《Lest Unfortunate》 Chapter 1 - Relic Her foot scraped against the cobbled floor, each step a grueling effort. The air burned her lungs as she gasped, her breath hitching between ragged coughs. A tremor ran through her frail body, shaking her to the core. It was cold, far colder than it should have been. She was so tired. Too old for this. Blood poured from a jagged wound on her right thigh, painting the stones behind her with a bright, glistening red. Every step left a smear, her dragging feet only adding to the trail of struggle. A broken spear hung limply in her grip. A deep cut marred her cheek, and her torso bore countless shallow wounds, each a reminder of the battle she had no right to survive. And yet, she moved forward. One step at a time, alone, through a sea of corpses scattered across the grand hall, leading her way toward the high altar that loomed at the far end. She glanced around, her gaze sweeping over the carnage. Everyone was gone, lifeless, broken, reduced to stillness. Was she truly the only one left standing? How could that be? She was neither impressive nor exceptional, not by any measure she held of herself. Among so many who had been greater, stronger, more capable, why was she the only one to survive? How had she endured when they had fallen, overwhelmed by unfair odds, against such monsters? [Level 63] > [57]. Numbness seeped into her body, dragging her down like an anchor. She felt weaker with every heartbeat, her strength draining as though stolen by the last blade that had struck her. Was the blade poisoned? Had she been poisoned? Or was it just the blood loss? She didn¡¯t care enough to wonder further. Her wounds bled freely, but she made no effort to stop them. This was where she would die. The thought brought no fear, no regret, only a quiet acceptance, as unremarkable as watching the sun sink behind the horizon. At the altar¡¯s base, she paused, swaying like a reed in the wind. Her legs felt as though they might buckle at any moment, but still, she lifted one foot. Then another. The climb began. The ascent was agonizing. Each step demanded everything she had left, her breaths shallow and rasping, her limbs leaden. The weight of her own body became an unbearable burden, and yet she pressed on, pulled by a compulsion she didn¡¯t fully understand. Corpses littered the steps, their number growing with every painful stride. Bodies slumped and piled against one another, frozen in their final, desperate push toward the summit. Their faces blurred together, lifeless masks she didn¡¯t recognize. Only their uniforms gave her pause, reminders of countless battles fought and lost, of those who had fallen alongside her, just to get to this point. She hesitated, her gaze lingering on the tangle of bodies. Was she searching for something? A familiar face among the dead? A small, impossible hope flickered within her, that someone from her unit had made it this far. That she wasn¡¯t the only one. Would it have mattered? Would it have eased the crushing loneliness of this climb? The hope faded, leaving only the sound of her shallow breaths and the heavy thud of her feet against the stone. One step. Then another. And still, the summit waited. By the time she reached the top, her body was a trembling wreck. her back was hunched from exhaustion, and her broken spear dragged against the ground, more crutch than weapon. Still, she pressed forward. Ahead, at the far end of the altar, stood a lone statue. Once regal, now ravaged by time and violence. Its lower torso was fractured and scarred, leaving only fragments of its chest. One arm remained, extended outward, its hand open with palm raised, as though in eternal offering. Suspended above it, a glowing crystal hovered, a shard of radiance in the gloom. It pulsed softly, mesmerizing, a symbol of everything this conflict had cost. A harsh cough broke through the silence, followed by a rattling wheeze. She froze. The sound wasn¡¯t hers. Her eyes flickered, scanning the space, and then she saw him. Slumped at the base of the statue, barely more than a shattered husk of a man. She did not expect what she initially assumed to be a corpse to still be alive. His left leg ended abruptly in a jagged stump just below the knee, crudely bandaged in blood-soaked cloth. A sword jutted from his chest. His right arm was gone entirely, torn from his shoulder in a mess of shredded armor and flesh. Yet he lived. He watched her approach, his gaze sharp and unyielding. Those eyes burned, fierce with a determination that mocked his ruined body. She moved closer, slow and unsteady, her breath shallow, her muscles threatening to betray her. The man wore plate armor, its foreign design still remained strange to her despite years of exposure. At his side lay a partly crushed helmet, the jagged remains of its once-pristine surface glinting faintly in the dim light. His surcoat bore the sigil of the Divine Cult, a knight of Nyros, the God of Beginning. She stopped just short of him, her gaze fixed downward on her enemy. He stared up at her, his face twitching, the anger mounting in his eyes. That¡¯s when she saw it, the crest of the Guardian Knot emblazoned into his helmet, the embellishments on his armor excessive and ornate, overlapping streaks of gold in religious inscriptions. She knew of only one kind of people who wore such armor. "Realmwalker," she hissed, the word laced with disdain. Her expression, dark and unreadable a moment ago, now twisted into something sharper, colder. "So, it¡¯s just us now. The last ones. Why is your filth so damn hard to kill?"Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. He didn¡¯t respond, didn¡¯t make an effort to speak. His right hand clutched a crumpled piece of paper to his chest, shaking violently, as though it held his last shred of life. The world around them seemed to grow colder with each passing second. She struck his hand with the broken shaft, her movement swift and brutal, and snatched the paper from his trembling fingers. "Gi-give it... back," he managed to croak, his voice hoarse with desperation, his hand reaching for her, grasping at the air as if it could will the paper back into his grip. She held it up, the bloodstained sheet catching light, courtesy of a ceiling riddled with holes. The writing on it was foreign to her, strange and intricate, more symbols than letters. The paper was stiffer than any she had ever felt, despite being so thin. No... this wasn¡¯t paper at all. She turned it over, her mind paused as something else was revealed. A painting. No, not just a painting. A miniature world captured on the small slip, vivid and lifelike, as though the image were a living thing trapped within the glossy surface. The strokes of color seemed to breathe, to pulse with a strange energy. She ran her thumb over the smooth surface, expecting to feel the grain of paint, the ridges of ink, but there was none of that. The surface was unnervingly smooth, almost unreal. The scene before her depicted the same dying man lying beneath her now, but younger, standing next to a girl and two older figures, whom she could only assume were his parents. They were all smiling, frozen in a moment of happiness that felt so distant, so foreign, like a memory long buried. A family portrait, perhaps. "Give it," he pleaded, the desperation in his voice now unmistakable. His earlier temper was gone, replaced by raw, unfiltered fear. His eyes, once fierce with defiance, were now wide with terror, searching for something he couldn¡¯t grasp. ¡°Did this come from your world? From before you came here?