Heartslabyul-Diasomnia Members Time Travel to the Future
Mirror Reflections and Sleeping Curses
The grand hall of Celestial Gate Academy was no longer a place of quiet academic prestige. It had become a living collision of two eras. While Headmistress Bluebella worked in her office to stabilize the rift, the student body was tasked with "integrating" their guests. For Rosie Rosehearts, this was less of an integration and more of an endurance test.
Rosie marched down the corridor of the Rebel Serpentina dorm, her heels clicking a sharp, unforgiving rhythm. Beside her, Riddle Rosehearts was struggling to keep up, his face a constant, oscillating shade of pink.
"I am telling you, this is a flagrant violation of the Decree of the Queen of Hearts, Number 256!" Riddle fumed, clutching a borrowed handbook. "A student leader cannot simply 'assign' their elder to manual labor without a formal hearing!"
Rosie stopped abruptly, turning on her heel. At 5'5", she wasn't much taller than him, but her presence was a mountain. "Rule number one of Celestial Gate, 'Father': The Housewarden’s word is the law of the land. If you want to talk about decrees, let’s talk about how you’ve managed to annoy me every second since you fell out of the sky. You’re obsessed with a perfection you can’t even maintain yourself. Look at your cravat; it’s crooked."
Riddle gasped, reaching for his neck. "It is not—!"
"It is. And until you fix your attitude, you’re on rose-pruning duty with Dahlia," Rosie snapped. She felt a headache brewing. The sight of him—so young, so stubborn, so much like the parts of herself she hated—was exhausting.
From around the corner, Halena Rosehearts appeared, clutching a tray of pale, shimmering cupcakes. She saw the two of them squared off and physically recoiled, the tray trembling in her hands.
"Oh... oh dear," Halena whispered, her voice airy and frightened. "Rosie, please don't yell. The frosting is very delicate, and the vibrations might make it sink."
"Halena, go back to the kitchens," Rosie said, her voice softening only slightly.
"Is that... Halena?" Riddle asked, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion. He looked at the girl who resembled a softer, gentler version of the Rosehearts lineage.
"She’s my sister," Rosie said, her eyes narrowing. "And unlike you, she actually listens to people. Now, move. I have a meeting with the Head of Drama."
Rosie pushed past him, leaving Riddle standing in the hallway with a bewildered expression. He watched Halena scurry away, wondering how his future could be so fragmented—one daughter who was a tyrant in a skirt, and another who seemed afraid of her own shadow.
In the courtyard, a different kind of tension was brewing.
Mallory Draconia stood by the fountain, her 6'5" frame casting a shadow over the cobblestones. She was adjusting the lens of her camera, her expression stoic until she heard the sound of a baseball bat hitting a ball with a resounding *crack*.
Moonlight Vanrouge landed a perfect home run, her silver hair catching the light as she rounded a makeshift diamond. She threw her bat down and wiped sweat from her brow, her naturally brown roots hidden beneath the silver magic Lilia had gifted her.
"Nice shot, Light!" Senorina Zigvolt cheered, punching the air. She turned to see Mallory and immediately straightened up. "Waka-Okusama! Are you here to grace us with your presence, or are you just brooding again?"
Mallory didn't look at Senorina. Her eyes were fixed on Moonlight. "The noise is disruptive to those of us trying to study the architecture, Moonlight."
Moonlight smirked, stepping closer. She had an ethereal, sharp beauty that always seemed to grate on Mallory’s nerves. "Oh, sorry, Mal. I forgot that the 'Princess' needs absolute silence to take pictures of rocks. Maybe if you weren't so busy hanging out with that glitchy Shroud girl, you’d have time to actually have fun."
Mallory’s grip on her camera tightened. "Do not speak of Idabelle. She has more talent in her flickering pinky finger than you have in your entire body."
"She’s a freak," Moonlight laughed, though there was a bitterness in her eyes. "A walking motherboard with anxiety. Why you’re dating her is beyond me."
