When I open my eyes, my head throbs, and everything feels blurry. Slowly, my vision clears, and I see Theo, Fiona, and the man they call Izek standing by my bed. But there are two new people I don't recognize.
A woman with long black hair and sharp purple eyes stands nearby. She looks elegant in a black gown with shiny silver patterns. Her face shows worry, but there's a gentleness in her expression too. Beside her is a tall man with messy silver hair and striking red eyes. He looks serious, like someone who's always in control. Both of them are watching me closely.
"Vee! You're awake!" Fiona says, rushing to my side. Her voice is full of relief, but I don't know how to feel about her concern.
I blink at the two strangers. "Who... who are they?" My voice comes out quiet and unsure.
The woman steps forward, smiling softly. "Vee," she says gently, "I'm your mother, Elara. And this is your father, Lord Alaric." She gestures to the silver-haired man, who nods, his red eyes still fixed on me.
Mother? Father? I freeze. This isn't what I expected. Reincarnation is always strange, but having parents—noble ones at that? This is new.
Fiona leans closer, her face sad. "You don't remember them either, do you, Vee?"
I hesitate, trying to decide what to say. "I'm… sorry," I murmur, lowering my eyes. "Everything feels… fuzzy."
Theo sighs loudly, leaning against the window. "She hit her head. What are we supposed to do now?"
Elara—my supposed mother—kneels beside the bed and reaches for my hand. Her touch is warm and soft. "It's okay, Vee. We'll figure it out together. You're safe now," she says kindly, her purple eyes full of worry.
Lord Alaric steps closer, his red eyes narrowing as he looks at me. "Safe," he says in a deep voice, "but different. She doesn't even react to me. That's not like her."
"Father!" Fiona snaps, glaring at him. "She lost her memories! Give her time!"
Alaric doesn't reply right away. He just keeps looking at me, like he's trying to figure something out. After a moment, he nods. "We'll take it slow," he says finally, stepping back.
Elara squeezes my hand. "Rest now, my dear. We'll be here when you're ready."
As they all step back, I stay in bed, my heart racing. Who are these people, really? Can I trust them? For now, I'll have to play along. Pretending is something I'm good at, after all.
PS: Alaric is disappointed because Vee isn't clinging to him like she normally does.
As Elara steps back, I notice something strange. Her sharp purple eyes are no longer purple—they've turned a soft blue, almost glowing under the light. I blink, thinking my head injury might be messing with my vision.
"Wait," I say, my voice cracking slightly. "Your eyes… they're blue now. Weren't they purple a moment ago?"
Elara pauses, her brows furrowing slightly before she smiles. "Ah," she says softly. "You've noticed."
"Noticed what?" I ask, sitting up a little despite the ache in my head. "Why did they change?"
Before she can respond, Fiona cuts in, her excitement evident. "Oh! Vee, that's one of our family traits!" Her red eyes are bright, sparkling with enthusiasm. "Our eye color changes depending on how we feel."
I look at her, confused. "Eye color… changes? What kind of strange ability is that?"
"It's not strange!" Fiona protests, puffing her cheeks slightly in annoyance. "It's unique. Cool, even! Like right now, Mother's eyes are blue because she's calm and relieved. Mine are red because I'm happy and excited you're awake!"
I glance over at Elara, who gives me a warm smile, her blue eyes softening even more. I can't deny the colors are mesmerizing, but the whole concept feels… unsettling.
"What about… them?" I ask, nodding toward Alaric and Theo. "Do their eyes change too?"
"No," Fiona says with a shrug. "Father and Theo don't have it. They're the boring ones."
"Hey!" Theo snaps from his spot near the window, his scowl deepening. "Boring? I'm the only one here acting normal! Your color-changing eyes are creepy, not 'cool.'"
Fiona sticks her tongue out at him. "You're just jealous you didn't inherit it."
Alaric sighs, clearly unbothered by the teasing. "The ability isn't universal," he explains, his deep voice calm. "Only some members of the family have it. Those who do… well, let's just say it's a double-edged sword."
I narrow my eyes at his words. A double-edged sword? What's that supposed to mean? The way he says it feels weighted, like there's more he's not telling me.
