Chapter 43 -

 “Julia Reitz?”

The parlor door was thrown open, and the person entering was the Duchy's butler. I leaped to my feet, having waited anxiously.

“Yes, that’s me.”

Amon, standing firm beside me, quickly interjected.

“What on earth is happening? Has the Duchess regained consciousness?”

“There is no time to explain. This way, quickly.”

The butler hurriedly motioned for us to follow. As we moved from the parlor to Pamilla’s bedroom, Amon and I kept exchanging glances. His face was a mixture of confusion and unease. Likely, mine reflected the same.

Even though we had rushed here the moment we received Pamilla’s letter, we had no clue what awaited us.

‘How does Pamilla even know Julia?’

To the best of my recollection, there was no connection between Pamilla and Julia. There couldn't be.

This world and the original novel hadn’t corresponded perfectly ever since I found myself here. For instance, I hadn’t known Nilton Empire even had deserts or about people like Selena, Baldi, or Hayden.

But these were gaps—differences stemming from what the original narrative simply hadn’t covered. Since the novel was told from Pamilla’s perspective, omissions were inevitable.

This also meant I had an intimate understanding of Pamilla’s personal affairs. If she and Julia were close—close enough for Pamilla to call for her with such urgency, as if leaving a final testament—it didn’t make sense for me not to know about it.

‘Is this just another divergence between the original and this world? Or… is it something altered by my presence here?’

I couldn’t shake off the thought. After all, the name on the envelope Pamilla sent wasn’t Julia Reitz; it was Amon Spencer. The address? The knight order’s barracks.

It was as though Pamilla had known exactly where I’d be staying—and even that I’d be with Amon at the precise time the letter arrived.

If I hadn’t transmigrated into this world… if that voice in my head hadn’t compelled me to stay close to Amon, Julia and Amon would have never crossed paths. Yet, here was Pamilla, unconscious all this time. How could she have known?

Something wasn’t adding up. My gut told me Pamilla knew something.

Knock, knock—sharp raps at the door disrupted my spiraling thoughts. The butler’s voice followed.

“We shall enter.”

She pushed open the door hurriedly. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.

The scene before me was unchanged. Pamilla lay motionless on an oversized bed befitting the vast room. The only difference was the absence of the maids who had been tending to her arms and legs.

I looked at the butler in bewilderment.

“You said she’d regained consciousness.”

“She will awaken if you move closer. But first—”

She turned to Amon.

“Sir Knight, I must ask you to step outside with me.”

“I refuse.”

Amon’s answer was immediate and resolute. He moved to stand in front of me, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. His intent was clear—he wouldn’t be forced out.

“The Duchess specifically requested this. She wishes to be alone with Lady Reitz.”

“That will not be happening. My duty is to protect the Lady.”

“I…”

Gently tugging on Amon’s sleeve, I hesitated before stepping between them. He looked down at me, his expression skeptical, almost betrayed.

“I think… it’s best if I speak with her alone.”

“My lady.”

His voice trembled with disbelief. His expression was heavy with something close to hurt.

“There is no danger. It is just the Duchess and me here.”

“But—”

“Please, step outside. I’m asking you.”

He stared at me intently. Though only seconds passed, they felt unbearably long. At last, he relented.

“…As you wish.”

With an almost reluctant grace, he stepped aside.

“This way, Sir Knight.”

The butler ushered him out of the room, and with a soft click, the door shut, leaving behind a still silence.

I had sent Amon away because of a gnawing apprehension. Whatever Pamilla had to say, I instinctively knew it wasn’t for his ears.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back toward her. She remained as before, her fiery red hair spilling across the bed linens, still and lifeless.

‘The butler said she would awaken if I got closer…’

“Um…”

I barely whispered, but at that moment, Pamilla’s eyes flew open. Her deep green gaze immediately locked onto mine.

I stumbled back, startled. Something about her stood… unfamiliar.

She didn’t stir as if struggling to regain consciousness. Nor did she try to sit up upon seeing me. She didn’t even move her head, only her eyes.

It was as though she were paralyzed, not merely weak from illness.

“Come closer.”

And then, she spoke. Her voice was calm, yet the sheer unnaturalness of it sent chills racing through me.

Why hadn’t I noticed it before?

“Hurry.”

Why hadn’t I realized it?

'The voice in my head…'

From the very first moment, it had spoken—

'Why hadn’t I recognized it as hers?'

Pamilla’s. The voice that had reverberated in my mind all this time, commanding me like some omnipotent force—it was hers.

“A…”

The breathless gasp escaped before I could stop it.

“I know you’re shocked, but there’s no time. I’m using every ounce of strength I have just to speak with you. So please…”

I clenched my trembling fists. Pamilla was right—there wasn’t time to waste. Whatever she knew, I had to hear it. I had to get answers about this impossible situation.

Slowly, despite my quivering legs, I approached her.

“Who… what are you?”

“Is that what you wish to know?”

“Was it you? The voice in my head? Was it you giving me orders all this time?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t?”

My voice cracked, jagged with disbelief. My nails bit into my palms as I struggled to hold myself together.

“Then why do I hear your voice? Why, of all people, is it you?”

“Julia.”

“Do not call me that. You know I am not Julia.”

My voice quavered, anger and anguish surging in waves.

“There is no time.”

In stark contrast, Pamilla’s tone was unnervingly composed.

“I shall die soon. Before that, there is something you must know. That is why I called for you. Do not waste this precious moment.”

“Answer my question first.”

“Julia.”

“I told you, I am not—!”

My outburst escaped before I could reign it in. Desperation clawed at me, threatening to spill over. She was supposed to be my lifeline. The owner of the voice I’d relied on stood before me.

“Why did you call me here? Why me? Why…?”

“I didn’t call you.”

“Then who? Who brought me here? Tell me! You know, don’t you? Or better yet, just send me back! Return me to my world, my body—just send me back!”

I shouted, my voice hoarse. But Pamilla offered no response. She only regarded me with a bitter smile—the first expression to cross her face since she’d awakened.

Unbidden, my mouth fell open. I knew that expression. It was the look of someone resigned, someone who had accepted the end. I’d seen it before… somewhere.

“I can only tell you one thing.”

Her face was blank once more as she stared at the ceiling.

“Though she likely wouldn’t want me to say this…”

'She?'

Before I could ask, Pamilla continued.

“I’m sorry. But you can’t go back.”

“What… what do you mean?”

A chill swept over me, extinguishing the fiery emotions that had consumed me moments ago.

“What does that mean? Are you saying that just to make me give up?”

Pamilla slowly closed her eyes. I shook her shoulders, frantic.

“Who is ‘she’? What do you know? Answer me… Pamilla!”

Inside, something collapsed—an avalanche of despair. I couldn’t return. Then what was I supposed to do? What was left for me?

“Why… Why me, of all people?”

In response to my whispered plea, a voice echoed in my head.

[Because it had to be you.]

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