The dream returned again.
It was a gloomy, rainy night in her childhood. On the edge of a muddy training field, she saw the woman who once shielded her from the cold—her "big sister," though they shared no blood—slumped in front of a broken wooden hut. Her eyes were hollow, her uniform still torn from the failed mission. She had saved a teammate, but failed the objective. Their superiors scolded her. Her teammates distanced themselves.
Helya had handed her a medical pouch, but the woman gently pushed it back.
"Helya," her voice was tender, heartbreakingly calm, "don't become like me. Promise me that."
Helya opened her eyes.
Soft light spilled through the window. Morning had just broken. Her pulse was still uneven. The dream had clung to her, leaving a shadow on her chest.
A knock came at the door.
"Miss Helya," said a maid's voice outside, "Lady Cael said breakfast is ready. She invites you to join her, if you'd like."
Helya paused, then responded gently, "Thank you. I'll be there shortly."
After washing up, she walked into the dining room to find Cael's mother arranging a plate of sliced fruit. When she noticed Helya enter, her face lit up with a warm, welcoming smile.
"You're up earlier than I thought. Did we disturb you last night? Was the room cold?"
Helya shook her head lightly. "Not at all, thank you. I slept well."
"I'm glad." She motioned her over. "Come, try this egg and broth bun. Cael used to love this when he was little."
Helya smiled and sat beside her. The aroma of food, mingled with the gentle clink of dishes, filled the room with a sense of homely calm.
The breakfast was far more relaxed than she had anticipated. Cael's mother didn't probe or test her. Instead, she chatted casually—about the house, the garden, Cael's mischievous younger years—as if welcoming someone who belonged there.
Later that afternoon, she accompanied Cael's mother on a brief tour of the estate's gardens. They strolled along stone paths as the older woman shared stories behind each plant. Mint and rose filled the air, and sunlight dappled over Helya's shoulders through the rustling trees.
When they stepped into the library, the butler happened to pass by and chuckled, "The Commander used to hide here when he was a boy. You wouldn't see him for hours—not even for meals."
Helya smiled faintly, her gaze drifting over the rows of military strategy texts lining the shelves. She said nothing.
As evening approached, the house was bathed in a soft, golden glow. Helya stood quietly on the balcony, watching the distant city sink into dusk. A light breeze stirred her hair. For once, the stillness didn't feel foreign. For once, it felt like she was allowed to belong.
Footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
She turned to see Cael approaching from the corridor, still in uniform but visibly more relaxed.
"How are you settling in?" he asked.
"It's warmer than I imagined," she replied.
Cael blinked at that, then smiled—subtle and brief, but real. "I won't be home late tonight. After dinner… would you mind coming somewhere with me?"
Helya looked at him, the corners of her lips softening. "Of course."