After breakfast, it was finally time to leave for the capital.

Mary had already helped me get ready.

More importantly, she had somehow managed to hide the dark circles beneath my eyes.

I still didn't understand how noble ladies survived this much preparation before leaving the house.

By the time I stepped outside, a carriage was already waiting.

What I hadn't expected was the crowd.

Almost everyone from the mansion had gathered near the entrance.

Servants.

Maids.

Knights.

Even the gardeners.

They were all watching Mother and me.

The moment they saw me, several of them immediately looked concerned.

"My Lady, are you feeling alright?"

"You don't need to force yourself."

"You only woke up a few days ago."

"You can rest more if you're tired."

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

For a moment, I couldn't understand what was happening.

Why were they looking at me like that?

Why did they sound so worried?

Why did it feel like I was leaving for war instead of shopping for a dress?

"I'm fine," I said quietly.

No one looked convinced.

Not even a little.

A maid near the front looked ready to cry.

"My Lady, please don't overwork yourself."

Another servant quickly nodded.

"Yes! The dress can wait."

"The ball cannot wait," Mother replied calmly.

Everyone immediately fell silent.

Mother smiled softly.

"But if Seraphina feels unwell, we'll return immediately."

Several servants visibly relaxed.

I stared at them.

A strange feeling settled inside my chest.

Not happiness.

Not exactly.

Just something heavy.

A week ago, nobody would have noticed if I disappeared.

In my previous life, I could spend an entire day without anyone asking if I had eaten.

Without anyone wondering where I was.

Without anyone caring.

Now an entire mansion looked worried because I wanted to leave for a few hours.

It didn't feel real.

Part of me still expected someone to tell me it was all a mistake.

That none of this belonged to me.

Father stepped forward first.

His silver hair caught the morning sunlight.

"You don't have to push yourself."

His voice was gentle.

"If you become tired, return immediately."

I nodded.

"I will."

He looked relieved.

The sight made my chest ache for reasons I couldn't explain.

Then Lucian stepped forward.

Unlike Father, he looked deeply suspicious.

As if I were planning something.

"You're pale."

"I'm always pale."

"You look more pale than usual."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Father sighed.

Mother rolled her eyes.

Lucian remained unconvinced.

Eventually, he reached into his coat and handed me a small leather pouch.

I accepted it automatically.

"What is this?"

"Emergency funds."

I opened it.

My eyes widened.

There was far too much money inside.

"Lucian."

"What?"

"This could buy a small house."

"You never know."

I stared at him.

"You think I'll accidentally purchase property?"

"It could happen."

"To who?"

"You."

For a brief moment, everyone laughed.

Even Mother.

Even Father.

I lowered my gaze.

The sound felt warm.

Comfortable.

The kind of warmth I had spent years imagining.

Yet instead of enjoying it, guilt quietly twisted inside me.

Because I wasn't the person they were laughing with.

I was only borrowing her place.

After a few more warnings about resting, eating properly, and not overexerting myself, Mother finally ushered me toward the carriage.

As I climbed inside, I looked back one last time.

The servants were still watching.

Father was still watching.

Lucian was still watching.

The gardener was waving.

One of the maids looked close to tears.

I didn't understand it.

I really didn't.

How could people care this much?

The carriage door closed.

And just like that—

We began our journey toward the capital.

The mansion slowly disappeared behind us.

I rested my head against the window.

Fields stretched across the horizon.

The morning sun painted everything gold.

Beautiful.

Peaceful.

For the first time in years, I wasn't rushing somewhere.

I wasn't trying to avoid someone.

I wasn't wondering how I would survive the next day.

Yet the emptiness inside me remained.

Maybe wounds didn't disappear just because life changed.

Maybe they followed you.

Across worlds.

Across lives.

Across death itself.

I watched the passing scenery quietly.

The capital.

The center of the empire.

The place where the story truly began.

The place where Seraphina's tragedy started.

And soon—

The place where I would meet one of my favorite characters.

Isolde Marianne Virelith.

The villainess.

The girl everyone hated.

The girl nobody saved.

The girl who smiled during her execution.

My fingers tightened slightly against my skirt.

Mother was sitting across from me.

She had been quietly watching me for several minutes.

I only realized it when she finally spoke.

"What happened, dear?"

I looked up.

"Hm?"

"You look troubled."

I immediately shook my head.

"It's nothing."

The answer came too quickly.

Mother didn't seem convinced.

For some reason, that made me feel guilty.

Everyone here worried so easily.

Sometimes I wondered if they knew how exhausting it was to be cared for.

Not because I disliked it.

But because I didn't know how to carry it.

So I smiled.

A small one.

Just enough to reassure her.

Or at least I hoped it did.

Mother relaxed slightly.

Yet her eyes remained gentle.

Still watching.

Still worried.

As if she could somehow see through me.

I quickly looked away.

The silence stretched between us.

Outside, golden fields rolled past the carriage window.

The scenery was beautiful.

I knew it was beautiful.

Yet I felt strangely detached from it.

Like I was watching someone else's life.

Someone else's happiness.

Someone else's family.

Before I could stop myself, I quietly muttered,

"Mother is beautiful."

The words slipped out accidentally.

Mother blinked.

Then smiled.

A bright smile.

The kind that immediately warmed the carriage.

"You know," she said softly, "you look exactly like me."

I knew.

Everyone kept saying it.

Still, hearing it from her felt different.

For a moment, she looked almost nostalgic.

"When you were younger, you used to complain about it."

I blinked.

"I did?"

"Constantly."

Mother laughed.

"You insisted that Father and Lucian had silver hair, so you wanted silver hair too."

I stared at her.

That sounded exactly like something a child would do.

A real child.

A loved child.

For some reason, that image made my chest hurt.

I wondered what Seraphina had been like as a little girl.

I wondered if she had been happy.

The thought appeared suddenly.

And somehow it made me sad.

Because I would never know her.

Not really.

Not the girl everyone loved.

Not the daughter sitting in their memories.

I lowered my eyes.

Maybe that was why the guilt never disappeared.

Trying to change the subject, I asked,

"What kind of dress are you planning to wear?"

Mother's eyes immediately brightened.

Apparently, this was a dangerous question.

"I'll be matching your father."

I blinked.

"Matching?"

"Of course."

She looked genuinely confused by my confusion.

"We'll both wear blue."

That seemed surprisingly cute.

Then again, my parents were disgustingly in love.

Even I could see that.

"What about Lucian?" I asked.

Mother smiled.

"He'll wear blue as well."

"Why?"

She stared at me.

Then laughed softly.

"You don't remember?"

I shook my head.

"It was your idea."

My idea?

Mother nodded.

"You suggested years ago that our family should wear matching colors at important events."

I blinked.

"Why?"

"'So everyone knows we're a team.'"

Mother quoted the words perfectly.

For a moment, I couldn't say anything.

A team.

Such a simple thing.

Yet I had never belonged to one.

Not in my previous life.

Not at school.

Not at home.

Not anywhere.

I forced a small smile.

"Oh."

Mother reached across the carriage and gently adjusted a loose strand of my hair.

"You were very proud of that idea."

I looked down.

My reflection faintly appeared in the carriage window.

Pink hair.

Red eyes.

Seraphina's face.

Not mine.

Yet everyone looked at me with affection.

Because of her.

Because of the girl who had once said,

"Let's wear matching colors so everyone knows we're a team."

The guilt returned again.

Quiet.

Familiar.

Heavy.

But this time—

Something else appeared beside it.

A strange feeling.

Small.

Fragile.

Warm.

And for the first time, I found myself wondering—

What if being part of a family really did feel like this?