I had just set foot on the first step when the voice rang out.
It didn't come from within my head this time. It came from above. From the entrance of the catacombs.
"Kael! Kael Varen!"
A man's voice. Loud. Demanding.
I froze. The Count's diary was still hidden beneath the folds of my black gown, pressing against my waist. I could feel its sharp corners digging into my skin.
"You cannot simply barge in!" The Head Butler's voice followed, frantic and laced with fear.
"We were sent by Marquis Vellon. The Varen family has a debt that must be settled."
Marquis Vellon. The name didn't trigger a single memory, but my instincts—instincts I couldn't explain—immediately flared with alarm.
A debt. A Marquis. Arriving exactly after the Count was buried.
This wasn't a social call. This was extortion.
I quickened my pace, ascending the stone steps. The diary rubbed against my dress, but I didn't care.
As I emerged from the catacomb entrance, the scene in the main hall made me stop in my tracks.
Three men stood there. Two were massive, clad in light armor with their hands resting on the pommels of their swords. But the third... the third was different.
He was older, his grey hair slicked back meticulously. His eyes were small and sharp, like a rat sniffing for cheese. He wore a deep crimson velvet doublet—nobleman's attire, though frayed at the elbows.
He wasn't the Marquis. He was a mere messenger. But the way he stood—chest puffed out, chin held high—suggested he felt himself a man of great importance.
Kael stood before them, his back rigid and his hands clenched at his sides.
"I know nothing of any debt," Kael said, his voice cold and flat. "My father was just laid to rest. Return next week."
"Next week?" The man in the crimson doublet let out a shrill laugh. "Young man, Marquis Vellon has been waiting for three months. Count Varen kept delaying. Now that the Count is dead, are we to wait until his corpse rots?"
Kael stepped forward. "Watch your mouth—"
"Kael."
The word left my lips before I could even think.
Every eye in the room shifted to me. Kael turned, his eyes narrowing. The three men stared—the two guards with blank expressions, the man in crimson with an unpleasant, thin smile.
"Ah." The man clasped his hands together. "Lady Varen. The Count's young bride. Or should I call you... widow?"
I didn't answer. I walked toward them, coming to a halt beside Kael. Even though he stood much taller than me, I could feel the fury radiating from him in waves.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Gerald. Advisor to Marquis Vellon." He bowed slightly, but his eyes never left mine. Those rat-like eyes moved quickly, assessing, measuring. "I have come to offer... my condolences. And also to remind the Varen family of the obligations that remain unfulfilled."
"What obligations?"
Gerald smiled. "Count Varen borrowed five hundred gold coins from the Marquis three months ago. For his medical expenses." He paused, letting the weight of the words settle. "Interest has been accruing. The total is now... seven hundred."
Seven hundred gold coins.
I didn't know the exact value of that sum. I had no memory of this world's currency. But judging by Kael's reaction—his jaw tightening, his breath hitching—I knew it was an astronomical amount.
"I don't believe it," Kael spat. "Father would never borrow money without telling us."
"Count Varen was a proud man." Gerald shrugged. "Perhaps he didn't wish to burden his children. But the facts..." He withdrew a piece of parchment from his robes. "The contract exists. Signed and stamped with Count Varen's seal."
Kael snatched the parchment. His eyes darted across the page. His already pale face turned ashen.
"I..." His voice caught. "This... this is Father's signature."
"Of course it is." Gerald reclaimed the parchment, folded it neatly, and tucked it away. "Marquis Vellon is an understanding man. He would not force a grieving family to pay immediately." His smile widened. "But of course... the interest continues to climb. Every single day."
Every day.
This wasn't debt collection. This was a snare. They wanted to drown the Varen family in debt until they were forced to forfeit something far more valuable. Land. The castle. Power.
I recognized this tactic. Not from memory, but from instinct.
Someone had once tried the same thing with me. And I had...
The thought cut off. But the feeling remained. A cold, clinical certainty that I knew exactly how to deal with a man like Gerald.
"Seven hundred gold coins," I said softly.
Everyone stared at me. Even Kael.
"Yes." Gerald looked at me with an arched brow. "Seven hundred."
I looked at him. At his rat-like eyes. His frayed doublet. The two guards behind him who stood far too casually—unprepared for a sudden strike.
Two guards. One on the left, one on the right. Three-pace distance. Swords on the left hip. Right-hand dominant. Two-second draw time.
