The moment I step out of the room, I'm struck by the grandeur surrounding me. Marble columns rise like ancient trees toward a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes from mythology. Crystal chandeliers hang suspended, catching light in a thousand prisms.

Is this even a house? No, it's a whole damn castle—my neck cranes back until it aches.

Something about the herringbone parquet floors and the way light filters through stained glass windows tugs at my memory. I've never been here, yet my fingers recognize the cool brass of the banister. 

My initial shock melts into an uncanny calm—as if I've returned rather than arrived. I straighten my spine, trying to embody Athene' s confidence whose life I've somehow stepped into.

My pulse quickens as contradictory emotions flood through me: terror and wonder at finding myself in : 

this impossible place; 

curiosity about what lies behind each mahogany door; 

disorientation at this parallel existence; 

worry for my real family left behind.

Despite the overwhelming sensations, I'm drawn forward by the glint of something metallic down the hallway, beckoning me deeper into the mansion' s secrets.  

The mansion's Baroque architecture unfolds before me—ornate golden moldings tracing the ceiling like rivers of wealth, crimson damask wallpaper catching morning light. 

Something in the symmetry of the grand hallway tugs at my memory. Antique vases from what appears to be like the one in Ming dynasty stand sentinel beside potted orchids and trailing ivy, their positions so deliberate they might have been placed by a mathematician rather than a decorator. Not a speck of dust mars the gleaming marble floors or the mahogany furniture. I turn around and look at my supposed maids.

Zoey, the head maid, moves with a quiet efficiency, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a severe bun that contrasts with the gentleness in her eyes. Though her shoulders stoop slightly with age, she carries herself with dignity beside the younger Nina. There's something trustworthy in the crow's feet around her eyes, in the way her hands, spotted with age, fold neatly at her waist.

" My lady, you look so energetic upon waking up. That' s such a blessing," Zoey says, her voice warm like honey tea.

" Yes, it' s been a while to see your eyes sparkled like this," Nina adds, hoping to make her voice tremble slightly.

Been a while? I wonder what hollow-eyed ghost the real Athene must have been before today.

" Really?" I ask, deliberately softening my voice to a melodic lilt, widening my eyes with practiced innocence.

" How do I usually move through the world each day before?" 

I tilt my head just so, careful to maintain the façade of gentle curiosity while my mind calculates their every reaction.

Nina's warm fingers suddenly curl around mine, her thumb brushing over my knuckles as she speaks. 

"You know what, my lady, you used to lock yourself in the room all day." 

Her voice quivers like a leaf in autumn. 

"You seemed to be preoccupied all the time, staring at nothing for hours. And it makes me feel so sad seeing you being sad and I can' t help you." 

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, the morning light catching the moisture.

Zoey's sharp elbow nudges Nina aside. Her brows knit together, lips pressed into a thin line. 

"This girl," she hisses through clenched teeth, " you see she is happy now. Why would you bring up the sad past to her? Get yourself together, Nina. Our lady is still in recovery." 

Her protective stance reminds me of a mother hen.

I force my lips into a curve, letting out a small, artificial laugh that hangs in the tense air between us.

" It' s okay, I am fine. When she tells me everything, even about sadness, it only makes me feel like my memory comes back." 

The rigid lines of their shoulders soften, their exhales creating a synchronized sigh of relief.

"It' s such a pleasure to hear this, my lady," Zoey says, her stern expression melting into a genuine smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes.

 "And to see you are fresh again. How about I show you about your residence?"  She extends her hand toward the hallway, where sunlight spills across the polished floor.

" Yes, please," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.