1 For ten years, my parents guarded the Northern Marches. When they returned, they brought a saint with them—their adopted daughter. The moment we met, my entire family began to hear her thoughts. On the surface, she was all warmth and affection. But in her mind, a different story unfolded. “My sister, raised in the Capital… she’s never known hardship. Dressed in such finery… she has no idea what real suffering is.” The looks my parents and my brother gave me turned sharp with blame. But there was one thing she didn't know. In this life, I could hear her thoughts, too. … Beneath the searing sun, I stood alone at the gate, a silk parasol shielding me from the heat. A carriage, stark and plain with a simple canvas top, slowly rounded the corner, a jarring sight against the grand, gleaming architecture of our street. Before it even came to a halt, a girl my age leaped down. Her dark hair was tied back with a simple crimson ribbon, and her almond eyes, wide and doe-like, danced with a playful, charming energy. “You must be my sister from the Capital. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. I’m Lila.” Her words were sweet as honey, but I knew the venom that lay coiled in her heart. Sure enough, as my parents and brother hurried out of the carriage after her, I heard that insidious whisper in my mind. “My sister, raised here in comfort, has never felt the bite of a frontier winter. Look at her clothes, so extravagant. She knows nothing of the real world.” Her next thought was even sharper. “That hairpin alone could pay a soldier’s wages for a year, couldn't it?” My father, General Marcus Thorne, and my brother, Shawn, had just found their footing, but their faces tightened. Their gazes, when they fell on me, were cold with disapproval. It was happening just like before. In my past life, I had waited with a heart bursting with joy for my family’s return, only to be met with this inexplicable disdain from the very first moment. No matter what I did—or didn't do—Lila’s inner voice was a constant poison, turning my family against me. I had done nothing, yet I became the embodiment of everything they despised: a spoiled, extravagant girl who disrespected her elders. I faded away, consumed by a quiet depression, and died. Lila, meanwhile, built her reputation on my ashes, becoming a celebrated hero—the humble girl from the Marches, a true soldier’s daughter who cared nothing for fame or fortune. This time, I refused to let their coldness break my heart. I gave them a simple, formal nod. "Father. Mother. Shawn." Then, I turned and walked back into the house, not bothering to see if they followed. Behind me, Lila’s inner voice piped up again. “Why won’t she speak to me? Is she trying to put me in my place? These Capital ladies are all the same, so full of petty games. It’s nothing like the honest simplicity of the frontier.” My mother, hearing this, bristled. “Marcus, that daughter of ours has no manners at all!” My father’s face was a thundercloud. He said nothing. But Shawn couldn’t hold back. “I don’t have a sister that rude. As far as I’m concerned, Lila is my only sister!” A flicker of triumph must have sparked in Lila’s heart, but her face was a mask of gentle sorrow. "Perhaps it's because she feels I've stolen your affection. It's my fault. I shouldn't have presumed to call myself your daughter." Hearing their sweet, cheerful adopted daughter speak so humbly, seeing the tears welling in her almond eyes, ignited a fresh wave of rage in my mother. She scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain as she looked in my direction. “Lila, you are my daughter. No one will ever be more important than you. Don’t waste your tears on someone who doesn’t matter.” Father and Shawn rushed to comfort her, murmuring reassurances. How utterly absurd. My own parents, on the very day of their return, calling their flesh and blood “someone who doesn’t matter” for the sake of an orphan they’d picked up. My chest felt hollow, empty. It should have ached. It should have been screaming in agony. But it felt nothing. The part of me that had yearned for my parents, that had missed my brother, had already died in my previous life. It died when Shawn gave the sacred texts I’d painstakingly copied to Lila, who tore them up for sport. It died when Mother, cradling a dripping-wet Lila she’d pulled from the lake, accused me of having the heart of a serpent. It died when Father had me flogged, forcing me to give my post as the princess’s royal companion to Lila. I strode into the grand hall and turned, cutting through their cozy family reunion without a shred of emotion. “Dinner is served.” The chatter behind me died instantly. Perhaps they’d momentarily forgotten that the “someone who doesn’t matter” was still there. Mother’s embarrassment quickly curdled into fury. She snapped, “What is that tone? Is that how you address your parents?” Her voice rose. “Disrespectful to your mother and father, cruel to your sister… How did I ever give birth to a daughter like you?” I feigned confusion, tilting my head as I looked at her contorted face. “I simply announced that dinner is ready. How is that disrespectful?” Her anger, met with my calm, had nowhere to go. She was speechless. Finally, my father intervened. … His voice was a low command. “Enough. Both of you.” He gestured towards the dining room. “We will eat.” Inside, the long, polished mahogany table was vast, yet the setting was sparse. Before them were a few bowls of thin porridge and some meager vegetables. Shawn stared at the pathetic display and slammed his chopsticks down. “What is this? Are you trying to starve us?” Lila immediately played the peacemaker. “Simple fare is wonderful. I’m sure my sister worked hard to prepare it.” But her inner voice sang a different tune. “Living in the Capital, she must have seen every delicacy imaginable. To serve us only this… she must truly despise me already. I should find a way to tell them to send me away. I can’t be the cause of a rift between a daughter and her parents. The guilt would be too much to bear!” My father’s patience finally snapped. His voice was cold iron. “Kneel.” I remained standing, unmoved. Last