Different

Something had changed. And no, it was not because of her. There was no way it was her doing when the change was already there the day she regained her memories. She did not notice at first, busy handling the princess’ letters, but when it was time for lunch, when she sat in the dining hall with the princess and fellow ladies-in-waiting, eating and chatting, she realized that things had been different without her interference.

She remembered this day. She remembered the date. It was a little over a week after the princess had recovered from her illness. The day when things had started to become normal again. Normal, but not for the princess, because back then, she never returned to who she used to be.

​She lost her memories. Amnesia. The start of her descent. Also the start of her ladies-in-waiting’s suffering.

If nothing had changed, the princess was supposed to be a bit timid and hesitant. She would not laugh with them, wouldn’t dare to treat her ladies-in-waiting as her friends. They were all strangers to her, people she had to reacquaint herself with. She would not even enjoy small talk like the kind they were currently having, and would instead be preoccupied with her poor table manners.

Manners. Right. Back then, her amnesia was so severe that she forgot the rules of noble etiquette, including table manners. Meal time was not a period of hearty laughter and rest. It was a class for her and for all her ladies-in-waiting who had to guide and teach her. If nothing had changed, that, too, would be what happened right now, but Rosella did not see it. Not even a bit. Everything was perfect. The princess was perfect.

How could this be? She wondered quietly. It was as if the princess did not have amnesia—no, she still does, but not like before, she quickly clarified. A new set of memories inside her told her that the princess did suffer amnesia, but not as severely as before. She could not remember her past, but she still remembered her family and the people in the palace. Still remembered some nobles. She did not forget about her ladies-in-waiting. She did not lose her manners and etiquette.

What did this mean?

“How about you, Ella?”

She was pulled out of her own thoughts, back to the dining room with her friends. She blinked at Nina, the one who called her. “Sorry, about what?”

“You were daydreaming, weren’t you?” She pouted. “The investiture! How much have you prepared?”

“Oh.” The crown prince’s investiture. That would be three weeks from today. She had attended once, along with her family. It just came to her that she would have to attend the same event again. How much had she prepared this time? She found that she was better prepared than the first time. Was it because the princess did not have severe amnesia?

“I think it’s going well. The gown is going to be ready in another two weeks,” she answered, a memory of her returning to her family estate in the capital and visiting a designer resurfaced, a memory she did not have in her previous timeline. She did not have that privilege when the princess’ amnesia was so severe it could potentially cause unwanted incidents. Her amnesia had to be kept secret, so she was not allowed to leave the palace until she regained enough social skills, including etiquette and manners. That decision led to her ladies-in-waiting being trapped together with her most of the time to educate her. There was no time to return home, not only because the princess heavily depended on them, but also because they couldn’t tell their families about her amnesia.

Their investiture gowns were handled by Nina, who took their measurements and booked appointments with a trusted designer outside the palace. No personal touch or request. Everything was arranged by Nina and the designer. They did a good job, but still, at that time, she thought it would be better if she could have a say on her own ceremonial gown. It would be better to have a more personalized gown because what came out, as perfect and beautiful as it was, was just another uniform for the princess’ ladies-in-waiting, with how similar the color was. It painted her as a subordinate, forever belonging to the princess, when in truth, a lady-in-waiting in their kingdom was just an employee with their own freedom.

It was different this time around. She and her family had picked her personalized gown. She would not look like another lady-in-waiting. She would be able to stand proud as a noble lady, a privilege she had due to a change not by her interference. A privilege caused by the change in her princess.

Yes. Rosella was certain because there was no other explanation for this. This change was definitely because their princess’ amnesia was not to the point it demanded secrecy and isolation until the day of investiture.

“It’s good our princess has recovered. Imagine if she was still sick. To be unable to attend His Highness’ investiture as his sister… That would be so sad,” Nina said before smiling at their princess, who smiled back at her.

“I’m glad I’m okay now. Really. I don’t want to miss his investiture,” she responded as she cut the meat on her plate perfectly. “I don’t want to burden you all too much either. I doubt you can leave me if I was sick by the time of the investiture.”

