina tilted her head. “Do you truly believe that?”

Mira didn’t answer. Her chest felt tight. “He’s your husband. I shouldn’t even be here.”

Seraphina’s reflection rippled. “Perhaps. But I cannot deny that his soul recognizes yours, even if his mind does not.”

Before Mira could respond, the mirror darkened. The reflection vanished completely this time—no farewell, no whisper. Just silence.

For the first time since arriving, Mira felt utterly alone in her own borrowed skin.

---

That night, sleep evaded her. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Adrian’s faint thoughts—softer now, less guarded.

Fragments slipped through the tether:

Why her voice? Why now? Why does it feel… familiar?

I used to wish for silence. Now it feels too quiet when she’s gone.

Mira pressed a hand over her heart. “Don’t you dare make this romantic,” she whispered. “I’m not catching feelings for a married duke in a cursed telepathic marriage. No way. Nope.”

The universe, naturally, laughed in her face.

Because at dawn, when she finally ventured downstairs, Adrian was waiting in the foyer—holding a small bouquet of frost lilies.

“For you,” he said stiffly.

Mira blinked. “Are those… flowers?”

“Yes,” he said. “People give them as gestures of apology or gratitude.”

Her brain scrambled for a response. “Oh. Did someone die?”

“…No.”

“Then why are you—”

“For you,” he repeated, more firmly. “For being… patient with me.”

Mira stared, mouth open. “I—uh—thank you.”

He nodded once and turned to leave.

But her thoughts slipped—soft, unguarded, traitorous:

He’s actually kind. I wish he’d smile more.

He stopped mid-step. Turned. And smiled.

“I heard that,” he murmured.

Her face went nuclear. “Forget it! Erase it! Pretend it never happened!”

“Too late.” His smile widened. “Seems my wife finally finds me tolerable.”

“I don’t—! I’m—!” She waved the bouquet at him like a weapon. “Stop being charming!”

“Stop thinking that I am.”

She glared. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

---

That night, the mirror flickered once more, but Seraphina did not appear.

Instead, the glass shimmered with faint runes—ancient, glowing symbols forming a circle.

A voice, deeper than either woman’s, echoed faintly through the glass:

“The bond strengthens. When affection surpasses fear, the veil will break.”

Mira stumbled back. “Who said that?”

No answer. The runes faded, leaving only her reflection—her wide, terrified eyes staring back.

From somewhere across the manor, Adrian’s voice echoed faintly in her mind, as if spoken in his sleep:

“Don’t leave.”

Mira sank to her knees, clutching the frost lilies.

“Oh no,” she whispered. “I think I’m falling for him.”

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End of Chapter 3

Next: Chapter 4 – “The Curse Reveals Its Teeth”

Where Mira learns the true nature of the curse—its link to Adrian’s tragic past—and an accidental confession during a storm changes everything.

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