Fiona waves her hand dismissively. "Don't listen to Father. He's always so dramatic about it. It's harmless! You'll get used to it, Vee."
I glance back at Elara's calm blue gaze, then at Fiona's fiery red eyes, and finally at Izek, whose green eyes shift slightly to a deep forest shade as he watches me. It's fascinating and unnerving all at once.
I stay quiet as they explain the whole "eye-changing" thing. It's fascinating, sure, but it also makes me nervous. If I'm not careful, my emotions might betray me—and the last thing I need is for this family to figure out I'm not who they think I am.
"The color reflects emotions," Fiona says, practically glowing with excitement. Her eyes are bright red, the color of enthusiasm and joy. "It's pretty simple once you get the hang of it. Red is for happiness or excitement. Blue is calm or peaceful. Green is when someone's feeling curious or thoughtful."
Elara picks up the explanation, her eyes shifting from blue to a soft gold as she speaks. "Gold happens when someone is proud or confident. It's rare to see, but silver means someone's feeling deep sadness or regret."
Fiona nods, her grin wide. "And violet? That's anger. It's not as scary as it sounds, though!" She pauses and scrunches her nose. "But if someone's eyes turn black, you better run. That's when they're at their most dangerous."
My gaze flickers to Alaric and Theo, standing off to the side. "Why don't their eyes change?"
"The ability isn't inherited by everyone," Elara explains, her voice soft. "It's unpredictable. Theo and your father are immune to it, but the rest of us have lived with it our whole lives."
"And it's annoying," Theo mutters, his scowl deepening. "How am I supposed to take anyone seriously when their mood's written all over their face?"
"Oh, shut up, Theo," Fiona snaps, her eyes shifting to green as she rolls them. "You're just bitter because you don't have it."
"Yeah, because being an emotional light show is so great," Theo fires back, crossing his arms. His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but there's something almost protective about the way he glares at Fiona. He's annoying, sure, but maybe he's not completely unbearable.
I stay quiet, absorbing everything. The eye color thing could be a problem. I've had 189 lives, each filled with memories, regrets, and emotions I'd rather not unpack. If this ability forces my feelings to the surface, someone might notice the cracks in my façade. That can't happen.
The years pass quickly, and life with the Galvian family becomes... strangely comfortable. At twelve, I've grown into my new role as their youngest daughter, though I still keep my past lives to myself. No one needs to know about the weight of 189 lifetimes swirling in my mind. It's a secret I guard fiercely, and forever will.....hopefully.
I've cut my once-waist-length hair to my shoulders—it's easier to manage, and it suits my lazy nature. Fiona always complains, saying it was prettier long, but I don't care. I'd rather spend my time napping or avoiding lessons than fussing over my hair. Despite my laziness, though, I've mastered swordsmanship, a skill I picked up in one of my past lives. I show it off occasionally, earning impressed looks from my family. But magic? That stays hidden.
My father, Lord Alaric, is an enigma of sorts. He's the definition of calm, collected authority—stern and serious when he needs to be, but somehow gentle when it comes to me. He doesn't hover or coddle, but his quiet acts of care speak volumes.
"Vee," he'll say, his tone firm but never harsh, "take care of yourself." It's his way of saying he worries, even if he doesn't show it.
His red eyes, which never change like the rest of the family's, can look intimidating. Yet, when I catch him watching me with a soft expression, I feel something close to warmth in my chest.
I don't have the heart to tell him I've lived longer than he can imagine
.Elara is the picture of elegance, both in her demeanor and her magical prowess. She's patient and kind, but there's a sharpness to her that reminds me she's no ordinary noblewoman. She's a master of magic, and watching her cast is like watching art in motion.
Izek is... gentle. That's the best way to describe him. Despite his towering figure and stoic demeanor to others, he's all soft words and gentle hands with me. He watches out for me like a hawk, which is both endearing and a little suffocating.
"Don't push yourself, Vee," he always says, his silver hair catching the light as he helps me with things I can handle on my own. "You're still young. There's no rush."
