In a world where everything seems perfectly logical and pragmatic. The thought of anything existing outside of the realm of what one already knows seems impractical.
That is how Melinda Morrison sees life.
The very life where she has shared nearly e...
"So are we going to continue to sit here in silence or are you going to explain just exactly who you are... Chandrelle?" I gazed upon what was supposed to be my six-year-old sister who was always a picture-perfect definition of what a lady should be. But in reality, nothing changed about all the things she was already capable of doing. The only thing that differed from her entire pristine personality and young physique was her being a reincarnate.
It was hard to even put into words the feeling of meeting Andrew again in this world; to put together that we still had memories of our life together in detail so much it hurt to even be reminded of it whenever the images crossed our minds vividly.
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In our minds, we were the only ones with this ability to remember who we were—who we are. But to stumble upon this realization that there was someone else here from our world as well.
This simply blew all the theories I had in my mind out of the water.
Just who was she? Where was she from? And why had she kept the information from me for so long?
Did she know that I was a reincarnation myself?
I narrowed my gaze and studied her intensely. The shimmer of her blue and yellow eyes—the same ones I carried myself widened and anxious as she struggled to respond to me with coherent words. Her hair was loosely tied with a silk ribbon, and the inky-purple shiny tresses of coily hair tumbled down her back effortlessly so much it spilled underneath her and onto the oak of the piano bench she was sitting on.
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She looked nothing like what a normal person from our old world would resemble, but neither did I which was why small details such as singing English caught a native like me off-guard. We only spoke two languages in this household, Vuiyf—the native vernacular of Vesneau and the mother tongue of our Cluyzian lineage, Köy.
English sounded nothing more than an alien language to untrained ears who have never heard such a speech pattern in their lives. Just as this world's jargon had when I was simply an infant fighting to understand the world around me.
