Summon the Modern Lady!

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"Ah, you're probably a Seer then."

Ayessa's calm tone slicing through the tension like a blade.

Cheska froze, her gaze darting between the princess and Amaranthe. Her mind spun with questions she was too afraid to voice.

A few days ago, when Cheska had accidentally let the word novel slip, Ayessa's reaction had been far too calm. Instead of shock or disbelief, the princess had reassured them and promised to investigate further.

Now, the day of reckoning had arrived.

They were seated in the garden house, where stacks of books lay scattered across the table, a testament to the rushed research Ayessa had conducted. The faint smell of parchment mingled with the scent of fresh grass, but the air between them was anything but peaceful.

"How can you seem so sure?" Amaranthe finally asked, her voice unusually soft.

"Some scholars possess abilities like this. Ianthe once mentioned it to me," Ayessa tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her expression thoughtful. "...though she didn't have the ability herself. She said some people, through dreams or fleeting visions, could glimpse worlds beyond their own."

"Worlds beyond…" Cheska murmured, the words heavy on her tongue.

Ayessa nodded. "Yes. It might explain why you recognize this place, Lady Amaranthe. If you've been dreaming of it, then perhaps…"

Amaranthe sighed, breathing in slowly. "But why are there differences? Why isn't everything the same?"

Cheska hesitated, her unease growing. "I… I've been meaning to tell you. Everything else is the same, except for one thing—Rudenheischt."

Ayessa tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

Cheska swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. "The names of the royal family are different, but the events are identical. In Amaranthe's story, the Demon King and female lead was Loyola. But here… that role is Ianthe's."

At the mention of her sister's name, Ayessa stiffened.

"And Prince Elton," Cheska added, "the male lead, has become Prince Kayer in this world."

Amaranthe sat in silence, her emerald eyes fixed on the wall, her expression unreadable.

Cheska shifted uncomfortably, her thoughts swirling with unspoken pain.

The Demon King and the Prince Series was my safe haven. I loved those characters so much. I felt their pain, their struggles, their joys. Knowing it's all real somewhere… that it actually happened to them…

Her heart clenched, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check.

"What about the final book of the series?" she asked the author, her voice trembling. "I haven't read it yet. And it probably disappeared with the summoning, right? I couldn't find it anywhere since coming here."

Amaranthe's lips parted, but no sound came out. Her eyes widened, and her complexion turned pale.

"I…" Amaranthe's voice finally emerged, weak and unsteady. "I don't know. I don't remember the content…"

Cheska and Ayessa shared a worried look.

Amaranthe suddenly clutched her head, her breathing becoming erratic.

Suddenly her entire body trembled as if caught in some invisible storm.

"Amaranthe!" Cheska cried out.

The two women quickly guided her to her room, helping her into bed. Ayessa tucked the blanket around her with care, her brows furrowed in concern.

"Rest for now," the princess said softly. "Ring this bell if you need anything." 

Her hand reached for something in the air, invisible it seemed like, only after she pulled it out did a silver bell materialized.

"Is that Honorus?"

"You know it?" 

The editor nodded as Ayessa placed the bell on Amaranthe's bed side table, "It's a summoning artifact for the head maid..."

Ayessa nods, turning her attention back to the sickly author, "It seems you have wrote all details, Lady Amara. Maybe that was why you felt a sense of incongruity and was distant from us?" 

Amaranthe didn't respond, her gaze fixed blankly on the ceiling.

Only when she closed her eyes did Cheska and Ayessa stepped out into the hallway, nearly collided with Prince Kayer and his aide, Emette.

"What happened?" Kayer asked, his purple eyes narrowing as he took in their troubled expressions.

Ayessa sighed, explaining Amaranthe's sudden condition, though she carefully avoided mentioning the novel elements. She did, however, mention Ianthe's name in passing, causing Kayer's jaw to tighten ever so slightly.

"And why are you two here?" Ayessa asked, her arms crossing as she studied the prince and his aide.

Emette cleared his throat, his expression carefully neutral. "We came to inform Miss Amaranthe that her ordered books have arrived. His Majesty tasked me with delivering the message. However…" He cast a side glance at Kayer, his voice dipping into a wry tone. "…he also insisted that the prince accompany me. Something about ensuring better relations with the guest."

Ayessa's gaze lingered on her brother, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She said nothing, but her silence carried weight, as though she could see through his reluctance to the truth.

He must have reflected on himself.

Kayer stiffened under her scrutiny, turning his head to avoid her gaze. "What?" he muttered.

Cheska, sensing the tension, wrung her hands nervously before interjecting. "Maybe… maybe you could leave the books in her room later? She's not really in a state to talk right now."

Kayer's purple eyes flicked toward Amaranthe's door.

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, his usual stoic mask seemed to falter. After a long pause, he gave a curt nod.

"Fine," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "Let the castle doctor know if she needs anything else."

Nan and Kaya, the warbler birds perched on Kayer's shoulders, suddenly fluttered to the door.

Their tiny talons clicking against the wood as they began pecking softly at it. Their sad chirps echoed in the corridor, tugging at Cheska's heart.

Kayer frowned, "Don't do that, you'll wake the guest..." he said with a sigh, patting his shoulders so they'd come back to him. "Let's go."

But the birds didn't budge.

Their heads tilted toward the closed door, their chirps growing more insistent, as if they could sense the unease on the other side.

"They're worried," Cheska said softly.

"It doesn't matter," Kayer grumbled. "She said she was scared of birds. It'll just make things worse."

Cheska shook her head, her expression gentle but firm. "Trained birds like these have a bond with you. Even if you force them to leave, they'll come back. It's fine— Amaranthe's sleeping anyway."