I don't have the heart to tell him I've lived longer than he can imagine
"Magic is like breathing," she once told me as she healed a scratch on my hand. Her purple eyes shone with warmth. "It should feel natural. You'll understand one day."
Little does she know, I already do. But I keep my mastery hidden, letting her think I'm just a lazy, unmotivated girl.
Theo is, without a doubt, the biggest pain in my life. He teases me relentlessly, calling me names and poking fun at my every misstep.
"You're hopeless, Vee," he says with a smirk as I stumble during a training session. "How are you even related to me?"
But when it matters, he's there. Like when he defended me during a sparring match against a particularly arrogant noble boy. His swordsmanship is unmatched, and watching him fight is mesmerizing.
"You okay?" he asked afterward, his teasing tone replaced by genuine concern. I nodded, and he ruffled my hair with an exasperated grin. "Don't scare me like that again, idiot."
Fiona is a whirlwind of energy and light. She's always cheerful, always encouraging, and always ready to drag me into her magical experiments.
"Come on, Vee!" she says, her eyes sparkling green with curiosity. "Just try a little spell! I'll teach you!"
I always refuse, hiding my true abilities behind an exaggerated yawn. "Too much work, Fi," I say, flopping onto a couch. She pouts but never pushes too hard.The Galvians are easygoing, despite their fearsome reputation in the empire. Perfection isn't their goal—strength and unity are. They're a family first and foremost, and their warmth surprises me every day.
Even with their occasional squabbles and quirks, they're... my family now. I'm still wary, still carrying the memories of my past lives, but it's hard not to feel something for them.
Over the years, I've come to notice something amusing: Fiona and Theo are kind of afraid of Izek. It's not blatant—they don't jump or cower when he enters a room—but the way they glance at him cautiously, the slight hesitation in their voices when they address him, it's there.
I don't blame them, really. Izek is tall, broad, and intimidating. His muscular build makes him look like he could take down an entire army with only a bit of his magic, and his quiet demeanor only adds to the air of mystery around him.
The way he carries himself is enough to make anyone second-guess getting on his bad side. Even I would probably be a little intimidated if he weren't so unbelievably gentle with me.
It starts when a noble family visits our estate. The parents are polite enough—formal smiles, stiff bows, and voices dripping with fake kindness. Their son, however, is a different story. He's around my age, maybe a little older, with floppy brown hair and a nose so high in the air I half expect him to trip over it.
"You're Vee, right? The youngest?" he says, looking me up and down like I'm some sort of weird specimen.
I don't respond. Maybe if I ignore him, he'll take the hint and leave.
He doesn't. Of course not. Boys like him never do.
"Rude," he says with a mocking tone. "What kind of noble doesn't greet her guests properly?"
I glance at him, my expression blank. "I didn't invite you," I say flatly, and go back to polishing my sword.
That should've been the end of it, but the boy keeps pushing.
"Do you even know who I am?" he asks, puffing out his chest. "My family is one of the most important in the empire. You should be honored I'm even speaking to you."
I roll my eyes. His voice is grating, his attitude unbearable, and my patience is running out.
"You know," he continues, smirking, "you don't look very noble. More like a commoner playing dress-up."
That's it. I stand up, my chair screeching against the floor. He's still smirking, clearly thinking he's won whatever pathetic game he's playing.
"Why don't you show me how important you are?" I say, my voice calm but sharp.
Before he can reply, I lunge at him. In seconds, he's flat on the ground, his smug expression replaced by shock and panic.
"Get off me!" he yells, struggling beneath me.
"Not until you apologize," I say, tightening my grip on his collar. His face turns red as he flails, completely out of his depth.
By the time his parents burst into the room, he's sputtering incoherently, his hair a mess and his pride clearly in shambles.
"How dare you!" his mother screeches, rushing to her son's side. His father looks furious, his mustache twitching like it's about to leap off his face.
Alaric steps into the room, calm and imposing as always. He crosses his arms and fixes them with a cool stare. "Perhaps your son should learn some respect," he says in a low, measured tone.
The noblewoman gasps. "Respect? He was attacked by your daughter!"
Elara steps forward, her expression soft but firm. "From what I understand, your son provoked her," she says, her voice polite but unyielding. "Vee simply defended herself."
