The morning breeze drifted gently through the open windows, carrying the scent of blooming flowers from the gardens of Valeska Manor, as if the very wind itself was observing the heavy silence that had settled over the grand hall.

Aurora sat beside Prince Denis Strathmore, a man whose presence exuded an unsettling stillness. His sharp gaze seemed capable of piercing through the soul of anyone who dared sit across from him.

But she wasn't watching him. Her eyes were locked onto his son, Kyle Strathmore.

It wasn't admiration or curiosity that made her stare—it was something else. As if she were trying to recall an old stage play, struggling to remember lines that were never hers to begin with.

Her gaze wandered slowly between the faces in the room, pausing at her parents—Duke Osman de Valeska and Duchess Elenora—as if searching their features for an answer to a question she didn't even know how to ask.

Then, with a quiet sigh, she finally dared to break the silence:

"The last thing I remember is that... I..."

She hesitated. The words betrayed her. It felt as if she stood on the edge of something unknown—something close enough to suffocate her, yet it slipped away the moment she tried to grasp it.

"Hah... It felt like someone took my soul."

The air around her seemed to freeze.

Everyone was staring now.

"I don't remember the details. I just... blacked out. I don't know where I was or what I was doing... Nothing."

Lowering her gaze, she stared at her hands, as if making sure they were real, as if confirming that these fingers truly belonged to her.

"Then... I opened my eyes in a room I had never seen before."

A moment of silence passed before Lord Denis Strathmore finally spoke.

He leaned toward her gently and patted her head with unexpected warmth.

"If you have lost your memories, then we shall create new ones for you."

Aurora smiled—but not for a second did she believe his words.

Everything inside her screamed that she was trapped in an impossible dilemma—a body that refused to offer her even the smallest clue about its past.

But now was not the time to drown in such thoughts.

A maid approached and whispered something into Duchess Elenora's ear. The duchess raised an eyebrow before offering a polite, measured smile.

"Miss Monica Diale is here. She's come to see Aurora."

Something inside Aurora tensed.

Another unfamiliar name.

Was she supposed to know this girl? Was she a close friend? Or just another person who would soon notice that she wasn't the "real" Aurora?

But the duchess gave her no time to think.

"Dear, go to her. She must be worried about you."

Aurora stood up immediately, seizing the opportunity to escape this bewildering scene.

At the same moment, Kyle Strathmore clicked his expensive pocket watch shut with a quiet snap and spoke in a detached tone:

"Well, I have an important appointment. I'll be leaving now."

He glanced at his father, Prince Denis, who merely offered a small, knowing smile.

"Go on, my son. I'll catch up with you later."

Then, turning to Duke Osman, his eyes gleamed with a boyish challenge.

"But first, I must finish our chess match. I won't return home until I defeat you, Osman."

The duke chuckled.

"Win if you can. This time, I won't make it easy for you."

The two men laughed as Duchess Elenora ordered the servants to bring the chessboard.

Kyle, however, had no interest in any of it.

He rose quietly, his long strides making no noise, his cold eyes betraying no emotion as he left the room.

Aurora walked behind him, but their paths were different—he was heading toward his luxury car, while she was going to the greenhouse where her "friend" awaited.

And yet, their footsteps were in perfect sync.

They walked side by side, the silence between them heavy—not due to a lack of words, but because Aurora had no idea where she even stood in this story.

Was she at its beginning? Or at its end?

As they neared the point where their paths would diverge, Aurora finally stopped and lifted her face with a faint smile.

"Safe travels, Lord Strathmore."

Kyle turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing as if surprised by her formal tone.

But then, he offered the smallest of smiles and gave a slight nod.

"Thank you."

He turned away and continued walking.

But just before stepping into his car, he glanced back for a brief moment, his eyes lingering on the girl walking away from him.

The scene looked like a carefully painted masterpiece—the golden sunlight filtering through the trees, catching the strands of her platinum hair, making them shimmer like silk.

Her pale yellow dress flowed around her like a quiet river of light.

He watched her in silence, feeling a strange, inexplicable thought take root in his mind.

