The sun was still rising when I arrived at the field. Early, very early. But I couldn't sleep anyway. Anxiety wouldn't let me.

  Caliope was already there, as always, waiting. But she wasn't alone.

  Clemearl stood beside her, dressed simply, observing.

  My heart raced.

  "Good morning, Sekire," Caliope greeted, tone normal.

  "G-good morning."

  "Lady Clemearl asked to observe your morning training. I hope you don't mind."

  As if I could mind. As if I had a choice.

  "No, of course not."

  Clemearl just nodded, silent, golden eyes studying me.

  "Begin as always," Caliope instructed. "Ignore her presence. Focus on training."

  Ignore. Right. Ignore the woman who literally determines my future. Easy.

  I took a deep breath. And began.

  Stretching first, as Caliope taught. Controlled movements, stretching muscles, preparing the body.

  Then, mana control exercises. Create spheres, maintain stability, compress energy, release shots.

  Each movement deliberate, focused. Or trying to be. Because I could feel her eyes. Observing. Analyzing. Judging.

  "Concentration, Sekire," Caliope reminded me.

  I focused again. Mana shot, better this time, more stable. Hit the target, left a burned mark.

  "Good. Continue."

  Enchantments after. Sensor, Restriction, basic combinations.

  And then, the spell. Armament Transmutation.

  I picked up a stone from the ground, visualized the pattern in my soul, released the mana. The stone glowed, transformed. A knife, crude but functional. Lasted thirty seconds before starting to crack.

  Better than before. Progress. Small, but real.

  The training continued for two hours. Clemearl said nothing. Just observed. Motionless, silent, inscrutable.

  When Caliope finally called an end, I was exhausted, sweaty, trembling slightly.

  "Very good. You can go rest."

  "Thank you."

  I turned to leave, but Clemearl's voice stopped me.

  "Sekire."

  I froze.

  "Yes, Lady Clemearl?"

  "You have admirable discipline, especially considering your age and circumstances."

  I didn't know what to say.

  "...Thank you?"

  "Keep it up."

  And she left, along with Caliope, leaving me alone in the field.

  Confused.

  Was that good? Was it disguised criticism?

  I didn't know.

  "Impressive," I commented, voice low.

  "She's improved significantly," Caliope agreed. "When she arrived, she could barely form a stable mana sphere. Now she's executing Transmutation spells."

  "It's not just the magic."

  "What then?"

  "The discipline," I paused. "She moves like someone accustomed to rigorous routine. Every action deliberate, controlled."

  "Intense training can cause that."

  "It can, but there's something more. She moves with excessive care, as if expecting punishment for mistakes."

  Caliope frowned.

  "Trauma?"

  "Possibly. Or something worse."

  Observation was my specialty. Years of diplomacy, of negotiations, of reading people. And Sekire was an open book, even when she tried to hide.

  Anxiety in every movement. Fear of failure in every breath. And something deeper, something buried. Unspoken trauma. Untold past.

  "She avoids talking about family," I noted.

  "Yes. Every time I ask, she changes the subject," Caliope confirmed.

  "And about the village?"

  "Nightmares, according to the servants. She wakes up screaming some nights."

  My heart tightened. A seven-year-old child, traumatized, frightened, but still trying. Still making an effort. Still disciplined.

  "What do you think so far?" Caliope asked.

  "Still early, but promising."

  "And about the test?"

  "It will continue. I have more to evaluate."

  Mabel was by my side, Caliope and Clemearl in front.

  "This is a test of memory and observation," Clemearl explained.

  She opened a door, revealing a small room. Inside was a table with various objects.

  Book, candle, knife, cup, coin, quill, inkwell, stone, cloth, key.

  Ten objects, arranged apparently randomly.

  "You'll have five minutes to observe. Then the door will close, and I'll ask questions about details."

  "I understand."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "You may begin."

  I entered the room. And observed. Not just looked—observed.

  Each object, each detail, each position.

  The book was red, golden title, "History of Axoland Vol. III," placed at an angle, cover slightly worn.

  The candle was white, half-burned, wax melted on the left side.

  The knife had a dark wooden handle, short blade, slightly rusted near the base.

  The cup was transparent glass, small crack on the rim.

  The coin showed a king's profile, year marked: 1247.

  The quill was from a crow, tip slightly worn.

  The inkwell was blue ceramic, half-full of black ink.

  The stone was gray, smooth, oval shape.