Kayer hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked back at the birds.

With a weary sigh, he turned on his heel. "If anything happens at least she can't point at me this time," he muttered before walking away, Emette following closely behind.

The two ladies were still worried, but staying won't be of any help.

Deciding that it was best to lull the stress and overwhelming information, they set off to help with the banquet preparations.

The corridor grew quiet once more, save for the soft, mournful chirps of Nan and Kaya.

Then, slowly, the door to Amaranthe's room creaked open.

"Chirp!" 

The warblers cried happily, hopping inside, their songs turning gentle as if to soothe the silence.

~~~

The days to the Banquet of Honors dwindled, yet the castle felt unusually quiet. Amaranthe remained secluded in her room, emerging only for meals. Ayessa defended her absence, brushing off questions with royal finesse. Still, her silence weighed heavily on the atmosphere.

Cheska, on the other hand, struggled to mask her gloom.

With no tasks assigned and most of the staff stationed at Rudenheischt Castle preparing the banquet hall, she wandered aimlessly.

Her steps eventually led her to the grand marble staircase in the castle's lobby, where she sank onto the cold steps, releasing a heavy sigh.

The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting the hall in shades of gold and amber.

Her moment of solitude was broken by the creak of the massive doors.

Startled, Cheska looked up.

A man entered, pushing a cart brimming with vibrant flowers that seemed to brighten the entire room. His gaze darted around, wary and uncertain. 

Brown hair framed his face, catching the warm glow of the setting sun, and his honey-colored eyes reflected a softness that momentarily stole her breath.

Pretty, she thought, her attention lingered on the beauty mark beneath his left eye.

"Um, excuse me, my lady." His voice was soft, shy, yet carried a quiet confidence. "I seem to be lost. Could you tell me the way to Rudenheischt Castle?"

He smiled— serene and warm, his gaze locking onto hers.

Cheska blinked, snapping out of her daze. For a moment, she hesitated, cautious of his unfamiliar presence. Then she pieced it together.

Of course. He must've got the castles mixed up.

There were three royal castles on the estate, each serving a distinct purpose. The first was the Castle of the Guests, followed by Rudenheischt Castle for administrative duties, and then the private quarters of the royal family, Ruchuster's Castle.

Standing up, she dusted her skirt and smiled politely.

"It's just past this castle. Remember the path you passed before entering here? There's a marble pathway to the right—just follow it, and you'll reach Rudenheischt Castle." Her gaze shifted to his cart. "Should I help you? There are still cracks on the ground from the earthquake. It might be difficult to push it through."

The man's smile softened, his amber eyes curving. "That's kind of you, my lady, but I'll manage. Magic can smooth the way if it gets too rough."

Cheska nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. "Alright, then. Take care."

He bowed and turned to leave, she watched his retreating figure until he disappeared through the doors.

She sat back on the cold staircase, her mind wandering.

The familiar action—sitting on steps to gather herself—brought a wave of nostalgia.

It reminded her of calmer days back in her world when she'd sit on the fire escape at work, taking a moment to breathe. But here, her thoughts were far from calm.

Can we even go back?

Her chest tightened at the question, her hands gripping her dress.

She had been thrust into a world she loved as fiction, but now, the lines between admiration and reality blurred painfully.

Her spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the faint flicker of something white in her vision.

"For you, my lady."

Startled, Cheska looked up.

The man had returned, his cart unseen.

In his hand, he held a sparkling white flower. His warm smile carried a hint of scrutiny, as if he had weighed the gesture carefully.

"You seem down, my lady" he said, his voice soft, unhurried. "Since you helped me, I thought I'd smuggle one to cheer you up."

Her gaze fell to the delicate bloom, and for a moment, she said nothing.

Then, slowly, her lips curved into a faint laugh. "You know how to move a lady's heart, Sir. You must be popular."

He chuckled in response, his tone light, though there was something measured in his expression. "I've been told, though I'm not sure I deserve it." The man inclined his head slightly, a quiet gesture of respect. "My name is Oliver, my lady."

"Oliver…" she echoed, taking the flower with a touch of hesitation. The soft petals brushed against her fingertips as she brought it closer. "Thank you."

He lingered for a moment, his gaze shifting to the flower in her hands. "This is a snowdrop flower. It looks a bit somber, doesn't it? The way its head hangs low."

Cheska tilted her head, studying the drooping bloom with newfound curiosity. "You're right. It does seem… sad."

Oliver's serene gaze met hers, the corners of his lips lifting faintly. "It reminds me of you, my lady."

Her blue eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by his words. Before she could respond, he continued, his voice gentle yet steady.

"But fear not," he added softly. "Snowdrops symbolize hope and renewal."

"Oh..."

The words hung in the air between them, their meaning settling over her like the first light of dawn.

It was a flower she'd only read in novels but have never searched about.

"They're quite special," Oliver continued. "Even in the coldest winters, snowdrops push through the frost to bloom. They remind us that no matter how difficult things may seem, there's always the promise of something better. A time to accept change and embrace renewal."

Cheska's gaze lingered on the flower, her mind turning over his words.

The man offered her a final, lingering smile. "Take the meaning to heart, my lady. Even when it feels like your head must bow under the weight of it all, hope remains."

Without another word nor waiting for her, he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading softly down the hall.

Cheska remained where she was, the snowdrop resting in her hands.

Its fragile beauty and the gentle wisdom behind it stirred something within her.

It wasn't much—a single flower, a fleeting exchange—but in that quiet moment, the heaviness in her chest lightened just enough to breathe.