Nova carefully slid the mirror back into her pouch, as if afraid that even the air might steal it away.
Her fingers lingered there for a moment, pressing against the fabric where the weight of the copper disk rested.
Her heartbeat hadn't yet calmed, but it was no longer the blind panic of moments before. Now it was tangled with something more complicated, a tight knot of awe, confusion, and a thin thread of guilt.
She had seen that face far too many times in her old life to mistake it for anyone else.
The curve of the brows, the quiet intelligence in the eyes, the gentle yet proud lines of the jaw.
Every detail had been printed somewhere deep in her mind long before she ever came to this world. That face had lived on classroom windows, reflected in passing glass, glimpsed over the heads of other students.
She had watched it from behind stacks of books, from the far edge of the schoolyard, from her pillow at night when her thoughts refused to settle.
There was no way she could stand in front of that mirror now and convince herself it was just someone similar. It was Alice's face. Her senior's face. The one she had never managed to get close to, no matter how she tried to rehearse the words.
But now that face belonged to her.
Or, more accurately, her soul wore it.
Had they traded?
Had her own body been thrown into this world as well?
Was Alice's soul somewhere wandering helplessly, trapped in a body that used to be hers?
The questions spun in circles, but none of them found answers.
The truth felt far away and slippery, and she sensed instinctively that chasing it now would only drown her in panic. She pressed her lips together and tried to breathe.
Her eyes dropped again, almost against her will, to the curve of her chest. The weight there rose and fell with her breath, heavy and unreal.
She knew now whose body this was, and that knowledge made everything sharper. That subtle fragrance drifting from her collar, that delicate shape beneath the gown, that soft warmth pressed against her arms whenever she folded them.
All of these had once belonged to someone she had admired from a distance, someone she had never dared to touch, not even in her dreams.
Her cheeks burned.
Every breath came quicker and left her dizzier, and she hated herself a little for it.
Back then, in that other life, she had been the quiet boy at the edge of the room who liked art more than noisy clubs, who only had the courage to watch his senior's back as she walked away.
His first love had never moved past the walls of his own chest. A secret not even the night had been allowed to hear. And now that same person found herself wrapped in the body of the one he loved most, with no one around to stop her from looking or touching if she wished.
The thought was ugly the moment it formed.
Her hands curled into fists against her sides.
What was she doing, standing in this haunted city, thinking about such things when monsters prowled the rooftops and demon kings walked the main street?
The idea of using Rin's body to indulge her curiosity twisted her stomach. If Alice truly existed somewhere still, what would she think?
Even if Alice never learned of it, that didn't wipe away the stain.
It was one thing to love someone in silence.
It was something else entirely to treat that love like a chance to peer under their skin simply because fate had been cruel and strange.
This body might now move when Nova willed it, but that did not mean she could treat it carelessly.
If anything, it felt like a borrowed treasure placed in the clumsiest of hands. The mere thought of sullying her seniors' beauty because of her own weakness made her heart ache.
That ache sharpened suddenly.
Her hand flew instinctively to her chest, fingers clutching the fabric there. It was not the quick, shallow excitement from earlier.
This pain felt different, deep and heavy, a pressure blooming from the center of her heart as if something inside had cracked. It came when she tried to think back, really think, to the last moment before she arrived in this world.
Her memory faltered.
The classroom, the corridors, the city lights, faded into haze.
There was something there, just beyond reach. A scene drenched in emotion. A decision. A loss. Whenever she tried to reach for it, the ache intensified, and darkness swept in. All that remained was the echo of heartbreak without the memory of what had broken.
"Young lady…"
The voice pulled her abruptly back to the present.
She turned sharply, the Umbrella tilting with the motion.
At the edge of the streetlamp's glow, a man approached from the main road. The lantern he carried painted his outline in layers of warm and shadow.
He wore a simple gown and dark, loose trousers, the fabric moving easily with the strength beneath it.
Two swords hung at his side, the shorter one resting near his hand. His shoulders were broad, his posture steady, and even in the thin light, he carried the calm of someone who had seen real danger before.
Nova's body jolted with delayed fear. Her grip tightened on the Umbrella's handle.
So the Umbrella couldn't hide her from human eyes.
She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried.
In her original world, Alice had been a beauty who stood out even in modern crowds.
Here, in this older, harsher place, that same face and body would shine even more brightly.
Men here might have fewer restraints, fewer laws to hold them back. The thought of this stranger's gaze lingering too long made her muscles tense.
The man stopped a short distance away, studying her with open caution. His hand, though not yet fully gripping a sword, hovered very near the hilt.
"Young lady," he said again, his voice low and serious, "are you… human, or ghost?"
The words caught her off guard.
She had been busy worrying whether he might have ill intentions, yet he stood there wondering if she was the dangerous one. For a moment, the absurdity of it numbed her tongue.
She met his eyes, watching the way his gaze moved. He did not leer. His expression carried doubt, vigilance, and a kind of rigid responsibility, but not hunger. That alone loosened her breath slightly.
"I… I am lost," she said.
The sound of her own voice startled her.
It was soft, feminine, and clear, nothing like the boyish tones she still remembered from within. The words came out haltingly, and she felt as if she had borrowed a stranger's tongue.
The man's brows drew together. If anything, her answer only deepened his suspicion.
A lone, well-dressed girl standing at night under an umbrella, claiming to be lost, in a city haunted by spirits, was hardly a reassuring sight. He moved a step closer, the boards under his sandals creaking faintly.
"Where did you come from?" he asked.
She hesitated, because the real answer lay in a world he had never heard of, in streets lit by neon instead of lanterns, in schools and trains and electricity. None of that would make sense here.
"I don't know," she admitted.
The confusion in his eyes sharpened to alarm. His hand dropped fully to his sword hilt.
For a second, Nova felt the cold edge of danger again, this time not from demons but from a human who had power and the authority to use it.
He stepped in and reached for her arm.