Ari didn’t remember leaving the hallway.

One moment she had been standing there, unable to breathe, staring at the woman wearing her face—

and the next—

she was moving.

Fast.

Too fast.

The tray in her hands rattled slightly as she turned the corner sharply, her pulse loud enough to drown out everything else.

Someone else was living her life.

The thought repeated over and over in her head, refusing to settle into something understandable.

No.

Not just living it.

Belonging in it.

Like Ari had never existed at all.

“Claire!”

Ari flinched violently.

A woman frowned at her from farther down the corridor.

“What’s wrong with you today?” the older servant snapped. “Move already. Lady Ari wants the west room prepared before dinner.”

Lady Ari.

Again.

The name struck something raw inside her chest.

Ari lowered her head quickly.

“…Sorry.”

The apology came automatically.

Wrong.

Everything felt wrong.

The older servant clicked her tongue impatiently. “Honestly. If the housekeeper notices you wandering around uselessly again, you’ll be lucky if you’re only thrown out.”

Thrown out.

Ari’s fingers tightened slightly around the tray.

“Especially now,” the woman continued. “The Valens are already watching the staff closely because of the engagement talks.”

Engagement.

The word hit harder than it should have.

Ari looked up before she could stop herself.

“…Engagement?”

The servant frowned. “Were you dropped on your head this morning?”

Ari said nothing.

The woman sighed dramatically. “Lady Ari and Young Master Emy. The families have been preparing for months.”

Months.

Ari’s chest tightened painfully.

No.

Too fast.

Everything was happening too fast.

The servant shook her head. “Just work properly and stay out of sight. House Valen doesn’t tolerate servants causing problems.”

Then she walked away.

Leaving Ari standing alone in the corridor.

Engagement.

The word echoed painfully in her head.

Ari leaned back slightly against the wall, her breathing uneven.

This wasn’t right.

None of this was right.

Emy was supposed to—

Her thoughts stopped abruptly.

Supposed to what?

Remember her?

How could he?

Even she barely understood what had happened.

Ari closed her eyes briefly.

The warmth of his hands still lingered in her memory.

Find me again.

Her throat tightened.

“I did,” she whispered softly.

But someone else had reached him first.

A sharp voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Claire.”

Ari opened her eyes immediately.

A young maid stood nearby holding folded sheets.

“You’re helping in Lady Ari’s rooms today.”

Ari froze.

“…What?”

The maid frowned. “Why are you acting strange?”

Ari forced herself to straighten slightly. “Nothing.”

“Then hurry up.”

The girl shoved the folded linens into her arms.

Ari stared at them blankly for a moment.

Lady Ari’s rooms.

Her rooms.

No.

Not anymore.

The walk upstairs felt longer than it should have.

Every hallway carried fragments of memory.

A painting moved slightly farther left.

The flowers changed.

The carpets replaced.

Small things.

Tiny things.

But enough to remind her that time had passed here without her.

That life had continued.

Without her.

Ari stopped outside the familiar doors.

Her heartbeat quickened painfully.

She knew this room.

Every inch of it.

She had lived here.

Laughed here.

Cried here.

Loved here.

And now—

she stood outside it carrying laundry like a stranger.

The maid beside her pushed the doors open carelessly.

“Just clean quickly,” she muttered. “Lady Ari hates dust.”

Ari stepped inside slowly.

And immediately—

something twisted painfully in her chest.

It looked almost the same.

Almost.

The curtains were different.

The books rearranged.

Fresh flowers rested beside the window where Ari used to keep dried ones instead.

Not wrong.

Just…

not hers.

Like someone had rebuilt her life from memory alone.

Ari moved quietly through the room, setting down the linens carefully.

Then she stopped.

There was a framed photograph beside the bed.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up.

Emy stood smiling faintly beside—

her.

No.

Not her.

The woman wearing her face leaned comfortably against him, perfectly at ease.

Ari stared at the image silently.

Then quietly—

very quietly—

“…That’s not where you stand.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

“Really?”

Ari froze.

She turned too quickly.

The woman from the photograph stood in the doorway.

Watching her calmly.

Ari’s breath caught instantly.

Up close, it was worse.

Every feature belonged to her.

Every expression almost right.

Almost.

The woman’s gaze shifted briefly toward the photograph in Ari’s hands.

