Chapter – 16
Passing through groups of laughing guests, Juliet and Adam finally reached the front of the grand hall.
Along the way, they had exchanged greetings with several people, yet Juliet couldn’t remember a single face or name.
Around the seat of honor stood a ring of royal guards, while several invited guests formed a line under the direction of a maid, waiting for their turn to offer greetings.
As Juliet and Adam joined the line, a maid quickly noticed them and approached.
“Milady, we will take care of your gift from here.”
The maid reverently accepted the bouquet and book Juliet carried, and placed them on the mountain of presents piled at the back of the hall.
When entering the castle, their belongings and bodies had been briefly checked, but the contents of the gifts had not been inspected. Likely, after the ball ended, the servants would examine everything and then deliver the gifts to Emilia.
“Somehow, I’m getting nervous too,” Adam murmured beside her, fidgeting.
His words passed Juliet’s ears as meaningless sound.
The line slowly moved forward — one pair, then another. Soon, the couple two places ahead finished their greetings, and the maid’s clear voice rang out:
“Next, please.”
The large man in front of them muttered, “Finally, our turn,” and stepped forward.
Just before he did, Juliet squeezed her eyes shut, pressed her palm over her racing heart, and drew several deep breaths. Then, as she opened her eyes, her gaze fell upon the one seated ahead.
…There she was — Emilia.
Eyes the color of winter — just like Oscar’s.
Her long black hair was parted neatly into two sections, tied high at her temples and adorned with ribbons.
Her skin was pale as porcelain, but her cheeks glowed faintly with the healthy tint of a single drop of rose.
Clad in a soft pink dress, the young girl sat perched on a fine red velvet chair, looking for all the world like a delicate doll.
Despite this being her own birthday celebration, she looked bored — entertaining her well-wishers with the air of someone performing a dull obligation.
Ah… even that sullen expression was just like Oscar’s.
When Juliet heard Emilia had turned twelve, she had often imagined what her daughter might be like now.
How tall had she grown? How big were her once-tiny hands and feet?
What sights had she seen, what voices had she heard, what thoughts had filled her young mind?
What did her voice sound like? What did she like or dislike?
Juliet had let her heart fill with these idle dreams.
But now, standing before the real Emilia, Juliet understood just how shallow and fragile her imagination had been.
Emilia was right there, before her eyes — alive, breathing, blinking, speaking.
That tiny, fragile baby who once seemed ready to break at the slightest touch was now undeniably alive, moving, and real.
Her daughter.
The sight of her — grown yet still carrying traces of the infant Juliet once held — rooted Juliet’s gaze, making it impossible to look away.
“…Ah…”
Her voice caught. She even forgot how to breathe.
A sting shot up her nose, her eyes burned hot, and her chest tightened painfully.
“Next,” the maid called. “Let’s go,” Adam urged softly.
But Juliet didn’t move — no, she couldn’t.
“Juliet…?” Adam’s worried voice reached her a second before she heard the sound of droplets pattering against the floor.
Something warm slid down her cheeks.
“Eh…”
Juliet touched her face with trembling fingers — and felt them come away wet.
Only then did she realize she was crying.
Tears streamed endlessly down her face, falling from her chin to the polished floor below.
The sudden sight of a guest bursting into tears made Emilia widen her eyes in shock. Her guards and maids all exchanged uneasy glances.
“Miss Juliet, are you feeling unwell—?”
Before Adam’s hand could touch her shoulder, Juliet broke.
She spun on her heel, turning her back to Emilia.
Ignoring Adam’s calls and the maids’ concerned voices, she lifted her skirts and fled the hall.
She didn’t know where she was going — anywhere but here would do.
People stared as she ran, sobbing.
“Miss, are you all right?”
“Oh my, she’s crying! Is she okay?”
Their words and gazes didn’t reach her.
Something filled her heart so completely that there was no room for anything else — an emotion so fierce it made breathing painful.
Was it sorrow? Longing? Joy? Relief? Or the overwhelming ache of love?
She had lived seventeen years in her previous life.
And sixteen years in this one.
Juliet possessed the memories of two lives — but that didn’t mean she was more mature than others.
Her recently awakened past-life memories had done little to strengthen her heart. Emotionally, she was still a sixteen-year-old girl.
Such an immature heart could never withstand the tidal wave of feeling crashing through her now.
How pathetic.
She had longed so desperately to see her daughter again — and when the moment came, she couldn’t even speak to her.
How miserable.
She wanted to run.
Run away.
Where to?
Anywhere.
Somewhere far beyond the reach of these emotions.
Juliet ran and ran, blindly, until no sound of footsteps followed her.
Finally, she stopped — and collapsed where she stood, as if her strength had all drained away.
Still, the tears would not stop.
If she cried enough, would these feelings wash away with them?
She wiped her face again and again, crouched low, and wept like a lost child.
When at last her sobs began to subside, Juliet caught a faint, sweet fragrance on the breeze.
She lifted her head.
The navy-blue sky and pale moonlight revealed that she had somehow wandered outside.
She looked around, matching the scene before her to the memories of her past life.
Manicured blue-green lawns. White lilies blooming proudly in their beds.
Topiary animals — rabbits, squirrels, bears, and deer — perfectly shaped from the hedges.
A fountain sculpted with angels bathing, its spray catching the moonlight and scattering silvery drops.
A garden of breathtaking beauty, shaped by a master gardener’s pride and skill.
The courtyard of Aschen Castle.
“…It’s been so long,” she whispered.
Sniffling, she stepped forward.
The grass gave a soft sac beneath her shoes, releasing a fresh, green scent.
Here, Oscar had often trained. From Ridel’s room, the courtyard had been clearly visible — she could always tell when he was sparring or chatting by the sound of his voice or the ring of steel.
He probably never realized it, but Ridel’s secret joy had been watching him quietly from that window.
She remembered how he would sit on the edge of the fountain during breaks, feeding breadcrumbs to the little birds that came to visit.
“If I remember right… it was around here.”
Tracing her memories, she touched the fountain’s rim — and at that moment, heard footsteps pressing into the grass behind her.
Juliet’s hand jerked away.
Had Adam followed her? Someone else? Or—
The image of a pair of frosty eyes flashed through her mind, and she froze, unable to turn around.
But the voice that reached her back was neither Adam’s nor the one she feared.
It was the clear, bell-like voice of a young girl.
“Hey— why were you crying?”
Juliet didn’t need to see her face.
Even hearing that voice for the first time, she knew instantly who was standing behind her.