"What nonsense!" the nobleman bellows.
"Izek," Elara says, turning to my silver-haired brother, "you were nearby. What happened?"
Izek steps forward, his piercing green eyes cold and steady. "The boy insulted Vee repeatedly. She warned him. He didn't listen."
Theo, leaning against the doorway, grins. "Honestly, she held back. He got off easy."
The noblewoman looks ready to faint. "This is outrageous! Your entire family—"
"Is protecting its own," Elara interrupts, her voice calm but carrying an edge. "Perhaps your son should reconsider his behavior before visiting again."
The noble family storms out shortly after, dragging their humiliated son behind them.
As they disappear down the path, I lean against the doorway, arms crossed and a smug smile on my face.
"Not bad," Theo mutters, nudging me with his elbow. "Could've been cleaner, though."
Izek sighs, shaking his head, though there's a faint hint of amusement in his expression.
Alaric walks past me, pausing just long enough to say, "Next time, use words first."
"Sure," I say with a shrug, though we both know I'll do the same thing if it happens again.
A few days after the last noble family left in a huff, we get more visitors. This time, it's Lady Ellie and her son, Alexander.
Lady Ellie is one of Mother's friends, and she's polite enough. She's got this delicate beauty about her with long pink hair and kind green eyes. She greets everyone warmly, especially Mother, and the two of them disappear into the parlor to catch up.
That leaves me with her son.
Alexander—or Alex, as he insists I call him—is about a year older than me. He's tall for his age, with long black hair that brushes his shoulders and sharp green eyes that seem to notice everything.
And he's a menace.
"Vee," he says with a smirk, leaning against the training room doorway where I'm polishing my sword. "Do you always carry that thing around, or are you compensating for something?"
I glance at him and snort. "What would you know about swords? You probably can't even lift one."
He grins wider, clearly amused. "Oh, I can lift one. Question is, can you handle one?"
That's it. I toss the polishing cloth aside and stand up, pointing my sword at him. "You want to test that theory, pretty boy?"
He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, calm down. I'm just saying, talk is cheap. Why don't we have a friendly spar? Unless you're scared, of course."
I grit my teeth. "Fine. Let's see what you've got."
We head to the training grounds, where Theo and Fiona are lounging nearby. They perk up the moment they see us.
"Oh, this is going to be good," Theo says, grinning. "Don't hold back, Vee. Show him what you've got."
Fiona just shakes her head, though she's smiling.
Alex grabs a practice sword from the rack, twirling it like he's done it a thousand times before. I narrow my eyes. He's definitely more skilled than he let on.
The match begins, and it's clear right away that Alex isn't just teasing me for fun. He's good—really good. His movements are fast, precise, and annoyingly graceful. I push hard, matching him strike for strike, but he's always a step ahead.
Finally, with one swift move, he disarms me. My sword clatters to the ground, and Alex points his blade at my chest, smirking.
"Well," he says, breathing a little heavily but still looking infuriatingly smug, "I think that settles it. I win."
I glare at him, chest heaving. "Fine. What do you want? A rematch?"
He shakes his head, lowering the sword. "Nope. I want something else."
I cross my arms. "Name it."
He leans closer, that stupid smirk still on his face. "A kiss. On the cheek."
I blink, taken aback. "What? No way!"
"A deal's a deal," he says, tilting his head. "Unless you're a sore loser?"
Theo, who's been watching the whole thing, bursts out laughing. "Oh, this is too good. Come on, Vee. You can't back out now."
I shoot him a death glare but reluctantly turn back to Alex. "Fine. But you're not allowed to tell anyone, got it?"
He grins, tapping his cheek with his finger. "Right here."
Grumbling under my breath, I lean in and give him the quickest, most begrudging kiss on the cheek. His grin only gets wider.
"Pleasure doing business with you," he says, stepping back and tossing the practice sword onto the rack.
As he walks away, Theo's laughter echoes through the training grounds, and Fiona sighs dramatically.
"Don't let him get to you," she says, patting my shoulder.
I huff, grabbing my sword and stalking off. Stupid Alex. Next time, I'm winning. No deals, no kisses—just pure victory.