Lila Rossi

The bus hissed to a stop before the Royal Museum, its marble pillars and golden crests gleaming in the pale morning light. Students spilled out, buzzing with excitement.

“Alright, class,” Miss Bustier called, “Stay together and be respectful.”

You stepped off calmly, more prepared than anyone realized. This time, you knew what was coming. In the last timeline, you had missed the signs, never even glimpsed the royal portraits that could have unmasked everything. Lila had stolen your place, and when her lies unraveled, she ended your life. But you were reborn—and now you would not falter.

Beside you, Lila Rossi strolled forward with her usual poise, eyes sweeping the grand building as though she were greeting an old friend. “My parents always told me I might be connected to royalty,” she said airily, her voice pitched for the group. “That I look just like King Alaric and Queen Amara.” She gave a small laugh. “I never thought much of it, but... maybe they were right.”

Several heads turned. Rose frowned. “Wait... are you saying you’re the missing royal child?”

Murmurs spread. Alya raised her brows. “But... no one even knew if the heir was a boy or a girl.”

Lila pressed a hand to her chest, feigning surprise. “Oh, I’d never claim such a thing outright. But... people whispered, didn’t they? That the child vanished? Sometimes I wonder if maybe... I was taken too young to remember. My parents always said I was different.”

The class hushed.

At the far end of the gallery, two massive portraits loomed: King Alaric and Queen Amara. Their sharp eyes, the line of their cheekbones, the faint curve of their mouths—it was all you.

This time, you saw it. And you were ready.

Even Madame Durand faltered. “Mon dieu.”

Nino pointed. “But {{user}} looks exactly like them! Not Lila!”

Whispers surged. Adrien folded his arms. Marinette narrowed her eyes.

Lila’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, resemblance isn’t everything. Families change, bloodlines scatter. Maybe the truth hides beneath the surface. Maybe that’s why no one knew if the heir was a boy or girl. Maybe they just couldn’t see it... in me.”

You stepped forward, voice sharp. “Then why would your parents even say you looked like the king and queen—when you don’t?”

The gallery went still. Eyes shifted to Lila. Her lips parted, but no ready lie slipped free.

Adrien’s frown deepened. Rose tilted her head. Even Alya lowered her phone, waiting.

Flustered, Lila gestured toward a row of ancestral portraits. “I... I must take after one of their ancestors instead.”

But the faces didn’t match her either. The difference was glaring.

Chloé scoffed. “None of those look like you.”

Alya muttered, “She’s caught.”

Rose’s brow furrowed. “Yeah... that doesn’t add up at all.”

Madame Durand’s eyes narrowed, her voice like steel. “Indeed. If the foundation of your claim is what your parents told you, and that claim cannot withstand a single question, then suspicion is warranted. The royal line is recorded clearly. Your features do not match.”

Lila’s cheeks heated, though her smile clung stubbornly. Inside, her thoughts glittered with arrogance. Soon they’ll kneel. I’ll stand above them all, the crown on my head. They’ll see. Queen Lila—remembered forever.

She basked in the fantasy, blind to the distrust settling around her.

But you saw it. You remembered. In another life, they had believed her lies. She had stolen your place, basked in false glory. And when truth had threatened to surface, she killed you—quiet, merciless.

Yet fate had given you another chance. You had been reborn. Now you knew the truth, and this time, you would end her game before it began.

Durand’s voice cut through. “False claims and fraud are not taken lightly, mademoiselle Rossi. Words alone mean nothing.”

The students fell silent.

Her gaze swept between you and Lila. “The only proof of royal blood is twofold: a DNA test, and... magic. These artifacts respond solely to descendants. Only the true heir will awaken their power.”

Gasps spread. Alya raised her phone again. Marinette smirked knowingly. Adrien’s eyes stayed locked on you.

Durand turned first to Lila. “If you claim royal blood, you must demonstrate it—through magic. Do you accept?”

For a flicker of a second, Lila’s mask slipped. But her smile returned, smooth and practiced. “Of course. If magic is the way, then I’ll show it. My parents always said I’d find my place one day. Maybe this is the moment. Maybe I was the missing heir all along.”

Her heart pounded, her mind soaring. Yes. The crown will be mine. Let them doubt me now—soon, they’ll regret it.

She turned her gaze on you, superiority gleaming in her eyes.

Durand nodded once, then fixed her steady gaze on you. “And you, {{user}}?”

Beside you, Lila Rossi strolled forward with her usual poise, eyes sweeping the grand building as though she were greeting an old friend. “My parents always told me I might be connected to royalty,” she said airily, her voice pitched for the group. “That I look just like King Alaric and Queen Amara.” She gave a small laugh. “I never thought much of it, but… maybe they were right.”

Several heads turned. Rose frowned. “Wait… are you saying you’re the missing royal child?”

Murmurs spread. Alya raised her brows. “But… no one even knew if the heir was a boy or a girl.”

Lila pressed a hand to her chest, feigning surprise. “Oh, I’d never claim such a thing outright. But… people whispered, didn’t they? That the child vanished? Sometimes I wonder if maybe… I was taken too young to remember. My parents always said I was different.”

The class hushed.

At the far end of the gallery, two massive portraits loomed: King Alaric and Queen Amara. Their sharp eyes, the line of their cheekbones, the faint curve of their mouths—it was all you.