Rosalind frowned as the light hit her eyes. She blinked several times in confusion.
Wasn't she dead?
Her brows furrowed as she surveyed the room, taking in the peeling brown walls, the scratched wooden floor, the pathetic set of furniture…
Wasn't this her room from a long, long time ago?
As she looked around in panic, her eyes caught sight of her pale, jadelike hands.
Hands she had lost years ago with the blessing. When the Goddess stripped her of the blessing, her skin had shriveled up as if it was burnt. She had always hated how her hands looked, how they felt, and, worst of all, how they attracted looks of contempt and pity from strangers.
But before Rosalind could fully register the joy of having her hands back, a gust of wind sent her shivering uncontrollably. She remembered that she had no fireplace to warm her during winter. The cold was a constant reminder that no one in the Lux household cared enough to give her decent heating just because of her black hair.
Perhaps after all these years she was still that abandoned, unwanted disgrace that her family wanted to hide away.
Suddenly feeling nostalgic, Rosalind got up and walked towards a small mirror that she had secretly taken after Dorothy threw it away on her birthday last fall. The floorboard creaked like it always did.
Staring at the reflection of her younger self, Rosalind mused that if this was dying, then dying was less frightening than she had thought. Maybe the Goddess had indeed taken pity on her and given her one last dream.
In the mirror, Rosalind's hair was still black, her eyes still golden. When she left the house, she blended in with the crowds. And that, to the prestigious Lux family, was akin to a sin. The sin of daring to look like a normal person while being part of the Eight Great Families.
She looked exactly like she did before.
Except…
Where was her necklace?
Rosalind rushed back to her bed and rummaged through the thin blankets and flat pillows. Her bed was a simple one and she quickly realized that the necklace was simply not on it. In a panic, Rosalind began digging through her small chest drawer containing only four sets of dresses.
That necklace was nothing expensive. Its design was simple and old-fashioned. But it was a gift from her late mother. It was something that Rosalind had carried with her since she was five.
As she shook one of her dresses for the second time in the vain hope that the necklace was caught in the fabric, a weird thought crossed her head. With some hesitation, she gave her leg a long, hard pinch.
"Aw!" Tears instantly welled up in her eyes.
The pain meant that this wasn't a dream!
Had she just come back from the dead? But what about her necklace?
A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought.
"Lady Rosalind?"
The question came from a woman in black and white. A familiar face.
"Milith?" she called. "Have you seen my necklace?"
The woman paused and gave her a confused look.
"My lady, what necklace?"
Rosalind lifted an eyebrow. "The one with a key—"
"You've never worn a necklace before," Milith replied. She must have seen the surprise Rosalind felt because she quickly added, "Is something the matter?" When Rosalind didn't reply, she continued, "My lady, are you feeling ill? Do you need me to call the physician?"
"No, I—" Rosalind avoided her maid's worried gaze. Milith had served her for years. It was impossible for her to not notice a necklace her mistress wore everyday.
But somehow, she couldn't remember it.
Rosalind looked back at her anxious maid. Milith seemed to be in her late teens. With some difficulty, Rosalind finally asked, "Can you tell me what year is it now?"
"It's the tenth month of the eight hundred-and-seventh year after the Great War. Why do you ask? Are you sure you feel fine? You look a bit pale. Did you forget your lunch again? Was it not to your liking?" At Milith's reminder, both women turned to look at the untouched food on the bedside table.
"I— "
"Lady Rosalind... Can you please stop ignoring your own welfare?" the young maid scolded in her usual fashion. As Milith had been with Rosalind since she was a child, she was less frightened of her mistress than most maids.
In the past, Rosalind had hated how naggy Milith was but hearing her voice again now gave Rosalind a weird sense of euphoria. She allowed Milith to continue talking.
"You cannot rely on your family to take care of you. They have forgotten your birthday for a couple of years now. I know this sounds harsh, but the truth is that they have abandoned us in this shed. We should try to live our lives instead."
Rosalind looked once more at her uneaten lunch. In Year 807 of the New Era, she was seventeen. And Dorothy, who had turned eighteen a few weeks ago without receiving the Goddess's blessing, would soon make her way to Rosalind's little shed.
"You are right," Rosalind said.
"Pardon me?" The crease in between Milith's brows deepened.
"I said, you are right. It is indeed time to live our lives."
"You— " Milith hastily approached her. "Are you feeling feverish?"
"Milith, I am fine." She instinctively avoided Milith's touch. In her last days, her skin had become so sensitive that even a light touch caused her great pain. Her body was so wrecked by the absence of the blessing that she was nearly bedridden.
"May I have that?" Ignoring Milith's surprise, she picked up her cold lunch and immediately started devouring it as if she hadn't eaten for days.
Seeing this, Milith grew alarmed.
"My lady! What are you doing!?" Milith asked. "Please wait! Let me get you a new plate!" When she got no response, the young maid panicked. "My lady, please!" she said, louder this time. "At least let me reheat the food for you. Eating something like this is— "
"Milith…" Rosalind looked up from her half-eaten sandwich and smiled. "It's delicious. Thank you."
"My lady…" Milith suddenly knelt in front of her, tears flowing down her cheeks. Taken aback, Rosalind blinked. Milith started sobbing.
Her distressed cries made Rosalind feel guilty. Be it now or in the past, Milith was always deeply concerned about her. When the monthly stipend the Lux family sent was not enough to cover their expenses, it was Milith who started hunting rabbits and foraging for edible nuts and berries in the nearby forest. As Rosalind's only maid, Milith was forced to do everything, including hunting and cooking.
Rosalind had never shown any appreciation for the young maid. When the Lux Family summoned her back to their mansion, Rosalind refused to bring Milith with her. When she heard about Milith's passing, she was already the Baroness Sencler. The news had been several years old too.
Resolving to redeem herself, Rosalind helped Milith to her feet and flashed her a bright, reassuring smile. "Dear Milith, will you teach me how to hunt?"
Dream or no dream, this was a second chance to live life without regrets!
"My Lady…"
"Milith! You are right. I cannot continue wallowing in self-pity." As Milith continued looking at her with wide, frightened eyes, Rosalind declared, "I will take charge of my life. And I will start by learning how to hunt." Her smile grew broader. Soon she would be hunting those who had wronged her.