The cool morning air of Serene, the Marquess' territory in the Magnolia Empire, greeted them as they arrived. The towering mansion before them—more akin to a castle—stood in all its grandeur, its elegant stone walls gleaming under the soft sunlight.
The grand gates were already wide open and lined up before them were rows of maids and servants, all awaiting their arrival.
The moment they saw Eleanor, their expressions changed.
Gasps of shock and murmurs of concern rippled through the gathered person as they took in the sight of their young lady—frail, exhausted, and wrapped in her father's arms. The bandage on her forehead stood out starkly against her pale complexion.
Some of the maids visibly teared up, their hands clasped over their mouths to suppress their sobs. The sight of their once-healthy lady in such a fragile state was heartbreaking.
At that moment, a figure broke through the assembled servants.
A beautiful middle-aged woman with golden blonde hair, left loose and flowing over her shoulders, rushed forward. Her bright yellowish dress billowed behind her as she ran, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears.
"Eleanor!" she cried, her voice thick with emotion.
The butler and head maid followed closely behind her, their faces lined with concern, but the woman paid them no mind. All she could see was her daughter.
As she neared, Eleanor's sleepy mind finally registered the familiar voice. Blinking slowly, she lifted her head from her father's shoulder and tried to focus on the approaching figure.
Eleanor had always seen a beautiful face radiating a motherly aura in her dreams before falling asleep. Therefore, when she encountered this face in person, she immediately recognized its identity.
"… Mother?" she mumbled groggily.
Her mother's breath hitched.
Tears finally spilled down her cheeks as she reached out, her trembling hands hovering uncertainly over Eleanor, as if afraid touching her would cause her to break.
"Oh, my darling ginger…" Her voice cracked as she choked back a sob.
The Marquess gently adjusted Eleanor in his arms, allowing his wife to get a closer look.
"She's alright, Alisa," he assured her in a low voice, though his grip on Eleanor remained firm. "She just needs rest."
Eleanor, still not fully awake, blinked at her mother's tear-streaked face and let out a small sigh.
"I'm fine, Mother…" she said weakly.
But the sight of her mother's pained expression made something inside Eleanor twist. She wasn't used to this—to being worried over it.
Eleanor, usually composed and withdrawn, found herself momentarily lost in the unfamiliar warmth. She had no memory of experiencing such unrestrained love before—not in this life, nor the one before. It made her uncomfortable, but… also strangely comforted.
Her mother, unable to hold back any longer, carefully placed a hand over Eleanor's bandaged forehead, brushing her fingers lightly over her daughter's hair.
"My poor, sweet child," she whispered. "You must have suffered so much…"
Eleanor wanted to reassure her, to say something comforting—but the warmth of her father's arms and the soft, familiar scent of her mother's embrace were lulling her back into sleep. For the first time in a long while, being surrounded by family didn't feel so bad.
Before she could think of a response, her father's reassuring voice cut through the moment.
"She's home now. She'll be safe."
Home...
At those words, Eleanor finally let go of the tension she hadn't even realized she was holding.
She was home.
***
After an exhausting journey from Chronos Academy and the emotional reunion with her family, Eleanor had fallen into a deep sleep the moment she was settled in her room.
The warmth of the blankets, the quiet hum of the mansion, and the lingering fatigue from both travel and injuries had lulled her into much-needed rest.
By the time she woke up, sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting soft golden hues across her room. The unfamiliar yet familiar surroundings reminded her of her predicament—she wasn't truly Eleanor Gwendolyn, just someone possessing her body.
As she adjusted to her new reality, her thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
A presence.
No—two presences.
She blinked and nearly jolted upright when she noticed a middle-aged man with glasses standing at her bedside, his expression unreadable. Tina stood beside him, her hands neatly folded in front of her, but her eyes carried a hint of concern.
Eleanor, startled, moved too suddenly—too carelessly. A sharp sting shot through her skull.
"Ah—!"
She gasped softly, pressing a hand against her bandaged forehead. Warm liquid trickled between her fingers.
Blood.
Tina's eyes widened in alarm. "M-My lady! Please don't move so much!" She rushed to the bedside, her voice trembling slightly.
The man with glasses stepped forward, his demeanor calm despite the situation. "It seems the wound reopened. Allow me to assist."
Eleanor winced as Tina helped her lean back against the pillows. As the man carefully removed the old bandage and began replacing it, he finally introduced himself.
"I am Vincent, the Gwendolyn family physician. I apologize for startling you, Lady Eleanor. That was not my intention."
Eleanor hesitated.
She knew it would be strange if she didn't recognize him, but she also didn't want to pretend familiarity.
Instead of responding immediately, she simply nodded, choosing silence over false words.
Physician Vincent gave a polite nod, but as he worked, his sharp gaze lingered on her longer than necessary. Eleanor noticed it immediately.
He's observing me.
It was subtle, but the way his eyes flickered, the slight pause in his hands before he secured the fresh bandage—he was studying her. And the realization made her uneasy.
Even though there was no judgment in his eyes, only the clinical precision of a physician tending to his patient.