¡± she asked, dangling the object between her fingers. The faint glow of the hall¡¯s cursed light reflected off the delicate, worn edges of the image. His breath hitched as his trembling hands stretched toward the photograph, just beyond his reach. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill, but he couldn¡¯t move, pinned in place by a body that no longer moved. Leaning heavily against a statue that held him upright, he could do nothing but sit there, arms outstretched in futile yearning, grief consuming him whole. ¡°Give me your name,¡± she said, her voice as cold as the temple¡¯s stone. ¡°And I¡¯ll give this artwork back to you.¡± ¡°Seojin,¡± he whispered hoarsely, the word spilling from him like a confession. ¡°I¡¯m... Seojin.¡± Her head tilted, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled, faintly, "Odd name.¡± Without warning, she tore the photograph in half, the sound of ripping paper cutting through the silence like a blade. ¡°No,¡± Seojin''s voice cracked, wide eyed, but she was already discarding the torn halves like scraps of trash. The photograph fluttered to the floor. She released her ruined spear, letting it clatter to the stone. ¡°I am Elise, the Dragon Spear,¡± she declared, now drawing a dagger from her belt. ¡°Burn my name into your soul, realmwalker, for I will be your last.¡± A scream tore from Seojin¡¯s throat, not of fear or anguish, but of unbridled fury. The last remnant of his home, the fragile piece of his sanity, destroyed before his eyes. This cursed hall, this godforsaken temple, everything about this world. He did not choose this hell. He never asked for this. He committed no wrong! And at the center of it all stood the woman he now loathed with every fiber of his being. He cursed her. Her existence. Her name. Elise moved, swift and merciless. ¡°Die!¡± she roared, the dagger flashing as it found its mark. The blade plunged deep into his neck, silencing his fury in an instant. Blood spilled, staining the stone floor beneath them, and his body collapsed in a lifeless heap. The hall returned to silence, save for Elise¡¯s labored breaths. She wiped the blade clean with a flick of her wrist, her expression betraying no regret. [Level 57] > [53]. She barely had the strength to stand, using the statue the dead realmwalker leaned against for support. The faint glow of the crystal flickering in her blurred vision. Her focus snapped back to the artifact. This is what it was all for? She stared at the levitating crystal in disbelief. This is the reason for the war? For the invasion? Seventy-two outerworlders, united in purpose. Three nations wiped from existence. Thousands¡ªno, more¡ªdead. All for this fucking relic? In a flash of rage, she yanked the crystal from where it rested, her fingers tightening around it with a force that felt almost desperate. She squeezed it, as if her raw will could reduce it to ash. [Level 53] > [48]. This was it. Her body was failing. Every breath felt like it might be her last. Anger was the only emotion left she could afford to muster. But the relic had to be destroyed. If her life had any purpose, it would be to deprive the world of this. To spit in the face of the cult one last time. Anything that could taint the realmwalkers and everything they stood for. Revenge. Revenge... [Level 48] > [Error]. With the last of her fading strength, she raised her dagger, the weight of it strangely light in her trembling hand. She brought it down on the crystal with all the fury left in her. And then, the world went dark. From the heights above, a dying god watched in silence, its fumes ragged, its form fading. The last vestiges of its strength faltered, but still, it laughed, its voice a soft, bitter echo in the vast expanse. How amusing. How utterly fitting. Its sibling would bear witness to this final, slight embarrassment, this moment of humiliation on the eve of victory. And in that moment, something inside it stirred, an old, forgotten resolve. It was decided then. This god would not go quietly into the void. It would not allow its sibling to claim victory so easily, it would not be consumed with such breeze, not while it still had the power to resist. This mortal, this unlikely vessel, would receive its first and final blessing. The last of its essence, its strength, its fire. If it was to die here, it would be only right to leave something behind. A gift, a curse, a defiance. This mortal would bear the weight of its struggle, just as the god had borne its own, defying its twin since the dawn of existence. A gift, born of whim. A fate, forged by chance. A mortal, chosen not by design, but by desire. With no choice in the matter but to accept, no way to turn back. Do as you will, the god thought. Do as you will with the last of my essence, oh, unfortunate creation. Struggle¡­ for the mercy of a natural death will be denied to you. It smiled, not that it had a mouth, but a vision. A thought of pleasure. A smile full of obstinate, full of something ancient and defiant, as the god¡¯s light began to fade into the dark, eternal void. [Elise Kenjigawa]. [Title Acquired: Inheritor]. [Skills Acquired: ???¡¯s Blessing, Manifest Dominion, Chant of Conquest, Universal Speech]. [Rebirth: Absolute. Effect: Immediate]. Chapter 2 - Sweet New World As usual, she awoke before the day began, before the first birds stirred, before the light crept across the horizon, before dawn whispered its quiet promise of renewal. The room was silent, the world outside wrapped in a comforting darkness. She sat on her bed, motionless, staring out the window, daydreaming, dozing off, unable to sleep no longer. This has been her daily routine ever since she twisted into someone else and was robbed of childhood. Everytime, she woke to this same emptiness, this same nagging detachment from the life she was supposed to inhabit. She would sit there, caught between wakefulness and sleep, her mind drifting through fragments of thought and memory. Sometimes she simply stared, her thoughts a blank canvas. Other times, she would spiral into contemplation, searching for answers to questions she could never quite articulate. But no matter how much she thought about it, no matter how often she dissected the details, nothing made sense. Her body felt foreign, like an ill-fitting garment she¡¯d been forced to wear. This life, this name, felt like a cruel trick. An elaborate lie. If only this was some frightening dream. Despite the years spent here, it was as if she were an actor cast in the wrong role, fumbling through someone else¡¯s story. When had it started, this unshakable sense of wrongness? She closed her eyes and searched for the beginning, as she often did. Six years old. That was when it began, when the first memories came, crashing over her like a tide she couldn¡¯t escape. They were vivid, terrible, and incomprehensible to a child. Battles fought on blood-soaked fields. Shadows of faces she loved and lost. The smell of fire, the scream of steel, the silence of death. And just, pure loneliness... A terrible existence. She was miserable. At first, the memories didn¡¯t feel like hers. They were like someone else¡¯s nightmare, bleeding into her mind. But over time, they claimed her, seeped into her soul until she couldn¡¯t distinguish them from her own. That''s when she started questioning if the memories were even real, then she questioned if this world was real. She cried endlessly in those early years, her small body wracked with headaches, sobs she couldn¡¯t explain. Her parents, bewildered and desperate, thought she was ill, plagued by some unknown malady. The doctors were useless, more decorative than anything, but they stuck with her nonetheless, stuffing all kinds of