𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖔𝖋 𝖎𝖈𝖊 || 𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

Surrounded by unfamiliar faces that were presumably my "family", I found myself at the heart of a quiet buzz in the Reverie estate. The room felt tense, filled with an almost palpable unease. When the doctor began his examination, it was evident that while Francesca's body—now my body—was alive, it wasn't quite what it used to be.

The doctor who had a calm, knowledgeable manner carefully evaluated me. His hands moved slowly over the scar that had healed on my chest, following the curves of my new body. "Incredible," he murmured, clearly puzzled by the unexplainable recovery. "It's as if the very essence of life has mended itself."

As he studied me further, his voice faded into silence. Everything seemed normal except for the strange change in my eyes. I could sense his curiosity growing, and I knew he was puzzled over the drastic transformation I had undergone.

"Hm, have your eyes always been this color?" he asked.

I stayed silent, deliberately avoiding his gaze. My mind raced, trying to figure out how to handle this.

The doctor appeared to be unfazed by my silence, his gaze lingering on my eyes a tad longer. "The last time you had a consultation with me, your eyes were cerulean. Not amethyst."

I looked away, unable to mask my discomfort. The cerulean eyes were indeed a subtle change, but the doctor's question triggered a whirlwind of thoughts. Had the accident really altered my appearance so drastically?

"That might just be due to light," she muttered softly, "the amethyst color could just be a trick of the light..." I muttered softly.

The doctor considered my explanation. "Indeed, that's a distinct possibility. The eyes are a complex web of color and veins. It's entirely possible that the light source might have affected how I perceived your eye color."

Before I could process his response, Lionel, the young man who was supposedly my brother in this body, spoke up, "Will she be alright?"

The doctor sighed, stepping back from me and turning to address my presumed family. "Physically, she's fine. However, I can't assess her mental state fully. She's clearly still in shock."

"It's quite extraordinary, but there's no denying it—she's alive and well. The wound on her chest has healed miraculously," the doctor added.

The relief in the room was palpable, yet their concern for my well-being remained. Aramis, whom I assumed was my father in this body, asked gently, "Francesca, my dear, are you feeling alright?"

I didn't respond. Instead, I fixed my gaze on my hands clasped in my lap. Lionel's expression shifted from relief to worry as he studied my face. It was clear to him that I was overwhelmed.

But they didn't know the truth—I was a stranger in this innocent woman's body.

I can't betray my cover. If they find out that I'm not the Francesca they believe me to be, my plan will be jeopardized. I have to play along...

With a forced smile and a small tremble on my lips. "Yes, I'm alright," I replied, without making eye contact.

My alleged "family" appeared to be relieved enough by what I said, as evident by their obvious relief. They seemed genuine, expressing their relief that there was no physical illness. Their looks of relief brightened the mood in the room for a minute, but it was short-lived as the doctor completed his assessment.

"Amnesia?" Lionel repeated, a frown creasing his face. His reaction to the news of my apparent memory loss rippled through the room, casting a shadow over their relief.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed. "It's as though she has completely forgotten who she is. This kind of amnesia is a common aftermath of a traumatic event. It might be a temporary defense mechanism to shield her psyche."