The morning after the rain, the gardens glistened with droplets clinging to roses and ivy alike.
Alice stepped carefully along the cobblestone paths, her crimson hair damp and sticking softly to her cheeks. The world felt familiar… yet every detail carried the weight of what she now knew.
Eight years old, but carrying the memory of another life.
She paused at the fountain once more, watching the water ripple in the gentle morning light. Her reflection remained that of a small child—but in her emerald eyes burned the quiet fire of someone far older.
[I need to understand the events and deal with them well. Otherwise, I'll meet that end.]
Her resolve was silent but unshakable.
Nina appeared behind her, as always. "You've been staring at that fountain since sunrise, my lady. Are you feeling well?"
Alice turned with a faint smile, the kind that seemed too knowing for her age. "Yes… I'm fine. But Nina… what do the neighbors think of our family?"
The maid blinked, sensing the strange weight behind the question. "Our neighbors, young lady? They respect the marchioness and marquis. Of course, some are wary—our status, our influence… but they mean no harm."
Alice's gaze returned to the fountain. "Wary… I see."
A chill ran down her spine—not from the breeze, but from the realization that she had lived these moments before, in memory, knowing how fragile trust could be.
Breakfast passed as usual—silent, precise, measured. Her father, Edmund Nicolai, spoke sparingly, issuing instructions and reminding the household of duties. Her mother, Marianne, observed Alice with that composed, distant gaze, reading the child's expression as if weighing it for its worth.
But for the first time, Alice felt… aware. Not just aware of the rules, but of the currents beneath them.
Later, she wandered through the east wing of the mansion. The portraits of long-dead Nicolais lined the walls, eyes seemingly following her. One portrait, in particular, of a young marchioness she recognized from the story, made her pause. The woman's smile was soft, yet sorrowful—an echo of the tragedies she had read.
She whispered to herself, almost like a vow:
"I will not end like you… I will see every secret, every fault, every weakness… and I will change it."
A soft giggle echoed through the corridor. Startled, Alice turned to see a small boy, a guest of a nearby noble family, peeking through the doorway. He had mischievous eyes and an impish grin.
"Hello," he said, "I'm Felix. Are you new to this wing?"
Alice studied him carefully. He was the same age—or perhaps slightly older—but something in his manner hinted at boldness. "I'm… Alice," she replied simply.
He tilted his head, curious. "You seem… serious. Are you always this quiet?"
Alice's lips curved just slightly. "I watch. I learn. That is what I must do."
Felix's eyes widened, but he nodded. "I like that. Maybe we can play later?"
Alice considered the offer, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Every smile, every game, every casual gesture in this world could carry consequences she already knew. She nodded slowly, masking the storm within.
As Felix ran off, Alice turned back toward the window, looking out over the estate. The sky had begun to clear, the first sunlight spilling across the courtyard.
Her mind was already planning. The rules of the past were clear, the mistakes memorized—but she now held the power of foresight, a gift that could reshape everything.
[Step by step… I will rewrite it all. I will not be a tragic story. This life… my life… will be different.]
And with that, Alice Nicolai—Lana in another life—took her first deliberate steps toward a future that refused to repeat the sorrow she once knew.