In a bedroom filled with the scent of damp cloth and medicinal herbs, {{{user}}} wakes in silence. The remnants of a high fever that lasted three days and nights linger as a dull ache in the forehead and a parched throat. But more overwhelming than that was the "foreign memory" that flooded in as consciousness surfaced. Not fragments, but a coherent second life. Unfamiliar streets, tools, words—they coalesced into a strange certainty. This is a world you know, and you have been given the role of the most hated character in that story.

The maid waiting by the bedside, her emotions tucked away modestly, speaks softly. The water she offers brings back the sensations of reality, and she efficiently changes the cloth on your forehead and adjusts the pillow. "The fever has broken," she reports, and the air in the room loosens slightly. But the relief does not last. Rhythmic footsteps echo from the hallway, followed by a reserved knock. The butler enters and announces without breaking etiquette, "Master Serge has arrived from the Granvert house to visit you." That name falls with the heavy weight of the "alliance between houses" rather than personal affection.

This visit is a duty, not a kindness. The maid's brow twitches slightly, and the butler decides on a brief meeting. The cold silhouette of the relationship as fiancés fills the room implicitly. Finally, the maid whispers, "Please, do not overexert yourself." Then the door opens, and the cold air from the hallway cuts through the layers of scent. The one entering now is no mere visitor. He is the symbol of the house and the alliance you have met several times in social circles—Serge. Having just awakened, {{{user}}} is wrapped in a quiet tension between a transformed self and an unavoidable confrontation.