cures down her throat. Three years of this, three years of confusion, pain, and loss, until the last memories came. By the end of it, the child she had been was gone. What replaced her was¡­ older. Colder. A woman encased in the fragile shell of a child. A woman who had seen more than most could fathom, who had fought and killed, who had watched entire lives extinguished like dying embers. She raised her eyes to the window again, her reflection barely visible in the glass. The face staring back at her was a stranger¡¯s, young and untouched by the horrors she remembered. Yet behind those eyes lurked a war-weary soul that didn¡¯t belong here. And she couldn¡¯t shake the thought that it would have been better to die in that temple than to wake up here. The birds began to stir, the familiar songs of the Munichskav, always heard an hour before dawn. She pushed off the bed, her bare feet brushing against the worn floorboards. She dragged a chair to the window, her movements slow, and slid the sash open. A faint breeze touched her face as she sat down, resting her elbow on the window stool. She cupped her cheek in her palm, her eyes half-closed, letting the lilting song of the munichs wash over her. This kind of peace was still unfamiliar, even after so long. Once, such stillness had been a luxury she couldn¡¯t afford. But here, now, it came unbidden, a regular visitor in her strange new life. Compared to the endless pursuit of her past, the troubles of this existence barely rippled the surface. They were trivial. Insignificant. And yet, the contrast made her uneasy. Before, she never rested simply for the sake of it, her mind had always been bothered by one thing or another, an unseen goal, an endless fight. If she wasn¡¯t training, she was hunting. If she wasn¡¯t hunting, she was killing. There had never been time to stop. To think. To rest. Not until the end. Her end. Well, if she died. She was sure she had died. Right? The memory was hazy, but what else could explain this? This world, this body? Her thoughts drifted to the stories she¡¯d heard, realmwalkers, or more specifically a subset of them, reincarnators, wanderborn as others may call them, souls pulled from one existence and thrown into another. Did they feel this same sense of displacement? This quiet discomfort, as though the air itself whispered that they didn¡¯t belong? Perhaps they had a choice in the matter. Perhaps she was the exception. But the truth remained, she hadn¡¯t chosen this. She tightened her fingers against her cheek, her nails grazing her skin as a faint shiver ran through her. The peace of this world felt wrong, like wearing a borrowed life that didn¡¯t quite fit. As beautiful as the pre-dawn songs of the munichskav were, they only deepened the ache, a hint of what she¡¯d lost, or perhaps, what she¡¯d never truly had. She had dreamed of this, this life, a brighter, more loving, idealistic version of her childhood, consistently before her death. A life that had danced just beyond her grasp, always out of reach. All she had wanted was to return here, return home, and live in peace with the family she had lost so long ago. That had been the dream. But now, as she found herself living it, an unsettling realization clawed at her. All she could think about was the loneliness she had left behind, a conviction that she didn¡¯t belong here. She had no claim to this life, no right to it. A question lingered, sharp and unwelcome. Does this mean she is a reincarnator now too? To be counted among those freaks? The very thought made her stomach turn, disgusted her, and she quickly rejected it. "Status," she whispered. Texts began to appear in her mind. [Elise Kenjigawa, Level 0, Inheritor] [Stats: STR 1, DEX, 1, CON 1, INT 1.6, WIS 1.2] [Skills: ???¡¯s Blessing, Manifest Dominion, Chant of Conquest, Universal Speech]. Like a newborn, she thought, except for the skills. At first, she had thought she was reliving her past, transported back in time by some twist of fate. The experiences were so familiar, so nearly identical to her childhood, that it seemed plausible. But that conclusion quickly went to the pits as she began noticing the changes, both unsettling and minor. Despite the strange sense of deja vu, she knew, with unshakable certainty, that this wasn¡¯t her world. At least, not the one she had left behind. And if the memories of her previous life were real, well, that was another question entirely.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. For one, her stats had changed. That alone was enough to make her rethink. A person¡¯s stats generally remain unchanged throughout their life, unless the circumstances were extreme. But then again, death itself could be considered extreme. A person¡¯s stats were a reflection of their innate talents, an unchanging part of who they were. Except, of course, they trained under extraordinary conditions, as she had, or found themselves fortunate enough to undergo some rare form of personal growth. She remembered when her stats had all been one in the previous, nothing more than a blank slate. Now, her Intelligence and Wisdom had risen. It should have been a good thing, a sign of progress. Yet, she felt no pleasure from something she couldn¡¯t explain. Next, and perhaps the most dramatic change, was her skills. She had possessed none of these in her previous existence. Chants of Conquest and Universal Speech were abilities she understood and accepted with surprising ease. Skills were meant to feel innate, impossible to reject, as though they were an inseparable part of one''s being. But the other two, Blessing and Dominion, were different. Troubling. Years of prodding and experimentation had yielded nothing, leaving them as lifeless as an unreadable script. Were they dormant, waiting for some hidden trigger? Or were they entirely passive? Did they require mana, like magic skills? But testing that theory was impossible with her level stuck at zero, a situation unlikely to change anytime soon, given her social constraints. Something plagued at the edges of her thoughts. Even if the skills were unusable, she should have understood them. Every skill required knowledge, either learned beforehand or imprinted directly into the mind upon involuntary acquisition. That was how Chants of Conquest and Universal Speech had arrived, a cascade of information so instinctive it felt exactly like recalling her previous memories, albeit through a much less agonizing process. But Blessing and Dominion? Nothing. No sudden clarity, no rush of understanding. Just silence. She was as clueless as a naive doe. Irritation nudged at her. Skills weren¡¯t meant to be mysteries. They were tools, purpose-built and ready to wield. But these two sat idle, their potential locked behind a door she couldn¡¯t find, let alone open. Why? Over the past few years, she had subtly scoured every corner of her limited world for answers. Every question turned cold, every guess failed. Even the process of trial and error became a cruel joke. The skills were there, etched into her soul, but no closer to revealing their purpose than on the day they¡¯d first appeared. Honestly she was about to give up, or accept, that any new revelations would remain out of reach for the foreseeable future. Finally, the last personal change didn¡¯t stem from her value stats but from a physical transformation, though perhaps appearance would be a more fitting word. She had long accepted her once-unremarkable dark brown hair and black wood eyes, the kind that blended into the crowd, unnoticed. But now? Now she was someone else entirely. Her hair had turned as white as snow, her eyes gleamed a startling gold, and her skin had paled to an almost unnatural degree. If she had once found comfort in her previous appearance, she could no longer say the same for this, in fact she hated it. Made her feel like a spectacle, an anomaly, some figure out of an old fairytale. Never, in all her long years, had she seen anyone resemble even anywhere near this new form. Maybe the elves, with their strange and ancient bloodlines, might possess something similar, but she''d never met one. Only heard whispers. But if she had to guess an entirely different species to find any resemblance, that was already a problem. And it did nothing to ease her parents'' obsession with the idea that she was somehow special. She couldn¡¯t hide even if she wanted to. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. Sixteen. It had been sixteen years in this body, sixteen years in this new life, and she still hadn¡¯t come to terms with any of it. Was she being unreasonable? To deny reality for this long? Was this denial too childish for someone her age? Is that even possible? To call herself naive? Or any other term associated with youth? It should have made sense, given her physical years, but not the mind inside her. By the end of next winter she''ll be seventeen, adulthood, where the weight of responsibility would only grow, along with the looming pressure of marriage. It would do her no good to remain confused, lost in the haze of wanderment. This childish reverie, this stubborn resistance to what was, needed to end. This was her life now. A truth as bitter as frost on blood. And this would be her life far into the future, stretching endlessly like the horizon beyond the barren plains. She paused, her breath catching. The future.... It was a word that lingered like a wound in her mind, its weight pressing heavier with each passing year. The thought had been a faint whisper at first, easy to dismiss. But now, it clawed at her with an unease she could no longer ignore. A question. One she feared to face. Denied. Buried beneath excuses. She told herself this world was different, so different from what came before. But was it? Or was that just another lie, a fragile dream she clung to in the hope it wouldn¡¯t shatter? On one hand, with her self-delusions, she would claim this world was so similar to the last. On the other, driven by her fears, she would insist this world was so vastly different. Maybe this rejection of reality was her way of hiding. Of avoiding the truth. Perhaps she couldn¡¯t reconcile her past or her present self because of that question. Because the moment she accepted herself, both herselfs. It meant it had to be answered. It demanded an answer. And to answer it, she could only prepare, to reach for her spear once more. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came. She didn¡¯t dare ask the question aloud, not even as a whisper. Instead, it echoed silently in her thoughts. Would the future repeat itself? Would it? This world felt both different and eerily identical. And if it was in essence nearly the same as before, then perhaps it wouldn''t be foolish to assume that history would indeed repeat itself, to varying degrees. The wise don''t sit and hope for the best of a bad storm, they prepare. She straightened, pushing away from her palm, as purpose solidified within her. The past was no longer hers to claim. Its sentimental value, the yearning for what had been, would all fade into the grave. What remained were hard truths, the facts, the consequences, and lessons on what to avoid. Her fists clenched, the tension in her limbs coiling like a spring, primed to unleash decades of instinctive motion. No more hesitation. No more wondering. If she couldn''t settle her identity issue now, it could wait. Time wouldn¡¯t wait for her. She would do whatever it took in this life to keep the past from repeating itself, even if this wasn¡¯t truly the same world. Her jaw tightened. The anger inside her simmered. An old woman¡¯s resolve. She was Elise, Dragon Spear of Iowa, Secondborn of Lesh Taudi, Daughter of Lord Kazia of Bazeers Keep. And she would not allow a repeat, not while she drew breath. The sky began to shift, light spilling over the horizon, though the castle walls somewhat blocked her view. Has an hour already passed? She could feel the first rays kissing her skin. The sun would soon climb higher, its warmth spreading quickly. She stood, casting aside any lingering doubts, and began to dress. Chapter 3 - Family Breakfast ¡°Is everyone there already?¡± ¡°Yes, I believe so, my lady,¡± the servant replied, her tone brisk as she stepped ahead, leading the way down the corridor. The sound of her shoes on the polished floor echoed quietly in the stillness of the morning. Elise followed, her gaze drifting as they missed a turn. From the looks of it, they might even be heading downstairs. The faint scent of wax and old wood lingered in the air. ¡°Where are we going? Is the dining room not in use today?¡± The servant hesitated, her stride faltering. She turned, bowing deeply, a slight flush creeping up her cheeks. ¡°I beg your pardon, Lady Kenjigawa. I should have informed you¡ªthe lord has decided that breakfast will be held in the great hall today.¡± Elise arched a delicate brow, her expression betraying only mild curiosity. ¡°Are we expecting guests?¡± ¡°No, my lady, not to my knowledge. If there are, I haven¡¯t been informed. Perhaps the lord simply had a change of preference.¡± The servant¡¯s tone was careful, but her hands fidgeted at her sides. ¡°I see. Lead on, then.¡± The servant bowed once more. ¡°Again, I apologize, my lady. This won¡¯t happen again.¡± She turned and resumed her path, her shoulders just a fraction tenser than before. Elise followed in silence, her steps measured, her thoughts drifting. She knew this castle as well as she knew her own reflection, every corner and corridor etched into her memory. Even in a state of intoxication, not that such indulgence was ever allowed, she could find her way without issue. Yet here she was, trailing obediently behind a servant, as decorum demanded. It was a peculiar restriction, one she had almost forgotten in the years spent away from this life. A noblewoman must always be accompanied, her movements an exercise in grace and submission, her independence wrapped tightly in the guise of propriety. Once, she had embraced these rules with the unthinking ease of youth, the habits of her station as natural as breathing. But that was a different Elise, in a different time. Years spent roaming under different names, following different codes, had stripped away those old reflexes. Now, this deference felt strange, almost stifling, a cage disguised as civility. The servant glanced back briefly, as if to ensure she was still following. Elise offered a faint smile, one that didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. Yes, she would play the part. She always had. She would not embody the name she so proudly bore if she failed to adhere to circumstance. But the girl she¡¯d been, who had once walked these halls without question, was gone. And this time, she knew exactly how small the walls of this life truly were. ¡°Beyond this door, my lady,¡± the servant said, her hand sweeping toward the double doors, their surface etched with intricate carvings of overlapping shapes. ¡°I will remain here. Please, enjoy your meal.