“Y-yes, Milady…?”
“Did you happen to cross paths with anyone unusual that day?”
“No. I… I came straight to the ducal estate right after my mother passed. I never once set foot outside Birch Castle after that. I only ever saw the people who lived here. Please believe me, Milady…”
“Then do you have any idea how that voice managed to get inside your head?”
Hannah froze, her tear-stained face crumbling as she struggled to speak through a sob.
“Ever since the memories came back, I… I haven’t been able to think about anything else. I kept asking myself what that voice even was. Why did it pick me? Why was I the one possessed…”
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she buried her face in both hands.
“No matter how hard I search my memory, I come up empty. I don’t know anything. I’m sorry. I truly am. I know it sounds like an excuse, like I’m just trying to wriggle out of blame, but I swear I had no idea. It just… happened without a shred of warning. No signs, nothing. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry, Milady…”
“Understood.”
Rita cut in flatly, turning on her heel to sit back down on the settee without another word.
There were no warnings before my own nightmare that night either. Pascal is a sorcerer who toys with human memory. He must have cast a spell so delicate no ordinary person could ever notice.
She felt no real anger toward Hannah. The girl had been barely twelve at the time, nothing more than a puppet strung up by an overpowering mage. Confusion weighed far heavier than any sense of betrayal.
I don’t understand. Why?
Why would a grand mage snatch a child from another world only to forge her into a weapon? Why take such a twisted, convoluted path? And how was such a feat even possible?
Was it truly pure chance that I was shoved into Dorothy’s body—a girl who looked so much like Hannah?
What tied Hannah and Dorothy together? Simple coincidence, or something deeper? Either way, Rita had no choice: she had to keep Hannah close until she unraveled the truth.
If Pascal hijacked Hannah once… he could easily do it again.
For all she knew, this maid was the sole surviving tether connecting this world to Pascal.
What should I do with her now?
If the truth of what happened a decade ago ever came to light, Hannah’s life would be forfeit. Even if she had been a child acting under another’s command, an orphaned commoner who abducted the duke’s daughter would meet a swift execution—and a quick death would be merciful.
Hannah had to know that. If survival was her aim, the sane choice would have been to flee the moment her memories returned.
Instead, she had walked straight to Lilietta and confessed everything. Even with a jagged shard pressed to her throat and hands wrapped around her neck, she had shown not a spark of resentment. By all appearances, she was the very portrait of a loyal, guilt-stricken servant.
…Yet it could still be an act. What if she was his accomplice from the start? What if, upon hearing I’d regained my memories, she rushed to confess first just to divert suspicion?
The odds were slim, of course. A freshly orphaned twelve-year-old grieving her mother hardly made a convincing conspirator.
Still, unlikely was not impossible. If Pascal had controlled her repeatedly over the years, she might have served him without realizing it. Or she could be thoroughly brainwashed.
Rita had seen plenty of seemingly gentle souls unmask themselves as traitors or warp into demonic beasts. You always prepared for the worst.
Which was she?
Rita tapped a finger against her lip in thought, turning the possibilities over before settling on a verdict.
“Hannah.”
“Hic… yes, Milady…?”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“Are… are you going to punish me…?”
“No. You will remain my personal maid.”
“…What?”
Hannah’s head jerked up in bewilderment. Rita met her stare without flinching. She could not cast out or execute someone who might hold the key to the whole mystery. It was far safer to keep the girl where she could be watched.
If she truly is just another victim burdened by guilt, she can become a valuable ally. And if she’s his pawn, the result is the same: she remains useful. My only real line to Pascal.
Rita kept her voice entirely steady.
“Hannah, you said you were truly sorry, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes…”
“Then prove it. From this moment on, dedicate yourself wholly to me.”
“—!”
“I will believe you. I’ll believe that you never intended to kidnap me, and that you remembered none of it until yesterday.”
“…Do you… do you really believe me?”
“Yes, Hannah. I believe you.”
Of course she didn’t. Trust was never handed out so cheaply. But people who sensed suspicion were always the first to turn. Sow doubt, and even the innocent would look for a way out.
‘Why say that just now? Rita, whatever the situation, always tell them you believe them first. Showing doubt never does any good. Just don’t make the mistake of actually trusting them.’
The guilty would lower their guard; the innocent would drown in gratitude. One made the traitor easy to catch; the other forged a loyal follower.
That had been Gide’s philosophy.
Gide Pascal had always possessed an instinctive grasp of people. That was why, when they formed Beacon together, he took command, and she became his second.
She missed him. She missed all of them.
I’ll never see them again. Still, they must be alive over there.
Rita brushed the lingering thoughts aside and refocused on Hannah, whose expression was raw with relief.
“Since I am choosing to believe you, you must repay that trust with your loyalty. That is how you will make amends.”
“Y-yes! Absolutely! Thank you, Milady! Thank you so much! You’ve spared my life, and I swear I’ll serve you with everything I have for as long as I live!”
Hannah crumpled to her knees, weeping openly. Rita let out a faint breath.
First, I need to examine the slipper scrap and those box fragments. I’ll have to test Hannah too. Since I promised trust, I should give her a task—something low-risk, easily verified, like gathering rumors.
After a brief pause, Rita spoke.
“There is something I need you to do for me.”
“Yes, anything, Milady! Just name it!”
“Put together a detailed account of everything that happened in Birch Castle while I was gone. How the estate changed over the past ten years, and how every member of this family fared. You’ve worked here the entire time, so you should know better than anyone, shouldn’t you?”
“Of course! Leave it to me!”
Hannah squeezed her fists tight in resolve, drawing a faint smile from Rita.
Ten years under this roof makes her capable enough. It’s not sensitive material, it’s easy to cross-check, and it’s well within her reach. The perfect test.
Besides, Rita genuinely needed an outsider’s perspective on what the family had endured in Lilietta’s absence.
Lilietta had always been the fragile youngest daughter of House Laskail, fiercely sheltered even before she vanished. Now that she had returned out of nowhere after ten years, her family would be walking on eggshells around her.
Especially Leon. He would swallow every bitter pill before burdening his little sister with painful truths. But I need the whole picture.
Fragments of stories she had already gathered drifted through her mind—whispers from maids, the butler, the gardener. The night Richard showed up smelling of liquor. The memory of the duchess throwing herself into the freezing lake in the dead of night.
Every single one of them is broken in their own way.
And it all began when Lilietta disappeared. Rita wanted to mend the cracks left behind. Only then would being here ever feel like coming home.
***
The duchess, who had drifted to sleep under the haze of her medicine, finally stirred that afternoon. The moment Leonhart and Lilietta entered the bedchamber, she scrambled out of bed and rushed toward them.
“Lili!”
Her gaze completely bypassed the eldest son standing right beside her daughter.
“It isn’t a dream. It isn’t a dream at all!”
Color surged into her pale, hollowed cheeks like rain soaking into parched earth. Trembling hands reached up to cradle Lilietta’s face.
“You came back to me. Oh, my Lili, thank heaven. I would know you anywhere, no matter how many years passed. The second I saw you, I knew. My precious girl, my angel, my sweet little fairy…”
Lilietta leaned softly into the warmth of her mother’s touch.
“Yes, Mother. It’s me. It’s Lilietta.”
“Oh…”
A fresh flood of tears streamed down the duchess’s cheeks.
“Lili… where on earth have you been all these years?”
“Somewhere very far away. I didn’t know the way back. That’s why… it took me so long.”
“Far away? How did you survive out there? Were you hurt? Did you suffer?”