“…My Lady. You must wake up now… The sun is already… The dress…”

A middle-aged woman’s voice reached her in fragments.

Swish!

The sound of curtains being drawn was light and crisp.

“My Lady! Just how long do you plan to sleep?!”

The voice was much more precise now.

Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the brightness.

It was as if warm, white sunlight was wrapping around her.

Rosé squinted as if pricked by a needle, then slowly lifted her eyelashes.

Tiny dust particles floated in the air, glimmering in the sunlight.

Lying still, she quietly watched them drift.

‘Where am I? I’m sure I died… so why is it so bright?’

She slowly lowered her gaze.

Her body, which should have been broken and covered in blood, was perfectly intact.

A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, carrying the sweet scent of roses—soft and sugary, like cotton candy.

‘This scent!’

In summer, the Etoile family’s mansion was covered entirely in roses.

The stark white building was breathtaking, with its four towering spires wrapped in crimson rose vines.

Though the mansion had an official name, Casadebella, the people of the capital simply called it The Red Rose Manor.

Snap!

Two large, bear-like hands clapped loudly in front of Rosé’s face, jolting her back to reality.

‘Natalie?’

Her nanny, Natalie, had been by her side from the moment she was born in this mansion until the day she left for marriage.

Rosé opened her lips, trying to say something.

She was overwhelmed with joy, yet, strangely, no sound came out.

Was this some kind of blissful dream?

“That puppy-eyed look won’t work on me. Your dress is already downstairs. You’ve been waiting for it for days.”

Natalie stood with her hands firmly on her hips, looking down at Rosé with an authoritative air, as if she would show no mercy.

“Natalie, I must be dreaming right now.”

Rosé murmured, and Natalie responded with a bright smile.

“Wouldn’t that be nice! But it’s not a dream, so hurry up and get downstairs. The tailors have been waiting for you all morning.”

Natalie tugged on the loose strings of Rosé’s nightgown, tying them neatly. The motion lifted Rosé’s upper body slightly.

Rosé watched as Natalie’s thick hands skillfully tied the delicate silk strings.

“Huh?”

Rosé suddenly grabbed Natalie’s hand and pressed it against her cheek. Natalie’s eyes widened in surprise.

“My Lady? What’s wrong?”

The warmth was rough yet comforting.

It felt far too real to be a dream.

Rosé abruptly jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror.

“My Lady!”

She leaned in so close her nose almost touched the glass, pressing both hands against her face.

Her skin was smooth and flawless.

Fascinated by her long hair cascading down to her waist, Rosé turned her head from side to side, observing it wonderfully. Then, she grabbed her chest with both hands and fumbled around curiously.

“No…!”

Watching from behind, Natalie was utterly bewildered.

If someone were to tuck a flower behind the young lady’s ear right now, she would look like a crazed woman wandering the streets.

“L-Lady Rosé?”

Natalie called out anxiously, but Rosé continued muttering to herself like a woman possessed.

“This makes no sense. How… How is this possible? This is… It’s really me!”

Rosé had returned to her younger self—the most beautiful and innocent version of Rosé Etoile, before her marriage to Kasiax.

“My God! It’s me! It’s really me, Natalie!”

She slapped her cheeks so hard that a crisp sound echoed through the room.

Startled by the sight, Natalie dropped the pillow she had been tidying up.

“Father! My father—he’s still alive, isn’t he? What day is it today?”

Rosé asked urgently, her voice shaking with excitement.

“Tomorrow is your twentieth birthday… What’s gotten into you today, really?”

Natalie looked as though she was about to cry.

Rosé clutched her head, pacing back and forth in the room, her expression filled with confusion.

None of this made sense.

Was this a dream? Or had she somehow traveled back in time?

‘No way…!’

Suddenly struck by a thought, Rosé frantically searched the bed.

She lifted the blankets, shook the pillows, and even checked the floor, but nothing happened.

‘Then… was it all just a dream? Everything?’

Seeing Rosé’s bewilderment, Natalie hesitated before speaking.

“Are you… looking for this?”

A small piece of black silk dangled between Natalie’s fingers.

“I found it while straightening the pillows just now.”

The moment Rosé saw the fabric, chills ran down her spine.

She snatched it from Natalie’s hand and stared at it with a terrified expression.

This was undoubtedly a torn piece of Kasiax’s clothing—the one she had clutched in her fist as she fell from the tower.