¡± Elise inclined her head in acknowledgment. The servant¡¯s words hung in the air like a benediction as two additional servants, standing by the doors, stepped forward, their hands steady against the heavy oak. With a low groan, the doors swung open, revealing the hall within. The chamber seemed to breathe with life. Large oil lanterns hung high on wrought-iron chains, their golden light spilling across the room in waves. Shadows danced and wavered on the stone walls, which were decorated with family banners and artwork collected and gifted over generations. She lingered at the threshold, the soft click of her shoes against the stone. The air was rich with the scent of roasted meats, vegetables, and spiced wine, underscored by the woody perfume of the crackling hearthfire at the far end. It wasn¡¯t the smell of breakfast. Seated at one of the long dining tables in the center of the hall, modest in comparison to the grandeur surrounding it, she observed her family sitting exclusively along its upper length. Each was caught in their own quiet rituals: a spoon stirred, a hand rested on a cup, a spoken word or two lost in the vastness of the room. At the head of the table sat her father, a man of quiet authority, his sharp eyes lifting from a cup of wine to meet the newcomer¡¯s gaze. Beside him, her mother exuded composed grace, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though the tilt of her head suggested an unspoken question. Elise lowered her eyes in deference, silently apologizing for her tardiness. The mistress, seated further down, was a clear difference to the mother''s modest dress, draped in luxurious silks, her lips curved into a subtle smile as she twirled her cup. She watched with an air of amusement, waving her hand to Elise in greeting. Her sister, a twin in birth but not in appearance, perched beside the mistress, was the picture of youth, her features lit with a quiet conformity as she traced the edge of her empty plate with a finger. Her timid eyes darted up to Elise, reflecting a mix of concern and expectation. Her two brothers, one true and the other half, seated side by side across the table from the girls, the oldest sitting closer to father. The duo presented a difference in manners. The oldest lounged carelessly in his chair, a smirk playing at his lips as if he found the entire affair tiresome, while the other sat with a rigid posture, his expression unreadable. The weight of their gazes increased on her as she took slow steps forward, and bowed lightly. ¡°I apologize for my lateness, despite being the first to rise.¡± Her father grinned. ¡°And here I assumed you slept in for once. I''ve been unable to see you of late, but the servants tell me you still wander around before morn. Did you patrol the halls today too?¡± ¡°No, father. I remained in my room until the sun came up.¡± ¡°Doing what?¡± ¡°Listening to the munichskavs sing.¡± He laughed, taking another sip of his wine. ¡°I will never understand what you find so amusing about their chirps. But maybe I''ve seen too much blood.¡± Her mother gave him a stern gaze. ¡°Don''t mention such things in the morning,¡± she warned. ¡°I''m sorry, my dear, I''ll be more mindful of my words. Elise, come, I might''ve asked why you''ve come last of norm, but I suspect the reason wouldn''t pull my interest. And I simply wish to eat as soon as possible. Ven, Anslen, move a seat down, both of yous.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Ven complained. ¡°She can sit over there. This is our side of the table.¡± ¡°I said move you dimwit, your face annoys me. You think I care what gender you are in a private meal? You''re a lady yourself if I''ve seen one. Damn near twenty and still haven''t gotten your first kill. Should be ashamed.¡± ¡°How can I get a kill if you won''t let me fight even a crippled mon?¡± ¡°That''s your problem to figure out, isn''t it, son?¡± ¡°Dear god¡­¡± Ven gasped, frustrated. ¡°I can sit beside my sister, father, there is no need,¡± Elise said humbly.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°But I want you here,¡± he pointed, ¡°come, come. Let''s not delay any further, I wish to eat.¡± Elise looked to her mother for reassurance, who gave her a faint nod of approval, granting her permission to sit on the men''s side of the table. Seeing this, her father frowned in dissatisfaction. ¡°What? My dear, is it not obvious that this is a private meal, why must you give permission? Is it too much to have my daughter sit beside me? You don''t have to be so strict amidst blood.¡± ¡°You''re the one who insisted we eat in the great hall. There are rules,¡± her mother replied firmly. ¡°Let''s not be so harsh in the morning,¡± the mistress leaned in, ¡°I¡¯d for one, prefer a slow start to the day.¡± ¡°So do I, Licia, and in consideration of your preference, I will ignore this lack of dignity,¡± her mother said, glaring blades at her husband. In the meantime, Elise had already taken her seat, her gaze fixed with quiet patience. The food before her still steamed, its warmth rising in the chill of the morning, which was colder than usual. The steam swirled in the air, a visible reminder of the meal¡¯s freshness. Bowls of noodles and rice sat alongside broths that hinted at rich flavors, plates of tender beef, lamb, and vegetables, and neatly arranged dumplings. A side of sliced pears and apples added a touch of sweetness, while three bottles of rice wine stood in disregard of the early hour. It was a hearty spread, far more suited to an evening feast than breakfast, certainly not the kind of meal her mother would approve of. ¡°It''s the wine, isn''t it,¡± shaking his cup in front of his wife, pissing his own death warrant. ¡°You''re just not happy I''m drinking.¡± ¡°The drink isn''t the issue, but rather, the hour. And if I may ask, for the 4th time,¡± she emphasized, ¡°why are you drinking so early in the morning?¡± Licia, also sipping wine, quickly averted her gaze as the drink touched her lips. ¡°Can I not?¡± the husband replied, his tone sincere. ¡°That''s not an answer,¡± the wife almost snared. What a loving marriage, Elise thought, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her silver spoon. The two of them had never been this sociable in her past life, and her father, especially, had never been this talkative. She glanced at Licia, the woman her father had taken as a mistress a few years after Elise¡¯s birth. Of peasant origin, with a merchant¡¯s background, Licia hadn¡¯t existed in Elise¡¯s previous life. The family she remembered was smaller, colder, just an older brother and two distant parents. Now, she found herself with an extra kashear, a twin sister, and a younger half-brother. A close-knit family, at least by her judgment. ¡°Can we eat yet? I''m starving,¡± Ven said. ¡°Then eat. No one¡¯s stopping you,¡± her father replied. ¡°How can I do that if you haven''t taken a single bite yet? All you''ve done is drink.¡± ¡°What has that gotta do with you? If you want to eat, then eat.¡± ¡°Mother will kill me, you boar headed fool.¡± ¡°Is this how you talk to your father?!¡± ¡°Is this how you educate your son?¡± Her mother interjected, disappointment evident. ¡°It''s not my fault he earned such a fucking mouth. I teach him, and he doesn''t listen,¡± the husband reasoned. ¡°How am I meant to learn anything if all you do is make me watch?¡± Ven answered back. ¡°Watch and learn, what''s so hard to understand son?¡± ¡°Do I look like a beggar? Am I not your son? A lord''s son. So doesn''t that mean proper education has to be done with words and patience. I think it''s quite obvious who''s lacking here,¡± Ven smirked. ¡°Ohhh, lookie here¡­ When the fuck did you get so eloquence my dear boy? So the only time you use your head is to burn my hand is it? We''ll see in the training ground.¡± ¡°Wha¡ªfa-father please.¡± ¡°No no no, you insist, right? With words. I''ll make sure to yell the diction when I swing my stick.