The Glow Up No One Saw Coming

She woke up on a roof. Cold tiles beneath her back. Gray sky above. Her clothes were wrong. Pink outer robe, white underdress, sleeves wide and flowing. Hair piled high with flowers and butterfly pins. Nothing about this made sense. She sat up slowly. The world tilted. Below, in the courtyard, people in ancient robes were already looking up. Then the shouting started. *"You rebellious daughter!"* A man stormed into view below. Duke, judging by the embroidered blue and gray robes and the tall hat. His face was red with fury. He pointed up at her like she was a crime. *"His Majesty's royal edict for recruiting talents! How dare you tear it down? Are you trying to get our whole family killed?!"* His voice cracked the air. Servants and family members behind him clutched their heads, wailing. The girl on the roof blinked. Her brain was still catching up. Scam. Billion dollars. Champagne. That was her last memory. She looked at her hands. At the roof. At the screaming man. *"Didn't I just set up a scam and swindle over a billion dollars from those foreigners?"* she muttered. *"Wasn't I about to pop some champagne to celebrate? Where the hell am I right now?"* *"You brat! Get down here right this instant! Haven't you embarrassed us enough?!"* the Duke roared. *"Hey, just you wait!"* she shot back, standing. Her pink sleeves flared. She didn't climb down. She jumped. The wind caught her robe as she landed lightly in the courtyard. Dust rose around her feet. She turned to face him, eyes sharp now. *"You old geezer! Want me to punch your teeth out?"* The Duke's face went purple. *"Outrageous! Guards! Bring me my blade!"* Two armored guards ran in, passing him a long halberd. He gripped it, breathing hard. *"Old man, are you serious?"* she asked, tilting her head. *"Rather than letting this brat go to the Imperial Hall and offend His Majesty, dooming the whole Grant Family, I might as well clean house myself."* His knuckles went white around the blade. The whole courtyard held The halberd came down with the weight of a verdict. The Duke’s face was twisted with rage. His blue-gray robes snapped as he swung the long blade toward her. His shout was still echoing in the courtyard. *"Hmph!"* The girl in pink moved. No training. No warning. Just instinct. She twisted, sleeves flaring like storm clouds. The cold steel whistled past her cheek and slammed into the stone where she’d stood a second ago. Sparks and dust flew. She stumbled back, breathing hard. Her elaborate hairpins clattered. Below, the Duke pulled the weapon back, already lifting it for another strike. His eyes were wild. He wasn’t a father right now. He was an executioner trying to "clean house" before the Imperial Hall. Then a voice cracked through the air. *"Philip!"* A woman in pale yellow and peach robes darted forward. She slammed herself between the blade and the girl. Arms spread wide. Hair ornaments shaking. *"She is your only daughter. How can you do this?"* Her voice was shrill, desperate. Tears already at the corners of her eyes. The Duke hesitated. The halberd froze mid-air. *"Fine, if you want to kill her, kill me first. Just kill us both and be a widower for the rest of your life!"* she sobbed. Silence. The Duke’s chest heaved. His knuckles were white around the polearm. He looked from his wife, to his daughter in pink, to the blade in his hands. *"Hmph!"* He lowered the halberd. But the fury didn’t leave his face. The girl in pink — Claire — just stood there. Heart hammering. _Philip. Daughter. Widower._ None of it made sense. She’d been about to pop champagne five minutes ago. The courtyard was still. Only the sound of the "mother" crying and the Duke’s heavy breathing. The blade was down. For now. The courtyard vanished. Now there was noise. People. Sunlight. A massive wooden gate stood before her. Beyond it, a watchtower. Below it, a crowd pressed shoulder to shoulder, all staring at one thing: a yellow scroll nailed to a notice board. *The Imperial Edict.* Whispers cut through the air. *"Hey, look."* A woman in the crowd pointed. *"She's the one His Majesty appointed, Julia Moon."* The crowd parted. A woman walked through like she owned the ground. Red silk. Gold embroidery. Pearls at her waist. Her hair was piled high with a crown that glittered. Every step was perfect. Rehearsed. This was Julia Moon. And beside her— A man in light blue scholar robes. Tall. Clean jaw. Eyes that looked at no one. His hair was tied back with a simple jade pin. *"And next to her is Avalon's Top Scholar, Edward Stanton!"* someone gasped. The crowd buzzed. *"They're a match made in heaven!"* *"Exactly!"* Guards shoved through. *"Move! Out of the way! Make way!"* Claire stood frozen in her pink robes. Still dusty from the rooftop. Still reeling from almost being halberd-ed by her "dad". Her eyes locked on the blue-robed man. *"Ed!"* The word tore out of her before she could stop it. He turned. Saw her. His expression didn’t change. *"What are you doing here?"* His voice was flat. Cold. Claire’s heart leapt. This was him. Her Ed. The one the original body was obsessed with. *"Ed, tell everyone that we are the perfect match! Go on, tell them."* She stepped closer. Pleading. Edward didn’t blink. He shifted his weight. *"Ouch!"* Claire hit the ground. She didn’t even see him move. *"Claire,"* he said, looking down at her. *"You lack talent, looks, and you're just boy-crazy. How can you even compare to Julia?"* The word _Julia_ hit like a slap. Julia in red stepped forward, gaze sweeping over Claire on the ground with mild disgust. *"Stop keeping Julia from answering the royal decree and helping His Majesty."* The crowd murmured agreement. The yellow edict fluttered behind them. Claire sat in the dust in pink silk, while the "perfect match" stood above her. Humiliation burned hotter than the sun.