"It’s beyond you because you’re shallow," Mallory countered, her voice dropping to a dangerous, draconic register. "And perhaps you’ve forgotten why you sleep through half your classes, Moonlight. Or did Lilia never tell you about the gift I gave you at your christening?"
Moonlight froze. The air around them grew cold. The "Sleeping Curse" was a rumor, a dark fairy tale whispered in the halls of Mystic Dragonwing. Mallory, born with a surplus of ancient, vengeful magic, had placed a slumbering hex on Moonlight out of a childhood fit of jealousy—a curse that ensured Moonlight would always be prone to sudden, deep bouts of sleep.
"You think that makes you powerful?" Moonlight hissed, her eyes flashing. "It just makes you a monster. No wonder your father kept you hidden in the dorm for a hundred years."
Before Mallory could retort, a flash of blue light interrupted them. Yuu and Grim tumbled out of a nearby hedge, looking disheveled and covered in leaves.
"I’m telling you, Grim, the map said the cafeteria was this way!" Yuu shouted, dusting off their uniform.
"My stomach doesn't care about maps! It cares about the giant tuna cans they have in this dimension!" Grim complained, his blue ear-flames flickering.
The two groups stared at each other. Mallory sighed, the tension breaking into sheer annoyance. "Great. More humans. Senorina, deal with them. I need to find Idabelle."
As Mallory stormed off, Moonlight watched her go, her heart heavy. She hated the curse, and she hated the girl who gave it to her, but most of all, she hated that she couldn't remember a time when they didn't want to tear each other apart.
While the dragons clashed, the "weird eel cousins" were busy causing their own brand of havoc.
Azure Ashengrotto sat in the business lounge, flanked by Jana and Flayr Leech. Across from them sat a very overwhelmed Ruggie Bucchi and a silent, hovering Ortho Shroud.
"Now, Mr. Bucchi," Azure said, sliding a contract across the table. "I understand you have a certain... knack for acquisition. In this world, the market for 'lost items' is quite lucrative. If you were to provide me with a list of the NRC boys' personal effects, I could ensure you a 15% cut of the recovery fees."
Ruggie looked at the contract, his ears twitching. "15%? Back home, I get at least 30% from Azul."
"Azul is an amateur," Jana Leech chirped, leaning in with a wide, toothy grin. She didn't wear hair extensions like her cousin Flayr, preferring her short, natural cut. "We’re family. And family rates are... negotiable."
Flayr twirled a long, teal hair extension around her finger. "We could even throw in some Starfish-shaped cookies. Rosie hates them, but they’re delicious."
"I am detecting a 98% chance of financial exploitation," Ortho chirped, his eyes scanning the fine print. "Brother would not approve of this transaction, Ruggie."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Ruggie muttered, but his eyes were glued to the numbers. "But hey, a guy’s gotta eat, right? And this school has some seriously high-end snacks."
In the Viperella kitchens, the atmosphere was significantly more heated.
Kalie Al-Asim was humming a bright tune, her hands glowing with blue genie-magic as she levitated a dozen spice jars at once. She was wearing a silk apron over her uniform, her gold jewelry jingling with every movement.
"Kalie! Put the saffron down!" Jaira Viper yelled, slamming a cutting board onto the counter. "You’re going to over-season it again, and then everyone will have hallucinations for a week!"
"But Jaira, the genie says it needs more kick!" Kalie laughed, spinning around. She looked at Kalim, who was sitting on a stool, watching them with wide, adoring eyes. "Hey, other-dad! Do you want to try the sauce?"
Kalim beamed, his eyes sparkling. "I’d love to! It smells amazing! Jamil, look! She’s so talented!"
Jamil Viper, who was standing in the corner with his arms crossed, looked like he was suffering through a migraine. He watched Jaira work—the way she moved with a precision that rivaled his own, yet with a fierce independence he had never been allowed to possess.
