A girl with wavy lavender hair and a white frilly dress was sitting on the floor of her room, drawing a picture with crayons. When she finished, she jumped up and ran past a laughing Ilona.

"You shouldn't run in the hallways, young lady," she said, but she knew right away that there was no stopping her.

She ran into a room, a bedroom, and as she approached the two people inside, they stopped talking. The girl couldn't hear them, but they exchanged their grim faces for happy ones as she approached the bed and was picked up by her father.

The black-haired man carefully placed her on the bedding next to him, while his wife was covered and sitting up, her back propped up against the headboard. The woman was still beautiful, but her eyes looked tired, her lips chapped, and her skin horribly pale.

"Look, Dad, Mom, I drew us," the girl said, waving the picture happily in her hands. It was barely recognizable, but it showed her father, her mother, her first brother Alan, and her second brother Colin.

"It's a spectacular picture. I will have it framed and display it in my office," her father said.

"It's beautiful, Row," her mother added, smiling softly as she lovingly caressed her daughter's head.

A young Rowena's giggles filled the room, which had been somber only moments before.

Like a slap to the face, Rowena, no, Celia opened her eyes. There was a slight pounding in her skull, as if her brain was swelling. Aching, she slowly got up from her comfortable bed, looking around her bedroom in confusion.

The corner of her eye stung, and when she wiped it, salty tears clung to her fingertips. She was crying, ever so slightly. What had happened? Was it a dream? But it felt too real, and she could remember it so vividly.

It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't a dream at all. "A memory?" One that clung to the body she had possessed.

But she couldn't access any of her memories, so why was she suddenly being shown one? An old one at that. She couldn't make sense of it, and her head hurt too badly to think.

For some reason, she felt sad. Wasn't it a happy memory? Yet she felt sad – not about the memory itself, it was just that she was… hurting. It had felt so personal, she couldn't comprehend it.

A soft sniffle was heard in spite of her effort to calm down, before she took a deep breath. The sun had started to show itself in view of her windows, barely trying to rise behind the faraway mountain range. It was much too early, she'd rather try to get some more sleep.

However as she thought that, the door opened after a short knocking sound. "My lady, you must wake up!" Norina called into the room and turned on the lights.

Seeing her mistress already sitting on the bed, she smiled and came closer. "Oh, you're already up, that's a…" She stopped herself when she saw the reddened eyes and the wetness glistening on her cheeks. "Blimey, is everything in order? I mean, has something happened, my lady?"

Worried, she rushed to her side and put a hand on her mistress' shoulder. Even the aloof Ava behind her looked a little taken aback.

"What did you call me?" she asked in confusion, but let it go, as it didn't seem to be an insult, "No, wait, never mind, it's nothing. It's fine, Norina."

Not quite believing it, the maid took a handkerchief from her pocket and dried Rowena's face and cleared her throat. "If you have any problems, please talk to us. We are always here for you." She looked up and down at her lady, furrowing her brow.

"Really, it's nothing," Rowena deflected, "why are you here so early?" It had to be around four in the morning.

'She must be way more jittery than I expected! Reckon I should’ve kept me eyes peeled, eh?' Her head shook at the thought, curls whipping around wildly. "We will make it so that you have nothing to fear. They won't even be able to argue with you about the weather."

'Who would argue with me about the weather?' Before she could protest, however, Rowena was dragged into the bathroom, where a tub of water awaited her.

Even after three weeks, she still felt uncomfortable actually climbing into that strange tub. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of. Even the real Rowena had to work hard to hurt herself here.

But the dream from this morning wouldn't let go of her, and her unstable mind couldn't take it without making her shiver.

"It's too cold, isn't it?" Norina reacted immediately, "I'll ask them to turn on the heating."

"Don't, it's not even cold out."

"That can't be, you're shivering! What if you get sick?"

'Sure hope it's not pneumonia, right?' She had to laugh through her teeth at the irony and shook her head, though the movement hurt a little. "I'm having a light headache. Could you get some medicine for me?"

"Are you sick already? I'll take but a minute!" With that, the girl bolted from the bathroom while Ava finished helping Rowena with the bath.

