"Ugh… my head," Erika muttered, her voice rough and slurred. Her eyelids felt like lead as she stirred, blinking against the soft morning light that slipped past the velvet curtains.
The first thing she noticed was the bed — soft, too soft. The fabric beneath her fingers felt smooth and luxurious, nothing like the old sheets she and Jean usually have back home.
"Did Jean buy new sheets…?" she groaned under her breath, half-buried in the pillows.
Her head throbbed with every thought. Flashes came and went — the party, the drink, that insufferable nobleman, and then… something else.
Moonlight.
Lavender.
Green eyes.
She groaned again and pulled the pillow over her face, as if she could hide from the memory. Was that real? Or just her mind playing tricks after the drink?
And then it hit her — the anger.
That man had spiked her drink. If it weren't for whoever saved her, gods knew what could've happened.
The door creaked open. Jean stepped in, balancing a tray with a steaming cup and a plate of pastries. Relief washed over his face when he saw her awake, though it quickly turned into a scolding look.
"Well, look who's alive," he said. "You nearly gave me a heart attack last night. You just vanished from the party—then next thing I know, a noble lady saved you from that creep last night."
Erika squinted at him, accepting the cup he handed over.
"A noble lady…?" she echoed, her mind immediately replaying fragments — that calm voice, firm yet gentle. The faint scent of lavender. The way her heart had fluttered for a reason she didn't quite understand.
"Tall," she murmured absently.
"Kind. Strong enough to make a man run screaming….."
Jean raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Oh no. Don't tell me you're crushing on your mysterious savior already?"
Erika's eyes widened. "I'm not!" she snapped, chucking a pillow at him.
"She just… smelled nice."
Jean burst out laughing. "Smelled nice? Gods, you are so gone."
Erika groaned and buried her face again, cheeks warm despite her hangover.
Jean set the tray aside and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Anyway, Sylvester offered us a place to stay last night. It was late, and you were out cold. So… here we are."
"Huh?" Erika blinked.
"Wait—you mean… we're not home?"
Jean gave her a knowing grin.
"What do you think? You think we own a bed this big? Or floors this shiny?"
That made her pause. She finally took in her surroundings — the tall ceiling, the chandelier glinting in the morning sun, the elegant furniture that looked far too expensive to touch.
Her heart sank slightly as realization dawned.
This wasn't home.
This was his home.
The baron's estate.
Erika sat upright slowly, fingers curling in the silk sheets as her mind tried to piece things together — her blurred memory, her savior's touch, that lingering scent of lavender she still couldn't shake.
The door creaked open before Erika could think further. She and Jean both turned toward the sound.
Standing in the doorway was Baron Sylvester himself, his familiar easygoing smile in place. And just behind him—
Erika froze.
Her.
Golden hair tied neatly in a ponytail, a calm grace in every step as she entered the room — the noble lady from last night. The scent of lavender seemed to drift in again, faint but undeniable.
Jean quickly rose from the bedside, setting down the cup he'd been holding.
"Baron Sylvester," he said with a grateful smile, bowing slightly. "Thank you again for the ride last night—and for letting us stay over. I owe you one."
Sylvester waved him off with a chuckle.
"Nonsense. For old times' sake, Jean, think nothing of it. We're all friends here." His gaze shifted toward Erika.
"How's Miss Erika doing? She looks better already."
Jean laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Alive and talking, so I'd say that's a good sign. A little dizzy, maybe, but she'll survive. She's tougher than she looks."
That earned him a glare from Erika, but she quickly straightened her back when she realized both nobles were watching her. Her pulse quickened, and she lowered her head politely.
"Baron Sylvester," she began softly, voice still faint but steady, "thank you… and to the lady with you as well, for what happened last night. I must've caused so much trouble. I can't apologize enough for the inconvenience."
The woman — calm, poised — met Erika's gaze briefly, her expression unreadable beneath the soft light. Something flickered in those green eyes, like recognition.