¡± ¡°Father, brother, if I may,¡± Elise intruded. ¡°I believe the food is getting cold.¡± "Right..." her father replied, reaching for a piece of beef with his chopsticks. He threw the piece into his mouth, and said, ¡°There you go, etiquette served, eat, eat. You don''t have to wait for me no more.¡± And with that, everyone began to eat. Elise wasted no time, eagerly reaching for the meat, her favorite, a luxury she hadn¡¯t often tasted in her past life. Her mother, however, didn¡¯t share her enthusiasm. ¡°Elise, it is good for a woman to have an imbalanced diet, preferably towards the greens,¡± she cautioned. ¡°It is good I''m not a woman yet, mother,¡± Elise smiled, her tone tender, snagging two more pieces of lamb. ¡°Father, why are we eating in the great hall? What''s the occasion?¡± ¡°We are about to receive guests in a few days¡¯ time. It is good to get accustomed to the hall before they come. And I like the change in scenery.¡± ¡°Who?¡± ¡°Commander Astraeus and a few other important guests. They bring a small army, same size as ours. It seems my request has finally been answered.¡± ¡°What is there to get accustomed to when they are military? I don''t recall a time when women were present in the greeting halls of warrior men,¡± her mother said dismissively. ¡°My dear,¡± he said kindly, ¡°having you here helps me get accustomed faster.¡± ¡°Talk to your wine, my lord and husband, your mouth displeases me.¡± Licia nearly choked on her food, struggling to suppress a laugh, while Ven grinned from ear to ear. ¡°Why have they come, father? I doubt the royal army would come without reason. Our territory isn''t known for leisure, nor stationing soldiers other than our own,¡± Elise said. ¡°My, Elise, you''ve been paying attention to the wrong subjects,¡± her father chuckled. ¡°I like to learn, father, I take after you. So if you''d allow me to peek upon your duties.¡± ¡°You have a way with words my daughter, Ven could learn a lot from you,¡± he smiled. ¡°What can I learn from her?¡± Ven said in irritation. ¡°She never had to learn anything in her life. Perfect this, perfect that.¡± ¡°Ven,¡± her mother scolded. ¡°You will not fight with your sister.¡± ¡°Yes¡­ mother,¡± Ven answered submissively. ¡°Father, please, I wish to hear,¡± Elise continued, re-capturing his attention, ignoring her brother''s words completely. ¡°Commander Astraeus comes to help us with the growing infestation. The monsters have been getting unusually aggressive, confident, making everything difficult, trade especially. Isn''t that right Licia?¡± ¡°I certainly haven''t been leaving this castle, that''s for sure,¡± answered Licia. ¡°I hear a few villages out west have found themselves wiped.¡± ¡°It is quite an issue,¡± her father added. ¡°The royal army will help exterminate them, from the important areas anyways. Plus this would be a good opportunity for the royal soldiers, they will learn to deal with monsters.¡± ¡°Does the royal army not deal with monsters?¡± Elise asked. ¡°Not to this degree, only our forces, the ruling lords, focus on the monsters. I would expect only a small portion of them to have any experience. Killing monsters is not their main role as core soldiers of Vela. This will help them greatly, a perfect substitute for war, I''m sure they''ll take a liking to our beasts, ours are more vicious.¡± ¡°How bad is the infestation? What areas are you focusing on?¡± ¡°My daughter, I believe that is enough. Girls should not learn of such things, especially mine, it does you no good. Monsters are unpleasant things that should not occupy you. I will keep you safe. You''ll never have to worry about any dangers while I live.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± Elise said. While he lived, she wandered, the words burning into her mind. Though her former father had never offered such reassurances, they still rang true. Things hadn¡¯t gone wrong until his death, when the world outside intruded upon her sanctuary of peace, the moment her path altered, veering into darkness. It was then that the notion of fighting first emerged, that she herself could ever harm another, that she had any right to protect herself. But that notion didn''t come into fruition until much later. A lamb that didn''t know it could kill. ¡°Ven, have you been listening? I said Commander Astraeus is coming.¡± ¡°I heard, father. You don''t have to repeat yourself.¡± ¡°Then you should also know that his son comes too. Make good friends with him, it doesn''t hurt to have an ashik as your ally.¡± ¡°Isn''t their family just a hashy?¡± Ven scoffed arrogantly, ¡°Not as important as ours.¡± ¡°Ven! When has your head started to rot? Hash or not they''re still ashik, a founding. Such a long standing family holds great influence, especially in the courts. He can help you when you get in trouble, not to mention his uncle is Lord Astraeus, a general. The boy has a bright future, do anything you can to honor him.¡± ¡°Yes, father,¡± Ven answered reluctantly. ¡°Enough talk,¡± her mother said. ¡°You''re barely eating, too busy waving your wine around. Eat in silence, we''ll be here for another hour with all this chatter. The day is short, and I have preparations to make for our guests.¡± ¡°I can eat and talk, it''s fine.¡± She glared at her husband. ¡°Bu-but just eating is fine too,¡± he stuttered. Chapter 4 - Twin ¡°Frey,¡± Elise called, her voice disturbing the quiet as she stepped into her sister¡¯s chamber. The mild scent of lavender, the room was dim, curtains drawn to keep out the midday sun. Instead of her sister, a young servant straightened abruptly, her movements stiff as she dipped into a hasty bow. ¡°Lady Kenjigawa,¡± the servant greeted, her voice tense as she gestured toward the bed. ¡°Lady Frey is asleep.¡± Elise¡¯s gaze flicked to the bed, where her sister lay motionless and serene. ¡°I can see that,¡± she replied, her tone sharp enough to cut. She turned back to the servant, her brows knitting in suspicion. ¡°Who are you? I don¡¯t recall seeing you before.¡± ¡°My name is Willow, my lady,¡± the servant answered, bowing her head once more. ¡°I am Lady Frey¡¯s personal maid.¡± ¡°Personal maid?¡± Elise repeated, her voice dropping to a whisper as her eyes narrowed. She glanced again at her sleeping sister, then back at Willow. ¡°Come. We¡¯ll speak outside.¡± Willow hesitated, her hands twisting the side of her skirt before she nodded and followed. They stepped into the corridor, where another servant, Elise¡¯s own attendant, stood waiting, her expression carefully neutral but her gaze flickering with curiosity. ¡°Quinn, do you know anything about this? When did my sister get a personal maid?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t know, my lady?¡± Quinn replied, a look of confusion crossing her face. ¡°You see Lady Frey almost daily. I''d have assumed she told you.¡± ¡°If she did, I don¡¯t recall it. A personal maid? Before adulthood? Who asked for this?¡± ¡°The request came from Lady Frey, madam approved,¡± Quinn explained, her voice steady but cautious. ¡°But it was the mistress who found the girl.¡± ¡°Kishe did? Why?¡± Elise asked, perplexed. ¡°The mistress suggested that a girl close to Lady Frey¡¯s age would be ideal. But madam prefers experience, so we lack young servants. In the end, it was the mistress who found this one through recommendation. She has been with us for a month now, training, and was only made a maid today.¡± "A month you say? Does she already have experience beforehand? Or do we have so few chores to teach?" ¡°No, my lady. She will continue her training while serving alongside Lady Frey. We believe this is the best path for her development.