"There's a small cut and bruise on the side of her head where she must have hit a window, but otherwise she's fine."

"Any sutures?"

"The cut wasn't long enough or deep enough to warrant anything like that. There is nothing to worry about, my lady. All she needs now is a few hours of sleep."

The Doctor thought it would be better not to take her with them to the Lodden Empire, but as it was, it didn't look like they were going to leave her with them anyway, so he kept that to himself. She would be fine if she slept for the duration of their stay, which was going to be extended due to the repair work on the carriage.

With a sigh of relief, Rowena nodded to the doctor before her and dismissed him. "Norina, stay with her for a bit, I need some time to myself."

Norina, who had been holding Ava's hand for a while now, nodded in understanding. She didn't want to let her lady go alone, but she knew by now that sometimes she had to let her go.

Especially now, when her mistress hadn't traveled for so long. It hurt her to see her lady so confused and anxious. Who would have expected something like this to happen?

In reality, Rowena had expected something like this to happen. Seriously, it was basically an obligatory thing to happen in such novels, right?

She hated to think about it that way, because this wasn't just a book anymore - no, it never was. But maybe the reason why all the stories she read had such a scene was because the cliché was somehow rooted in truth? It made sense, but it still seemed unreal.

For someone like her, who was used to being ambushed on missions in less than optimal territorial conditions, it shouldn't sound stupid at all. Why should it be any less clichéd just because it hadn't happened to a noble on a journey when it was Celia's world?

With another sigh, this time a heavy one, she walked down the hallway of this unfamiliar mansion. They had barely crossed the bridge when the haphazardly thrown together axle finally gave way.

But it wasn't that bad, because they had sent a guard with a letter in advance, so he was waiting on the other side with some servants of the Nerena Marquisate and a spare carriage. The Marquis wasn't in good health anymore, so they were assisted by the overseer who handled most of the business in the Territory.

Her luggage was taken to the room where she was staying, as they knew better than to leave the things of the "infamously stubborn young lady" in any old room without supervision. For the time being, until the carriage could be restocked, everything towered a few feet away from her as she entered the room.

It was large, clean, very simple but elegant in its decoration, but there was one thing that caught her eye. An old picture on the wall, a tall one, of a beautiful young lady, maybe eighteen or seventeen, just like Rowena. She looked just like her, too.

But it wasn't Rowena, she knew, not only because the girl with the same pearly eyes and lavender hair was smiling warmly in the painting, but because she wasn't shown alone in it.

Behind her stood a man, perhaps in his late forties, with a stern expression and a hand on the back of the chair she was sitting in. On the chair next to the young woman was an older woman with dark brown hair and beautiful green eyes, about the same age as the man, a few years younger at most.

Although neither of them shared her unique eyes and hair color, they were unmistakably her parents. So this was definitely Isidora, Rowena's mother, along with Rowena's grandparents, the Marquis and his late wife.

Rowena wasn't aware of the fact that the late Marchioness had looked like this, though she was aware that the characteristics had skipped a generation until they had reappeared in Isidora and Rowena.

Even now, her eldest brother had none of the traits, and her second brother lacked her eyes. Had they not had three children, they would have been lost again. In the case of the Marchioness, there was no other heir, which was the reason why the title was given to a man outside the blood family.

Her grandfather may not have been part of the Marquisate, but he had taken care of it perfectly. And with Colin as the next Marquis, it would all go back into the hands of the Nerena family tree.

She shook off the thought and looked down at her belongings as she lifted her skirt, took out her jacket, and folded it to stuff it into the trunk with her gold and Mana Stones.

No one was allowed to touch her valuables, not even her maids - at least not without direct orders. In other words, no one would find it in there, especially since there was a padlock on it, to which only Rowena herself and Norina had a key.

Since she knew that Norina would never just open it and no one else could, it seemed the safest option to keep it in order to hide it while she traveled. Using the subspace of a Numbered was one of the biggest advantages of the whole thing in her eyes, but what could she do about it now? If they didn't have a contract, she couldn't open his space.

It was a small layer beneath the Surface, open only to the Numbered, who could travel freely through the Surface. Back when Rowena was Celia, she had thought, like everyone else, that the subspace of a Numbered was simply a space for them, separate from the World Beyond, where all the other Visitors dwelled.

But now it seemed more like a space between many spaces and, as it turned out, other dimensions with other Earths within them. Such a subspace wasn't for a mortal being to mess around with, but she could put her hand in a little.

If she knew what she wanted, she could open the space right where the object was. "Intention", as it was always needed when using Mana, would lead you to whatever you were looking for. In this space, there was no time and no real space, so going there was not possible.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

One would lose oneself instantly and never return, even if the body was pushed out again. But if that were possible, she might have been able to find other worlds long ago. Or maybe she could have found her way back to her old world, just like Pan did.

"If anything, I could have used it for teleportation. None of this shit would have happened if we had teleported to Kadena in one go."

'You are obsessed.'

"Mind your own business."

She sat down on her bed and took out the violin, which also ended up in this room with her. She couldn't quite figure out what had happened the last time she used it. It didn't feel wrong, maybe a little stiff and clumsy, but at the same time familiar.

Was this the power of muscle memory? She didn't know, but it felt like she was gaining more control over the bow with each stroke. There was something she had to try out.

Standing up next to her bed, she took out the instrument, tucked it under her chin, and began to play. Like last time, it sounded a bit jagged, especially the first few strokes. But it became smoother with each note she played, sounding more and more like a lovely melody.

