The Guest from Far Beyond

The afternoon felt heavier than most. While everyone still treated me the same despite the truth about my origin being out there, it had been a bit difficult for me. When I looked into the mirror, I could hardly keep my gaze steady. Not because I didn’t recognize myself, but because I did. I was still Rose Evergreen, the girl who once lived a simple life in another world as a reader, who went to college and enjoyed mundane luxuries with Sylvia and Amanda. But, I was also Rosaria Drewitt. Draped in nobility and secrets. It wasn’t that I was one or the other. No, it was that I had to bear the burden of being both. I have to carry the burden of two truths inside this single body. The weight of it threatened to hollow me out.

Rosaria Romancio. The King’s firstborn and…the hidden daughter of the Saintess who unfortunately passed away. The one who had to be hidden, because Darren’s mother saw me as a threat to her son.

Baron Drewitt called me to his study late in the evening. After the reveal of my origin, he seemed more relaxed now, though he also had a hunt of unease. I wondered if it was due to him conflicted on revealing to the king I was still very much alive. He did entrust Rosaria to the Baron, but due to the rumor that the baby had died, I’m sure the king thought Rosaria really had perished.

The study had a gently orangey glow to it, making the wood on the walls reflect it in the shining finish. The Baron had a myriad of smaller paintings of the family made, and even some photographs. A reminder that this world was just slightly modernized, but not quite the time period I knew of smart phones and digital cameras.

He sat in a green striped chain with a dark oak frame, papers stacked neatly, yet high on the desk as he looked over at me, entering.

“I’m sorry it’s short notice dear. After.. what was said earlier today. They’re an old friend from a neighboring kingdom I was friends with back at the academy. We have some business relations to get situated for a new company we want to hold, and they have promised to give us quality materials. They have a daughter you can get along with. It would be great for you to make more friends besides Estel and Historia.”

“It’s okay father,” I said, “No one expected us to have a break after the expedition, and the house has been chaotic since I got back. I’ll try and befriend his daughter.”

The Baron shook his head, sighing at my words. “Rosaria dear, I’m telling you to befriend her out of political ties. I just genuinely believe befriending new people will help you get out of that bubble you trapped yourself in for so long. I think it would do you some good if you go shopping and enjoy some time with her in town.”

Ah, he wants me to leave the main cast's little friendship bubble… Frankly, I felt like I wanted to due to how stifling being around Historia was at times, especially since that harrowing smile she showed me as I left the academy. I still had my doubts if what I saw was real or not, but the chills that ran through my body just remembering it told me otherwise…

The next day felt like it arrived too quickly. I sat by the parlor’s elaborate window, watching the gentle autumn wind tug through the front garden. The screech of tires against gravel reached my ears, steady and sharp. Servants rushed about, their voices hushed but urgent, as the Drewitt family gathered in the entrance hall.

The car that pulled up was the sleek black model nearly every noble household seemed to own these days, a slightly modern touch among estates still clinging to tradition of the world Amor had created. Its polished curves gleamed under the pale sun, familiar in design yet somehow stark against the old stone walls of the estate. Soon, perhaps, even carriages would die out like they did in my world, only used in special and luxurious occasions to show off one’s wealth as cars become more and more commercialized and convenient.

The door opened. Viscount Drevis stepped out first, his posture polished, his movements deliberate. A tall lanky man with silver blue hair. A plaid grey suit with a waistcoat to match, and looked fairly young if he was around the Baron's age. If anything, Baron Drewitt looked much older compared to the Viscount. He placed a hand on the frame of the car, then turned back with a gesture. Another figure stepped into view.

My breath got caught in my throat.

A girl my age, her silver-blue hair shimmering like frost caught in sunlight. Part of it was styled into neat space buns, the rest flowing down her back in soft waves. Her outfit was different from ours. A coat and long skirt, something out of the New Look era in my world. A purple coat that looked simple and elegant, a dark purple skirt that looked almost black, heels and a small hat that was slightly shifted to one side. She looked like she had stepped out of a vintage photograph. Even her shoes seemed delicate, her every step clicking lightly against the stone as she approached. Her eyes lifted, curious and bright, searching the faces gathered at the door.

Sylvia.

My vision blurred with tears threatening to out, stinging my eyes. My throat almost closed.

