“Come in.”
The latch clicked, and Leonhart stepped into the room, tension written in every line of his face. Lilietta had wept herself to sleep the previous evening, so it came as no surprise that he had rushed over at daybreak, bristling with unspoken questions.
Lilietta lifted a small card bearing a pressed four-leaf clover.
“Remember this?”
“Rita…”
“Graduation exams weren’t pass-or-fail, were they?”
Leonhart lowered his eyes toward the weathered slip of paper nestled in her palm.
[I found it!
Good luck on your exam, Leon!]
“You were studying for your final tests at the academy back then. But those exams only determine ranking; no one actually fails. I didn’t know any better. I thought it was just like your entrance trials, or the examinations Richard took to join the Holy Knights.”
Leonhart’s eyes widened, and a faint smile touched Lilietta’s lips.
“So I wrote ‘Good luck’ on that card. You didn’t correct me, though. You only chuckled, kissed my cheek, and promised you’d be sure to pass before you headed off. It wasn’t until you were gone that Richard teased me about getting it all wrong.”
“…”
“That was our last time together, wasn’t it, Leon?”
She shut the little matchbox that held the keepsake and extended it toward him.
“Before you even returned from the academy… I was gone.”
Her voice caught, swept away by a sudden tide of emotion. Leonhart stood petrified, his hand unable to take the box. His breath hitched in his throat, and when he finally managed a word, his voice cracked far worse than hers.
“Lili… your memories… have they…”
“Yes. Everything came back. Every single detail.”
“…Thank the heavens.”
Leonhart lurched forward, throwing his arms around her. His broad, towering frame shuddered violently as he drew her close.
“Lili… it’s really… it’s really you…”
“Yes.”
This time, she did not shrink away. Wrapping her arms around him, the matchbox still clutched in her hand, she returned the embrace.
Ten agonizing years. Muffled sobs broke against her ear, and warm tears soaked into the fabric at her shoulder as he clung to her. She let out a long, quiet sigh.
“You were right, Leon. I really am Lilietta. I forgot who I was, and I couldn't even recognize my own family.”
Holding tight to the brother she had once failed to remember, she murmured softly,
“None of you ever gave up on me. But I resented you, convinced I’d been abandoned, never knowing how desperately you were searching. I’m so sorry…”
“Don't be.”
His voice wavered as his hand smoothed over her hair again and again.
“Hate us as much as you like. You’re home, Lili. You’re here with us. Nothing else matters.”
Lilietta rested her cheek against his chest.
“I’m home, Leon.”
“—!”
Words failed him. He simply collapsed against his little sister, though she was barely half his size.
A full decade had slipped away since their youngest vanished, unraveling the once-blessed warmth of their family.
With their mother wasting away, their father enduring in grim silence, and his younger brother buckling under the crushing guilt, the eldest son had shouldered the entire burden alone, putting on a brave face every single day.
Now, at long last, the dam broke.
Because he hadn't wept as visibly as his mother, nor grown as hollow as his father, nor spiraled as frantically as his brother, he had never allowed himself to show his own sorrow.
He still remembered arriving at Birch Castle fresh from his academy graduation, carrying sweets and a doll to surprise Lilietta in return for her lucky clover. The moment the grim news reached his ears, those gifts had tumbled straight through his limp fingers.
It was the grief he had swallowed down ever since that dark day. He had refused to falter before a weeping mother, a father frozen in shock, and a younger brother pale as a ghost.
“Lili… Lili, I missed you so much. I refused to believe you were gone… Thank you for staying alive. Thank you for coming back to us…”
Lilietta had always remembered her eldest brother as an unshakeable pillar of composure. Seeing him break down like this, clutching her so desperately, was entirely unexpected.
Even so, she remained steady. She held him fast, understanding the immense weight he had carried in silence all these years.
***
Leonhart eventually hurried off, his eyes still red and swollen, to dispatch a letter to their father.
