Amaris' POV
The familiar gates of the Shin estate came into view, flanked by orderly hedges trimmed with almost obsessive precision. As the car pulled to a stop, my driver stepped out to open the door for me. "Welcome home, Miss Amaris," he said with a bow.
"Thank you," I replied, stepping out with grace as my sandals touched the polished stone path.
The staff lined up in a quiet acknowledgment of my arrival. I inclined my head with a smile and a soft, "Good afternoon."
"Welcome home, young miss," they chorused.
"Where are my parents?" I asked gently, directing the question to our butler, a distinguished man with silver-streaked hair and posture that rivaled a military officer's.
"The master is currently in his office handling company affairs. The mistress is in the atelier—she's working on a new set of designs," he replied, his tone respectful yet warm.
"I see. Thank you," I said, nodding.
I climbed the stairs and slipped into the peaceful sanctuary of my room. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I shrugged off the careful posture I wore like a cloak and let my shoulders relax.
I walked into the en-suite bathroom, fingers trailing along the cool marble of the vanity. A bath sounded divine. Quiet. Still. A place where thoughts could rise and drift like mist.
I filled the tub with lavender-scented salts and warm water. Disrobing, I stepped in slowly, the heat kissing my skin and loosening the knots in my shoulders.
I closed my eyes.
And I thought.
Really thought.
'The Dino Rangers.'
I sank a little deeper into the water, letting it lap at my collarbones. The thought curled in my mind like a persistent mist.
I had always known that my reincarnation would cause butterfly effects. I wasn't naive. You didn't get dropped into one of your favorite shows, acquire powers, and expect the timeline to stay untouched.
And I hadn't done nothing, either.
Still… I had waited.
Waited for the right time, or so I told myself.
In truth, I'd avoided it. I had cloaked my inaction in excuses. Politeness. Planning. But it was avoidance all the same.
Yet now… I couldn't ignore the tick of time any longer.
Zeltrax's son—Goldenrod, should be attacking Dr. Oliver and Trent right about now, if the timeline hadn't shifted too far. Which meant…
White Ranger.
My lips curved in a smile. 'Ah, the White Ranger arc. That was my cue, wasn't it? My entry point.'
I wouldn't interfere directly—not yet. Just enough. Arrows from afar. Silent assists. That way, I wouldn't disrupt the natural rhythm of the team's bond.
And once they welcomed the White Ranger into their fold… I would introduce myself.
I tilted my head back, eyes closing as a contented hum stirred in my chest. It was a plan.
I emerged from the bath moments later, draped in a towel as I reached for my robe. Steam curled around my reflection in the mirror. I began drying my hair, humming softly, before making my way to the closet.
In my walk-in closet, I browsed the racks absentmindedly before selecting a lavender oversized knit sweater, its sleeves too long and just the way I liked it. Soft gray lounge pants followed, then fuzzy socks with little violet ribbon bows. Cozy. Subtle. Home.
I faced the mirror, appraising.
Something was missing.
"Ah." My fingers reached for a brush and began to gather my hair into a loose side braid. One gentle tug, and it draped across my shoulder like silk.
"There," I murmured to no one.
Lavender slippers in place, I left my closet and returned to the hallway.
"Would you kindly inform Father that I'll be assisting him shortly?" I asked the butler who waited near the stairs.
"Of course, Young Miss." he said, bowing slightly.
I turned to the head maid. "And my mother—let her know I'll visit her atelier after I've assisted Father."
"Of course, Young Miss," she replied with a smile before heading off.
Then, glancing at the ornate clock on the wall, I noted that I had roughly three hours before I'd offer my assistance to Father, followed by a visit to Mother's atelier.
'That would suffice.'
Returning to my room, I retrieved my tablet and notebook. I had an assignment to finish for Music Appreciation—a presentation I had been asked to create. Sitting by the window with warm tea at my side, I let myself fall into the rhythm of the task.
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The next day, school passed in its usual rhythm of structured quietude and covert stares. I had gathered my things as the final bell rang and was about to exit the classroom when the door opened with force.
I side-stepped just in time to avoid a collision.
"Oh—Miss Shin, my apologies," our math teacher said, startled.
"It's quite alright, sir," I replied with a calm smile.
He scratched the back of his head. "Actually, I was hoping to ask something of you. I know you're often busy, but would you mind organizing the student suggestion box? It's been neglected, and, well… the staff trusts your sense of order."
"Of course, sir," I said with a bow of my head. "Shall I begin now?"
He nodded, relieved, and I headed down the corridor, assignment in hand.
====================================
I had just knelt beside the box and begun sorting the papers by theme—cafeteria complaints, requests for club funding, and several odd drawings of dragons—when I heard a voice from behind.
"Miss Amaris. Do you have a moment?"
I paused.
Principal Randall.
I stood smoothly, brushing imaginary dust from my skirt. "Of course, Principal Randall. How may I assist you?"
She gave a small nod and gestured for me to follow. I did so, careful and composed, even as her sharp-heeled steps echoed in the corridor like whispers of tension.
Once inside the office, she motioned toward a seat across from her desk. "I must say, Miss Shin," she began, fingers folding together, "your record is immaculate. Your poise, rare. And your teachers sing your praises."
I offered a modest dip of my head. "Your words are generous, Principal Randall."
Inwardly, I was wary. After all, this wasn't just Principal Randall. This was Elsa. Loyal servant of Mesogog. A villain in disguise. Her disguise in the series had always puzzled me—how had no one seen through the hairstyle and style switch?
Her next words snapped me out of my musing.
"I'm offering you something special. It's called the Student Liaison Assistant position. You'd serve as a bridge between the student body and administration. A junior ambassador, if you will."
I blinked.
A liaison?
The polite expression on my face didn't shift, but my thoughts practically screamed.
'Visibility. Responsibility. Social interaction. Public presence.'
It sounded like a nightmare.
Still… I couldn't decline outright.
"Forgive my hesitation, Principal Randall," I said, voice as smooth as still water. "May I inquire what the role entails in greater detail?"
She raised a brow, either amused or curious.
"You'd assist with student events, attend leadership meetings, help mediate conflicts, and occasionally shadow me. In return—"
She slid a document toward me.
I scanned it.
[Access to the staff lounge
Early dismissal for meetings
College endorsements
Reserved assembly seating
Academic flexibility
Community service hours]
Tempting.
Too tempting.
Still, the attention it drew worried me. But it also meant influence. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized… perhaps it could serve another purpose.
A bridge between the school and the Rangers. A cover for my future involvement. A reputation already established if questions ever arose.
I took a breath.
"I… understand," I said softly. "Very well, Principal Randall. If you believe I am suited to the task, I shall accept."
Her smile was almost shark-like. "Excellent. I knew you'd say yes."
I inclined my head. "It would seem I had little choice."
"Pardon?"
"Ah—merely a jest. Please, disregard it."
She narrowed her eyes slightly, but said nothing further. We shook hands.
As I stepped out into the hallway, paper in hand, I let out the smallest breath of relief.
Visible. Involved. Responsible.
How curious.
But perhaps, just perhaps… the perfect role to stand in the background, and still be right where I needed to be.