Alas, Nathalie arrived at the inn she resided in just as the dawn started to grace the city with its golden radiance. With nothing else to crave but sleep, she went straight to her room. A slight squeaking sound as the door left ajar to a wide opening. She took off her cloak and plopped to her bed. 

Her gaze roamed through the fine cracks of the wood ceiling as it aged well with time. The place was, at least, tidy and decent as she scoured to the walls with bland frames and shelves on them.

'Nathan Kiel Forsberg, the Grand Duke of Forsberg, huh?' She reached for her pocket and retrieved the 'Hymnic Conch' within her grasp. Not that it was the first time she took a good look at the item compared to what she wrote with the description she had in mind. 

Yet it was just as exactly as how she imagined: the black pearls that were beaded into a loop with a pearly white conch. At least not much of the information or the things she wrote changed or deviated from what it was then.

'Who was this Mysterious man that I have yet to see? The person antagonized me right from the get-go—Well, not that I'm not in a villainess's body or something… Even Athan had no idea who he was… Not even I, the author, know about it? '

A lot of questions splurged inside her head, trying to look for signs and answers for what it was… 

Though her eyebrows creased into one deep line when the words popped out to his mind.

Plot holes

In a short time, so many things she had to learn that manifested beyond the canon her books provide. 

… And this wasn't the first time she found out.

There was entire lore of the story.

A part of her trembled with excitement of what the adventure awaited her; in the same token, the role she would play against writing her own fate.

'Keith might have an idea about this…' She darted at the windows that graced with golden lights beaming throughout the area of her room. 'It's about time he'll return…'

But her eyelids turned heavy as she sunk deeper amidst the soft cushion of the bed. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and ought to recall what happened thus far.

Nathalie may have lived on as Mystique, but the grudge she withheld came off so strong that the deep-seated pain in her heart ached every time he was close to her. 

It was as though the soul of the villainess continued to linger.

To call out for justice.

To bring him pain.

To make him feel what she had been through and through.

But as the author, she knew both sides—being the bigger person, she knew what she had to do.

Though he started to cross the line when he went on being too selfish with Marianne and even threatening Arnold, she hated to admit, but she had grown so attached to him, the doting father of the Blackwell Household.

It sparked to teach him a lesson after Athan planned to threaten Arnold, which left a bad taste in her mouth.

The prince crossed the line and tested her as the new witch.

She might not know much about the curse, but with Arnold by her side, she was able to come up with a curse that struck a resemblance to hers.

However, this also led enough to throw her off just what he was up to at the moment, only to realize that Athan lived for another lifetime, again.

'Could it be another plot hole for Athan to reincarnate for another lifetime?'

The crown prince was dangerous, or so at least what Nathalie thought. 

It wasn't subtle at first, but the more she probed into him, the more she learned that it brought her to a predicament.

But resurfacing their past issues, of Mystique and Athan, for whatever they had then didn't tantamount from the steamy nights they shared.

To her, it was all with a cause, to relieve from the curse. Inclined to believe that it was more of a one night stand.

But so far, he has grown so fond of her, and such a soft spot swells every time they meet.

'Is he insane? He was willing to give this to me?' She squinted, pondering, 'If he was sincere for amendments, then he's in the wrong timing.'

Nathalie rubbed her eyes after blinking a few times. 

The hysterical moment called fate must've been too mischievous and played her bad for believing so many afterlife elements.

'See?! This is why I have to write some damn info dumps so there would be no extrapolation of cut-out events! Damn Tyler—'

As much as she admitted it, Nathalie never thought she would be able to have that kind of encounter.

'Speaking of Tyler, I can't believe it. Athan looks just like Tyler…'

A sensual one.

One more time in her life.

'He may look like Tyler… But…' She bit her lip and squirmed on the bed a little.

A surge of sparks made her goosebumps, and she hugged herself after the thought of him. The careful caress in his firm, strong arms was she sought embrace as if she needed it for a long time. 

'That night was really, really hot, and he…' Her face flushed and seared with beet-red. 'It still drives me every night… I can't help but think about it—'

Her hands, trembling, as roamed over her chest, neck, and up to her lips. It was somehow unbelievable that she had this intimate moment with Athan.

The embrace that almost she sought refuge.

The shower of hugs and kisses drowned her with such affection.

The feistiness and the steamy night between them—hot and cold—swirled and almost laid her life up to the heavens for what awaited her.

Pleasure and every part of her would crave for more. 

'He knows how to satisfy a woman, not that I expect less from him…'

It was hauntingly familiar.

Athan and Tyler, to her, were the same in bed. 

In so many aspects.

Yet, with Athan, it didn't happen only once.

It wasn't the moment to catch feelings. 

Not yet.

Perhaps never, not from a womanizer like him.