I almost cried right then and there, my knees threatening to give. She looked the same, dressed almost the same way, polished into feminine beauty. But it was her. It had to be her. The same tilt of her smile, the same gentle expression that has saved me countless times from falling too deep into darkness. The one that was the mother figure of the group…

But the panic came just as fast. If Sylvia was here, standing beside a Viscount as though she belonged to this world, then what had happened after the accident? Had I really saved her and Amanda? Or had whatever brought me here drag them in the book world as well? My chest tightened. What if Amanda was somewhere out there too, lost in pages that were never meant to hold her? Where would she be in this vast world? Were both of them equally as scared as I was being in this world with no context or reasoning? Hell, would they even recognize me?

The sight of her was both salvation and a curse. Because if this was my Sylvia, then maybe I had not saved them at all. The sound of more footsteps echoed through the hall, pulling me back into the moment.

Viscount Drevis approached with the rest of his family, Baron Drewitt approaching him. His smile was warm as he shook hands with the Baron, the kind that invited conversation rather than kept people at a distance.

Beside him walked a woman of striking elegance. The Viscountess wore a skirt of deep blue that fell in flowing layers, the fabric catching the light every time she moved. She also wore a coat the Sylvia look alike had, but in an elegant blue color with a fur pelt on her shoulders. Her hair, silver like her husband’s but threaded with streaks of lavender, was pinned in a soft bun adorned with delicate combs. Her features were graceful, her eyes sharp yet kind, carrying the quiet authority of someone long used to noble gatherings.

At her side stood a young man, perhaps only a year or two older than me. His hair was the same silver-blue as the rest of his family, though shorter and styled back in a neat wave. His coat was fitted, dark navy with brass buttons gleaming down the front. His trousers were pressed sharp and neat. He was broad shouldered, tall, and with eyes the color of a storm sky, he looked every bit the heir of a Viscount.

Baron Drewitt cleared his throat as the two families gathered in the great hall. “Rosaria, allow me to properly introduce them. This is Viscount Drevis, his wife Lady Elara, their son Lucien, and their daughter…” He gestured toward the Sylvia look alike, who stood beside her mother with poise. “…Lady Sylvia.”

I bowed respectfully, my throat tightening as I forced composure back into my voice. Gods… it really is her… isn’t it? “It is an honor to meet you all.”

The Baron’s eyes flicked toward me, steady as ever. “Rosaria, why don’t you give Lady Sylvia a tour of the manor. I am sure you two will enjoy one another’s company.”

“Of course, Father,” I said, my voice soft but steady. It was more important than ever to act every bit as Rosaria would. I could not falter. Because if this wasn’t the Sylvia I knew, then she was only a mocking reminder of what I had to leave behind…

Lucien had already been swept up by Allen and Harry, who slung their arms over his shoulder and led him toward the training grounds. The boy’s polite smile carried the faintest competitive edge, and I could tell the three were already discussing sparring matches before the door even shut behind them.

Watching them leave, a stray thought slipped unbidden into my mind. If I had seen art of Lucien in Amor’s book, with his refined posture and storm-colored eyes, perhaps I may have found him just as captivating as Estel. The thought felt like betrayal, though, and I quickly shook it from my mind.

Sylvia turned her head toward me, the faintest curve to her lips. “Well, shall we? Miss Drewitt?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“You can call me Rosaria.” I smiled at her.

“Very well then, Rosaria.” she smiled.

I led her down the long corridor, the tapestries swaying faintly from the autumn air seeping in through the tall windows, the ivory stone that was filled with paintings and an occasional photograph. Baron Drewitt and the rest of the family seemed to decorate like maximalists. And yet, somehow, despite all the frames of every shape and size, they all made sense.. My hands clenched together as I walked. Because even though this was a simple tour, my chest still buzzed with the weight of seeing Sylvia, whether she was the one I knew or not.

We passed through the long gallery, my voice steady as I explained the history behind some of the paintings, most of them of Drewitt's from past generations. Sylvia nodded politely, asking questions about the architecture, the gardens, even the way the light poured differently through certain windows in the late afternoon. It felt so normal, too normal, and yet my heart still ached with the weight of doubt.

Her gaze flicked down the hallway, sharp, almost searching. It wasn’t until I noticed both Sylvia and the halls were quiet compared to my voice, that I noticed the usual shuffle of the servants was gone. The hall was empty, the only sound being the autumn wind coming in through some of the open windows.