¡± Elise turned to the new maid, studying her intently. ¡°I see, explains the young face. You must''ve been training her in private from the looks of it, I have yet to see her until now.¡± ¡°She has mainly been present in the surrounding buildings, my lady.¡± ¡°That would explain much, thank you Quinn,¡± Elise said, stepping closer to the girl with increased interest. The maid, stricken by fear, kept her eyes glued to the floor. ¡°I-I apologize, my lady,¡± she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I... I seem to have forgotten to s-spe-specify that my duties only began today.¡± The words spilled out in a nervous rush. Quinn resisted the urge to click her tongue, though her disapproval sparked faintly in her expression. ¡°Forgive her, my lady. She still has much to learn, particularly when it comes to speaking properly.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, I don¡¯t mind.¡± Elise gently lifted the maid¡¯s chin with a finger, coaxing her to meet her gaze. Her voice softened as she added, ¡°You don¡¯t need to excuse yourself. You¡¯ve done nothing wrong. You gave your name when asked, that was enough. Willow, as you called yourself, correct?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± the maid answered, her voice barely steady. ¡°An odd name. Is there a reason behind it?¡± ¡°There is, my lady, but I fear it might bore you,¡± Willow replied hesitantly. ¡°Speak. I wish to hear it.¡± Willow drew a breath, steadying herself to reclaim her composure. ¡°I was born weak, my lady, my father had lost three before my birth, and so I remained his last hope. My mother grew sicker with each child, so an attempt for a fifth was not desired, for my father loved her much. The village healer claimed that I needed to be bathed in the shade of a willow every night, until I reached the age of six, cured of death. And so my father named me after the very tree that looked after me.¡± A lovely story, Elise thought. Though she cared little for superstition, she still had a heart for sincerity. The tale tugged at something within her, stirring an unexpected warmth. ¡°Willow, I will remember you, as I have the others. Take good care of my sister.¡± "Until ash, pass winter''s grace, when my blood runs dry, my lady,¡± Willow replied earnestly. Elise nodded. ¡°The two of you will remain out here. I wish to be alone with my sister.¡± And without awaiting a reply, she re-entered the room. Her twin, like herself, valued modesty, a trait reflected in the simplicity of the room. It held only the essentials, functional furnishings devoid of extravagance or ostentation. To the right stood a large, but simple bed, her sister nestled beneath a thick blanket, sleeping soundly on the soft mattress. Beside the bed sat a small table for personal items, while a study desk was neatly positioned by the window in front of Elise, where natural light could best illuminate. On the left, multiple shelves lined the wall, sparsely filled, and near the center of the room, slightly off to the left, stood a round table designated for social matters. Elise moved quietly across the room and perched on the edge of the bed, her gaze fixed on her sister. She watched Frey¡¯s sleeping form with a tenderness as if the moment could be stolen at any second, guilt twisting in Elise¡¯s gut. It was always like this, every time she looked at Frey, the same tight knot of shame tightened in her chest. Frey was timid, a quiet thing who fidgeted, stumbled over her own words, and more often than not, let others dictate her desires. But that hadn¡¯t always been her way. No, Frey had once been so full of light, a sharp and vibrant soul who could spark with laughter. When had that changed? Elise knew the answer all too well. It had started the moment she herself begun to change. The golden child. The title, so unwarranted, bestowed upon her by their parents, partly because of her eyes. She was always the one who shone, the one whose every action seemed to come effortlessly. The product of wisdom and confidence that belied her years, gained not only through time but by the experiences of a life lived before. She could not share this fact with Frey, could never tell her the truth, that she was not the perfect daughter they thought her to be, that she was not a sister to be envied. It would only make things worse. It had been so easy for Elise to play her part. The praise came naturally, expected almost, while Frey faded further into the background, her own brilliance dimming with each passing year. How could she not feel inferior? Elise could see it in the way Frey¡¯s shoulders hunched, in the hesitant steps she took, in the way her voice trembled with uncertainty. With each mistake, the comparisons between them grew more pronounced, and her slow comprehension worsened, not because of any fault of her own, but due to a lack of encouragement in an environment that never positively reinforced her learning. A lapse in etiquette, poor judgment, a failed test, Frey would receive nothing but a pointed finger toward her twin sister, how Elise had done it better, how she needed to try harder because her efforts were never enough. Elise had unexpectedly set an unrealistic standard, and their parents had unquestioningly accepted it. And so, Frey¡¯s silent struggle began. Time stifled her confidence, choked her spirit, and made every lesson feel so much harder than they were. A toxic cycle of self-doubt that Frey has to endure for so long as her twin lives. Elise knew it, and yet she felt powerless to stop it. She saw how it had silenced her sister, how it had forced Frey into a shadowed existence, living in the reflection of a life Elise had never asked for.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. She reached out, brushing her fingers through Frey¡¯s dark brown hair. It was strange, how much Frey looked exactly like the version of herself from the life before. It stirred something sharp in Elise¡¯s chest, jealousy, yes, but also a crushing wave of shame. Had she stolen Frey¡¯s light? Her chance at a life of her own? If Frey had been born alone, and not as a twin, would she have been given the name Elise instead? Would she have been happier? Would she have felt more loved? The sole precious daughter of Taudi? Elise loved her sister. And that was exactly why it hurt so much. Frey stirred in her sleep, a soft groan slipping past her lips as she pulled the blanket tighter, seeking warmth and comfort, unaware of the turmoil in her sister¡¯s heart. Elise¡¯s hand lingered on Frey¡¯s cheek, her fingers tracing the soft skin as she fought the discomforting ache of rumination. If Frey had been born alone, would she have been better off? The question came again. The same question that haunted Elise all day: Would the future repeat itself? Would Frey¡¯s path be sealed in the same way hers had been? Was it already too late for them both? Maybe the reason she had come back, the reason she had become the twin of a girl who looked so much like her past self, was to ensure this girl would never know loss. Was there a better revenge than to protect her former self from a future tragedy? To make sure, at the very least, that the girl she had already taken so much from wouldn¡¯t lose anything more? Or was she just being delusional again, dreaming, lying to herself to ease the guilt of her past? Convincing herself that she could control events that had always been beyond her reach? To do good deeds now, simply to justify ignoring the mistakes of her past? ¡°I will protect you,¡± Elise whispered. ¡°As I protected myself. I will spare you from my existence. You will not experience the same pain I did, I swear on it.