Was she human... or a glass doll walking under the sun?

He didn't know.

And he didn't want to know.

Shaking his head slightly, he climbed into his car, speeding away as if trying to erase the thought before it could settle any deeper.

Aurora walked hesitantly into the greenhouse,

trying to absorb this new world she had found herself in.

The scent of lavender mixed with the aroma of roses and jasmine,

as if the entire place were a serene hymn to nature.

Sunlight streamed through the glass,

casting dancing shadows on the white marble,

where green vines climbed so gracefully

that they made the place look like an entrance to a fantasy realm.

But what caught her attention the most was not the beauty of nature,

but rather the girl standing there in a flowing blue dress

that reflected an air of aristocratic calm.

Monica Diali— her red hair neatly tied,

her blue eyes carrying a mixture of strength and coldness,

as if she didn't need words to assert her presence.

Yet that impression was shattered the moment she saw Aurora.

Monica gasped in shock,

then ran toward her without hesitation,

throwing herself into her arms so tightly

that Aurora nearly lost her breath.

"I missed you, girl! They told me you didn't survive that illness, and—"

She was on the verge of tears,

and Aurora, who was utterly unprepared for such an emotional outburst,

placed her hands on Monica's shoulders,

patting her lightly as she spoke with uncertainty:

"Don't cry, Monica. I'm fine. Can't you see?

I'm standing right here, safe and sound."

But her mind whispered another truth:

"I barely understand who I am.

How can I possibly reassure her?"

Monica stared into her face,

as if trying to confirm that she wasn't hallucinating.

Then, she sat down on the marble bench beside her,

wiping her tears away in a dramatic motion

worthy of a Greek tragedy.

"But... how? How did you recover?

Everyone said you wouldn't make it,

that your illness was mysterious and incurable!"

Aurora hesitated for a moment.

How could she explain that she wasn't the real owner of this body?

How could she admit that she remembered nothing of her past life here?

So, she chose the direct approach.

"Monica, there are two things you need to know."

She raised her index finger as if asserting her words,

trying to appear in control,

though her mind was a complete mess.

"First, I have completely lost my memory.

I don't remember anything about my life before waking up in this body."

Monica's eyes widened in shock,

but she didn't interrupt.

Aurora continued:

"Second..." She looked at her hand for a moment,

then took Monica's hand in hers with a serious expression.

"I need your help. I want to know... who I was.

What kind of person was I?"

Silence hung between them for a few seconds

before Monica whispered in disbelief:

"Riri... is this real? You've lost your memory completely?"

Aurora nodded slowly.

Monica took a deep breath,

as if gathering the courage to awaken old memories,

then smiled sadly.

**"You were full of life,

obsessed with reading fantasy books,

and you believed in legends more than reality.

We spent nights creating stories about other worlds,

pretending to be witches casting spells

to summon spirits from ancient times."**

At that moment, Aurora's face drained of color.

A chill crept through her limbs,

as if she were about to faint again.

She stared at Monica, then raised an eyebrow in shock:

"Wait a minute... Are you saying that we...

actually tried to summon spirits?!"

Monica nodded enthusiastically.

**"Yes! We believed we could call someone from another world!

We lit candles and chanted spells

we found in old books.

You know, we always laughed and said,

'Imagine if we actually succeeded one day!'"**

Aurora suddenly stood up,

slamming both hands on the marble table, yelling:

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat?!

Were we seriously that crazy?!"

Monica laughed, nodding eagerly,

completely unaware of the storm brewing in Aurora's mind.

"Oh, we were more than crazy.

We were geniuses in creating chaos!"

But Aurora wasn't thinking about how reckless they had been.

She was thinking about something far more terrifying.

**"Our ritual worked...

We actually summoned my soul from my world into this body.

But the real question is...

Where did the soul of this body's original owner go?"**

At that moment, it felt as if the breeze within the greenhouse had stopped completely,

as if the air itself was holding its breath.

And somewhere far within the manor,

a faint laugh echoed—

A laugh no one heard,

Yet it was there, lurking within the shadows,

Watching in silence...