Then back to her.

“You’ve been staring a lot today,” she said lightly.

Ari couldn’t speak.

The woman tilted her head slightly.

“Do I know you?”

The question struck harder than it should have.

Because Ari suddenly realized—

she truly didn’t know.

This woman had her face.

Her voice.

Her life.

But Ari had no idea who she was.

“…No,” Ari answered quietly.

The woman studied her for a second longer.

Then smiled softly.

Polite.

Distant.

The kind of smile given to servants.

“Claire, right?”

Ari’s stomach twisted at the unfamiliar name.

“…Yes.”

“You’re new?”

Ari hesitated.

“…I think so.”

Something flickered briefly across the woman’s expression.

Confusion.

Amusement, maybe.

Then it disappeared.

“You think so?”

Ari looked away quickly. “Sorry.”

Silence settled briefly between them.

Then the woman stepped farther into the room.

Natural.

Comfortable.

Like she belonged there.

Like Ari didn’t.

“You should be careful,” she said gently. “The housekeeper dislikes careless servants.”

Ari’s fingers curled slightly at her side.

Servant.

The word felt unreal every time she heard it.

The woman glanced toward the photograph again.

Then smiled faintly.

“…You were looking at Young Master Emy.”

Ari’s breath caught.

“I wasn’t—”

“It’s alright,” the woman interrupted softly.

“There are plenty of girls in the estate who stare at him.”

The words weren’t cruel.

That somehow made them worse.

Because she sounded so certain.

So secure beside him.

Like no one could ever threaten her place there.

Ari looked at her quietly.

Really looked.

And suddenly—

something felt familiar.

Not the face.

Not the voice.

Something smaller.

The way she watched people carefully before speaking.

The way her smile adjusted slightly depending on the reaction she received.

A strange feeling crawled slowly down Ari’s spine.

Like she had seen that habit somewhere before.

But before she could think harder about it—

the woman smiled again.

“You should get back to work, Claire.”

Claire.

The name landed heavily in Ari’s chest.

Not mine.

“…Yes, Lady Ari,” she said quietly.

The woman nodded once before turning away.

Effortless.

Certain.

Completely at home in the life she had taken.

Ari stood motionless until the door closed behind her.

Then slowly—

her gaze shifted back toward the photograph beside the bed.

Her fingers tightened around the frame.

“…That’s my place,” she whispered.

But the room remained silent.

As if the world itself disagreed.

The name still felt wrong.

Claire.

Every time someone said it, Ari reacted a second too late—like the sound belonged to someone standing behind her instead.

“Claire.”

Ari looked up automatically.

The housekeeper frowned. “Are you listening?”

“…Yes.”

“Then answer properly.”

Ari lowered her gaze immediately. “Sorry.”

The older woman sighed sharply before handing her another stack of folded cloth.

“Take these to the east hall. And stop wandering around like you’re lost.”

Lost.

Ari almost laughed.

Instead, she nodded quietly and walked away.

The estate felt different during the evening.

Softer.

Dim golden light stretched across the halls while distant conversations drifted faintly through open doors.

Everything looked familiar enough to hurt.

Every turn carried memories.

There.

That corner where Emy once knocked over an entire vase trying to scare her.

That staircase where they sat during storms because Ari insisted thunder sounded different indoors.

That window where he—

Ari stopped walking abruptly.

No.

Don’t do this.

The memories came too easily here.

Like the house itself refused to let her forget who she had been.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the cloth in her arms.

None of this belongs to me anymore.

The thought settled heavily in her chest.

Then footsteps echoed ahead.

Ari froze instantly.

She knew those footsteps.

Not logically.

Instinctively.

Slow. Unhurried. Familiar enough to make her chest ache before she even saw him.

Emy appeared around the corner moments later.

Alone this time.

Ari’s breathing caught immediately.

He looked up.

Their eyes met.

And for one terrifying second—

Ari forgot everything.

The servants uniform.

The stolen life.

The wrong body.

All of it disappeared beneath one overwhelming instinct:

Emy.

His brows furrowed slightly.

Not recognition.

Just curiosity.

Like something about her had interrupted his thoughts.

Ari lowered her gaze quickly.

Careful.

You have to be careful.

She stepped aside automatically to let him pass.

“Good evening, Young Master.”

