"Thankfully lady Giselle come back. I still remember the look on Mr. Rowan's face when he learned the lady had run away," a voice murmured just outside the living room.
Lyra, seated in the warm glow of the living room, sipped her chamomile tea. The delicate aroma of the herbs mingled with the faint murmur of the servants' conversation drifting through the half-open door.
"I know, right? It sent chills down my spine. Sometimes, I just can't fathom their thoughts."
"True, but I'm relieved she's back safely. Even if she didn't reveal her face during her performance, there's no guarantee people wouldn't recognize her."
A soft sigh accompanied the last of their words. "At least she returned in time. Tomorrow's her performance at the theater, isn't it?"
"Yes, I wish I could attend..."
The conversation drifted away, replaced by the soft shuffle of footsteps and fading voices.
---End Flashback---
Lyra sank into the bed, its mattress giving a satisfying creak as she adjusted her position.
After dinner, Giselle guided her to the guest room, their conversation filled with Giselle's animated talk about her career.
Despite the vibrant enthusiasm in her voice, Lyra noticed the subtle strain behind the words, hinting at the weight of social expectations and responsibilities Giselle carried.
'But, isn't that normal?' she thought to herself. Even in her original world, every person had their own struggle.
They were labeled with many expectations that weighed them down, like invisible chains.
"It's just part of being human," she mused, feeling the familiar ache of understanding settle in her chest.
"And yet, we all carry on."
As they reached the guest room, its vintage charm inviting and warm. Giselle left her to rest, closing the door softly behind her.
Freshening herself up before going to bed in the bathroom, Lyra slipped into the nightgown provided by Giselle's maid.
"You can borrow my old clothes," Giselle insisted with sincere eyes a few minutes ago. Though Lyra initially resisted, feeling like an intruder taking so much advantage, in the end, she couldn't refuse.
"Hah, she's being too much sometimes. But of course I appreciate that; the outfit I used started to kill me," she sighed, blinking her heavy eyelids.
Once again, her gaze wandered around the room as she lay on the bed. It was a cozy bedroom with vintage style—a medium-sized bed flanked by a cushioned couch and elegantly arranged furniture.
She felt her whole body numb from tiredness, yet her mind still worked tirelessly.
She recalled the maid's conversation she heard before.
"So, I guess the servant with her was Mr. Rowan," murmuring under her breath, she recalled the face of the middle-aged man standing near Giselle.
The man with a stiff and unfriendly expression the whole time.
'Maybe in his previous life, he was a statue since he has the perfect stone-face...'
Snickering at her own strange thoughts, she felt even crazier after entering this world. Sometimes she just wanted to relax her mind, even if using those cheesy jokes she never used.
'Thinking again, our personalities somehow alike in some way.'
Huddled under the covers, her eyes closed, Lyra hoped for a restful night. But as soon as sleep claimed her, she found herself plunged into the same harrowing nightmare that had plagued her for months.
In the dream, darkness enveloped her completely, a suffocating void that swallowed all light.
The sensation of being submerged in water was overpowering. Even without sight, she could feel the cold, relentless pressure of the sea around her, the weight of the water pressing down on her body.
Each attempt to swim upwards brought searing pain in her back as if her skin was being peeled off.
After this occurred multiple times, she decided to let it be. Let herself slowly drown. And that's what she did now.
But tonight, there was a new twist. As she surrendered to the sinking sensation, a glimmer of moonlight pierced through the opaque, icy water. The ethereal glow cut through the darkness, casting a soft, silver sheen.
*Gasp*
Lyra's sudden intake of breath jolted her awake, making her sit up too quickly, resulting in her head spinning. Her heartbeat and gasping, attempts to take more air, could be heard loud and clear, filling the quiet bedroom.
'What was that? Another variable?' she thought, her mind racing.
She had experienced this dream repeatedly, a relentless cycle that kept showing the same scene.
But the appearance of moonlight in her nightmare was an unsettling anomaly, a strange beacon in the sea of darkness.
Calming her frantic breaths, she leaned back against the headboard, her fingers clutching the edges of the quilt. She usually turned to music in moments like these, the soothing strains of an instrumental melody her go-to remedy.
For Lyra, music had always been a lifeline. In her darkest moments, she would close her eyes and let melodies envelop her, the strains of a violin or the soft hum of a piano transporting her away from her troubles.
As such, in that moment, but there wasn't her phone there.
'Let's just try to sleep again,' she told herself, though the dread lingered like a shadow.
* * *
The next morning, her reflection in the mirror revealed the toll of a sleepless night: dark circles beneath her eyes and a weary expression.
She couldn't fall asleep again after that.
Thus, to shake off the remnants of her nightmare, she tried to do some workout; a few sets of push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and other indoor exercises leaving her body aching from the aftereffects.
Walking down the street wearing her new outfit, which she bought first thing after leaving Giselle's residence, her cape drawn tightly around her.
The midday sun cast long shadows on the cobblestone streets as she approached the tavern. The murmur of conversations and clinking of dishes filled the air.
As she stepped inside, her ears picked up snippets of conversation.
"Did you hear that the knight from the capital is here today?"
"Huh? Aren't they searching for someone with silver hair? Who is she again?"
The mention of silver hair drew her attention. From her observation, silver hair was a rare color, and until that moment, she hadn't found other people with such an eccentric hair color as hers.
She slid into a nearby seat, her ears straining to catch more of the conversation.
"Dunno, maybe a war prisoner who escaped."
"But the princess from that kingdom had silver hair, didn't she?"
"Don't be a fool. They've taken down everyone from that kingdom. There's no one left."