time, because of Lila’s thoughts, the lavish feast I’d prepared was seen as proof of my decadent lifestyle. It was Lila herself who had clutched her heart and declared that the soldiers on the frontier would be grateful for a simple bowl of gruel. So this time, I gave them the simple gruel they supposedly wanted. Why were they still angry? Seeing my defiance, Shawn surged forward, grabbing my arms. He was a soldier, hardened by years in the field, and his strength was overwhelming. He forced me down, his grip like a vise. In an instant, dark bruises were already blooming on my skin as I collapsed to the hard floor. My father pointed a trembling finger at me, his face purple with rage, calling me a disgrace. Shawn loomed over me, his voice thick with contempt. “You feast on delicacies every day in the Capital, and this is what you serve our parents upon their return? You are an ungrateful child!” “And how, brother,” my voice came out as a ragged whisper, “would you know that I feast on delicacies every day?” My frail body, already weakened, couldn't take the strain. A mouthful of blood welled up and spilled from my lips. The sight of it shocked Shawn into releasing me. I wiped the blood from my chin, my gaze cold and steady. “When Grandmother was alive, she forbade me from eating meat. I was allowed only half a bowl of porridge at each meal.” I looked from one stunned face to another. “For your return, I specifically told the kitchens to bring me a full bowl. Tell me, how exactly am I an ungrateful child?” My grandmother had despised my mother. After she left me behind at the age of three to follow my father to the frontier, that hatred was transferred to me. Abuse and neglect became my reality. Half a bowl of gruel was a good day. Often, I was forced to kneel for hours on an empty stomach. It was a laughable irony: the daughter of the celebrated General Thorne was starving in his own home. But it was the truth. My parents’ expressions flickered. They knew my grandmother's cruel nature. The memory of her own suffering at the old woman's hands finally seemed to touch my mother’s heart, and a genuine pang of sympathy for me broke through. Tears streamed down her face as she rushed to help me up. “My child, my poor child, you’ve suffered so much.” She glanced at Shawn. “Your brother didn’t mean it. We’re family. Don’t hold it against him.” I said nothing, staring at the livid marks on my arms. My father shoved Shawn forward. He stumbled, head bowed, and mumbled a grudging apology. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Lila fluttered over, dabbing at the bloodstain on my dress with her handkerchief. “Oh, sister, it breaks my heart to see you like this!” But her inner voice was a self-righteous whisper. “She may have suffered, but it wasn’t Shawn’s fault. Does she have to be so dramatic and unforgiving?” The shift in the room was immediate. Shawn’s guilt vanished, replaced by resentment. The pity in my parents’ eyes evaporated, leaving only annoyance at my “lack of grace.” I had no more words for them. I simply turned and walked away. As I left, I heard my father’s voice, cold and commanding, follow me down the hall. “The Queen is selecting a new Royal Companion for the princess tomorrow. You will be attending the trials. Make sure you help your sister.” … In the Imperial Gardens, the Queen sat enthroned, with Princess Seraphina nestled by her side. Seraphina, the youngest and most cherished royal, was known for her whimsical and unpredictable nature. In my last life, she chose me as her companion. It wasn’t for my talent or wit, but simply because she found my face pleasing. It was that simple. But Lila’s inner voice had convinced my parents that I had schemed to prevent her from being chosen. I was punished, forced to kneel for days in the dim, suffocating family chapel, to “reflect on my sins.” My father took a riding crop to my back, demanding I “repent” and give the position to Lila. No matter how I pleaded, he trusted only the voice in his head. The position of Royal Companion, chosen by the princess herself, wasn’t something one could simply give away. In the end, he had to cash in years of military favors just to secure Lila a place at court. Now, I watched as Lila performed on the central dais. In a crimson tunic, she wielded a supple blade, a blur of fierce grace that drew gasps of admiration from the other noble girls. Princess Seraphina, however, looked bored. Everyone assumed her spirited personality would be drawn to someone as unconventional as Lila. But the princess had a secret preference for delicate, ethereal beauty. When Lila finished, it was my turn. I glided onto the stage in a gown of gossamer silk with wide, flowing sleeves. My features were painted to be delicate, my eyes holding a deep, quiet sorrow that seemed to draw the light. At first glance, I looked like a celestial being descended to the mortal realm. I hadn't even begun my performance when Princess Seraphina started tugging on the Queen’s arm, whining like a child. “Mother, I want her!” Just like last time, Lila’s eyes turned red with fury and disappointment. And, just like last time, she waited until Shawn arrived to escort us home to offer her congratulations. “Congratulations, sister,” she said, her voice deceptively sweet. “You’ve won the princess’s favor. You’ll make a fine Royal Companion.” But her mind was a choked sob. “The princess seemed so impressed with my sword dance. Why did she choose my sister the moment she stepped on stage?” Those ambiguous words were the nail in my coffin last time. This time, I couldn’t be bothered to play along with her games. I replied with a lazy drawl, “The princess likes me, so she chose me. There’s nothing to congratulate.” Shawn’s brow furrowed in disgust. “Lila just lost her chance, and you’re here gloating? You’re pathetic.” Without giving him so much as a glance, I lifted the carriage curtain and stepped inside. My voice floated out, cool and dismissive. “Are you going to drive this carriage or not? If you’re not, I’ll find someone who will. I don’t have time to stand around and bicker.”
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