The wind played among the rose bushes as if telling jokes that only the flowers could understand. The leaves tinkled under the magical light like porcelain bells.
Ligia stood among the green echoes of the garden, staring at the cat with a thoughtful expression.
The feline irony in the form of a hologram just winked at her, as if to say "so, princess, satisfied with the cosmic menu?"
Ligia pursed her lips, almost letting out another philosophical sigh, but was interrupted by a soft, almost shy voice
"Excuse me, Miss d'Argêntea... lunch is served in the Solar Room."
Ligia turned and saw one of the housemaids, short, frail, carrying an embroidered cloth with obsessive care in her hands.
She bowed in greeting, without even looking in the cat's direction.
Ligia frowned.
"You... don't see this here?" She pointed directly at the holographic feline who, at that moment, was licking his own paw with haughty contempt.
The maid looked, confused, at the empty air.
"See... what?"
Ligia smiled softly. "Nothing. My vision."
The maid blushed with fright, bowed once more and backed away with hurried steps.
The cat purred with pleasure. "Yes... Only you can see me, hear me, curse me and put up with me."
Ligia murmured, not giving the taste of a more elaborate answer, and walked haughtily towards the mansion.
The long corridors seemed to have been built to scare beginners. The stained glass windows cast disturbing rainbows across the polished floor.
Two maids passed her. They bowed. They smiled with false sweetness.
"Good morning, Miss." they said in unison.
But as soon as they took five more steps.
"She seems stranger than before."
"Do you think she's gone crazy again? Or is she just pretending to escape punishment?"
"They say she tried to poison Miss Marian with poisonous rose tea..."
"Imagine if she goes back to the balls? Three dukes have fallen because of one look from her..."
Ligia kept her pace steady, but her expression wilted like a flower without sunlight.
She shook her head, sighing heavily.
"Congratulations, Original Ligia. You were a social bomb with heels and lipstick. What a wonderful inheritance you left me..."
The mansion seemed to expand like an enchanted labyrinth made just to disorient spiritually reincarnated newcomers.
Ligia turned left. Then right. Then... left again?
"Where the hell is the Solar Room?" she asked herself, irritated.
The cat appeared beside her, floating, as if it were lying on an invisible cushion in the air. And then... it let out a meow.
"Well, well... a young noblewoman who doesn't even know where she eats lunch. So sad. So pathetic. So... iconic."
"Shut up," she blushed, pushing the air where it was floating.
"Don't blame me, your excellency. I'm a system, not an emotional GPS. But if you want an upgrade in dignity, I can sell you a magic map of the mansion for two Reputation Points. Promotion for pity."
Ligia crossed her arms, her face burning.
"Just show me the way, Satan with whiskers. Before I'm found crawling around a sewing room and become the gossip of the week for the maids."
The cat-system spun in the air, glowing like a hologram from a perfume advertisement. "Well then. Starting the guide..."
And then a soft golden trail like lines of moonlight appeared before Ligia's feet, winding towards the east.
"You, young lady, follow me, and try not to trip over your own pose as a reformed villain."
Ligia clicked her tongue, but began to walk. One step at a time, trying to maintain her dignity.
"Drama on an empty stomach is a delayed revolution," she murmured.
When she reached her destination, she found a double door. The double doors stood like walls of velvet and polished oak, so imposing that they seemed to hold more than just meals... perhaps expectations.
Ligia stopped in front of them, her dress billowing silently around her ankles. The two servants stationed to her left and right bowed at the sight of her and, without a word, pushed the heavy wooden leaves that opened with a creak worthy of a tragic theater.
The light invaded her eyes.
The hall was vast and beautiful, with walls carved in delicate reliefs and carpets that seemed to have been woven with threads of sunset. The main table was long, covered by a linen tablecloth that shone under the spell of constant cleaning, and white porcelain and gold plates were lined with military precision. The scent of white wine, freshly picked herbs and roast meat filled the air.
But what weighed most heavily... was the silence.
A silence of a courtroom disguised as a family lunch.
Ligia took a deep breath, remembered how she had learned that morning between bows and etiquette lessons that seemed more like a social survival class, and walked, feigning calm, as if each step did not scream "I am an impostor, do not report me".
Her place was reserved next to a girl with large violet eyes that said "Innocence" and silver hair braided with pink ribbons.
It was her little sister, probably the only soul in the house who still looked at Lígia with anything resembling tenderness.
Lígia smiled slightly and sat down. Her hands were on her lap, her back straight, her neck erect. She maintained impeccable posture while the fork rested between her light, graceful fingers. Inside, a whirlwind of nerves.
Her father's glance, even if brief, had been like a blade: sharp and silent.
"How are you, after that embarrassing thing that happened?" he asked.
But even with his choice of words, it was clear that he didn't take the event seriously, his choice of words served to hide his concern for his daughter.
Lígia took a deep breath. She felt the corset press against her lungs as if reminding her: "You're a lady now."
"I'm better, Dad," she replied, her voice firm but soft. An intonation that suggested recovery and composure, not "I just transmigrated, give me a break."
The Duke raised an eyebrow, just enough to indicate that he had noticed the change. Then he turned to his eldest son, seated to his left.
"Dorian. Report on the progress on the northern border."
Ah, there he was.
"The situation remains stable," Dorian replied, as he tore off a piece of bread with precision. "The merchants are still trying to press on through the alternative routes, but General Halbrecht is holding his ground."
The Duke nodded slowly. "What about the southern garrison?"
"Understrength. We need new reinforcements before the Blood Moon."
Lígia pretended to concentrate on the soup in front of her, but her mind was racing.
"Southern garrison."
"Blood Moon."
"Merchants..."
Each word was a golden nugget for her understanding of the world around her. The Empire was not just fans and tea, it was politics, covert war, and treacherous alliances.
So that's it... Dad commands like a wall, and Dorian is the armed wing of the house... and me? I was just a stone in everyone's path.
Well... Until now.
She looked away, meeting the eyes of her little sister next to her, holding the spoon with hesitant hands, but curious eyes. Maybe she was the only one at the table who didn't yet carry the weight of the world.
Lunch continued amid murmurs, significant silences and the delicate clink of fine china.