A sharp voice cut through her thoughts. "Caelith!"
Thalia stiffened. Her heart lurched violently, and for a split second she forgot how to breathe. That name, her name now rang through the corridor like a bell she couldn't unhear.
The stepmother. Her mind scrambled, memories from the novel crashing back all at once. The cold woman. The fake smiles. The sister with poison behind her grin. A classic story she'd always despised.
Still, she couldn't afford to hesitate. "I— I'll be there in a sec!" she called back.
The moment the words left her mouth, she winced. Her shoulders tensed. This is the Regency era, she reminded herself urgently. People don't say "a sec, right?"
She pressed her lips together, forcing a steady breath. Calm down. You can do this. You've watched enough period dramas. Read enough novels. Just adapt. She thought to herself.
She dressed quickly, choosing a simple but respectable gown from the wardrobe she found in the room, soft fabric, muted color. She slipped on slippers, smoothed her hair to fall on her waist, and opened the door.
The corridor beyond was old-fashioned yet refine arched ceilings, framed portraits, polished floors that reflected candlelight. The house felt lived-in, respectable… but not warm.
As she stepped forward, she saw them. Her stepsister stood near the window.
Blonde hair cascaded gracefully down her back, shining like spun gold, reaching her waist in perfect waves. Green eyes gleamed with mischief as her lips curved into a sly, knowing smile, the kind that existed solely to irritate. She looked like the type who enjoyed other people's discomfort far too much.
Beside her stood the older woman. Her stepmother.
Brown hair pulled tightly into a neat bun, sharp green eyes scanning Thalia with thinly veiled scrutiny. Her posture was rigid, her expression controlled but not kind.
Thalia's mouth opened. "So what's—" She stopped herself just in time. She almost slipped the word what's up. She swallowed and corrected herself quickly, lowering her tone.
"…what do you seek me for?" she smiled awkwardly, why do I feel like my statement is incorrect.
The woman lifted her chin. "We are to go into town," she said coolly. "Your sister requires new garments. We shall return shortly."
Thalia blinked. "And…about me?" she asked carefully. "Am I not to accompany you both?"
Her stepsister let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Since when did you become part of our outings?" she said sweetly. "You are hardly family."
The words stung more than Thalia expected. Her spine straightened before she could stop herself. "Mind your manners," she replied calmly. "I am way older than you." she thundered, was that too much, she asked inwardly.
The air shifted. Her stepmother narrowed her eyes, studying her closely, as though seeing her for the first time.
'Caelith was gentle. Soft-spoken. Easily dismissed, when did she become like this.' The woman named Carrie thought to herself.
"Since when," the woman asked slowly, "did you become so… daring?" Her gaze hardened. "Have you forgotten your place, you lowlife?"
Thalia felt the insult slide over her skin but instead of shrinking, something in her remained steady. 'I'll just act like Caelith in the novel, and ignore these insolent words coming from the woman."
"I apologize...." She stopped forgetting the stepsister's name, 'Think, think,' then she continued, ".....Meredith," she apologized.
The girl scoffed.
"Well....while we are away," she continued, reaching into her purse, "you shall purchase attire suitable for the ball." She pressed several coins into Thalia's palm.
Her stepsister's eyes widened. "Mother," she hissed, "why give her so much?" The woman waved her off dismissively.
"She must not embarrass us at the palace," she said coldly. "She will wear something presentable."
Her stepsister's lips tightened, green eyes sharp with resentment, but she said nothing more. With a final glare, she turned and followed the woman out.
The door closed behind them. Thalia stared at the coins in her hand, stunned.
"…Did I change anything in the novel, why is she acting nice?" she whispered. 'I don't even know where I'll start in this world, what happened before I got here, I should start trying to regain my memory.'
She shook her head lightly, forcing the thoughts aside. "Think later," she murmured. "Survive now."
She took a moment to study the house properly, the carved stair railings, the portraits of strangers some familiar to her now, the quiet weight of a world that wasn't hers.
Then she returned to her room. From the wardrobe, she retrieved a cloak she hadn't noticed earlier, dark, simple, perfect for blending in. She fastened it around her shoulders, heart pounding with anticipation. At the front door, she hesitated only briefly.
Then she locked it behind her.
Stepping outside, Thalia now Caelith, lifted her gaze to the unfamiliar streets beyond. A new world awaited.
"Alright," she murmured softly, adjusting her cloak. "Let's explore."
She took a turn she did not recognize. Then another, and another.
Thalia walked slowly, deliberately, her gaze lifted as she absorbed everything around her. The streets were narrow and paved with stone, lined with tall buildings that loomed overhead like silent sentinels. Iron balconies curled like black vines along upper windows. Lanterns hung from ornate brackets, unlit but elegant, and the air carried the faint scent of smoke, perfume, and old rain.
"So cool!" She muttered to herself.
"This place looks like it's been painted by history itself," she murmured, awe creeping into her voice despite herself. Every corner felt deliberate. Every shadow felt like it had a story.
She slowed near a small square, her fingers tightening around the coins in her pocket. I need a tailor, she reminded herself. Before I get lost forever.
Just then, she spotted a boy standing near a wrought-iron fence, adjusting the cuff of his coat, he was handsome so she decided to approach him.
Her heart skipped. Okay. Ask properly. Old-fashioned. Polite. Normal.
She stepped closer, smoothing her cloak, and dipped her head slightly.
"Pardon me, sir," she began carefully, her voice soft and composed. "Might you be so kind as to direct me to a tailor of reputable skill? I find myself… unfamiliar with this part of the town."
The boy turned. And froze.
"Caelith?" His brows lifted in clear surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Her stomach dropped. Oh no.