Chapter 002: Dreams

All around the estate, crimson lanterns were hung high, chasing away the cold that the snowfall had brought. Reginald Riley stood at the entrance with his servants, that usually stern face softening somewhat with affection.

Lina Riley stood behind her father, studying his back and recalling memories of another lifetime. In that previous life, after her elder sister Sophia Riley took her own life, Reginald lost his will to fight and fell in battle to enemy arrows. Lina then replaced her father, and within three months, she drove the enemy back.

Retracting her gaze, Lina realized she felt little for this father.

Snow covered the world outside like a white carpet. Hoofbeats approached, accompanied by the jingle of silver bells. First appeared several armored soldiers guarding a plain carriage at the center, the soft chime coming from bells strapped around the horse's neck.

As they neared the estate's main gate, the soldiers split into two formations, letting the carriage pull up to the entrance. A slender hand lifted the curtain, revealing a black-garbed attendant with a sword and high ponytail, who hopped nimbly out. Then she turned and held out a hand to someone inside.

Lina was genuinely pleased to see her elder sister again. Despite Sophia's favored upbringing, she wasn't spoiled in the slightest—her pride ran deep, yet she and Lina were never very close.

Sophia emerged from the carriage with help. Not having felt the wind inside her warm, fur-lined transport, she nearly choked on the cold air the moment she stepped down, bursting into a fit of coughing.

Already worried, Reginald hurried forward. Seeing his cherished daughter so unwell, he grumbled impatiently, "Help Miss Sophia inside at once!"

A throng of attendants scurried about, crowding around Sophia to usher her in. In the commotion, someone shoved Lina aside, though Daisy Harper managed to catch her. Then, with the bustle gone, only Lina and her young maid remained.

Even if Lina hadn't lived through life-and-death struggles, she wouldn't have taken offense at being ignored. But Daisy was too impulsive. Feeling sorry for her mistress, she puffed, "All that fuss over a bit of coughing!"

Alarmed, Lina promptly clapped a hand over Daisy's mouth, shooting her a warning look. Only then did Daisy quieten down.

The house was in turmoil with the eldest daughter's return, but Lina slipped away from the uproar, retreating to her own little space.

Sitting on her bed, she thought back to what happened in her previous life around this time. According to memory, soon after Sophia's homecoming, word of it reached The Princess Royal. She sent an order summoning the entire family to the palace. There, Lina chanced upon Victoria Ashwood, beaten by palace maids. Lina, though typically not one to intervene, took pity and rescued her.

From there, Victoria kept reappearing, repaying Lina's kindness. Lina, starved of any real warmth in her life, eventually let down her guard. Step by step, she was pulled from her quiet existence into the center of a power struggle—one that lasted thirteen years.

Lina narrowed her eyes, stifling the hatred that burned within. She couldn't wait to see Victoria again.

In the study, Sophia lay on a fur-draped reclining chair, the black pelt highlighting her pallid features. She was like a fragile porcelain figure that might crack at the slightest pressure. The fragrance of hot tea lingered, a delicate screen between her and her father. Reginald's eyes shone with undisguised pity.

Of all his children, Sophia most resembled him—but she'd inherited not only his features but also a frail constitution. He had called in doctors from far and wide, but no treatment had worked, so all he could do was keep her comfortable, hoping she would live as long as possible.

Sensing his watchful gaze, Sophia smiled wanly. "Life and death follow their course, Father. Don't fret too much."

Reginald only shook his head, pushing a teacup on the desk farther away. Sighing, he said, "I'll have to plead with The Princess Royal. If anyone can track down that eccentric healer, it's her."

Hearing the name "The Princess Royal," Sophia's face hardened. "Think carefully, Father. She's unpredictable, and the slightest misstep might doom the entire family. This is too risky."

Merely recalling that figure left Reginald's blood running cold. He was a veteran general with a string of victories; most would think twice before provoking him. But that woman paid no mind to such things. If she wanted a person gone, she'd eliminate them and promptly replace them with someone even more capable.

She also held grudges. Whether male or female, none could woo her. One foreign prince, emboldened by his station, once showered her with crass insults. She killed him on the spot, then personally led an army to capture his nation's capital. Its royal family still toiled as common laborers in her domain, and she would occasionally stop by to whip those who slacked off.