  The cloth was green silk, folded in a triangle.

  The key was iron, three teeth, slight rust.

  Five minutes. I memorized everything. Every detail. Every imperfection.

  Like I always did. Like I always had, even when I was Yuki.

  Memorize everything, because I never knew what would be on the test. Never knew what would be important. So everything was important.

  The door closed. I was back in the corridor.

  "Ready?" Clemearl asked.

  "Yes."

  "How many objects were there?"

  "Ten."

  "List them."

  I listed them, in order from left to right, as they were arranged.

  "Color of the book?"

  "Red, golden title."

  "Complete title?"

  "History of Axoland, Volume Three."

  "Condition of the cover?"

  "Slightly worn, especially at the corners."

  The questions continued. Minute details, some I thought didn't matter. But I remembered. Everything.

  "The coin showed which year?"

  "1247."

  "The candle had melted wax on which side?"

  "Left."

  "How many teeth did the key have?"

  "Three."

  "Color of the cloth?"

  "Green, silk, folded in a triangle."

  Twenty questions. I answered all of them. Correctly.

  Silence when I finished. Clemearl studied me, expression neutral but there was something in her eyes. Surprise? Impression?

  "Exceptional," she finally said.

  "Thank you."

  "How did you do it?"

  "Do what?"

  "Memorize every detail in five minutes."

  I hesitated.

  "I... I've always had good memory."

  "Photographic memory?"

  It wasn't quite that, but close.

  "Something like that. I just... pay attention, a lot of attention, and remember."

  "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why do you pay so much attention?"

  Because I'm afraid of forgetting something important. Because I'm afraid of failing. Because I never know what will be tested.

  "Because... it's useful?"

  It wasn't a convincing answer. But she didn't press.

  "Very well. You may go. We'll talk more later."

  Clemearl invited me for tea. Not a test. Just tea. Or at least that's what she said.

  We sat under a gazebo, small table between us, steaming teapot, delicate cups.

  She poured, gracefully.

  "Sugar?"

  "A little, please."

  She added, stirred, handed it to me. I took it with both hands, as Fuyumi taught.

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  We drank in silence for a moment. The tea was good, something floral, slightly sweet.

  "Sekire," she began, tone casual. "May I ask you a personal question?"

  My stomach tightened.

  "Yes."

  "What are your dreams?"

  I blinked.

  "My... dreams?"

  "Yes. What do you want to do in the future? When you grow up, when you have the freedom to choose."

  I didn't know what to answer. Because honestly? I'd never thought about it. Not really.

  "I... I don't know."

  "You don't know?"

  "No, I..." How to explain? "I haven't thought much about it."

  "Why not?"

  I placed the cup on the table, carefully.

  "Because everything depends on whether you accept me or not."

  She didn't react, just waited for me to continue.

  "If you accept me, then maybe I can have some freedom, some choice, some future beyond just... surviving."

  Pause.

  "But if you don't accept me, then it doesn't matter what I dream, because I won't have any way to achieve it."

  "So your life is on pause?"

  "It is," I admitted. "And I don't know if..."

  The words came out before I could stop them.

  "I don't know if I'm a girl dreaming of being a butterfly, or a butterfly now dreaming of being a girl."

  Clemearl frowned, confused.

  "Explain."

  I took a deep breath. How to explain without revealing too much?

  "I... read something once, about a thinker who dreamed he was a butterfly, flying freely, happy, without worries."

  A lie—I didn't read it, I lived it, in the other life, but I couldn't say that.

  "And when he woke up, he didn't know if it was him who dreamed of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being him."

  She nodded, understanding.

  "And you relate to that?"

  "Yes," I looked at my hands. "Because... I was someone before. Had a life, had routine, had... existence."

  "In the village?"

  Yes, technically, but that wasn't what I meant.

  "Not exactly. It's complicated."

  Pause.

  "But everything changed. The village, the demon, fleeing, almost dying, being saved."

  "And now I'm Sekire Dawnveil, refugee, Princess Mabel's ward, maybe future ward of House Netherheart."

  "But I don't know who I really am, because I feel like I'm two people at the same time. Who I was before and who I am now. And I don't know which is real."

  Tears began to fall. I couldn't stop them.

  "And I don't know what I dream, because I don't know who I am. I don't know what I want, because I feel like half of me remembers things I shouldn't remember, and the other half just wants to survive."

