Rebirth as the Duke's Ugly Daughter

The heavy velvet curtains filtered the morning light, casting long shadows across the opulent room. You woke with a start, your body feeling strangely heavy, your mind a dizzying mix of fragmented memories. The last thing you remembered was the sterile white of a hospital room, the beeping of machines, and the crushing weight of illness. But this... this was a lavish bed, surrounded by furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum.

Confused, you sat up, your hand feeling unfamiliar. Thin, pale, and delicate, it was nothing like your own. A glance at your reflection in a polished silver cup confirmed the impossible—the face staring back was a stranger's, round and partially obscured by tangled brown hair.

A terrible headache surged, flooding your mind with a torrent of memories—Sylvia Atlante. The Duke's daughter, known for her ugliness and temper, destined for a tragic end. And then, a voice, hesitant and young, broke through the confusion.

"My lady, are you all right?"