Sylvia slowed her steps until we stopped near one of the tall windows, the autumn light pale against the stone. She leaned closer, her voice dropping so soft it barely carried. “Rosaria,” she said, her silver-blue eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t know if you would believe me. But if you continue down this path… you’ll fall into ruin.”

The words pierced straight through me. Her formality had dropped into the all familiar way I knew Sylvia spoke. My breath caught, my vision blurred. It was her. It was really her. Hot tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. My hand rose to cover my mouth, a sob slipping through. God, I wasn’t by myself… and both relief, and guilt ate me at once, bursting my emotions like a damn with no way to repair. Sylvia’s eyes widened in panic. “Rosaria? No, wait…did I upset you? I didn’t mean-”

I shook my head furiously, words tumbling out between sobs. “No, it’s not that. Sylvia… It's me. It’s Rose. Rose Evergreen. From our old world.”

Her lips parted, the world seeming to freeze as the truth sank into her. ”...Rose…?”

My voice cracked as I forced it out. “I… I got stuck in Rosaria’s body after the accident. I don't know how it happened but I just… I - I thought I lost you and Amanda forever.”

Sylvia’s breath hitched, and then she was pulling me into her arms, holding me tight. Her all familiar mama bear-like hugs, the way she had her left hand always higher than the right when she hugged… Her perfume was floral and warm, achingly familiar. “Oh…Oh Rose…” Her own tears spilled against my shoulder, and for the first time since waking in this world, I felt familiarity. A raw sense of security and home. A sense of myself in a different world, rather than conforming to the setting that I was forced to play out.

We clung to each other for what felt like forever, sobbing quietly into the empty hall. Sniffling and trembling, yet never letting go of one another. We treated each other like a lifeline. When I finally pulled back, wiping at my swollen eyes, my voice trembled. “What happened? After the accident? Did… did you and Amanda survive?”

Sylvia sniffled, steadying her breath. “Nothing really happened at first. You were in the hospital, recovering. Amanda and I stayed with you and watched over you wherever we could. We visited, hoping you would wake up. You weren’t fatally injured, but you were so emotionally distraught when the accident happened, the doctors thought it was your subconscious that might be keeping you from waking up.” Her voice faltered, her hands tightening as she rubbed my shoulder, the soothing motion she always used when I was emotionally down.

“And then… one afternoon, we were both there. Amor was in the room too, standing by your bed. The book was in your hands. You know…the one with the sprayed edges? You were still unconscious. She looked at us… Smiled at us. Then, when she snapped her fingers…”

Her eyes shimmered with fear. “The next thing I knew, I was here. Dressed as someone else’s daughter. I don’t even know how we got here.”

My stomach churned, a deep and uneasy cold settling deep in my bones. Amor, that woman. I remembered that smile she gave me at the book signing.

Her words from the signing rang sharp in my ears from that day. "Rose….. Rose... Such a beautiful name. Coincidentally, I-” She stopped, her lips curling into a secretive smile at the time. “No… I’ll let you find out later.”

I remembered her cerise dyed hair, the cat-eyed frames, the unnatural green eyes that looked like they could sparkle on their own. I remembered the way my heart had stumbled in my chest when she handed the book back after signing it.

“Take care, Rose. I hope you enjoy what’s ahead.”

A shiver wracked through me. What was she? An author, a god, a trickster? Was Rosaria molded after me? No… we hadn’t met before that day. Did she somehow curse me into being a character in her novel, along with Amanda and Sylvia?

My hand trembled as I squeezed Sylvia’s tighter. She was here. She was real. Relief surged through me, drowning out the fear for just a moment. Even if worry ate me as to why we were sent to this world. I selfishly craved the familiarity of being with someone I recognized.

“I can’t believe it,” I whispered hoarsely. “You’re really here. After everything, you’re here.”

Sylvia gave a watery laugh, brushing away her own tears. “Of course I am. Though, I never expected you to be Rosaria. Though it makes sense since you two have a similar name. It’s … Good to know you’re at least safe in some capacity…”

And for the first time since I woke up as Rosaria, I let myself breathe. Truly breathe. Because now, I was not the only one carrying the weight of two lives.

“So.. how has the story been going along?” Sylvia asked, worried.

I took in a deep breath, letting out a long and winded sigh. “We might need tea and scones for this one. It’s… a long story Sylvia…”

She laughed, that all familiar bell chime-like laugh. “Well, it's a good thing we have time to ourselves then.”