Six years, two months, and four days. That was how long Marilyn Althorn had been living this new life of hers after she was born again in this new world.

The time of her birth felt like a fleeting memory now, despite having a disproportionate mental age compared to her current physical self. Her small body, white hair, and silver eyes, sat on a field of flowers as she pondered that thought.

Now that she thought about it, she had a dream like this once. Sitting upon the same field of flowers, under the gentle warmth of a morning sun during the time of spring. It was almost surreal, even with years of living in this new world she wasn't getting used to the fact of her current circumstance.

"I had only read isekai stories before…can't believe I'm actually living it," she said to herself inside her head, looking at her own small hand, a small butterfly perching upon one of her fingertips as she did so.

She was still rather dazed by the notion of a second chance at life, to the point that for the past 6 years or so she had only been rather passive, and time felt like it was sped up for her because of this.

It could not be helped though, considering her body was too small to explore the wider world for herself, and the fact that for almost half a decade she was often being babysat by her family's personal maid, Bethany.

Marilyn’s fingers grazed the petals of a violet, her hand moving as if guided by habit rather than desire. The hours blurred into one another here, like a dream that refused to end. The world spun on, but she remained still, watching it all from a distance.

What was she even doing here? Her small body felt almost weightless, like it could be carried off by the wind, leaving no trace behind.

The perching butterfly flew away, making her current train of thought stumble, it being replaced by a new one.

"I still wonder though…" Marilyn turned her head towards the source of faint commotion behind her. Three people, two men and a young girl of raven-black hair and emerald eyes.

The faint commotion she chose to focus on, now that Marilyn had turned her attention towards the nearby group of people, wanting to listen in to their conversation.

"I sincerely thank you for arriving, Mr. Althorn. Even despite that you are currently relieved from your duty," the eldest man said, slouched back and greying hair, his polite tone of voice showcasing his manners. It was the village chief, whom Marilyn didn't actually know the name of, but she wouldn't exactly need to know, as the man was one she rarely met.

"It's alright. I came here of my own volition, as it is important to all people in the region," her father said, his tone of voice still hinting at that youth within him despite his age pushing into the late thirties.

The man that responded to the chief's comment was Robert Althorn, bearing the same eye colour as Marilyn's, yet with black hair. A handsome clean-shaven man, a semi-retired monster hunter of sorts from what she could understand.

Now though he was mostly working in the city of Leandon, the capital of the Kingdom of Albion, which was the name of the country they were living in. He worked as an arcane maintenance staff at a Pathfinder Guild there. The more professional term of his previous occupation though would plainly just be 'Hunter' as he said it himself, they were people whose job was to keep dangerous creatures at bay.

"That's right, mister! We're happy to help!" The youngest of the three people said, said person being her older sister, Helena Althorn.

She was two years older than her, meaning she should be around 8 years old now, having recently celebrated her birthday a few weeks ago. She was always the most active one between the two sisters, not that it was hard to reach such an achievement due to the passiveness of Marilyn.

"As you may have noticed, the Phantom Wards around the village perimeter are weakening, and I haven't managed to secure any funding to replace them. The Phantom Creatures may invade by late evening because of it," the village chief continued, coughing a little. "We lack any sort of combative protection against them, and the nearest royal guard station is quite far away."

The man listened closely to the village chief's plight, nodding along as he did. "I understand, it is in my best interest to help you because of that. I will cover for the Phantom Wards until you secure the funding, Mr. Bell," Robert responded, a gentle smile turning up, "You'll just have to keep everyone calm until they're up and running again. Those things prey on fear."

The old man nodded, "And for that I am grateful, despite the burden you're taking. But there's also one more thing that may require your expertise, Mr. Althorn."

An eyebrow was raised by him, "Hmm? What would that be?"

"It is a more private matter, we don't want any unnecessary people listening in. Your eldest can choose to play in the village garden while we do so."

"Is something wrong, mister?" Her person being brought up, Helena perked up.

"It's just some grown-ups talking. Nothing for a young miss to worry about," the village chief answered her, with a small smile.

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Marilyn kept observing the conversation from the sidelines passively. Her father was a kind man, kinder than it was necessary at times, and for that she was happy. Helena herself took after that trait of his, as well as his charisma and social attitude.

Speaking of, one would think that Marilyn had taken after her mother's timidness, using the logic of Helena taking after her father. And while it was true that her current mother, Anna Althorn, was one that would rather stay indoors and not actively talk to people, she was a hardworking woman and was rarely passive.

Beautiful, intelligent, and passionate. Her mother’s gentle touch had always made her stiffen, as if warmth like that was something she didn’t deserve. Marilyn often found herself avoiding her mother’s gaze, afraid that if she looked too closely, she’d somehow break the kindness she saw there.

Her mother would often ask if she wanted anything, but Marilyn always shook her head. She could hear the worry in her mother’s voice sometimes, the small pauses before speaking. Marilyn tried to stay quiet, tried to stay out of the way—because what if, this time, she would ruin everything again?