Days earlier, the Duke had departed for the capital, unable to bear the sight of a girl who wore his daughter’s exact face yet might not be Lilietta at all.
So he really had been running from me.
While affairs in the capital required his presence, the true reason was his fear of crumbling if he had to face her directly.
“Father traveled to the Magic Tower in the capital to research dark arts, since Richard suspected you might have been possessed… We’ll send word for his immediate return, though the journey will still take a few days.”
“Mother remains confined to her bed. Collapsing into the lake took a heavy toll on her health, and she’s resting under the effect of her medicine… She has been asking for you constantly, so we’ll go to her side shortly.”
“Richard slipped out again, though he usually returns by nightfall. Now that you are home, perhaps he will finally steady himself.”
“Lili, there is so much I long to hear and so much to ask—how you’ve lived, what occurred that dreadful night… But I won't force you to repeat yourself. We will wait until the entire family is gathered. I know it won’t be easy to speak of.”
That had been Leonhart's farewell before taking his leave, insisting he would manage the estate while she rested. Even after a decade apart, her eldest brother had not changed. Beneath his austere exterior, he remained unfailingly gentle and considerate toward her.
The only one who had truly changed was me.
The innocent, pampered Lilietta who had known only affection and comfort was gone. Twelve years of surviving as Rita Pascal had left her intimately acquainted with cruelty and human ugliness. She no longer had the luxury of being swept away by sentiment. In the harsh crucible she had endured, emotion was an unaffordable excess.
Why did I ever follow her outside that night?
With the return of her memories came the vivid recall of that evening. A bitter frustration rose against her younger self, though in truth, she understood.
I was far too sheltered. I had no playmates, so I was an easy target for anyone my age. Ruminating on it now changes nothing…
Other matters demanded her attention.
“I-I am Hannah, a maid of the ducal estate. Beginning today, I am tasked with serving you, Milady…”
The red-haired girl had introduced herself with a tearful, trembling voice—the very same girl who had lured her into the night ten years ago.
“Yet Hannah couldn't have been the true mastermind. A twelve-year-old orphan taken in after her mother’s passing couldn't possibly carry out such an abduction alone. Her vacant manner that night was far too strange.”
A thrall or an enchantment had likely held her sway. If that held true, she probably remembered nothing of it—a conclusion reinforced by her continued presence as a servant here.
Even so, Lilietta needed answers. She had to uncover how and why she had disappeared, and why her soul was thrust into a vessel bearing Hannah's likeness to live as Rita Pascal. For now, Hannah remained her solitary thread of truth.
Pascal… who was he truly? Even for an archmage, ripping a soul from another world seemed unthinkable. Was it truly possible? Did he possess an accomplice on this side?
And even if such sorcery existed, why go to such lengths? Why kidnap a soul, erase its memories, and graft it onto an orphan’s flesh? Merely to fashion a potent warrior? Constructing an automaton or a golem would have been vastly simpler and quicker. Some deeper motive had driven him to such convoluted means.
And why her specifically? Were the other children under Pascal’s roof bound to the same fate? If so…
When they perish, do their souls also return to their original bodies?
A maxim Pascal had instilled in his charges suddenly resonated in her thoughts. As if under a spell, she whispered the words aloud.
“Do not fear death.
For your death shall become the seed of hope.”
Had that been his true meaning all along? That they were never destined to end in that world, because their genuine lives waited somewhere beyond?
…Could it really be?
Were they all gathered from this very realm, or drawn from disparate worlds? If the former held true, and dying returned them to their rightful forms, then… might she cross paths with them once more?
My squad mates are likely still alive, so our paths won't cross. But those who fell before me… I might just find them. Provided we truly hailed from the same place…
They were mere conjectures, yet possibilities she could hardly discard. A mountain of riddles lay before her to unravel.
One step at a time. First things first…
She resolved to have the butler summon Hannah, but before she could ring for him, a quiet knock sounded at the door.
“Milady… it is Hannah. M-May I enter?”