For a moment, neither said anything. The air seemed to still — between the savior in the garden and the woman now sitting before her, two worlds had quietly collided.
Sylvester cleared his throat, glancing between Jean and the two women.
"Jean, if you don't mind," he began, "there's something I'd like to discuss about those new orders — the clothes shipment you mentioned last time."
Jean perked up immediately. "Ah, right! Of course, Sev. Just give me a moment."
He turned back to Erika, giving her a quick, reassuring grin.
"Don't pass out again while I'm gone, alright?"
"Ha-ha. Very funny," Erika muttered, rolling her eyes.
Sylvester chuckled, then looked toward the woman standing silently beside them — the one who had saved Erika.
"Is it all right for you to watch over Miss Erika for a while? We won't take long."
The woman nodded once, calm and composed.
"Of course Sev. I don't mind."
"Appreciated," Sylvester said, motioning for Jean to follow him out.
And just like that, they were gone — the door closing softly behind them.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Erika suddenly found herself very aware of her surroundings — the faint ticking of a clock, the softness of the blanket over her lap, and most of all, the quiet presence of the woman who now stood only a few feet away.
Oh gods, why did he have to leave me alone at the worst moment?
Her pulse quickened as the woman stepped closer, her movements unhurried yet oddly graceful. When she sat down on the chair beside the bed, Erika nearly jumped.
"Ah—" she blurted softly, sitting up straighter.
The woman tilted her head slightly, voice calm but warm.
"Are you feeling better now?"
Erika hesitated, forcing a nervous smile.
"Y-yeah… I mean—yes, my lady. I'm fine, just… a bit heated, I guess."
The words stumbled out awkwardly, and she wanted to sink into the mattress right then.
The silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Erika could practically hear her own heartbeat echoing in her ears.
Then, to her horror, the woman was the first to speak.
"I must say…" she began, her tone calm — too calm.
"Last night, you were quite… interesting."
Erika's spine straightened instantly.
"I–interesting?" she blurted, voice pitching higher than intended.
Oh no. Oh gods no.
"I didn't— I didn't say or do anything weird, right? When you, uh, found me?"
The woman tilted her head, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips.
"No, nothing strange."
She paused — just long enough to make Erika's nerves crackle — then added softly, "Though… you did say quite a lot."
Erika's mind blanked.
A lot? What does a lot mean?! Did I insult her? Perhaps not, she's smiling, not mad.. So probably not—
Before her thoughts could spiral further, the woman chuckled — a low, warm sound that made Erika's stomach twist.
"You told me," she said, amusement glinting in her voice.
"That I smelled nice. When your head was resting on my chest."
She smiled, a hint of amusement in her voice. "It startled me, I'll admit — but it wasn't unpleasant.'"
Erika froze. Every drop of blood in her body seemed to abandon ship all at once.
Her chest.
Her head was on her chest.
I slept on her chest?!
She could still remember the faint scent of lavender clinging to her hair — and that made it so much worse.
When the woman's voice cut softly through her spiraling thoughts.
"Here," she said, holding something out.
"You might've dropped this last night."
Erika blinked, still flustered, and automatically reached out. The cool glass touched her palm — small, delicate, familiar.
She looked down. A small, empty vial.
Her breath hitched.
Wait..This is….
Recognition slammed into her. It was the same one she'd used to hide her real eye color — the potion that dulled her bright blue into violet, the one thing that separated Erika from Heather.
Her eyes shot up, meeting hers That calm, knowing smile was still there — gentle, amused. Not mocking…
And then, with the same quiet confidence, the woman said,
"I can't wait for our outing tomorrow."
She stood, smoothing her gloves, and left the room without another word.
The door clicked softly shut.
Erika sat frozen in bed, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Outing. Tomorrow.
Those same words — the ones she'd said to her.
To the same woman.
When she was Lady Heather.
Her stomach dropped.
She knows. She found out I was Lady Heather.