¡± ¡°Elise?¡± Frey stirred with a soft groan, slowly waking. ¡°What did you say? When did you get here?¡± ¡°I just came. Was about to wake you up,¡± Elise smiled. ¡°You beat me to it.¡± Frey yawned, her movements sluggish and her eyes heavy with the haze of half-sleep. ¡°I''m sorry. Shouldn''t have slept. You always visit me at this time, I should''ve stayed up. Studied instead.¡± ¡°Did you not get enough sleep?¡± ¡°Not really. Nightmares again¡­ I''m sorry.¡± ¡°Why didn''t you call for me if you had nightmares?¡± ¡°Didn''t want to bother you.¡± ¡°Silly girl,¡± Elise said, wiping Frey''s cheek and brushing away the remnants of her basal tears. ¡°Who do you take me for? It bothers me more that you don''t call for me in distress.¡± ¡°You know, you sound like mother sometimes.¡± ¡°Do I? She''s my exemplar. Is it weird I sound like her?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± ¡°You know what I find weird though. Your personal maid. Apparently mother and kishe already knows about your request, but you have yet to inform me?¡± ¡°Ahhh¡­.¡± Frey paused, a flush of sudden embarrassment. ¡°I''m sorry.¡± ¡°What are you apologizing for? Quit it. You''re not in trouble, I''m not looking for an excuse. Just curious as to why you didn''t mention such an important decision.¡± ¡°I didn''t want to disappoint you.¡± ¡°What''s there to be disappointed about? All ladies need a maid eventually. You got yours early. This is a key moment for you. I just wish you''d have allowed me to congratulate you beforehand.¡± ¡°But we''re not adults yet. I was told only improper ladies get theirs before adulthood. For bad behavior. Sometimes worse.¡± ¡°It''s not that serious Frey. It honestly doesn''t matter when a maid arrives. The custom states after adulthood purely out of tradition, not practicality.¡± ¡°But is tradition not why we do everything?¡± ¡°I guess so. But the issue of maids is even less important among our many customs. Don''t mind it. I mean, I technically also have a maid, it just isn''t formal. You could have done the same.¡± ¡°I know, but¡­¡± ¡°But what?¡± ¡°It''s just¡­ hard. Calling for someone every time. Telling people what to do. I don''t like it.¡± ¡°So you think having a dedicated maid will help with this issue?¡± ¡°Yes¡­¡± Frey answered timidly. ¡°Bu-but I know that''s not a good enough reason.¡± ¡°What reason did you give to mother?¡± ¡°I, didn''t. I mean she did ask, but, I¡­ couldn''t give one. I didn''t think she''d approve.¡± Elise chuckled, lightly. ¡°It''s not funny Elise,¡± Frey voiced with unease. ¡°I''m not laughing at you dummy. It''s because you actually asked for something for once, that''s probably why mother approved. She loves you, you know that right?¡± ¡°I don''t know¡­ I don''t see it.¡± ¡°You''re actually being honest with me for once? Don''t tell me you''re finally starting to grow again?¡± Elise said with a brightening grin. ¡°I''m not a plant Elise. Don''t tease me too much, it''s embarrassing.¡± ¡°Give mother some time. She has difficulty showing care. Her love comes in less obvious ways.¡± Frey averted her gaze, ¡°But she treats you differently, doesn''t she?¡± ¡°She treats me the same. I''m not more favored than you are.¡± ¡°But she calls you more.¡± ¡°She does, but merely for work, I assist with the castle, but that doesn''t mean I''m better. I simply got nothing more to learn from the books, while you, sweet one, still have to study. You''ll be called to assist with the management sooner or later. Frey, listen to me, I want your eyes back here not towards the shelves. You''re the more delicate of us, it''s why everyone treats you with more care, it''s not because they dislike you, or avoid you. You exaggerate too much in that little mind of yours. I can see that.¡± ¡°You think so? That I''m just imagining all this?¡± ¡°You may not know it Frey but you''re the better pair, just a little too much fear in you to thrive. Don''t be like me, I might look pretty but I''m not lucky.¡± ¡°But I want to be like you.¡± Elise placed a hand on her chest, her golden eyes catching the faint remnants of light lingering in the room. The sun struggling to pierce through the thick curtains shrouding the window. ¡°Would being like me make you happier?¡± ¡°I think so.¡± ¡°Then the first step is to get rid of those assumptions of yours. We''re family, do not assume the worst out of your own blood, you can save that for our vassals. And, we need to boost this confidence of yours. How does that sound? Doable?¡± ¡°I guess. I just don''t want to disappoint. You think getting a maid was a good idea?¡± ¡°As I said, it''s not serious. We''ll be adults by the end of next winter anyways. You don''t even need a reason, nor give one. I know you have an issue talking to the servants. No matter how many times I remind you that they''re peasants, you still respect their age. Personally, about this maid thing, I think this is good. Once you are comfortable with the fresh maid, I''m sure it''ll greatly help your ability to seek more aid. It would get you used to ordering someone around. And you need a friend, a proper friend. Even better someone your own age.¡± ¡°Are we not friends Elise?¡± ¡°You need more than one. Many more than one. I can''t always be around when you need me.¡± ¡°Are you going somewhere?¡± ¡°No. At least not for now. But when we become adults, don''t you think the idea of marriage might separate us? Or maybe other responsibilities might require us to journey a few days away.¡± ¡°I don''t like that. Can''t we just stay together?¡± ¡°I don''t like it either Frey. But life isn''t about our wants.¡± Elise leaned in closer, taking her sister¡¯s hand in her own, gently caressing it. ¡°Do you wish to talk about your nightmare?¡± ¡°Not really.¡± ¡°Was this the same one?¡± ¡°No. I don''t know. Can''t really make sense of it. Just scared. Wake up in a sweat.¡± ¡°Same monsters? You can sleep with the lanterns on if that helps.¡± ¡°I want to get better. I think I''m sick.¡± ¡°You don''t have to get better. You''re fine as you are.¡± Frey turned away, her expression quietly wavering. ¡°It''s okay,¡± Elise reassured. ¡°We don''t have to fix it now. They go away on their own as you get older. I get nightmares too you know.¡± ¡°You do? But you never said anything about them.¡± ¡°I just don''t talk about them. But don''t get the wrong idea. It doesn''t make me any better by not talking about them. If anything, I''m worse than you by not opening up.¡± ¡°What are your nightmares like?¡± ¡°Mine? A long road.¡± ¡°That doesn''t sound scary.¡± ¡°Mines a long dark road, no one around for kilons, I search and search but I''m always on my own.¡± ¡°No one ever?¡± ¡°I find people once in a while, sometimes many. But they''re not the people I''m looking for.¡± ¡°But you just said there''s no one around no matter how hard you search?¡± ¡°My nightmares don''t make much sense either Frey. Guess we''re the same. Twins right?¡± ¡°Who are you looking for?¡± ¡°You,¡± Elise smiled softly, leaning in closer to embrace her dear sister. ¡°I don''t get nightmares as often as I used to. Yours will go away too.¡± ¡°On their own?¡± ¡°Yes, on their own. Now get up,¡± Elise said, her tone spiking, shifting the mood. ¡°We''re going. And I can''t believe you slept with your day dress on.¡± ¡°Going? What do you mean? Where are we going?¡± ¡°You stay in your room all day if not required. We''re going outside.¡± ¡°Doing what?¡± ¡°I don''t know. We''ll figure it out. Take a stroll on the castle walls if I wish, you need the exercise anyways. Hurry, get up.¡± Frey resigned herself, unable to oppose her sister''s desires. ¡°Yes, Elise¡­¡±