No matter how hard she tried, every time she closed her eyes, her hands played the same tune. There was nothing else, just that specific set of movements, over and over again, until the song was finished.

The real Rowena must have practiced this one piece until her fingers bled, it went deep into her subconscious and burned into her bone marrow. The thought sent shivers down her spine and her eyes began to water, somewhere in the middle of the sorrowful piece.

Sorrow might not be the right word, there was something... uplifting as well, as if something bad had happened, but they were going to overcome it. It was kind of hopeful. Cheerful even. But it also tore into her in a way she hadn't thought possible.

It felt like there was more to it than a simple melody. Again, it was as if it wasn't her memory that produced these feelings, after all, she had no history with this song or anything related to it.

Her hands slowed and finally stopped as her arm sank, the violin still held in place, and a tear rolled down her porcelain cheek. 'What was it that made you so sad, Rowena?'

A knock at the door almost made her jump out of her skin. She put the violin down on her bed and raced to the door in an uncouth manner before stopping and remembering her etiquette.

"Who's there?" she asked, adjusting her skirt and hair to look more presentable and less disheveled.

"It's just me," the person behind the door said in an old man's voice, as if that should have told her.

"I understand, I'll be right there," Rowena replied, trying not to sound completely clueless as the man seemed to know her and expect her to know him as well.

When she opened the door, her eyes went wide despite her best efforts, when she saw the same stern eyes she had been staring at for five minutes upon her arrival.

"It's so good to see you," he said, each word sounding raspy.

Blinking, she knew she had to respond somehow. "Grandfather, I thought you couldn't rise well lately." For a noble, news like that was as venomous as a snakebite, but for him, it was just words.

He was no longer a pillar, he was past his prime, waiting for his grandson to take away the rest of his power. Of course, that didn't relieve him of the basic responsibilities he had as a grandfather and marquis.

"We haven't seen each other in many years, I didn't want to let this pass without at least saying hello." He wasn't feeling well, she could tell by his haggard appearance.

"I see," the young woman replied, not knowing what else to say, "I have missed you as well." It was a lie, she knew - he knew as well.

Actually, she had already figured out that it was Rowena who was blocking all outside contact. No one was allowed near her, even her death was made possible by the fact that she was always alone and was known to send away even servants.

She burned her entire family and any friends she might have had until they all decided to let her go. At least that's how it seemed from the surface. But the human heart wasn't that simple, was it?

You couldn't just erase someone you considered family from your mind like that. "Do you mind if we take a little walk around the garden?"

"Ah," her mouth opened before she could stop it, not knowing what to say, "yes, I would be glad to."

The tall man seemed so hurt as he was looking down at her with such a lonely expression hidden behind that stern facade. But now, she could see him lighting up a bit.

She took a shawl from her luggage and draped it around her shoulders, accepting the offer of his arm to tuck her own underneath. As they walked out, the climate was very mild, the sun barely hiding behind a small white cloud formation that looked a bit like a rabbit.

Maybe she could stare at it and just ignore the fact that the Marquis was constantly watching her from the side? It took a few minutes before they reached the actual garden behind the grand estate.

As one would expect from the place that invented it, it was a magnificent sea of lavender roses with silver stems and petals. It almost took her breath away to see the water fountain with a small statue of Aurora at the center of this sea.

"It's really beautiful." Her words were barely a whisper, but the old man could hear them loud and clear.

"Whenever I look at it, I see your mother." He gazed wistfully at the scenery. "But my body isn't getting any younger. I can't get up and come out here much anymore."

"You didn't have to, just for me..."

"No, I wanted to," he said, without wasting a second, "especially after I heard you play her song. I knew had to come out here anyway."

"Her song?"

"The piece you played. I didn't know you still liked to play, your brother mentioned that you gave up the violin after your mother left us."

"Oh, that, I didn't give it up."

"I see," he said, "I'm glad then."

"But I have a question," Rowena asked hurriedly as they approached the well, "do you know the name of the piece I played? It's been so long, it must have slipped my mind somehow, and I'd like to start learning again if I get the chance."

"You were so little when you started, no wonder you forgot." The old man laughed briefly and sat down next to his granddaughter at the edge of the fountain. "I think it was called... 'Sentiments,' a piece by a Lodden composer, H.P. Glass. I may have the sheet music for it somewhere, since your grandmother loved the piece as well. If I can find it, you can pick it up on your way back from our neighbors."

In fact, it was her grandmother, Alina Vy Nerena, who had been the reason Rowena's mother had fallen in love with the tune in the first place. It reminded Rowena of a line dropped as an afterthought by a minor character with an attitude problem as bad as Rowena's.

A noblewoman of the same age, who still made fun of Rowena even after the girl had died, tried to talk badly about her to the heroine, Scarlett Baldwin, but didn't reach her life goals with her. In her rant, she mentioned how her unknown lineage must have finally caught up with her, as evidenced by her ill-mannered behavior.

'Unknown ancestry,' Rowena thought, 'right, because her great-grandmother, whom the Marquis loved so much that he dedicated his life's work to honoring her memory, wasn't from the Arlen Empire. Where did she come from?' And was it even important? It felt like it might be.

"Grandfather, could it be," she said, still formulating her thought in her mind, "that my great-grandmother was from the Lodden Empire?"

Surprised, he looked at her and laughed again. "No, of course not," he answered, "she hailed from the Kingdom of Edenberg, did you not know?"

"No, I didn't." Of course she didn't. 'Well, so much for that theory.'