Horrified, she flung the black fabric onto the floor and staggered back, collapsing onto the bed.

She couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Should… should I call a doctor? My Lady, your face has gone ashen…”

Before Natalie could finish her sentence, Rosé bolted out of the room.

“My Lady! Your nightgown!”

Rosé sprinted down the long, elegant corridor lined with crimson carpets.

“My Lady?”

“Oh my!”

Two maids passing by quickly stepped aside to make way for her.

They exchanged glances, silently wondering, What’s wrong with her? as they watched her dash past.

Her tiny, bare feet pounded down the golden spiral staircase at full speed.

She would just one more floor and reach the drawing room—where her father always sat drinking tea.

At the end of the first-floor corridor, the door opened from the inside as she reached the drawing room.

“Oh!”

She nearly collided with a man stepping out. Quickly lowering her head, she muttered an apology.

The well-dressed middle-aged man instinctively tipped his hat in response.

As Rosé rushed inside, the man turned back, looking puzzled.

“Well, now!”

A noble young lady running through the estate in nothing but her nightgown—what a disgraceful sight.

Clicking his tongue, he pulled his hat down and continued.

Inside the drawing-room, Count Jared and Countess Audrey sat across from each other at the tea table.

A third teacup on the table suggested they had just bid farewell to a guest.

“Father!”

The count and countess gaped in shock as their daughter ran toward them.

“What in the—”

“Oh, dear Lord! Rosé, what on earth are you wearing?!”

Audrey nearly dropped her teacup in alarm at the sight of her daughter sprinting toward them in her nightgown.

Rosé threw herself at Count Jared, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“This morning greeting is a bit… excessive, don’t you think, Rosé?”

Jared chuckled, ruffling her hair.

Rubbing her cheek against her father’s rough stubble like a child, Rosé inhaled deeply, taking in his familiar scent—a mixture of aged wood and ink.

“Rosé, what has gotten into you?”

Audrey returned her teacup on the table and prepared to scold her daughter.

But Jared glanced at her before she could and playfully winked, signaling her to let it go.

“Really, it’s because of you that she’s even more immature,” Audrey sighed, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief.

But Rosé paid no attention to her mother’s scolding. Instead, she continued to stroke her father’s thick, short neck with her hands.

“Your neck is still attached. Father, your neck is still attached… Father, you’re alive.”

“Of course, my neck is attached. Did it go missing in the middle of the night or something? Ha-ha,” he chuckled, patting Rosé’s head.

Burying her face in his chest, Rosé burst into tears.

The last image she had of her father was of his lifeless, blue-tinged head dangling from a rope in the town square.

A pool of blood had formed beneath him.

Children had thrown stones, and some bystanders had spat in contempt.

Once the most revered noble in the Empire, a man who had played a key role in Solstern’s glorious advancement—Jared Etoile’s end had been nothing short of horrific.

Feeling the damp warmth spreading across his chest, the count frowned and gently lifted Rosé’s face.

“Rosé? Did something happen to you?”

His voice held genuine concern as he looked into her tear-streaked face. But instead of answering, Rosé shook her head vigorously and bit her lip to keep from sobbing.

“Rosé, how long will you cling to your father like a child? What if someone sees you acting so immaturely?”

No sooner had Audrey finished speaking than the drawing room doors swung open, revealing Natalie.

“My lady!”

She hurried inside, a red gown draped over her arm.

“The people delivering your dress for tomorrow have been waiting for quite some time now, Lady Rosé.”

With the count and countess present, Natalie straightened her posture and spoke with careful formality.

Count Jared gestured for her to come closer. Natalie quickly approached and handed him the gown.

Taking it, the count draped it over his daughter’s shoulders and gently helped her to her feet.

“I’m curious to see how beautiful my daughter will look in her dress. Go on, get dressed properly and come show your father.”

Audrey shot her husband a glare.

“She’s already twenty years old. I doubt she’ll ever find a husband if she keeps acting like this. If she behaves so childishly at the ball tomorrow, I might as well throw myself into the lake. I won’t be able to show my face in front of the other ladies.”

Holding her chin high, Audrey fanned herself gracefully, her long and elegant neck resembling a swan.

Rosé, finding even this side of her mother endearing, suddenly embraced her.

“Oh my! What has gotten into you today?”