When Norina came back, she had already been done with everything and was sitting down to get her hair dried. "It took a little longer because they didn't have anything in the annex."

She was holding a small tablet with a glass – presumably water – and a small paper wrapper, similar to a drug package you would normally see on the street, if this was Celia's original world. Inside the paper was a white powder.

"I guess I have to put the powder in the water and drink it?"

Blinking, Norina and Ava cocked their heads and shared a confused look. "Certainly, as you normally would?"

"Yes, normally…" Rowena did as she assumed, hoping it would work faster than a modern pill, as there was no coating to dissolve.

At the same time, the door opened again. "Are you ready?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

"My lady, this is Islette, she's been working for the mansion for ten years. Her specialty is putting on make-up."

"'Make-up'?" The newcomer, a woman in her twenties with a brown halo braid, smiled innocently at Rowena.

"Yes! We want you to look your best. Was that not your goal of all your hard work lately?"

The young woman with lavender hair, sitting there in a bathrobe, didn't know what to say. 'They'd prepared a bathtub this early in the morning and even brought in a maid who wasn't from the annex to help me because they thought I wanted to make an impression?' It touched her.

"Thank you, you three. I didn't think you'd take this so seriously." There was a small part of her that still saw these people as little more than NPCs in a video game. But they were people, too.

In this case, people who cared about her, so she didn't know how to treat them. At VAULT, they wouldn't just let her die either, but there was never anyone who looked at her long enough to try to understand her intentions or feelings – so she, in turn, stopped looking closely at others as well.

Her eyes began to sting again. With hot cheeks, she pulled her shoulders up like a turtle hiding in her shell, as she clawed at the knees of her robe. She didn't like to cry at all and when she did, it always gave her a headache. And this after the throbbing in her brain had barely stopped.

Norina wanted to say something when she saw her mistress give in a little, but she didn't when she saw her face turning red up to her ears. Laughing, she rubbed her upper back a bit and waited for her to calm down. That bit of time they surely had.

"Now, let's take care of your skin, nails and hair, then pick out a dress and put on some make-up," Islette threw in, but a loud rumbling sound broke her stride and made her fake a cough, "after we get the lady something to eat, since all this is going to take a while." Her correction was done so smoothly, it sounded as if she had never intended to say something else.

'She's indeed someone with a lot of experience,' Rowena admitted ashamedly, "It would appear to be most appropriate if you could arrange that."

"We'll manage," Islette said, leading them out of the room. Norina and Ava were young, but not incompetent either, so there was nothing to worry about.

And a few hours later, seated in a beautiful carriage with soft cushions, Rowena came to a halt in front of the capital's temple of the Church of Aurora.

In reality, it looked even more amazing than described in the book. It was large, not very fancy, but there were statues of hooded women, each of them holding a small, flat sun in their hands, all over the front yard. The building was white with golden trim and windows with colorful stained glass telling the story of their goddess in various instances.

'I'm not big into religion. I don't think that there's a God out there, looking out for any of us, but I sure find the concept fascinating.' Too bad she had to travel by carriage, and even with the padding, her butt hurt like hell, so she didn't have the nerve to care more about it.

It was also a slow trip. They had no cars, and no teleportation.

'What's the point of magic if it barely helps?' Her bitter thoughts almost made her click her tongue.

Norina, who was sitting in front of her, also looked outside, but unlike Rowena, she was visibly annoyed. And when the noble lady grabbed the handle of the door, her maid finally snapped.

"Milady!" she said in a scolding tone with a hint of an accent, "you shouldn't be the one to open the carriage. One of the temple knights should guide you out!"

Rowena shrunk back a bit at her servant's strong reaction. 'But who's gonna do that?'

Her eyes scanned the courtyard and the people in it. She saw a few normally dressed ones, most likely nobles, since the temple here wasn't in a part of the city where commoners, even the middle and upper class, would go.

But most of them were, as expected, Holy Knights. The same status as Rowena's first brother, Alan. Yet the ones here were loyal to the Church and gave their lives for its cause, unlike the heir of Varnhagen.

