I followed the old woman into my room, her expression grave and unreadable. My heart raced, though I kept my face carefully neutral. Something about her demeanor gnawed at me, raising my guard. I closed the door behind us, the soft creak of wood breaking the tense silence.
She turned abruptly to face me, her eyes sharp and searching. "Do you... at least, recognize me?" she asked, smirking faintly, though the expression didn't reach her eyes.
"No," I replied cautiously. The truth was, I had no idea who she was. Something about her seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it.
"Seriously?" she scoffed, crossing her arms. I opened my mouth to respond, but she interrupted. Switching languages, she spoke in a tone I hadn't heard since arriving in this time period. My breath hitched.
"How about now?" she said in the tongue of my old life—the language I had spoken before the TTM had brought me here.
"Wait… what?" I stammered, my eyes widening in shock. "Who are you?"
She chuckled dryly. "Do I look that different now? Damn," she muttered, more to herself than to me. "Name's Dancia. Dancia Palmer," she said, her confidence returning.
The name hit me like a thunderclap. Dancia Palmer—one of the scientists in the lab. No way. This can't be happening.
"Dancia?" I echoed, my voice faltering. "That's impossible. How… how are you still alive? I thought the TTM killed you."
"What, no 'I'm happy to see you?'" she teased, but there was a hint of bitterness in her tone. "The TTM didn't kill me. It sent me back three years before the time it was supposed to. I've been stuck here ever since, trying to make sense of everything."
I stared at her, my mind reeling. Three years? That explained why she looked so different—older, more worn, but still unmistakably Dancia.
"So," I said cautiously, "how did you learn the language here? I don't recall you ever studying it."
She smirked. "It wasn't easy, let me tell you that. But over three years, I picked it up. It was either that or stay silent and clueless forever. And trust me, I had plenty of motivation to figure it out."
I nodded slowly, my curiosity growing. "But how could you understand my accent? It's not like the people here speak anything close to what we learned."
"That's easy," she said with a laugh. "You used to practice the language out loud in the lab, remember? You tested phrases on anyone who would listen. I picked up enough to piece it together."
I blinked, surprised. I hadn't even thought about how much I'd spoken the language in the lab, but it made sense. "Well, I guess that's a good thing," I said. "What are you looking for, by the way?" I asked, noticing her rummaging through my belongings.
"Does this room seriously have no papers? We need to write some things down," she said, exasperated.
"I'm not sure—"
"Found some!" she interrupted triumphantly, holding up a few blank sheets. She carried them over to the small table by my bed and gestured for me to sit.
"Listen," she said, taking a pencil from her pocket. "I've been working on a theory for three years. It's something I developed after being here—and now, seeing you, I'm even more convinced I'm right."
She drew a straight line on the paper and placed a dot near the middle of it. "This," she said, pointing to the dot, "is when I was tested for time travel. The exact date."
She drew another line below it and labeled it. "And this," she continued, "is the timeline we're in now. I don't think I went to the past, Ophelia. I think I traveled to another timeline entirely—a timeline that branched off from the original."
I leaned forward, studying her drawing. "What makes you say that?"
She looked up at me, her eyes intense. "Because you're here. If we were still in the original timeline, you wouldn't have recognized me or vice versa. Time travel in a single timeline would have erased or overwritten something. But this," she said, tapping the paper, "proves that the original timeline is still out there, running parallel to this one."
I frowned, struggling to understand. "Wait, so… the TTM doesn't actually move us backward or forward in time? It just throws us into a parallel version of reality?"
"Exactly."
Before I could respond, a thought struck me. My pulse quickened. "Wait," I said, my voice rising slightly. "What's today's date?"
Dancia blinked at me. "Why?"
"Just tell me. It's important."
She hesitated, then sighed. "It's April 6. Why?"
My breath caught. "April 6," I repeated, more to myself than her. "That means… the prince and the witch haven't met yet."
Her expression changed, the gravity of my words sinking in. "You're sure about the date they meet?"
"Positive. April 8. That's the day everything starts. If we act now—if we find him before that happens—we might be able to prevent their meeting altogether."
Dancia nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "That gives us two days. Two days to locate the prince and change the course of this timeline."
