Similar to the royal family, the Feuerlons are also endowed with a distinct platinum-blond hair, a fair complexion, and an 'aura' that marked them as 'monarch'—but over the course of many generations, the sapphire-like blue eyes that served as a mark of the royal bloodline slowly became imperceptible, rarely to be seen in the Feuerlon clan; instead, a new color arose in the light of their eyes—the hue of an emerald-green that they gradually took as their own, branding it as the 'Feuerlon mark'.

Faustina had neither the platinum-blond hair (which could not be faked by glamour) nor the hue of emerald in her eyes. Instead, she now has the hair color of ash but retaining the color of her chocolate-brown eyes. The precautionary actions the king took manifested all throughout her—Faustina's appearance, for one, and her memories. Her mind was overwritten—as if she was living two different lives before. Of course, this was not in any way normal for Faustina. Her life was not as languid as it seems in her memory, but the times she was with her deceased master were now repressed—not necessarily forgotten, but there were missing details.

Her journal told her so.

'I will repress memories that will be the source of your weakness.' She remembers the king saying so. 'What will happen inside nusquam will not be recognized by magic, thus it will be null; worry not, no one will be seeing this memory but you and I. Given that I doubt that Magierstadt will easily let you in without suspicion, we will need to repress your memories of your master.'

'Why?' Faustina asks.

'My fair lady, there will be a need for precautionary measures.'

Faustina did not respond.

'You will not forget your master, because such memories are precious to you. I will just suppress them momentarily, although such magic is not perfect. I studied for years and years of practice. This will give you no pain, but I warn you it may confuse you. Your memories are a valuable thing I cannot take away, much less it will give us benefit.'

'Then why are you repressing them, my king?'

'Because it will help you.' The king says. 'They will come back at any trigger in relation to it. You may feel confusion upon waking up, but your senses will help you remember—and I pray, at the time the professors begin to doubt you, you shall not forget your duty.'

It was evident from the time Faustina woke up—her memories were slowly coming back to her as an effect of magic. When she opened her journal on the duffel, she retrieved the information she lost. The journal exhibited her the events that transpired in both past and present, when and how they happened. Her feelings denoted written anguish, perplexion, and the feeling of uncertainty.

But despite reading the journal's descriptions, there was no 'trigger'.

For days, Faustina found herself missing something. It's as if she left something valuable but could not decipher what that 'something' is. Of course, she regained the memory of her master, and how she died, how the Warlock took her body, as well as the events that followed after that.

But what was she missing? She couldn't remember.

"Faustina, honey, are you alright?" Asks Adalia Feuerlon, her 'mother.'

"I-I'm fine, mother," Faustina says. Her voice sounded foreign, even to her. Looking at such an honest woman and acknowledging you are deceiving her is sending guilt over the depths of her conscience. Their appearance matched each other, so peculiarly that it looked like she was just living two lives. At most, she tries her best not to be carried away—she has to know what was the 'reality,' and what was something made out of magic.

"You look pale. Did you drink your medicines?"

"I already did an hour ago, mother." Answers Faustina. "Don't worry about me."

Placebo—fake medications were given to Adalia Feuerlon by Sheilalev, in the guise of a remedy to sustain Faustina's declining health. These deceptive measures were said to be 'precautionary,' yet Faustinaa felt bad—so, so bad she couldn't even act. She remembered the king exclaiming that she would've needed to fool people in order to succeed this 'duty' yet she found it hard to do it heartily.

And she knows that the duke was also reluctant with it—but he carried the task so flawlessly that she was simply astounded.

"Do you really want to be in the room for the night, alone?"

"Mother, I'm alright,"

"But you know, I used to be with you always." Says Adalia. "I want to be with you before you go."

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Guilt. Yes, guilt. It enveloped Faustina's heart, tightening into a painful grip on her chest.

'Adalia's fantasies, desire and her yearning to have a daughter made the magic to be chanted easier.' Says Sheila. 'She dreamt of it several times, and we just made it to 'reality,' so right now, her dreams will be granted to you, as a form of a memory, and we will alter them by putting your image.'

'The people around you will also be tricked, by the mere sight of you, Faustina—that's how strong this magic is. But the stronger it is, the more suspicious the Magierstadt professors will be to you. Oh, and don't worry about pictures, alb.u.ms, and the tangible proofs of your birth and childhood—I will do something about that. We will infuse objects with altered memories, and by the mere sight of them, the people in the manor will know 'you.'

"Okay." Adalia says, embracing Faustina and softly kissing the top of her head.

"M-mother?" Faustina exclaims, clearly baffled.

Adalia smiled warmly, caressing Faustina's cheeks. "You'll always be my precious daughter, Faustina. I'm glad that I had you,"

Faustina blinked.

Grinning sheepishly, Adalia pinched her cheeks. "Now get enough rest, you will be going to the port tomorrow!"

And at that, she bid her goodbye.

Faustina was left standing in front of the opened chamber doors, her palms on the cheek Adalia pinched. Her chest throbbed both with a painful thud, and that of a warm, happy one.

Faustina averted her gaze, evoking a sad smile.