“That may be true,” Sophia chuckled. “Regardless, it’s my duty to protect you, Princess. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

“Thank you.” The princess smiled pleasantly. “Speaking of which, since I’m fine now, you can go to the investiture ceremony with your family. I won’t hold you with me.”

“Really? That would be nice! Thank you, Your Highness!” Nina happily accepted it, and so did Rosella, who thanked the princess after her, but not so fast for Sophia.

“What about your security? Don’t you need someone by your side?” She hesitated like a good bodyguard she was, putting down her fork and knife as if this conversation needed her full attention.

“I will be with my family, so there is nothing for you to worry about.”

“But still, are you sure you don’t need me?”

The princess laughed. “Don’t worry, Sophia! Have you forgotten that I have a whole royal guard dedicated to protecting me?”

“Oh… right.” She smiled sheepishly. "In that case, I shall attend with my family. Thank you, Princess.” She finally accepted.

They continued with their casual talks as they ate, sometimes reminiscing about the hardship during the princess’ illness, sometimes talking about the newest gossip brought by palace maids, or simply about the long-awaited crown prince’s investiture again. Before long, lunchtime was over. It was time to resume their respective duty. Nina went to the princess’ quarters to handle her wardrobe after shopping in the morning. Sophia followed the princess to her royal study. Rosella, too, went to her own study. She still had letters to reply.

As she took a seat behind her desk, with a plain, empty paper paired with a letter laid before her, she was on the job almost automatically, carefully and skillfully dipping her pen into the inkwell before writing the reply in a beautiful and elegant penmanship of hers, a result of long-time training since toddlerhood. One by one letter was replied, one by one paper was marked with her writing. It used to take time to reply to all these letters, but this was not her first time reading and replying to them, nor was she a newbie in this job. She had been the princess’ secretary for a total of four years up until she was eighteen. Moreover, these letters were familiar to her. She did not have to read twice to make sure of the content.

She finished her job rather early, so with nothing else to do, she took her time resting in the garden, inside a gazebo, accompanied by a cup of tea and snacks brought by her personal maid. Her thoughts went back to the regression that happened to her, to the future that had happened and could happen again, and to the change in the second timeline brought not by her.

What did it mean for the princess to be healthy? For her amnesia to be mild? For her to not be dependent on her ladies-in-waiting? For things to be different only because the princess was different from before?

Should she be glad? Should she not be?

Rosella was confused. If this was a second chance, if this was a regression, shouldn’t her princess have stayed the same? She should have lost all her memories, should have been dependent on her ladies-in-waiting. They shouldn’t have been allowed to go home before the investiture. She should still have her gown handled by Nina. If this was a second chance, everything should have stayed the same until she made a change. But that was not what happened. Things had changed even before she regressed.

What did this mean? Did this mean it was not a second chance? If it was not a second chance, what was it, then?

An alternate reality?

“No…” she whispered, scared. One of her hands gripped her cup a bit tighter while the other gripped her dress, hidden under the stone table. Her maid stayed a little further away to give her privacy, unable to hear her whisper or perceive her expression, leaving her alone in her horrifying thoughts.

Please no, she begged quietly, letting down her cup back on its saucer. She wanted a second chance, not an alternate reality. She wanted to fix her mistake, not to start a new page. A page she took without permission from her alternate self, no less.

She wanted to save her princess, not to replace her with another version of her.

But what could she do? Nothing. Even if this regression turned out to be an alternate reality, there was nothing she could do. Whether she wanted it or not, liked it or not, she was already here. She could not go back to the timeline where she came from.

Even so. Even so.

She did not want to believe it. She was not ready to accept it. It was not out of selfishness. It was not just about what she wanted.

It was about what she lost.

Her alternate self, for one, the innocent girl she had robbed the future of. Her princess, for two. Sophia. Nina. Her maid. Her whole family. Her past that she wanted to fix. Her whole world. All gone.

An alternate reality meant she lost everything. Everything except herself.

How could she ever reconcile with that?

She did not want to believe it. She couldn’t.