(Alash's POV)
"Welcome home, Alash."
I stared at her.
That was probably rude.
Unfortunately, my brain had temporarily stopped providing alternatives.
The girl standing several meters away was definitely Penelope.
Violet eyes.
Violet hair.
Same voice.
Same faint smile.
But everything else had apparently decided four years was enough time to become completely different.
Her hair now reached far down her back instead of stopping around her shoulders.
Her face had lost most of the softness I remembered.
She was taller.
Obviously.
People tended to do that.
Apparently, I had simply forgotten Penelope was included in that rule.
Her lavender dress was simple compared to what noble girls usually wore at ceremonies, but somehow that made her stand out more.
And she wasn't looking away.
That was perhaps the strangest part.
The Penelope I remembered could barely maintain eye contact for five seconds before her face turned red.
