The contract loophole wasn't hard to spot once I read it line by line. It allowed Mr. Gerald, the physician, to delay his herbal order without any penalty—an oversight I was quick to exploit. A minor win, but it gave us time and kept his trust intact.
I returned to the room, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, a slice of coarse bread, and a glass of warm milk. I hoped Riel had woken by now—she needed food, strength, and something gentler than reality to ease her back into awareness.
But when I opened the door, the room was still and silent. She was asleep, small and curled under the blanket like a paper doll. I placed the tray on the table and quietly made my way to the washroom, wiping the sweat and dust from my face and arms.
She looked so young, her features still soft from sleep. If I hadn't known her age from Gerald, I would have guessed she was fifteen, not nineteen. That tiny frame… too fragile for everything.
As I ran a towel over my damp hair, a flicker of familiarity tugged at me. Riel. Riel… that name had echoed before in my mind. Then there was her hair, that peculiar murky-silver shade, like moonlight caught in fog, and—yes—her eyes. A deep green, though I'd only glimpsed them once.
Something stirred within me. Not quite a memory, but the weight of one pressing against my chest. My breath hitched. Why did this all feel so heavy? Was it just fatigue, or something more? Even though my plan was to return home—Sain's home—immediately, I couldn't bear to abandon her. Not like this.
Besides, it seems like it wouldn't hurt to take another day off work.
When I came back into the room, Riel was awake. She sat stiffly, as if waiting for something or someone, but she didn't notice me until I spoke.
"Ah, you're up. How are you feeling? Hungry?"
She blinked, lips parted in a hoarse sigh.
"Hh… hmmm."
"If your stomach's not rebelling anymore, I brought soup, bread, and milk. Just a few bites—enough to get the medicine down." I kept my voice light as I towelled off the last bit of moisture from my hair.
Her eyes flicked to me—and lingered a second too long at my chest, where my shirt hung loose. I gave her a sheepish grin.
"I told you I was a woman, remember? So don't worry."
She blinked again, startled, but said nothing.
"Do you want to eat at the table, or stay in bed? I can help if you're still feeling weak."
"I... I want to go to the toilet," she whispered, her voice paper-thin.
"Okay. I'll come with you."
I scooped her up without hesitation. She barely weighed anything, like a memory you could carry in one hand. She didn't protest.
When we came back, she looked a little more herself. She'd rinsed off, though her hair was still damp and clinging to her neck, and she wore the same soiled dress. I hadn't brought spare clothes for her—I hadn't planned on anything, really. I made a mental note to fix that tomorrow.
She chose the chair, not the bed. I sat across from her, not pressing, just… present. I watched her glance at the food, then at me, then away.
"I've already eaten," I said gently. "So take your time. Eat what you can."
I slid the soup and milk closer, and she started sipping cautiously, nibbling the bread like it might bite back. Every so often, her eyes flicked up to me, then down again.
I opened my notebook and leafed through some scribbled pages, half-distracted. Then my gaze landed on her hair again.
That color.
That name.
"Riel… Riel… wait. Riella?"
Her spoon paused midair.
"Is Riel your full name? Or is it short for something?"
She shrugged, avoiding my eyes.
"Riel… You're not… Riella Mollota, are you?"
The bowl clinked against the table.
Her eyes widened. Her hands trembled. She went pale.
"Are you okay? I didn't mean to— I'm sorry." I moved to her side, kneeling by her chair.
Her lips parted in a shaky whisper. "H-h-how do you… know that name?"
"I just… guessed. I didn't mean to scare you." I rubbed her back gently, trying to calm the trembling in her shoulders. Her fear cut sharper than I expected.
I sat beside her in silence until her breathing evened out. When she looked a little steadier, I handed her the milk again and began to explain—carefully.
"Until about a year ago, I worked at the Mollota residence. I was a maid there… fired suddenly for no reason." I smiled thinly. "Then I had an… accident. I lost my memory of everything before that."
Not exactly a lie. Just… a transmigrator's edit.
I flipped open my notebook and showed her some old notes.
"I wrote some things about you. I didn't remember your face until I saw you again just now."
She stared at the pages, her silence thick with something between disbelief and fear.
"I didn't expect to find you here, Miss. And… in this condition. What happened?"
She said nothing. Just looked down, twiddling her fingers nervously.
"I'm sorry. I know I'm being nosy. I just… I was worried. You probably don't remember me, but I meant it when I said I'm glad you're here, even if it doesn't make sense right now."
Still silence.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Honestly? I'm shocked too. We both need time to process this. But first—you need rest. And medicine." I reached for the pouch Gerald gave me and handed her a dose.
She took it without a word, and I tucked her back into bed, pulling the blankets over her small frame.
"There's nothing to worry about tonight. I'll be here if you need anything."
She didn't answer, but she let me hold her hand. That was enough.
Later, lying on my bed, I stared at the dim ceiling. The oil lamp flickered, casting uneven shadows.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
In the original story, Riella escaped the Mollota mansion while Lord Mollota was away on business, slipping out unseen while the Marchioness was busy assisting the Empress. There were no interruptions, no injuries—no detours.
But now… here she was. Broken. Afraid. Months too early.
I rolled over and closed my eyes, but thoughts swirled like a storm.
Was it just coincidence that I found her here, like this? Or was it the old man's words, echoing through each strange event, drawing me closer to something I hadn't wanted to accept?
Maybe I wasn't meant to return home. Yet?!. because deep down inside, I still hope I can find my way back to my own world.
But maybe… this world was my new reality.
And if that's true… maybe helping Riella avoid the tragedy written for her was the first real step I had to take.
My eyes drifted shut, but the thoughts refused to quiet. A purpose flickered faintly in the dark.