In the book, most of them weren't exactly sad about Rowena's demise, and her death was like a bursting soap bubble in terms of how much it affected anyone.

They loved and worshipped the Saintess, as she provided them with protection and salvation on the battlefield. She's also the second Saintess to ever grace this earth, which makes her even more special.

'Rowena's offense against Scarlett probably got their panties in a turbo-twist. I can't really blame them.'

They did give her carriage a sideways glance, but they wouldn't make a move. And the coachman behind her was already waving, waiting to take her place in line, so she had to get out.

Sighing, Rowena opened the door against etiquette and jumped out alone, while Norina, too startled to react, followed suit.

She knew her mistress had no choice, but it didn't look good. Everyone in the garden was watching it happen; smirking, whispering, and giving dirty looks. The young maid wanted to get in their faces, like a hissing cat, but she held back as her lady seemed as calm as they came.

The dress they had chosen was originally shoulderless, but white laces covered her back and collarbone, neck and arms, down to her wrists. There was no other decoration, and it had a simple skirt attached to it. Not too much for the temple, but enough to make an impression.

She walked up in her white Mary Jane shoes, looking like a princess, and no one could deny her presence.

Upon entering the temple, people couldn't stop looking at her until a young priest rushed over – startled. "Lady van Varnhagen, I assume?"

"Your assumption is correct."

"I'm sorry, we should have received you more politely, but in the name of the Church of Aurora, I welcome you."

"I'm honored to be invited." She couldn't say much, knowing that half the church didn't like her already, because word traveled fast in this world, even if nothing else did.

Then again, four weeks had passed. The problem would rather be in their way of holding grudges.

"I'll take you to the conference room, as the Pope and the Saintess are already waiting."

Without acknowledgment, she simply followed, Norina at her side, until they reached one of the temple's inner rooms. As the door opened, she saw who else had been there.

The 'conference room', with many chairs in the auditorium and a podium on a raised stage, was almost empty. The stairs leading up to said podium reminded her of those in a throne room, which were only allowed to be treaded on by the Emperor himself and his immediate family.

A girl with long black hair and golden eyes, with strong yet beautiful features, at least a head taller than Rowena, stood waiting in front of those stairs, next to a man with blond hair and green eyes. He, too, was handsome. They were a picture perfect couple, as they stood next to each other.

Those two were none other than the original male and female leads of "The Saintess' Unbreakable Shield" – Saintess Scarlett Baldwin and Crown Prince Cedric de Arlen.

'I'm sure there were more names attached to them, but I can't recall them for the life of me.'

Next to them waited a man who seemed to have trouble looking at Rowena, with black hair, deep red eyes, and a long scar across his right cheek. Her father, Carlisle Elric van Varnhagen, a man with an air about him that was as cold as they said. She liked him, though, so she remembered his second name.

Middle names like that were a sign of a priest's baptism, supposedly to bless someone and protect them from evil – mostly Visitors. But it wasn't something everyone could afford, so it was primarily a noble custom, if not for at least substantially wealthy commoners.

Otherwise, no one in this world had more than one given name. 'And frankly, it's not like it actually works.'

And then, last but not least, a stocky man in a robe stood impatiently on the stage, with square glasses on the bridge of his nose and a small cap on his gray hair.

The Pope himself. 'Lavanti, was it? I don't even know if that's his first name or last name. Couldn't care less when I read it.'

As they all looked at her, she knew what they were expecting, so she held up her skirt with her fingertips gracefully.

"Rowena Dynari van Varnhagen greets the Pope," she said before walking over to the beautiful black haired woman, bowing a little more than a greeting would require and closing her eyes, "Oh Venerable Saintess, I have done a lot of reflecting this past month and have come to understand the error of my ways. My thoughtless actions must have caused you much distress, therefore I implore you, as you are merciful, to accept my sincere apologies."

When she finished speaking, but no one responded, she opened one of her eyes a little, just to take a peek.

However, she hadn't expected the person who was supposed to be angry with her to look like she was about to cry herself.