The words felt unnatural in her mouth.

Too distant.

Too formal.

Emy slowed slightly instead of continuing past her.

“…Have we met before?”

Ari’s grip tightened painfully around the folded cloth.

No.

Yes.

A hundred different lifetimes ago.

“…No,” she answered quietly.

A pause.

Then—

“That’s strange.”

Her heartbeat quickened.

Ari kept her gaze lowered.

“Why?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Silence stretched briefly between them.

Then Emy spoke again.

“…You feel familiar.”

The world seemed to stop around her.

Ari forgot to breathe.

He doesn’t remember.

She knew that.

Of course she knew that.

And yet—

something inside her still cracked painfully hearing those words.

Because part of him noticed.

Even now.

Even like this.

Ari forced herself to stay still.

“You’re mistaken,” she whispered.

Maybe if she said it enough, she would believe it too.

Emy didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, Ari felt his gaze linger on her.

Studying.

Searching.

Not understanding why.

That somehow felt worse.

Then quietly—

“What’s your name?”

Ari froze.

Claire.

That was her name now.

Wasn’t it?

The silence stretched too long.

“Claire,” she answered finally.

The word felt foreign inside her chest.

Emy repeated it softly.

“…Claire.”

Like he was testing how it sounded.

Something twisted painfully inside Ari.

No.

That isn’t the name you’re supposed to say.

She lowered her head further.

“I should return to work.”

This time she moved before he could stop her.

One step.

Then another.

Steady.

Controlled.

Even as her chest tightened harder with every second.

Behind her, silence lingered.

Then—

“Wait.”

Ari stopped instinctively.

Dangerous.

Too dangerous.

Slowly, she turned back.

Emy stood exactly where she had left him, watching her with a faint crease between his brows.

“…Have we really never met?”

The question sounded quieter this time.

More uncertain.

Ari’s throat tightened painfully.

Because she remembered everything.

Rain against windows.

Shared coffee gone cold during arguments.

His laugh at two in the morning.

His hands holding hers while they died together.

And now he looked at her like a stranger asking for directions.

“…No,” Ari lied softly.

The word hurt more than she expected.

Emy looked unconvinced.

Before either of them could say anything else—

“There you are.”

Another voice entered smoothly.

Ari stiffened immediately.

The woman wearing her face approached them calmly, elegant even in the softened evening light.

Lady Ari.

The title still made Ari feel sick.

The woman smiled faintly as she reached Emy’s side naturally.

Comfortably.

Like she had stood there forever.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said lightly.

Emy glanced at her briefly before looking back toward Claire.

Just for a second longer than necessary.

Something cold settled uneasily in Ari’s stomach.

The woman noticed it too.

Though her smile never changed.

“What is it?” she asked softly.

Emy hesitated.

Then shook his head.

“…Nothing.”

But he still looked distracted.

Still looking at Claire.

The woman’s gaze shifted toward Ari then.

Brief.

Polite.

Indifferent.

Like she truly saw nothing unusual about the servant standing in front of her.

“…Claire,” she said gently, reading the name from memory rather than familiarity. “Was there a problem?”

Ari forced herself to answer normally.

“No, Lady Ari.”

The title tasted bitter.

The woman nodded once.

Satisfied.

Then turned back toward Emy easily.

“We’ll be late if we stay here.”

Late for what?

Ari didn’t ask.

Didn’t want to know.

She stepped back automatically, lowering her gaze again.

The movement felt practiced now.

Too practiced.

Like this body already knew how to make itself smaller around people like them.

Around people like her.

“Excuse me,” Ari murmured quietly.

Then she walked away.

Not too fast.

Not too slow.

Careful.

Always careful.

But halfway down the corridor—

“…Claire.”

Ari stopped instantly.

Not because of the name.

Because of the voice saying it.

Slowly, she looked back.

Emy was still watching her.

Frowning slightly now.

Like something about the name itself bothered him.

Like it didn’t fit.

Ari’s chest tightened painfully.

Then the woman beside him touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention away.

The moment broke instantly.

Emy blinked once before finally turning away with her.

And Ari stood alone in the corridor long after they disappeared.

Her fingers curled tightly against trembling hands.

“…You said you’d recognize me,” she whispered softly.

But the silence that answered felt uncertain now.

Like maybe—

some part of him already had.