Another day had arrived.

The rising sun in the horizon marked the end of my week-long break, and also mark the first week since that attack happened.

A lot had changed. Not just from the increased security I saw patrolling the streets, but it also affected those who were close to me. It was difficult to pretend things were normal again when they very clearly weren’t.

I woke up surprisingly early as Carine. Perhaps it was because I managed to rest well yesterday, though that didn’t mean my mind was finally at ease. My schedule for today… it should remain standard, which meant no servants would come knocking on my door for at least another hour.

Speaking of servants, this should be the day Leila returns from her break. But I was worried for her as well. The way she acted after the attack was different as well, making her one of the many things that changed. I hoped that my talk with her last night helped her, but after what happened with Mother…

Thinking back on it, Mother’s words were harsh not only to me but to Leila as well. As a maid, she always trusted and what I assumed to be a close friendship… Mother’s words would’ve stung pretty deep.

I wondered how she was feeling. Would she be able to garner enough energy to work as if nothing happened? Would she try to act as though she wasn’t affected by Mother’s words? Considering the situation, maybe she should have another day or two for a break.

Man, this had to happen right after saying how I want her to go back as my maid.

Thinking about it won’t change a thing, though. No one can change the past; the best I could do was hope for the best.

I sighed, letting my back rest on the soft mattress once more, deciding to let my body relax for just a little longer before I was inevitably called for breakfast.

…

These past few days had been a tough one for Carine. But there was no doubt an effect on Feyt as well, considering we’re the same person. I had hoped I would at least have some energy as Feyt, seeing he wasn’t affected as much, but yeah, my hopes were crushed.

I had no intent on jumping back onto the bed, even though my heart craved for it. Something inside Feyt’s body basically told me I needed to move, to stretch my legs, to do something.

I suppose it made sense. I mean, back home, I was always working around the village, whether it was carrying water for Mom and Dad or helping out with the farm work. Sitting still had never been my favorite pastime.

With nothing else to do, I sat in front of my writing desk, the place where I penned my letters. So far, I had never sent any letters other than home. Mom and Dad had also sent letters to me, and all of them were variations of wishing me well and asking how my day was going. I would also sometimes get letters from Ricent, though all he seemed to care about was if there were any cool board games here.

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I always wrote back to them, telling them that the food here was great, saying how I missed Mom’s cooking, and informed them that I was doing fine.

The latest one, however, was a bit different. I mean, this was their response after learning I was involved in a terrorist attack after all. While the letter itself was filled with the usual warmth, what caught my attention was the ending, which was written so:

“Feyt, if you can, please return back home. We’re worried something might happen to you there!

—But, of course, you should only do what you want. Just know that the both of us are always here.”

The two sentences seem to contradict each other in intention. The first sentence wanted me to return home as fast as I possibly could, while the other asked me to think about what I wanted to do.

Their letters were always written as a joint effort, but I could easily tell who wrote each part just from how they formed their words. It was a bit hard to differentiate them through writing since the letters were written a bit crudely, or hell, one of them could’ve written it by themselves while the other just says their thoughts.

With that in mind, I could clearly see that the first sentence was written by Mom and the latter by Dad.

The reason this part of the letter caught my attention was that I was actually considering it.

At first, the thought of going back seemed impossible. I told myself that I needed to train as much as possible, that staying here was the only way forward. But after the last two days? After everything that had happened? I found myself hesitating.

Maybe stepping away from this manor for a little while, at least with one of my bodies, wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Maybe it would help me lift this weight in my chest just a little bit.

Deciding it now would be tricky, though, since my mind hasn’t yet cleared up. I didn’t want to make a choice that I would regret. And besides, classes were about to start back up again. Shouldn’t I at least give them a chance? I needed to see if they helped me regain my focus before I could decide on anything.

So, withthe determination that I thought I had lost, I picked up a quill and started writing a letter back home.

—

The sun was beaming through my windows. Its light reflected off of the chandelier and pierced my enclosed eyes.

With reluctance, I arose from my bed and pushed myself to stay awake.

The servants should come and wake me up anytime soon.

I knew that Leila would return to work today. She had been eager to work after all. But I figured she might not be herself as well. After Mother’s scolding last night… I wondered if she was feeling as sluggish as I was.

Knocks came. I held my breath for a moment as if waiting for something.

“Lady Carine, it is me.”

I exhaled in relief. Hearing Leila’s voice each morning had become such a norm for me that I didn’t realize how incomplete I felt without it.

However, even if Leila was here, would she be alright?

If she was distraught like she was back then, when I invited her for an outing, I would feel bad for forcing her to work…

Well, there’s no point in waiting.

I scooted off of my bed and opened the door. I hoped that I would be greeted by an impossibly immaculate dress, that I would be greeted with her usual monotonic face and tone. I hoped that Leila… was still her usual self.

But when I opened that door.

I was greeted with a warm, polite smile.

…Okay, she’s not feeling well.

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