The Impostor Luna

Nora "Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness. May the Moon Goddess bless you," the woman said gratefully. I smiled at her and nodded in acknowledgment. As the last person received their grain, the charity event finally concluded. With Charlotte's support, I climbed into the carriage and waved at the disaster victims. I silently counted to seven before drawing the curtain and settling inside. This was a technique Madam Lydia taught me: don't linger too briefly, or you'll appear aloof and disconnected from the people, but also don't overstay, lest you risk attracting unwanted attention, like that of a potential rogue sniper—even I doubted if such a threat was more hypothetical than real. "Finally, it's over. I'm exhausted," Charlotte sighed, leaning heavily against her seat. "You did well, Nora." "Thank you," I replied, smiling at my companion. Charlotte and I were lucky survivors of the plague that claimed our omega parents' lives. As infants, we were spared from infection and taken in by St. Mary's Abbey. I assumed my life would unfold within its walls, until everything changed when I turned nine and King Theodore visited the abbey. His eyes widened in disbelief at the very first sight of me. "Incredible, this must be a miracle," he murmured. At the time, I didn't understand what he’s talking about until his daughter, Princess Cynthia, stepped forward, and we found ourselves staring at faces identical to each other. King Theodore proposed bringing me to the palace, promising a life of luxury and honor. As if he really needed anyone’s approval. Of course, I believed him without question. Driven by my own desires, I eagerly requested that my dear friend Charlotte and my little sister Lily accompany me, since we often went hungry at the abbey. I wanted them to find happiness too. To my relief, the king generously agreed. At the time, I thought he was the most benevolent leader in the world. Tearfully, I kissed his hand in gratitude, unaware it was a decision I would come to regret. I was too naive to question why the royal family wanted me there. Once in the palace, King Theodore arranged for maids, etiquette teachers, and politic instructors, treating me the way he raised his own daughter. I was overwhelmed by his kindness, unsure how to express my gratitude. He only asked that I diligently attend all lessons, which I did. I was asked to mimic everything about Cynthia. Her preferences, her habits, her voice, and even the way she moves. In hindsight, perhaps the fact that my etiquette lessons included mastering the princess’s signature laugh should have tipped me off that I was less a guest of honor and more a royal stand-in. But I was too young and not sharp enough to see through such an arrangement. King Theodore was kind to me, but Queen Melody and Princess Cynthia were far less welcoming. The queen initially suspected I might be the king's long-lost illegitimate child, a theory she abandoned only after confirming my parents' death from the plague. This revelation softened her demeanor slightly, though Princess Cynthia's disdain for me only grew. I couldn't entirely blame her. Having every move copied by an omega orphan must be unsettling for a princess. "Why do we need this girl around?" Princess Cynthia would often whine, trying her best to convince her father to send me packing. "She's a perfect substitute," King Theodore would say matter-of-factly, not even bothering to conceal his purpose as I stood awkwardly nearby. "And what's a substitute good for?" Princess Cynthia pouted. "You'll find out soon enough," King Theodore replied with a knowing grin. "Father!" "That's final," King Theodore declared firmly, ending the conversation with an air of regal authority, leaving the princess and myself without another word to say. Unable to voice her rebellion, the princess took out her frustrations on me. It began with mocking remarks, but when she realized no one would intervene, her malice only grew. What started as teasing soon escalated to insults, and verbal humiliation turned into physical abuse. She began hitting me—sometimes herself, other times through her maids. On one occasion, they struck so hard I ended up with bruises around my neck. When King Theodore found out, he was furious. I thought this would end my nightmare, but instead, it opened my eyes to a harsh reality. “How dare you bruise her like that!” he bellowed. “You foolish girl, don’t you realize those marks could reveal she’s not you?” “I’m sorry, Father. I’ll never do it again,” Cynthia cried, begging for forgiveness. How I wished the king had told her to stop hitting me altogether. But he did not. Instead, King Theodore sighed deeply, massaging his temples. "I understand your frustration, my dear," he said after a pause. "If you feel the need to hit her, do so, but ensure the marks are hidden." "Alright, Father," Princess Cynthia replied, a smirk spreading across her face as she shot me a challenging glance. I was utterly shocked and my face paled. I turned my gaze to the king—the man I had seen as a savior, a father figure. It was devastating to realize he cared nothing for me. “Lydia! Take her to the west wing and ensure those bruises are properly treated,” King Theodore commanded dismissively. "Don't squander the herbs. They're costly. Just make sure there are no scars where they can be seen. ” I was stunned by the king's lack of empathy.