The thoughts flowed naturally. Like water. Like... an old habit.
I ignored them.
"We will pay," I stated.
"WHAT?!" Kael snapped his head toward me. "We don't have that kind of money!"
I didn't look at him. My eyes remained locked on Gerald's. "When is the deadline?"
Gerald's smile broadened. "The Marquis is a generous man. He gives you... two weeks."
Two weeks. Seven hundred gold coins.
"Fine," I said. "Two weeks."
Gerald bowed again, deeper this time. "A pleasure doing business with you, Lady Varen. I heard you were beautiful, but I did not expect you to be so... wise."
He turned on his heel. His two guards followed, their footsteps echoing through the stone hall.
The castle doors swung open, letting in a brief flash of sunlight before clicking shut.
Silence fell.
"What did you just do?!"
Kael whirled around to face me. His red eyes were now burning with fury. But beneath the anger... there was terror.
"We don't have seven hundred gold coins! Father spent most of our fortune on his treatments! What's left might not even reach three hundred!"
I looked at him. At his strained face. His trembling hands.
"I know," I said.
"You know?!" Kael let out a bitter laugh. "If you knew, then why did you say we'd pay? You just promised something we can't fulfill! Marquis Vellon will take this castle! This land! Everything Father built!"
"Kael—"
"Shut up!" he barked, his voice breaking. "You have no right! You aren't my mother! You don't even remember who we are! So why do you think you can make decisions for this family?!"
I let him scream. His chest heaved. His eyes were wet. He was angry. He was scared. He was grieving.
I understood. But I couldn't let emotion cloud my judgment.
"I know what I'm doing," I said calmly.
"Oh, you do?" Kael wiped his eyes roughly. "Fine. Then tell me, wise Mother. Where are we going to get seven hundred gold coins in two weeks?"
I didn't answer immediately. My mind was working. Not as a confused, amnesiac Alyra, but as... someone who had faced situations like this before. Someone who knew how to apply pressure. How to strike back.
Marquis Vellon had sent a messenger on the day of the funeral. He thought the Varen family was weak. He thought that with the Count dead, there was no one left to oppose him.
He was wrong.
"We aren't going to pay," I finally said.
Kael blinked. "What?"
"We aren't paying that debt. At least, not in the way he expects."
"What do you mean?"
I walked past him toward the window overlooking the front courtyard. The three men were still visible, walking toward the gate.
"Marquis Vellon thinks we are weak," I said, watching their retreating backs. "He thinks we will panic, sell our land, and slowly dismantle this family ourselves." I turned to face Kael. "He has no idea who he is dealing with."
Kael stared at me. He was confused, but there was something else in his gaze. Something that hadn't been there before.
Curiosity.
"And who is he dealing with?" he asked quietly.
I fell silent. The same question. Who was I?
I didn't know. But my instincts did. The instincts that made my hand want to reach for something that wasn't there. The instincts that read the room, calculated distances, and assessed threats. The instincts that told me: You have done this before. Many times.
"I don't know," I answered honestly. "But I'm going to find out. And before the two weeks are up, Marquis Vellon will regret ever sending his messenger here."
Kael didn't speak. He just watched me for a long time.
Eventually, he let out a long breath. His tense shoulders slumped slightly.
"I don't know who you are," he whispered. "You aren't the mother I remember. That woman... she wouldn't speak like this. She wouldn't look at people that way." He paused. "But... that woman wouldn't be able to save this family either."
He turned and walked away. His steps were still heavy, but the crushing weight seemed to have lessened.
I remained alone by the window, staring at the empty gate.
Seven hundred gold coins. Two weeks. Marquis Vellon.
I didn't know who I was. But I knew one thing.
I didn't like being bullied. And someone... someone had once taught me how to destroy those who tried to suppress me.
I touched the diary hidden beneath my gown.
The Count had chosen me for a reason. Perhaps... perhaps he knew exactly who I was.
And perhaps, to save his family, I would have to become that person again.
Whoever that may be.
In the corner of my vision, the blue screen appeared.
[ SOUL GUIDE SYSTEM – SLEEP MODE ]
[ Data Recovery: 5% ]
[ New Fragment Detected: "Negotiation with the Enemy". ]
[ Description: ██████ You have faced similar situations. Result: Enemy ██████. ]
[ Query: Continue recovery? ]
I stared at the screen.
"Not now."
The screen vanished.
I turned and walked toward my room. I had much to think about. And only two weeks left.