DISCLAIMER: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
Giywon and Dyierrean had not imagined a victorious return to the Hylde manor. The house felt poisoned, even if the "Original" Reinn's soul had been flung back into the silver abyss. The servants crawled down the corridors like scared mice, unable to connect the monster that had been occupying the body for the past few days with the benevolent Lady of the previous year. The air was heavy with the lingering perfume of the Villainess's favorite lilies.
Samantha sat at her vanity with her fingers so tightly clutching the marble table's edge that her knuckles became white. She had returned to the real world. She could feel her own heart pounding steadily, the warmth of her breath, and the weight of her hair. On the inside, though, she was a broken mirror.
"I feel like a guest in my own skin," Samantha said in a shaky whisper.
Giywon put his hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her. Her skin felt strangely cold, as if the Mirror World hadn't entirely let go of her, and he winced a little. "The Sage said there would be an adjustment period, Samantha. You've been through a soul-transplant. The body needs to remember who its mistress is."
"It's not just that, Giywon," she finally remarked as she peered up through the glass at him. "I can see them. Her memories. They aren't just thoughts; they're... feelings."
Her right arm was violently and sharply snatched as she was speaking. A fragile glass of water that was resting on the vanity was struck by her outstretched hand and smashed against the wall. With a gasp, Samantha withdrew her hand as though it had been scorched.
She gasped and said, "I didn't mean to do that," with horrified eyes. "I didn't even think it. My arm just... it just moved."
"Muscle memory," Dyierrean's voice rang forth. His blue eyes were dark with a predatory, worried gaze as he leaned against the doorframe. He could detect the "rot" of the ancient soul—the lingering static of the Original Reinn's fury—clinging to the body's nerves. "The Villainess spent twenty years being a creature of impulse and violence. That doesn't vanish just because you've taken the wheel. We need to purge the ghost."
The room became hazy all of a sudden. The sharp sting of cold water took the place of Giywon's hands' warmth.
Samantha had left the manor. Standing in the pouring rain of the Imperial Gardens, she was ten years old. Her feet ached in her tight shoes, and she was wearing an excessively heavy dress. She was staring at a younger Giywon, a twelve-year-old kid, who was sharing an umbrella and giggling with another girl, a high-ranking Duke's daughter.
With a lonely, desperate hope in her heart, the young Reinn had called out to him. Giywon, however, had not even turned around. His laughter reverberated against the stone walls as he turned to leave.
Samantha could actually feel the sting of rejection in her chest. The residual echo of the Villainess was a hollow, jagged voice that hissed at the back of her consciousness.
"They will never love you," the voice whispered. "They only love the girl who fixed you. If you slip up, if you show a hint of me, they'll put you back in the dark. You are just a temporary occupant, Samantha Lim. A squatter in a house built of hate."
With a gasp, Samantha opened her eyes and came back to the present. Her breath came in harsh spurts as she clutched her chest. Giywon's face was pale with concern as he knelt in front of her.
"Samantha? What did you see?"
"She was so lonely," Samantha gasped. "Everything she did... every scream, every slap... it came from a place of wanting to be seen. And now that she's gone, that loneliness is still here. It's in the marrow of my bones."
Dyierrean stated, "We have to overwrite it," as he entered the room. He took her hand and knelt on the other side. In stark contrast to Giywon's fire, his touch was grounded. "If the body remembers trauma, we must teach it peace. We're taking you out. Not as the Lady of the Manor, but as yourself."
The Dragon and the Wolf made a concerted effort to "re-sync" Samantha with the outside world over the course of the following few hours.
Giywon escorted her to the Marketplace first. He did not take her to the jewelers or the silk merchants. He led her to the boisterous, packed stall where, on their "date" in Season 1, they had initially quarreled over the lobster.
With a cheeky twinkle in his eyes, Giywon remarked, "Do you remember? You told me that if I didn't stop complaining about the 'commoner food,' you'd make me eat the shell."
Samantha examined the stall. She heard youngsters laughing, smelled salt and grease, and saw the fat merchant. The Villainess's thick shade briefly lifted. A sincere grin appeared on her face. "I believe I also told you that your Crown was crooked."
Giywon chuckled and squeezed her hand. "It was," she said. "The body is learning, Samantha. See? You didn't break anything just now."
Dyierrean then brought her to the training grounds of the Academy. The sky was turning burnt orange as the sun started to set. He gave one of the Star-Iron daggers to her.
"Don't think about the form," Dyierrean told her, directing her arms from behind. "The Original Reinn used magic to hurt. You use it to protect. Feel the metal. It belongs to you now, not her."
Together, they performed a leisurely, rhythmic sword dance. Dyierrean would adjust his weight whenever a sinister memory attempted to come to the surface, such as a recollection of Reinn threatening a servant with a blade, forcing Samantha to concentrate on the present. The Star-Iron's violet radiance beat in time with her heart.
The mood of the city abruptly changed as they made their way back through the Marketplace to their horses. A strange, vacuum-like silence descended from the hustle and bustle of the evening trade.
The people changed, but they didn't stop moving.
Whispering, "Something is wrong," Dyierrean reached for his blade.
A man emerged from a bakery stand. His hands were covered in flour, and he was wearing a plain apron. However, Samantha let out a choked cry as he turned to face them.
The man had no face.
Like an incomplete sketch, there was only a smooth, blank stretch of flesh where eyes, a nose, and a mouth should have been. He raised a wooden board without saying anything. Words that burned to look at were written across it in brilliant, burning ink:
[REVISION COMMENCING. ANOMALY DETECTED. REMOVE THE ERRORS.]
Giywon growled, "The Editor," and pulled out his ceremonial blade. The Faceless Baker remained unflinched as the Dragon's gold light flashed.
With strength and speed that defied gravity, the guy sprang at Samantha. The cobbles beneath his feet turned a drab, featureless white as he proceeded, as though the world itself were losing its color. He was no longer a human; he was a live "Eraser."
"He's not just trying to kill me," Samantha thought, her heart pounding. "He's deleting the scene!"
Dyierrean's violet power clashed with the golden ink as he intercepted the Baker. However, the metal of his blade did not draw blood when it struck the man. Rather, the sword itself started to blur, its edges became mushy and pixelated.
"Giywon, get her out of here!" yelled Dyierrean. "The rules are changing! He's rewriting the physics of the fight!"
Giywon threw Samantha onto his horse after grabbing her. However, they witnessed the horror of the Editor's power as they turned to run. People were freezing in mid-step, their faces disappearing, their bodies becoming flat, two-dimensional outlines, and the entire marketplace was starting to "glitch."
The editor was no longer attempting to adhere to the script. In an attempt to locate the girl who didn't belong, he was tearing the book apart.
Over the growing wind of the "void," Giywon cried out, "I won't let him take you back!"
Samantha turned to face the city she had saved for a full year. In white light, the towers were collapsing. Officially, the "Quiet Life" had become a memory. They were out of a romance book. They were in a terrifying survival situation.