We packed our things early that morning. The air was heavy with silence, the kind that comes before parting.
Clara stood by the doorway, wringing her hands. Her eyes shimmered with guilt as she dropped to her knees.
"I'm so sorry, my lady," she whispered.
I moved toward her and gently took her trembling hands.
"It's not your fault, Clara," I said softly. "You couldn't have known I was kidnapped… right?"
Her gaze faltered. She didn't answer—couldn't. She just looked down, lips pressed together, her shoulders rigid with something unspoken. A flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Was she also a victim of Lily's parents? Or simply too afraid to speak?
I stared at her, a mix of disbelief and pity swirling in my chest. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a few quarters and placed them gently into her hand.
She didn't look up.
Without another word, I turned and closed the door behind me.
Julian was finishing his packing when I found him. His movements were steady, purposeful. I wondered, briefly, if he would be the one to heal me—not just my wounds, but the ache buried deeper. And yet, a strange memory haunted me. I had seen him near the western edge of the forest… and yet I awoke with my wounds mended in the east. Had Julian somehow teleported? Or had someone else healed me?
I watched him in silence.
"Big brother," I said at last, "are you sure you didn't postpone your meeting with the Viscount for my sake?"
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes warm. "Don't worry about it, Lily."
I felt a lump in my throat. He had spent so much money, time, and care on a stranger wearing his sister's face. Guilt clawed at me. I wanted to tell him the truth. Everything. That I wasn't Lily. That I had no right to call him brother.
"Julian, I want to tell you something."
He raised a brow. "Julian—that's a first."
"Please. Just… listen."
He set his things down and took a seat. "Alright."
I took a breath. "Julian… I'm not your sister."
He laughed softly, waiting for the punchline. But I didn't smile.
"I'm not joking. I'm a twenty-four-year-old woman who somehow ended up in your sister's body."
His expression slowly shifted, amusement giving way to confusion.
"What is that supposed to be? A joke?"
"No," I said firmly. "It's the truth. Ask me something—something only your sister would know."
He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. What did we do when you were eight?"
I hesitated. "Eight... something about petting a horse?"
He shook his head. "No. You must've forgotten. Or..."
"I can't even play the piano," I said quickly. "I asked Emily to mess with the keys so it would sound like I could."
"What?!"
"That's why I cooked a new dish. For you. For Her Highness. I couldn't keep up the act forever."
Julian's expression finally cracked. He looked at me, really looked—and the disbelief in his eyes began to tremble into something else. Grief.
"Then… what happened to my sister?" he asked, voice hollow. He sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands.
"I don't know," I whispered.
And he wept—openly, painfully—in front of the stranger who had taken his sister's place.
I stood there, helpless, watching Julian collapse beneath the weight of a truth no one should ever have to bear. For a long moment, I didn't speak. What could I say? What comfort could a thief of identity offer?
I knelt beside him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I never meant—"
"Tell me," he interrupted, his voice hoarse but steady, his eyes red and brimming with anguish. "Exactly how did you possess my sister? From the beginning. Before and after."
His gaze was pleading, not with anger, but with a desperate hunger for answers. For understanding. For some thread of reason to hold on to.
I hesitated, then nodded.
And so, I began to tell him everything.
Earlier, in the Kingdom of Lysoria...
I finally finished reading the book—the one Lily had left me—and with it, the final piece of my plan clicked into place.
"Emily, go clean the windows in every room," one of the maids barked, her voice sharp with disdain. They thought they were clever, sending me to do the dirtiest, most thankless jobs. But they had no idea I was already several steps ahead. As they continued to harass and mock me, I kept my head down and quietly set my plan in motion.
After completing my chores, I was just returning to the courtyard when a sudden scream pierced the air.
Then another.
And another.
It was as if the entire maid staff had erupted in collective terror. I turned the corner just in time to see a group of them stumbling into the hallway, covered in mud, smashed pies, rotten food, and crawling insects. Their dresses were soaked, their hair tangled, their expressions wild with disbelief.
"IT WAS HER!" one shrieked, pointing directly at me. "SHE PLANNED THIS!"
Before they could rush me, the head maid appeared, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
"STOP!" she bellowed, and the crowd froze mid-step.
She stepped forward, arms crossed, her presence like a storm barely contained. "Someone, explain. What happened?"
The maids launched into a frantic, overlapping mess of explanations and accusations. The head maid held up a hand.
"One at a time," she said firmly.
And so, they ranted about the filthy traps they'd fallen into, the sabotaged laundry, the pantry insects, the sudden chaos that had ruined them in front of guests. Each of them spoke with rising desperation.
When they were finished, the head maid turned to them with cold, cutting clarity.
"So, let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You forced Emily to do every single chore in this mansion—and now you think she took revenge on you for it?"
No one answered.
She looked around the room, her expression like a drawn blade. "Do you have any proof she did this?"
Silence.
The maids shifted uncomfortably. One glanced at the floor. Another opened her mouth, then closed it.
"I see," the head maid said, her voice now quiet—but dangerous. "Let me make something clear. If any of you think you can play games here—spread baseless accusations or bully someone under my roof—you'll be out on the street faster than you can blink. And I'll make certain not one of you finds work again in all of Lysoria. Understood?"
The maids nodded, pale and horrified.
I stood there in the corner, silent, watching their disgrace unfold like the pages of a book I had already read. My heart was calm. My face was unreadable.
Looks like Miss Lily's lesson paid off.