Rebecca couldn't find all the reason for the original owner's hatred, but she knew the emotional damage had already been done. The boy had grown up feeling worthless, unwanted, and unloved. And now, even though he clung to the memory of a mother's care, his heart must have been shattered over and over again by the very person who should have protected him.
Rebecca's mind raced as she pieced together the fragments of her new reality. She had already acted out of character the moment she had gently patted the child when they first met in the cave. The body she now inhabited, the original Rebecca, would have never done such a thing—no, she had always treated the boy with cold disdain. The soft touch, though awkward, was a crack in the mask she now wore, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by the old butler.
She shuddered, realizing the gravity of her situation. In this world, those who acted out of character were not given the benefit of the doubt. They were seen as possessed, controlled by otherworldly forces. And people believed that those possessed souls would bring chaos, darkening the world with their unnatural presence. There were no trials, no chance to explain. Possessed people were burned alive, considered a threat to society, a curse that could ruin everything.
Her heart sank. The thought of being burned alive was terrifying, but even worse was the realization that she was trapped. She couldn't continue playing this role perfectly forever. Every word, every action would be scrutinized, and any deviation from the cruel, unfeeling woman she had taken over would raise suspicion.
She also understood now why this world feared those who acted out of character. Possessed people, they believed, could change the world for the worst. Perhaps it wasn't entirely wrong—after all, Rebecca was not from this world. She didn't belong here, and her very presence might already be affecting the course of events. If people found out, there would be no mercy.
Looking around the dim, empty room, she felt a tightening in her chest. The only person who might notice these changes was the boy. If she started treating him with any warmth or care, he might see through the cracks. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to be the cold-hearted woman he had grown up fearing. But if she kept being kind, others would notice, and the consequences would be deadly.
Rebecca's mind raced, trying to find a way out of this impossible situation. She couldn't keep pretending to be someone she wasn't. But if she kept being kind to the boy or acted too differently, she risked being discovered as "possessed" and burned alive. The pressure weighed heavily on her until, suddenly, a funny yet oddly clever idea popped into her mind.
What if she pretended to have memory loss?
It was perfect! If she claimed not to remember anything, she wouldn't have to act like the cold-hearted woman this body had been. No one could blame her for not being cruel or distant if she had no recollection of how she was supposed to behave. She could be herself, or at least something in between, without raising too many suspicions. It would give her a clean slate to work with, and she wouldn't have to fear burning at the stake for being different.
She almost laughed at the thought. It was simple, but it just might work. And if anyone asked why she was suddenly kind to the boy, she could just say she didn't remember being any other way.
Rebecca did have one lingering doubt, though. What if other people in her situation—those supposedly "possessed"—had tried this same trick before? Had any of them managed to pull it off, or were they still discovered and met a fiery end? She didn't know, but it was a risk she was willing to take. After all, what other choice did she have? Trying to remember every cruel thing this woman had done would be exhausting, and it would only push the boy further away.
With her new plan in mind, Rebecca felt a strange sense of calm. It wasn't foolproof, but it gave her some control over the situation.
Rebecca looked out of the window and found that it was already night. Her stomach was rumbling looking at the cold dish beside the table of the bed, but she was too tired to move. So she planned to start her act tomorrow. She'd pretend to be confused, unsure of her past—just enough to convince them that she was still "Rebecca," but without the coldness that came with that name.
For now, though, she needed to rest and gather her strength. She'd need all her wits about her to make this work.
Rebecca drifted into a deep sleep, her body too weak to fight the exhaustion any longer. As her consciousness faded, her mind was filled with strange, fragmented images. At first, they were blurry and indistinct, but soon they began to sharpen, taking on the form of a little girl—Rebecca Hellshade—the one whose body she now inhabited.
In the dream, she was young, maybe six or seven years old, with her mother's hand gently resting on her shoulder. The little girl—Rebecca—stood proudly beside her parents, a sense of safety and love radiating from them. Her mother smiled down at her with warmth, and her father's strong, protective figure was always nearby, watching over her. In their presence, she was a cherished child, loved deeply, and given all the affection and care any child could dream of.
But as the dream shifted, Rebecca noticed something strange. Outside of her parents' presence, everything changed. The people around them—servants, nobles, even the guards—showed little more than forced respect when her parents were watching. Behind their backs, though, it was a different story. Little Rebecca would try to talk to them, to seek even the smallest bit of acknowledgment, but they avoided her gaze. They would turn away from her, pretend she wasn't there, or respond in cold, dismissive tones.
She saw herself wandering through the grand halls of the mansion, her footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. The servants barely spared her a glance, too busy with their own lives to care for the daughter of their lord and lady. She was alone, a ghost in her own home.