A girl with wavy lavender hair and a white frilly dress was sitting on the floor of her room, drawing a picture with crayons. When she finished, she jumped up and ran past a laughing Ilona.

"You shouldn't run in the hallways, young lady," she said, but she knew right away that there was no stopping her.

She ran into a room, a bedroom, and as she approached the two people inside, they stopped talking. The girl couldn't hear them, but they exchanged their grim faces for happy ones as she approached the bed and was picked up by her father.

The black-haired man carefully placed her on the bedding next to him, while his wife was covered and sitting up, back against the headboard. The woman was still beautiful, but her eyes looked tired, her lips chapped, and her skin horribly pale.

"Look, Dad, Mom, I drew us," the girl said, waving the picture happily in her hands. It was barely recognizable, but it showed her father, her mother, her first brother Alan, and her second brother Colin.

"It's a spectacular picture. I will have it framed and display it in my office," her father said.

"It's beautiful, Row," her mother added, smiling softly as she lovingly caressed her daughter's head.

A young Rowena's giggles filled the room, which had been somber only moments before.

Like a slap to the face, Rowena, no, Celia opened her eyes. There was a slight pounding in her skull, as if her brain was swelling. Aching, she slowly got up from her comfortable bed, looking around her bedroom in confusion.

The corner of her eye stung, and when she wiped it, tears clung to her fingertips. She was crying, ever so slightly. What had happened? Was it a dream? But it felt too real, and she could remember every detail.

It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't a dream at all. "A memory?" One that clung to the body she had possessed. But she couldn't access any of her memories, so why was she suddenly being shown one?

She couldn't make sense of it, and her head hurt badly. For some reason, she felt sad. Wasn't it a happy memory? Yet she felt sad – not about the memory itself, just that she was... hurting. So personal, she couldn't comprehend it.

A soft sniffle was heard, then she took a deep breath to calm herself. A glance out of her patio door showed her the sun, barely trying to rise behind the faraway mountain range. It was much too early, she should try to get some more sleep.

Just as she thought that, the door opened with a loud noise. "My lady, you must wake up!" Norina called into the room and turned on the lights.

Seeing her mistress already sitting on the bed, she smiled and came closer. "Oh, you're already up, that's a..." She stopped herself when she saw the reddened eyes and the wetness glistening on her cheek. "What's the matter? Has something happened?"

Worried, she rushed to her side and put a hand on her mistress's shoulder. Even Ava behind her looked a little taken aback.

"No, nothing. It's fine, Norina."

Not quite believing it, the maid took a handkerchief from her pocket and dried Rowena's face. "If you have any problems, please talk to us. We are always here for you." She brushed some of her long and frizzy blonde hair behind her ear and looked up and down at her lady, furrowing her brow.

"Really, it's nothing," Rowena deflected, "but why are you here so early?" It couldn't be later than four in the morning.

'She must be a lot more nervous than I thought. I should have paid more attention.' She shook her head, her curls whipping around wildly. "We will make it so that you have nothing to fear. We'll make you so breathtaking, they won't even be able to argue with you about the weather."

'Who would argue with me about the weather?' Before she could protest, however, Rowena was dragged into the bathroom, where a tub of water awaited her.

Even after three weeks, she still felt uncomfortable actually climbing into that strange tub. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of. Even the real Rowena had to work hard to hurt herself here.

But the dream from this morning wouldn't let go of her, and her unstable mind couldn't take it without making her shiver.

"It's too cold, isn't it?" Norina reacted immediately, "I'll ask them to turn on the heating."

"Don't, it's not even cold out."

"That can't be, you're shivering! What if you get sick?"

'Sure hope it's not pneumonia, right?' She had to laugh through her teeth at the irony and shook her head, though the movement hurt a little. "My head hurts a bit. Could you get me some medicine?"

"Are you sick already? I'll get you whatever I can, just wait a minute!" With that, the girl bolted from the bathroom while Ava finished helping Rowena with the bath.

When Norina came back, she had already been done with everything and was sitting down to get her hair dried. "It took a little longer because they didn't have anything in the annex."

She was holding a small tablet with a glass - presumably water - and a small paper wrapper, similar to a drug package you would normally see on the street, if this was Celia's original world. Inside the paper was a white powder.

"I guess I have to put the powder in the water and drink it?"

Blinking, Norina and Ava cocked their heads and shared a confused look. "Yes, as you normally would?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Yes, normally…" Rowena did as she assumed, hoping it would work as fast as a modern pill.

At the same time, the door opened again. "Are you ready?" someone asked, her voice unfamiliar to Rowena.

"My lady, this is Islette, she's been working for the mansion for ten years and she's the best when it comes to putting on make-up."

"'Make-up'?" The newcomer, a woman in her twenties with a brown halo braid, smiled innocently at Rowena.

"Yes! We want you to look your best. Since we thought that was your goal, after you got new clothes and changed your diet and all."

The young woman with lavender hair, sitting in her chair in a bathrobe, didn't know what to say. 'They'd prepared a bathtub this early in the morning and even brought in a maid who wasn't from the annex to help me because they thought I wanted to make an impression.' It touched her.

"Thank you, you three. I didn't think you'd take this so seriously." There was a small part of her that still saw these people as little more than NPCs in a video game. But they were people, too.

In this case, people who cared about her, so she didn't know how to treat them. At VAULT, they wouldn't just let her die either, but there was never anyone who looked at her long enough to try to understand her intentions or feelings.

Her eyes began to sting again and her cheeks felt hot as she pulled her shoulders up and clawed at the knees of her robe. She didn't like to cry at all and when she did, it always gave her a headache.

