Aether is it?

The moment Ava stepped off the private carriage and onto the marble steps of House Albert, the air grew heavier.

The estate was picturesque—an old viscount's manor surrounded by sprawling gardens, white roses, and tall iron gates. Elegant and serene on the surface, but like everything in noble society, its beauty was deceiving.

A pair of uniformed retainers bowed low as she approached the entrance.

"Welcome home, Lady Ava."

She nodded politely, hands still gloved, back perfectly straight.

Home, she thought. Funny. It doesn't feel like that anymore.

She walked through the grand foyer, past glittering chandeliers and family portraits hung with surgical precision. Every footstep echoed. House Albert wasn't cruel—but it was calculating. Sharp in every way.

At the top of the sweeping staircase stood a woman with silver hair tied in a high twist, wearing a deep violet gown lined with old gold trim.

"Mother," Ava said, bowing slightly.

"Three months," Lady Genevieve Albert murmured. "You've grown taller."

Ava bit back the urge to make a joke. "And sharper," she replied instead.

"Good. Come."

No hug. No warmth. Just measured steps down the hall to the family sitting room.

The fire was already lit. Ava's father, Viscount Albert, was not present—no surprise there. He was a man of numbers, land, and politics. When he wasn't traveling, he was locked in his study, managing alliances with a pen sharper than any sword.

Instead, someone else waited for her:

Cassian Albert.

Her older brother.

Once heir to House Albert. Now… a problem.

He stood lazily by the fireplace, dressed in black, arms crossed. His once-impeccable posture had been replaced by a casual defiance.

"Well, well. The new darling of Aethercrest returns," Cassian drawled, his smile crooked and far from kind.

Ava tensed immediately. "Didn't expect you to be here."

"Neither did they," he said. "But surprise visits are fun, aren't they?"

"Enough," Lady Genevieve said sharply.

Cassian only smirked.

Ava took a seat and crossed one leg over the other, trying not to show how fast her heart was pounding. Cassian was unpredictable—intelligent, dangerous, and bitter. He had always felt like a storm barely restrained by civility.

"I trust your education is proceeding well?" her mother asked.

"Yes," Ava said. "Top five in theory and combat metrics."

"Good. House Albert's name must remain respected, even among those who underestimate us."

Ava nodded, but her mind was already elsewhere.

Later that evening, after a stilted dinner of roasted pheasant and fine wine, Ava retreated to the glass garden atrium—one of the few places in the estate that still felt untouched by expectation. A moonlit trail of white roses led through a path of old stone benches and weathered statues. She sat beneath an arch trellis, the vines overhead casting soft shadows.

She wasn't alone for long.

"I still don't get it," came Cassian's voice from behind her. "You? The heir?"

Ava didn't turn. "You lost the title, Cassian. I didn't take it."

"Oh, I lost it? Funny how that works. I get framed for 'unbecoming conduct,' and suddenly the golden daughter is next in line."

"You made your choices," she said quietly. "I made mine."

He stepped closer. "Is that how it works now? Choose the right mask and you win?"

She stood then, facing him for the first time. "What do you want?"

Cassian looked at her—truly looked—and for a brief second, the facade dropped. His expression twisted, not with rage, but something quieter. Sadder.

"I want what's mine," he said.

Then, stepping back, his grin returned. "But I guess I'll just have to earn it again."

He bowed mockingly and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Ava?"

"What?"

"I want a duel. First morning after the ceremony. Don't worry—I'll go easy."

That night, Ava lay in her old bed, surrounded by white curtains and expensive silence. The ceiling above was painted with constellations—something she'd once loved as a child.

Now, it just felt distant.

She stared at her status window—something only she could see. Her Synchronization rate had inched up slightly: 26.1%.

She remembered the dream. The ballroom, the ring on her finger, Vale's—no, Lyra's—hand in his.

Engaged. To a man I barely knew three months ago… but now—

She touched her chest.

That strange feeling again. That hollow space slowly filling.

Not love. Not yet. But… recognition.

The memories weren't hers, but they felt like hers.

Outside, the manor lights dimmed. The wind whispered through the rose garden.

And in the quiet of House Albert, Ava finally allowed herself one soft smile.

Not because she was safe. Not because she was victorious.

But because—for the first time—she knew who she didn't want to become.

And that was a beginning.