She forced herself to remain calm. It would be suspicious to ask why he was looking at her like that. Instead, she acted as naturally as possible, nodding in gratitude when he finished.
"Thank you, Physician Vincent."
By the time he finished rebandaging her wound, he gave a polite bow. "My pleasure, my lady. You should avoid unnecessary movements for now. Rest is the best medicine."
Eleanor gave him a small, acknowledging nod, watching as he left the room and then exhaled quietly, only now realizing she had been holding her breath.
As the door closed behind Vincent, Eleanor turned to Tina, who was still visibly shaken.
"Where is my family?" Eleanor asked, hoping to distract both herself and Tina from the previous tension.
But before Tina could answer, she hesitated, as if considering her words carefully. "The Marquess and Marchioness are handling some matters, my lady. They won't be able to join you for lunch."
Eleanor tilted her head slightly.
Matters? She didn't press further, instead nodding in agreement.
"That's fine. I don't mind eating alone."
She preferred to eat alone, anyway. For now, she needed time to process everything.
Tina's shoulders relaxed slightly at her easygoing response. "Then I shall have your meal brought here."
Soon, a tray was placed before Eleanor, and she blinked at the contents.
Soup. Porridge. Steamed vegetables.
Ah, the standard 'sick person's meal'…
She had expected an extravagant noble feast—perhaps a roast or some luxurious dish befitting her status. Instead, what she got was… mild, easy-to-digest food.
Well, I suppose it makes sense. I am recovering from an injury.
She held back a sigh and picked up her spoon, deciding it was best not to complain. She had no desire to attract unnecessary attention. For now, it was best to endure.
Just as she took her first bite, the door creaked open again.
Eleanor glanced up and found herself staring into familiar blue eyes.
Marchioness Gwendolyn stood in the doorway, her elegant figure framed by soft golden light. She looked every bit the high-noblewoman—composed, elegant, and refined—but the moment her gaze landed on Eleanor, her expression crumbled.
"My darling…" Her voice was gentle, but her emotions were painfully transparent. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching Eleanor with eyes that brimmed with unshed tears.
"You must eat well," her mother urged gently, though her voice wavered.
Eleanor nodded hesitantly and continued eating, but the way the Marchioness watched her—it was almost suffocating.
Affectionate. Wistful. Almost disbelieving.
Eleanor wasn't used to such intense, motherly concern. The gaze made her uncomfortable, but at the same time… it warmed something deep inside her.
Her mother, however, seemed content just watching her.
As Eleanor took another spoonful of porridge, she finally spoke. "The soup is good."
The Marchioness blinked. Then, a soft chuckle escaped her lips, though her eyes remained glassy. "I'm glad. I told the kitchen to prepare something gentle for you."
Eleanor wasn't sure how to respond, so she simply nodded, continuing to eat.
Her mother continued watching her in silence as if ensuring she wouldn't disappear again.
The rest of the meal passed in quiet companionship.
***
Meanwhile, in the study, Physician Vincent stood before Marquess Gwendolyn, his usual composure unwavering.
The Marquess, seated behind his large mahogany desk, set down the document he had been reviewing and gestured for Vincent to speak.
"Well?" Marquess Gwendolyn's deep voice filled the room.
Vincent adjusted his glasses, his tone calm yet firm. "There is something you should be aware of regarding Lady Eleanor's condition, Your Lordship."
The Marquess' sharp gaze focused on him immediately.
"I have no doubts that she will physically recover with rest," Vincent continued. "However, I must warn you—given the severity of her fall, it is highly likely that side effects will appear."
The air in the study grew heavier.
"Side effects?" His tone darkened.
Vincent nodded. "Memory gaps, changes in behavior… even a shift in personality is not uncommon in cases where the head sustains a severe injury." He hesitated for a brief moment before adding, "I also noticed something odd."
The Marquess frowned. "Explain."
"She… did not recognize me."
Marquess Gwendolyn's expression remained unreadable, but his grip on the desk tightened slightly.
"That is not possible."
"Precisely. I have been the physician of the Gwendolyn family for generations. Even as a child, Lady Eleanor always greeted me by name. But today…" Vincent's eyes gleamed with suspicion. "There was no recognition in her gaze."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Vincent sighed. "I suggest Your Lordship bring in another physician—one who specializes in trauma from horseback accidents. We need to determine the extent of the damage, not just physically, but mentally as well."
The Marquess remained silent, deep in thought. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Very well," he said. "I will make arrangements."
As Vincent bowed and exited the study, Marquess leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Side effects? Changes in behavior? None of that mattered.
His daughter was alive.
After seeing her so pale and fragile, carried back in his arms, he had already made up his mind—nothing else mattered except ensuring she recovered.
Whatever changes she went through, whether temporary or permanent, he would accept them.
He wasn't a fool. He had noticed that Eleanor seemed quieter than before, more distant in some ways. But instead of questioning it, he saw it as a sign that she was still adjusting to her trauma.
What mattered was that she was still here.
And as long as she was alive, he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.
With that thought, he called for his butler.
"Summon the best physicians in the empire," he ordered. "I want them here as soon as possible."
Eleanor would recover.
And this time, he would make sure nothing ever put her in danger again.