Norina wanted to say something when she saw her mistress give in a little, but she didn't when she saw her face turning red up to her ears. Laughing, she rubbed her upper back a bit and waited for her to calm down. That bit of time they surely had.

"Now, let's take care of your skin, nails and hair, then pick out a dress and put on some make-up," Islette threw in, but a loud rumbling sound broke her stride and made her clear her throat, "after we get the lady something to eat, since all this is going to take a while." She was indeed someone with a lot of experience.

"Yes, that would be appreciated," Rowena admitted ashamedly.

"We'll manage," Islette said, leading them out of the room. Norina and Ava were young, but not bad either, so there was nothing to worry about.

And a few hours later, seated in a beautiful carriage with soft cushions, Rowena came to a stop in front of the capital's temple of the Church of Aurora.

In reality, it looked even more amazing than described in a book. It was large, not very fancy, but there were statues of hooded women holding something like a sun all over the front yard. The building was white with gold trim and windows with colorful stained glass telling the story of their goddess.

'I'm not into religion, I don't think that there's a God out there, looking out for any of us, but I sure find the concept fascinating.' Too bad she had to travel by carriage, and even with the padding, her butt hurt like hell. It was also slow.

They had no cars, no teleportation. 'What's the use of magic if it barely helps?'

Norina, who was sitting in front of her, also looked out of the carriage window, but unlike Rowena, she seemed annoyed. And when Rowena grabbed the handle of the door, she finally snapped.

"My lady!" she said in a scolding tone, "you shouldn't be the one to open the carriage. One of the temple knights should guide you out."

'But who's gonna do it?' Her eyes scanned the courtyard and the people in it. She saw a few normally dressed ones, most likely nobles, since the temple here wasn't in a part of the city where commoners, even the better-looking ones, would go.

But most of them were, as expected, Holy Knights. The same status as Rowena's first brother. But those actually belonged to the Church and gave their lives for its cause.

In the book, most of them weren't exactly sad about Rowena's demise, and her death was like a bursting bubble in terms of how much it affected anyone.

They loved and worshipped the Saintess, as she provided them with protection and salvation on the battlefield. She's also only the second Saintess to ever grace this earth, which makes her even more special. 'Rowena's offense against Scarlett probably got their panties in a turbo-twist.'

So they did give her carriage a sideways glance, but they wouldn't make a move on purpose. And the coachman behind her was already waving, waiting to take her place in line, so she had to get out.

Sighing, she opened the door against etiquette and jumped out alone, while Norina, too startled to react, followed.

She knew her mistress had no choice, but it didn't look good. Everyone in the garden was watching them, smirking, whispering and giving them dirty looks. The young maid wanted to get in their faces, but she held back as her lady seemed as calm as they came.

The dress they had chosen was originally shoulderless, but white laces covered her back and collarbone, neck and shoulders, down to her wrists. There was no other decoration, and it had a simple skirt attached to it. Not too much for the temple, but enough to make an impression.

She walked up in her white Mary Jane shoes, looking like a princess, and no one could ever make fun of that.

Upon entering the temple, people couldn't stop looking at her until a young priest rushed over to her, startled. "Lady van Varnhagen, I presume?"

"That is correct."

"I'm sorry, we should have received you a little more politely, but in the name of the Church of Aurora, I welcome you."

"Thank you." She couldn't say much, knowing that half the church didn't like her already, because word traveled fast in this world, even if nothing else did.

Then again, four weeks had passed. The problem would rather be in their way of holding grudges.

"I'll take you to the conference room, as the Pope and the Saintess are already waiting."

Without acknowledgment, she simply followed, Norina at her side, until they reached one of the temple's back rooms. As the door opened, she saw who else had been there.

The 'conference room', with many chairs in the auditorium and a podium on a raised stage, was almost empty.

A girl with long black hair and golden eyes, with strong yet beautiful features, at least a head taller than Rowena, stood waiting next to a man with blond hair and green eyes. He, too, was handsome. A picture-perfect couple, standing next to each other like this.

They were none other than the original male and female leads of "The Saintess' Unbreakable Shield", Saintess Scarlett Baldwin and Crown Prince Cedric de Arlen.

'I'm sure there were more names attached to them, but I can't recall them for the life of me.'

Next to them waited a man who seemed to have trouble looking at Rowena, with black hair, deep red eyes, and a long scar across his right cheek. Her father, Carlisle Elric van Varnhagen, a man with an air about him that was as cold as they said. She liked him, though, so she remembered his second name.

Middle names like that were a sign of a priest's baptism, supposedly to bless someone and protect them from evil - mostly Visitors. But it wasn't something everyone could afford, so it was primarily a noble thing, or for wealthy commoners.

Otherwise, no one in this world had more than one given name. 'And frankly, it's not like it actually worked.'

And then, last but not least, a stocky man in a robe, with square glasses on the bridge of his nose and a small cap on his gray hair.

The Pope himself. 'Lavanti, was it? I don't even know if that's his first name or last name. Couldn't care less when I read it.'

As they all looked at her, she knew what they were expecting, so she held up her skirt with her fingertips and made a polite greeting. "Rowena Dynari van Varnhagen greets the Pope," she said before walking over to the beautiful black haired woman, bowing a little more than a greeting would require and closing her eyes, "Oh Venerable Saintess, I have done a lot of reflecting this past month and have come to understand the error of my ways. My thoughtless actions must have caused you much distress, therefore I implore you, as you are merciful, to accept my sincere apologies."

When she finished speaking, but no one responded, she opened one of her eyes a little, just to take a peek.

However, she hadn't expected the person who was supposed to be angry with her to look like she was about to cry herself.