Chapter 3: The Gown She Refused

Mira stared at her reflection in the mirror inside her chamber, her fingers trembling as they trailed down her face. She had wrapped a towel around her body, and her wet hair still dripped water onto the floor, yet she barely noticed the mess she was making as she studied the face staring back at her.

"Never thought I'd be this good-looking once more," she muttered to herself as she compared her present figure to the one she had possessed in her past life. Her previous self had been left with scars across her face, reminders of the countless battles she had fought to survive, but this younger version of herself was fresh-faced and unblemished. Everything about her was normal, youthful, and delicate, except for her eyes.

Those blue eyes were deep, and as she looked into the mirror, they seemed to reflect everything she had endured, carrying memories that did not belong in the body of the young woman staring back at her.

"Lady Mira, you should get dressed. You shouldn't be late for the banquet," Dina reminded her from the corner of the chamber.

Mira reluctantly pulled away from the mirror and walked over to the bed, where her dress had been laid out. It was a light blue gown adorned with gold accessories, and the crest of the Cromwell family had been embroidered across its breastplate.

'It's the same dress I wore during the banquet, the day my father arranged my engagement to that pig. It was on this very day that I was forced into the hands of a man who treated me as nothing but property, taking what he wanted regardless of my wishes.'

Her fingers tightened around the fabric before she suddenly threw the dress to the floor.

"I'm not wearing this. Get me something else."

Dina gasped as she stared at the discarded gown. "Lady Mira, that outfit was personally handpicked by Lady Cromwell."

'My Mother... I remember complaining to you about how unfairly I was treated, but you never said anything. You only told me that women needed to obey their husbands, and for a long time, I hated you for it. It was only later, after everything had fallen apart, that I understood how helpless you had truly been. You couldn't go against Father's commands without suffering the consequences yourself.'

"Are you here to serve Lady Cromwell or to serve me?" Mira barked at her maid, who immediately bowed her head in apology before hurrying to the wardrobe. After searching through the clothes, Dina selected a more modest dress and helped Mira put it on.

Mira refused to apply any makeup or have her hair arranged into an elaborate style, choosing instead to let it fall freely down her back. She had no intention of spending the evening pretending to be the obedient noble daughter everyone expected her to be, not when she had already wasted an entire lifetime trying to please people who had never considered what she wanted.

"Lead the way to the banquet hall," she commanded, and Dina swallowed hard before stepping forward.

If there was one thing Dina did not want, it was to escort Mira into the banquet hall looking the way she did. Her lady did not resemble a noblewoman preparing to receive important guests, much less a young woman about to celebrate her engagement, but Dina had been employed personally to serve Mira and had little choice but to obey her mistress's instructions.

She led Mira out of the chamber and through the familiar corridors of Cromwell Mansion, while Mira kept glancing at everything around her as the strange sense of familiarity grew stronger with every step. She ran her fingers along the smooth surface of the wall, taking in the details she had once known so well, and for a moment, she could almost imagine herself as the young girl who had wandered through these halls without a care in the world, long before the calamity had taken everything from her.

Voices and laughter drifted from a distance, growing clearer as they approached the banquet hall, and Mira realized they were almost there.

"You may leave. I'll—"

She stopped when she turned around and discovered that Dina was already hurrying back down the corridor without waiting for her to finish speaking.

'Am I that scary?'

Mira shrugged off the thoughts before continuing alone, allowing the anticipation building inside her to carry her forward as the voices grew louder. After all these years, she would finally be reunited with her family, people she had thought she would never see again, and the thought stirred emotions she could hardly put into words.

Yet, beneath the excitement, a seed of doubt continued to gnaw at the back of her mind.

'Are all of these real, or am I just dreaming?'

Everything that had happened since she opened her eyes in the bathtub still felt like a mystery, and despite the familiar surroundings, she could not completely shake the fear that the Demon Dragon might have trapped her in some cruel illusion.

'Whether it's real or not, I'll find out soon enough.'

When she finally reached the banquet hall, Mira pushed open the doors, and the conversations inside gradually died as every eye turned in her direction.

The hall was moderately crowded, filled with familiar faces belonging to nobles and guests she had known in her previous life. She glanced through them one after another, taking in their expressions and the clothes they wore, until her gaze finally settled on the woman standing among them.

Her mother.

"Mother!" she cried out, unable to contain her excitement as she rushed forward with all the speed she could muster before throwing herself into her mother's arms.

Lady Cromwell was taken aback by the sudden display of affection, and for a moment, she could only stare at her daughter in surprise before turning towards her husband, who maintained a pleasant smile despite the unexpected interruption. She soon wrapped her arms around Mira and gently patted her back, assuming that her daughter was overwhelmed by the day's events.

"I missed you, Mother..." Mira sobbed, holding on to her as though letting go might cause her to disappear again.

"I'm here, my daughter. I'm here," Lady Cromwell reassured her, continuing to comfort her without understanding the true reason behind the tears.

"Seems like someone is already missing her mother," Lord Cromwell remarked as the mother and daughter eventually loosened their embrace. "Tell me, Mira, won't you miss your father too?"

Mira slowly turned to look at the man who had spoken, the Lord of the Cromwell family and the father she had once admired above everyone else. He was tall and broad-chested, with a heavy build that suited his noble bearing, and there was an undeniable air of authority about him. Her father possessed all the qualities expected of a powerful noble, and in her previous life, she had always looked up to him, proud to have such a formidable figure protecting their family.

That admiration had disappeared the day she discovered that he had arranged her marriage to secure a political alliance, treating her future as though it were another bargaining chip to strengthen his position. The realization had shattered the trust she once placed in him, and although she stood before him now at a time when the engagement had not yet taken place, she could not forget what he had done or the years of suffering that had followed.

Still, she forced herself to remain composed, reminding herself that the man standing before her had not yet committed the act she remembered, at least not in this lifetime.

"Good day, Father. You honor me with your words; I'm flattered," Mira replied with a courteous bow.

Lord Cromwell seemed pleased by her answer, but there was another matter that had caught his attention, and his gaze soon drifted towards the gown she wore.

"Daughter, why aren't you properly dressed for our visitors?" he asked gently, leaning towards her as though expecting a simple explanation.

Although he had directed the question at Mira alone, his voice carried across the hall, allowing everyone present to hear it. Under normal circumstances, Mira would have lowered her head, apologized for disappointing him, and hurried to correct whatever he considered inappropriate, but the woman standing before him now was no longer the obedient daughter he remembered.

"I dressed for myself, not for the visitors," Mira replied calmly.

Lord Cromwell's pleased expression disappeared, and his gaze grew cold as he tried to understand the meaning behind her words. Was his daughter challenging him in front of their guests, or had she somehow forgotten the manners expected of a young noblewoman?

Lady Cromwell noticed the change in her husband's expression, but there was little she could do beyond standing quietly and praying that her daughter would not provoke him further.

'So, what will you do, Father? Will you hit me and finally put an end to this pretence?'

Mira held his gaze, waiting patiently for him to react, but before he could respond, someone cleared his throat.