"That's right, but hear me out," I said, leaning back and crossing my arms. "I've been thinking about something else. What if it's not about preventing the meeting at all? What if we focus on positioning ourselves instead? I'm planning to become a great doctor here, someone respected. That way, I can increase my status and gain access to the palace. If I can get close to the prince, I can influence him directly when the time comes."
Dancia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A great doctor, huh? That's ambitious. You think they'd let you, a foreigner, rise to that level?"
"They already think my knowledge is strange and advanced," I replied with a slight smirk. "I helped a young girl once with a method they hadn't seen before. It was enough to make them curious. If I can keep building on that, I might catch the attention of someone higher up."
"So, your Plan A is to increase your status here and get close to the prince. What's Plan B?"
I hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Honestly? Preventing the prince and the witch from meeting might be impossible. No matter what we do, their paths are destined to cross. Her unusual appearance and abilities would draw attention anywhere she goes. Even if we stopped them once, fate—or whatever this timeline runs on—would find a way to make it happen."
Dancia frowned, tapping the pencil against the table. "So, Plan B is what? Let them meet and then… what?"
"Then," I said slowly, "we monitor them closely. If we can't stop them from meeting, we make sure that their relationship doesn't escalate to the point where her grief becomes catastrophic. We intervene before she becomes attached to him—before his death can devastate her."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Dancia asked, folding her arms. "We're talking about emotions here, Ophelia. Human connections. How do you plan to stop someone from falling in love?"
"I don't know yet," I admitted, frustration creeping into my voice. "But we have to try. If the Exchaor appear, it's all over—not just for this timeline, but potentially for every timeline. We're the only ones who know what's coming. That gives us a chance, slim as it might be."
Dancia leaned back, her expression unreadable. "So, you want me to help you increase your status here. Play the long game. And if that doesn't work, we step in to control the situation between the prince and the witch. Do I have that right?"
I nodded. "Exactly."
She was silent for a long moment, staring at the timeline she had sketched out on the paper. Finally, she looked up at me, her eyes sharp. "Fine. I'll help you. But there's something you need to understand. The more we entangle ourselves in this timeline, the harder it'll be to pull away if things go wrong. We're not just observers anymore, Ophelia. We're players."
"I know," I said softly. "But we don't have a choice."
"Alright," she said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. "First things first. If you're going to make a name for yourself as a doctor, you'll need to start building connections. Who do you know so far? And more importantly, how do they view you?"
I thought for a moment. "I've only helped a young girl so far. It earned me some gratitude, but that's not enough. Gratitude alone won't open doors to the palace. I'll need to treat someone with real influence—someone connected to the court." I paused as a name came to mind. "Wait… Alfred Watson."
Dancia raised an eyebrow. "Alfred Watson? The man who brought you here? He's the vice-captain of the kingdom, isn't he?"
"Yeah, I know," I said thoughtfully.
"That's a good start," Dancia said with a nod. "But you need to tread carefully. The last thing we want is for someone to accuse you of witchcraft. Your methods might seem miraculous to them, but miracles can easily be twisted into threats or superstitions."
"I'll be cautious," I assured her. "I've already started adapting my explanations to match their understanding of medicine. It's crude, but it works."
"Good," she said, when suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and it opened moments later.
The knock at the door startled me and Dancia both. I turned to see none other than Alfred Watson, standing in the doorway.
"Vice-Captain Watson," I said, masking my surprise. How had he found me here?
He greeted us politely, his words lilting in the thick accent of this time period. I caught only a few phrases. Dancia, however, responded smoothly in the local language, her tone formal but familiar. They exchanged a few lines before she turned to me.
"Vice-Captain Watson wants to know what exactly happened to the girl you treated. He's heard rumors and is curious about the details," Dancia explained.
Of course. It hadn't even been a full day since I treated the girl, and already the story was spreading.
"Tell him we'll discuss it in the girl's room," I said. "We need to ask her a few follow-up questions, anyway."
Dancia relayed the message, and Alfred nodded. Without another word, he gestured for us to follow him.
We walked through the inn's dimly lit corridors, my thoughts racing. The tension in Alfred's expression wasn't just concern over a girl's health—it was something more.