"She’s not just talented," Jamil said quietly, his voice catching. "She’s... in control."
Jaira paused, her knife hovering over a pile of peppers. She looked at Jamil, seeing the shadow of the life she had escaped. She hated Kalie for her clumsiness, for her privilege, and for the way she made Jaira’s heart skip a beat when she smiled—but she would never be a servant.
"I’m the Housewarden here," Jaira said, her voice firm, directed at Jamil. "I don't cook because I have to. I cook because I’m the best at it."
Kalie bounced over, throwing an arm around Jaira’s neck. "And because you love me, right? Right?"
"Get off me, you giant pipsqueak!" Jaira growled, though she didn't actually push her away.
Kalie laughed and, in a sudden burst of energy, snapped her fingers. "Unique Magic: Genie in a Bottle!"
A swirl of blue smoke filled the kitchen, and suddenly, Kalim and Jamil were no longer wearing their NRC uniforms. They were dressed in elaborate, shimmering genie silks, complete with pointed shoes and turbans.
"Whoa! So sparkly!" Kalim cheered, spinning in a circle.
"Change us back. Now," Jamil hissed, his face turning a dark shade of red.
"Only if you promise to help us with the catering for the Cotillion!" Kalie teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.
While the kitchen descended into a "genie-themed" fashion show, the West Wing of the academy remained a sanctuary of quiet beauty.
Viviana Schoenheit stood in front of a massive, gilded mirror in the Drama Club rehearsal hall. She was wearing her Rebel Serpentina blazer draped over her shoulders like a cape. She adjusted her hair, her eyes scanning every inch of her reflection.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," Viviana whispered, her voice low and melodic. "Who’s the baddest of them all?"
The surface of the mirror rippled like water. A faint, golden light began to emanate from the glass. "Unique Magic: Baddest of Them All."
The mirror didn't just show her reflection; it showed the location of every student in the school, glowing like little embers on a map. She saw Rosie in the garden, still arguing with Riddle. She saw Mallory and Idabelle in the robotics lab, their heads close together as they worked on a drone.
"Vivi?"
Viviana turned to see Rosie standing in the doorway. The red-haired girl looked exhausted, her tie loosened and her hair a mess.
"Rosie, darling," Viviana purred, stepping away from the mirror. "You look like you’ve been through a war."
"I have. My father is a nightmare," Rosie said, walking into the room and collapsing onto a velvet sofa. "He doesn't understand anything. He thinks he can just walk in here and start 'correcting' my administration."
Viviana sat beside her, reaching out to stroke Rosie’s cheek. "He’s just a boy, Starfish. A boy who’s scared of a world he can't control. But you? You’re the Queen here."
Rosie leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut. "I hate him, Vivi. I hate how much I want him to be proud of me, and I hate how much I want to scream at him for being so small-minded."
"Then scream," Viviana whispered, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "Or better yet, show him. Show him that a Rosehearts doesn't have to be a prisoner of the rules. They can be the one who writes them."
Rosie opened her eyes, the fire returning to her gaze. She looked at Viviana—the girl who loved mirrors, the girl who called her 'Starfish', the girl who was the only person in the world allowed to see her weak.
"I’m going to make him follow every single rule in the handbook," Rosie said, a slow, devious smile spreading across her face. "And then, I’m going to make him apologize for his cravat."
Viviana laughed, a bright, clear sound that filled the hall. "That’s my girl."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, purple shadows across the Shaftlands, the two worlds continued to bleed into one another. In the gardens, Dahlia was screaming at Ace for stepping on a red rose. In the lab, Idabelle was showing Ortho how to overclock his processors. And in the heart of the school, the daughters of Night Raven College were proving that while they may have inherited their fathers' faces, they had forged their own destinies.
The rift was still open, the future was uncertain, and the boys of NRC were in for a very long night. But as Rosie watched the stars come out, she knew one thing for certain:
The Princess of Hearts was no longer waiting for a crown. She already had one.