The more Reginald remembered, the more his legs trembled. Wiping sweat from his brow, he glanced at his daughter's ashen face, renewing his resolve—he had to take the gamble for her sake. Thinking fast, he weighed how to arrange a meeting with The Princess Royal. She was elusive, so tracking her down might be near impossible. But Sophia's health was dire, leaving him no choice.

Just then, brisk footsteps approached, followed by a swift knocking at the door. A panting servant's voice called out, "General, Samuel Whitaker is here with a decree from Her Majesty, summoning you and your two daughters to the palace. He says The Princess Royal will attend."

Reginald was delighted—like receiving a pillow just as he was dozing off. He helped his daughter outside to bow in gratitude.

Meanwhile, Lina knelt behind them, characteristically quiet, easily overlooked. She calmly watched the swirl of activity in the courtyard. She saw Reginald and Whitaker exchanging pleasantries, and inwardly she breathed easier. Everything was unfolding exactly as in her last life, which reassured her. If she could be reborn, there was always a chance someone else had, too—but for now, events seemed unchanged.

Still kneeling, she mused deeply, unconsciously straightening her spine—a habit from her soldiering days. This caught someone's attention.

Sophia, noticing her sister's grave expression, saw an unexpected air of strength about Lina. She was taken aback. As far as Sophia remembered, Lina always stood at a distance, head bowed, to the point she could hardly recall Lina's face. Now that she looked more closely, she realized her sister had grown into a poised young woman.

With a hint of admiration, Sophia felt a desire to bond. She spoke up. "Lina, what are you thinking?"

Startled by the abrupt question, Lina was vexed at the new concern her sister was showing—something that never happened in the previous life. She warily wondered if Sophia, too, had been reborn. But if so, why the sudden warmth?

Suppressing her confusion, Lina lowered her head humbly. "I've never set foot in the palace, Sister, so I'm a little uneasy."

That was reason enough for Sophia to accept. Gazing at her sister's meager ornaments, Sophia unpinned a golden hair-ornament from her own hair and handed it to Lina with a gentle smile. "Don't worry. Just stay close to me tomorrow."

Momentarily dumbfounded, Lina reached out to return the valuable pin, but Sophia started coughing again.

Immediately, the entire household bustled about, helping Sophia away. Their noisy departure left only Daisy with Lina once more.

The gold pin felt heavy in Lina's grasp, shaped into a small swallow with a ruby clutched in its beak. Lina wasn't one to care for jewelry, but anything Sophia owned had to be of superior quality. She recognized it. In her previous life, Victoria kept the same ornament locked in her dressing box but never wore it—occasionally taking it out for careful polishing.

She certainly hadn't noticed such things in the past. Always ducking her head around Sophia, Lina rarely saw her accessories. Only that Sophia once lost a favorite pin in the palace; lacking free access to retrieve it, the matter was dropped.

Turning it over, Lina let out a quiet, bitter laugh. It was all so obvious now, but back then, she had been blind—literally and figuratively—unwilling to see.

Daisy, feeling slightly awkward, ventured, "Actually, Miss Sophia is quite nice."

She wasn't wrong. Sophia had a kind heart. She had even sacrificed herself for the country's sake. But her frailty limited her. Had she been healthy, she might well have become a renowned general.

Back in her room, Lina spent a while staring at the hairpin before locking it away safely. By the window, clusters of winter blossoms were in bloom. Feeling a whimsical urge, Lina went outside and stood beneath the branches, breathing in the crisp fragrance that mingled with the cold air. But after a moment, the dazzling whiteness stung her eyes, so she hurried back indoors.

As night fell, Lina pondered what might happen tomorrow. She resolved to rest well. Not long after washing, she settled in bed, but her thoughts buzzed with so many worries that drowsiness overtook her instantly.

In the haze of her dreams, she found herself facing a lonely grave—her own. Weed-covered and weathered by time, it stood starkly in a vast emptiness. The chill scent of winter blossoms drifted by. Someone approached, placing a bowl of simple wine at the graveside. Silent sorrow weighed the atmosphere, stifling her breath. She couldn't see the woman's face through her white robes—only that she was female, from her figure. Lina's memories yielded no clue about such a person.

Curious, Lina tried to move closer but felt an unseen force pushing her away, so she dared not advance. She only watched, from a distance, the silent figure in mourning. The woman left her cup behind, then drew a flute from her sleeve. Its lamenting melody brimmed with anger and regret, and underneath, an all-consuming longing.