“Yes, Your Majesty,” Madam Lydia said quickly, gesturing for me to follow. “Come along, Nora. Let’s get you some herbs.” I followed her to the medical room, where I received treatment. “The princess hit you quite hard, didn’t she?” Madam Lydia whispered, sighing as she gently applied the ointment to my bruises.“Poor child,” she murmured. I bit my lip, and the tears I had been holding back spilled down my face.“What did I do wrong?” I sobbed. “Nothing,” Madam Lydia sighed again. “Sometimes people hurt you not because of anything you did, but simply because they can. You’re a tough child, Nora,” she said, giving me a sad smile. “Don’t worry, those bruises will heal.” Yes, the bruises on my skin would heal, sooner or later. But the wound in my heart would go on. As I grew up, I began to assume the role of the princess at events considered too dangerous or undesirable. Initially, I was terrified, worrying my disguise would be uncovered. I feared I might forget my lines or say something foolish. The royal family knew how much Lily meant to me and used her as leverage—if I caused any trouble or embarrassment, she would suffer. I couldn't allow Lily to be hurt because of me, so I couldn’t afford any mistakes. I worked tirelessly to suppress my true self, internalizing the princess's mannerisms until they became my second nature. My reflexive responses had to mirror Princess Cynthia's, so that no one could see through the disguise. After each event, a reward or punishment awaited me. If I attended events Cynthia preferred to avoid, I was welcomed back; if I attended those she wanted but King Theodore deemed too dangerous for her, I faced punishment. The type depended on the princess's mood. Sometimes it involved kneeling, other times confinement, or whipping. The water punishment was common because it left no marks. What awaits me this time? I wondered. "Why are you still sitting so formally? Doesn't that upright posture tire you out?" Charlotte's voice jolted me back to reality. "The show is over, you should relax." "I can’t," I whispered. "Madam Lydia insists I maintain the princess's poise at all times. I mustn't shame the royal family." "Well, Madam Lydia isn’t here. She wouldn't know," Charlotte said, pulling me over. I yelped as I toppled into her arms. I struggled to sit up, but she held me down. "Lie down and take a break, Nora," she softly insisted. "You've been on your feet all day. You need rest." Her suggestion was tempting. I hesitated briefly, then lay my head on her lap, sighing in contentment. "Really, why the hell didn’t Princess Cynthia come herself this time?" Charlotte said. "She caught a cold; she needs to rest." "She better be sick," Charlotte snorted. "You know that’s her excuse. She just doesn’t want to face the slums. She thinks the people are filthy and refuses to shake their hands. She’s not a good princess at all." I quickly placed a finger to her lips, signaling her to stay quiet. "Shhh." "What?" she retorted, brushing my hand aside. "Am I not speaking the truth? She enjoys the luxuries of being a princess while dodging all the responsibilities. Every challenging task falls on you. Shame on her." "Please, don't say any more," I pleaded. "Can't you find an excuse to refuse next time?" Charlotte suggested. "Like what?" I smiled wryly. "Say you caught a cold too." "I'm afraid that's not reason enough to skip an event," I said, allowing myself the small indulgence of a grimace."Madam Lydia said that as long as I breathe, I must be the princess's shadow." "It’s totally unfair," Charlotte remarked. "Have you kept count? You've said that over a hundred times," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I don’t remember. I lost count," Charlotte replied. "Doesn't it bother you?" "Bother me about what?" "Attending exhausting events as her substitute." "I'm alright," I said. "Interacting with different people is interesting. Not everyone gets to witness such grand occasions. I should be thankful that I look exactly like the princess." "You’ve been brainwashed, my friend," Charlotte murmured. I couldn’t help but smile. "I’m just trying to stay positive," I said. "Whether I resist or comply, it's something I must do. You know, they have my sister." Charlotte sighed, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry," she said. "It’s okay," I replied. "Lily will soon be eighteen. Maybe she'll meet her mate. Then, even the court won't have a reason to keep her here as a bonus hostage." "And what about you?" Charlotte asked, genuine concern mingling with a hint of teasing in her eyes. "You're already past eighteen, and clearly, you haven’t caught the enticing whiff of your mate anywhere in this country." "I don't know," I admitted. "But as long as Lily finds her happy-ever-after, I'll manage to keep trudging through my own fairy-tale nightmare. Besides, having you by my side is comforting enough." She squeezed my hand again and smiled. Suddenly, the carriage stopped. I quickly sat up, and Charlotte helped straighten my hair. "What's happening, Adam? Why have we changed direction?" Charlotte asked. "Weren't we supposed to head to the church to meet the bishop? Moon Day is around the corner and we haven't decorated the room and dispatch the gifts…" "King's orders," the coachman simply replied. "But where are we going?" I asked. "Back to the court. His Majesty requires your presence immediately." "What? Why?" I asked, frowning, my voice filled with concern. "What's going on?" "Sorry, Your Highness, I have no idea," the coachman said, urging the horses to speed up. "Move!" Charlotte and I exchanged a silent glance. My heart pounded as a sense of dread closed in. Something felt off. It seemed like my life was about to change once again.