Little Marilyn turned around again, to face the flowers, even having herself pick off one of them too for her to stare at very carefully, the plant in question being a violet.

What was she doing, listening to their plight? It was none of her business, nothing to worry about in particular.

She wouldn't want to disturb her father's work of keeping the village safe, in turn their family too. She would rather 'play' here and let them do their thing.

She would rather just be a good child, not wanting anything else other than being a good child. Not wishing for any dream other than being a good child. But a good child, in her mind, was a weird and vague notion to think about.

Her previous mother’s voice still echoed in her mind sometimes, those sharp words carving themselves into her like old scars she couldn’t erase. Marilyn couldn’t even remember all the things she’d done wrong—only that she’d always been wrong.

Her hand hovered over the flower she’d picked, unsure whether to keep it or toss it away, the weight of the choice feeling heavier than it should. Did it even matter anymore? She shook her head, as if to banish the thought, but it lingered like a shadow, too familiar to ignore.

She opted to be conservative and keep believing in it, even if it was a lie. She only experienced a happy life in the past for far less than a decade, and that version of her knew nothing of what makes a good child, same as now.

So, this was her answer to that problem, a solution she didn't exactly know the implications of. Be a good child in a sense that she would turn herself into a perfect doll, passive and doing what's only told to her, not wanting anything but the essentials. No hobbies, no strong likes or dislikes. That was all, the opposite of her previous life's childhood self.

After all, she was to blame for ruining her own life, right? And if she were to prevent the apparent cause of death of her previous father, of wanting something that a child would naturally want and being given such, her fate could be avoided.

It was practically an aimless life she was currently living. Unbeknownst to her, she could potentially set herself up to be an object for abuse, if her chosen partner were to be that kind of man. No strength to speak of. A weak woman, not like her current mother, incapable of calling for help.

Of course, that was only speculation, for the Althorn family would never do such a thing to their child. It was too cruel of a fate, even if Marilyn were to somehow become a bad person they wouldn't do so.

But Marilyn didn't know that. She wouldn't know that, for she was not a seer.

Marilyn sat perfectly still, her hands folded neatly in her lap. When her sister called her to play, she almost got up—almost—but then thought better of it. Her feet stayed planted in the grass, and she smiled politely instead.

It was easier this way. Easier to be quiet, to not ask for anything, to not be a bother. A good girl didn’t need much. A good girl just smiled and did as she was told.

But an itch began to scratch at her head, another thought of sorts. Something, that being herself, was pushing her to think of a different path.

Her own mind was rebelling against the thought of this, of this life that she was living. It was rigid. Hollow. Empty. Why would such a girl like her want that?

A self-defence mechanism, at least that would be the professional answer to most people. A sort of bargaining towards fate to not hurt her again, that her trauma was so severe that she relegated herself to become the opposite of herself.

Yet her subconscious didn't want that sort of thing to happen. It made her utter the words—

"What do I want, even…?"

Quietly she muttered, words of a girl who suffered a lack of a dream to reach. Truly, it was not natural for her to be this way, hence the said phrase.

And while she kept thinking about that thought, Robert himself had contemplated several theories on what this important issue might be, causing him to respond with a—

"I understand, I'll join you in a minute," he said, "But if you may excuse us, I'll be talking to the little miss next to me here beforehand."

The village chief laughed, "That'll be alright, I'll wait for you inside." He replied, entering his gated front yard and opening the door to his own house, walking in and closing it off with a thud afterwards.

The father of the two Althorn sisters sighed and turned to Helena afterwards, kneeling down to her level. "Helena, can I ask you a favour?"

She tilted her head slightly, "Hmm, what is it, father?"

He gestured his head to the youngest of their family, who was playing with a flower in the village garden. "You should go play with her, maybe talk to her," he said, still a smile presenting itself on his face.

The eldest daughter turned her head; she immediately understood what might be going on here. After all, her father was an observant man; he could immediately judge the character or mindset of someone just through a glance alone.

If he considered Marilyn's assumed plight to be a more important issue than whatever the village chief was implying, then it was something Helena had to take with full responsibility and commitment to work towards completion.

"Be a good older sister for her, okay? You know why," he said, standing up and patting her head.

Helena once again nodded, smiling, "You got it!"

Robert chuckled, before waving farewell to her and entering the village chief's house. And with that said, Helena finally turned around and took a deep breath, all for Marilyn's own well-being in mind, as told by her father; she would do this.

The 8 year old girl approached the garden, sprinting for a bit as her raven-black hair flowed through the air, her emerald eyes focused upon her younger sister. She soon arrived, calling out to her, "Marilyn! Hey Marilyn!"

She noticed her, quickly standing up at attention and dusting her dress clean of any dirt, but still keeping the violet in her front pocket. "What is it, sister?"

Small gasps of breath came out of her as Helena's hands held onto her younger sister's own. With excitement, she responded, "Let's play! I know a good place for the two of us to explore!"

That smile of hers was contagious, and Marilyn could not help but smile as well.