  "I studied so hard before, worked so hard, memorized everything because I was afraid of failing, afraid of not being good enough."

  "And now I do the same thing here, even being a different person, in a different place, but the fears are the same."

  "So I don't know. I don't know if I'm me dreaming of being someone else, or if I've always been like this and just forgot."

  Silence. Clemearl didn't speak for a long time. Just observed, golden eyes gentle.

  "Sekire," she finally said. "May I tell you something?"

  "Yes."

  "Identity isn't static. It's not something fixed that you are or aren't. It's fluid, changes, evolves."

  "You can carry memories, experiences, fears from before, but that doesn't erase who you are now."

  "Both can coexist—the person who remembers and the person who is."

  "And you don't have to choose. You can simply... be."

  The tears continued. But there was something more now. Not just sadness. But relief.

  "And as for dreams," she continued. "They'll come, when you're ready, when you know who you want to be, or at least, who you want to try to be."

  "For now, it's okay not to know."

  She stood, walked around the table, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  "And about my acceptance—it doesn't define your value. It only offers opportunity."

  "You already have value, Sekire, regardless of me."

  And she left. Leaving me alone. With cold tea. And a heart a little lighter.

  I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about Sekire, how her day went, if she was okay.

  So I went to her room. Knocked, lightly.

  "Sekire? Are you awake?"

  "...Yes."

  I entered. She was in bed, hugging a pillow, eyes red. She'd been crying.

  "May I?"

  "Yes."

  I sat on the edge of the bed.

  "How was it?"

  "I don't know," small voice. "Confusing."

  "Want to talk about it?"

  And she talked. About training, about the memory test, about the conversation with Clemearl. About not knowing who she was, about carrying memories she couldn't explain, about fears that didn't make sense here but were real anyway.

  I listened to everything, without interrupting.

  "Sorry," she said afterward. "I'm being melodramatic."

  "You're not," I took her hand. "You're being human."

  "But I'm not—"

  "Sekire, you went through impossible trauma, survived the impossible, and now you're trying to figure out who you are in the middle of all this."

  "It's normal to be confused. It's normal not to know. It's normal to be afraid."

  "But you know what else?"

  "What?"

  "You don't have to figure it all out alone. You have people who support you, who care."

  "Me, Fuyumi, Hinata, even Clemearl, in her way."

  "And it doesn't matter who you were, or who you are, or who you'll be."

  "You matter, here, now, as you are."

  She started crying again. But this time, she hugged me. And cried on my shoulder. And I let her. Because sometimes, crying is necessary. Necessary release. Necessary healing.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "Always."

  We stayed like that for a while, until she finally calmed down.

  "Want me to stay?"

  "Can you?"

  "Of course."

  I lay beside her, on top of the covers. And we stayed there, in comfortable silence. Until she finally fell asleep. Breathing soft, regular.

  I looked at her, small, fragile, but strong. So strong.

  "You're going to make it," I whispered. "I know you will."

  And finally, I slept too.

  I was alone, writing notes about the day.

  Sekire Dawnveil - Day 1:

  Training observation: Exceptional discipline. Controlled movements. Evident anxiety but not debilitating. Impressive magical progress considering limited time.

  Memory test: Exceptional. Almost photographic memory. Possibly developed as survival/coping mechanism. Mentioned studying intensely "before" - pre-village trauma?

  Personal conversation: Deep unspoken trauma. Complex identity issues. Talks about "being two people," carrying memories from "before." Possible traumatic dissociation? Or something deeper?

  Butterfly metaphor interesting - feels trapped between two existences. Cannot articulate which is "real."

  Preliminary conclusion: Promising. Very promising. But fragile. Needs support, not additional pressure. There are layers she cannot or will not verbalize. Deeper trauma than just the village.

  Next step: Evaluate social interaction, empathy, compatibility with Esther.

  I placed the pen on the table. And looked out the window, where the moon shone.

  "Mabel," I whispered. "I hope your vision is right."

  "Because this girl deserves a chance."

  "And my daughter needs a miracle."

  "Maybe, just maybe, they're the same thing."

  But there was something more, something Sekire said that kept echoing.

  "I studied so hard before, memorized everything because I was afraid of failing."

  Before. She always talked about "before." Not the village. Something earlier. But what?

  And why did I feel there was more to her story than she was saying?

  A mystery for another day. For now, I had enough to evaluate. And the girl, fragmented or not, was promising. Very promising.