Alice lay on the bed, staring intently at the ceiling.

Sleep wouldn’t come.

It wasn’t that the bed at the baron’s estate was uncomfortable compared to the one at the academy. In fact, the most expensive bed brands were well-known, and any noble household with decent wealth, or even wealthy commoners, would likely have beds from those brands. Staying as a guest in a respectable household rarely brought concerns about uncomfortable beds.

The reason Alice couldn’t sleep wasn’t the bed—it was Sylvia.

Or maybe it was also because of Claire, or perhaps even the children from the orphanage where Claire and Sylvia had spent their early years.

More precisely, it was because of "those children who had been with Sylvia."

Alice prided herself on knowing Sylvia well. She had known her since they were five—a very young age in a person’s life—and with ten years between them, she could almost call Sylvia her sister without anyone questioning it. Hardly anyone could recall memories from before the age of five anyway.

Yet… today, Sylvia’s expression seemed to suggest she remembered that time quite vividly.

Alice’s ability to read Sylvia’s expressions often surprised others, and Sylvia would look at her with a baffled gaze as if Alice had some strange talent. But the truth was, it was no special skill at all.

To understand Sylvia’s expressions, all Alice had to do was look into her eyes.

Sylvia’s gaze, whether directed at a person or an object, had never been devoid of emotion. Sylvia was always thinking, calculating.

Today, the expression Sylvia had when looking at Daniel was almost… nostalgic.

Seeing Sylvia display such a nostalgic look gave Alice an oddly unsettling feeling.

Discovering a side of someone you prided yourself on knowing well wasn’t always pleasant.

She wanted to understand it. But the feelings she was experiencing weren’t as simple as that.

Even in the pitch-dark room, if one stared at the ceiling long enough, faint light would find its way in through the shadows. Not enough to call it “light,” of course—barely enough to discern the expression of the person beside you.

Turning her head, Alice could just barely make out the faint shape of Sylvia’s figure on the other bed, a shadowy outline in the darkness.

Come to think of it, Alice had rarely seen Sylvia sleep. They had used separate rooms since childhood.

Even on long train rides, Sylvia had never dozed off, and the same was true during classes and breaks.

Alice knew that Sylvia was exceptionally disciplined, always going to bed by 11 p.m. without fail—

"Ah."

Only now did she realize that Sylvia always slept deeply and woke up refreshed. Unless she had a mission or some pressing task, Sylvia always maintained that routine.

Maybe Sylvia was someone who actually valued sleep quite a lot?

The thought surprised her.

Sylvia was always thorough, methodical, someone who always accomplished what she set out to do—

—Not just in that relic encounter from before.

"…"

She could clearly remember the feeling of a gun aimed at the back of her head. She hadn’t seen it directly or heard anything, but the killing intent had been unmistakable.

A fierce, murderous intent to kill without fail.

Sylvia had never shown such intent before—not even when her own life was on the line. And because that unfamiliar, hostile intent had come from Sylvia, it had felt even more jarring to Alice.

Unfamiliar. It was unlike anything she’d felt from anyone before.

Yet somehow, it felt oddly familiar.

When she had turned to face that person, she had seen the gun in their hand.

A gun that looked like the one Sylvia always carried, though a bit older.

At that point, Alice had stopped thinking about it.

For some reason, she felt that thinking about that strange person any further was something she should avoid.

"…"

Maybe she had thought too much.

It had already been a month, yet the memory of that moment still lingered somewhere in her mind, sticky and hard to erase.

She knew they would meet again someday.

At the very least, she hoped that person wasn’t the one currently sleeping beside her.

If Sylvia ever grew to hate Alice enough to want to kill her, Alice felt she wouldn’t be able to bear it.

She hoped, at the very least, that she was as important to Sylvia as the others from the orphanage.

Though she knew it was foolish to think this way, she found herself a little wistful that she wasn’t from the same orphanage.

*

Last night, she had slept deeply and without worry.

She awoke early, before dawn, feeling unusually refreshed and alert. She lay there, contemplating the reason.

Perhaps it was because there was no one else here she needed to be wary of.

Leo was important, of course—the protagonist. Claire was too, and so were the Baron and Baroness Grace, who played significant roles in the story.

But none of them had any reason to harm her.

Alice even more so. Just last year, Alice might have seen her as a rival, but over the past year, she had grown surprisingly mature and now practically saw herself as my older sister.

Now, she was sound asleep, even more deeply than I was.

Once I thought it through, I understood.

I didn’t need to worry about being backstabbed by Lucas, nor about Leo and Claire sneaking out before dawn to take on some mission, nor about wasting energy dealing with other nobles along the way. Here, everyone was trustworthy enough for me to relax around.

"Heh."

And yet, for some reason, I felt an odd emptiness, and I chuckled quietly to myself.

Glancing at Alice, it seemed she was in a deep sleep, oblivious to my quiet laughter.

I sat up in bed. Most of my things from the academy had likely been transferred to the palace by now, but I had brought a few useful items along for stays outside the palace, all packed in a large trunk.

I reached under the bed, pulled out the trunk, and picked out a few articles of clothing and undergarments.

"…"

I glanced down at the clothes I’d selected.

In my hands was my academy uniform.

An endlessly militaristic uniform.

Most of the other clothes in the trunk were similar. Even if they weren’t my uniform, they were almost all military-style outfits, much like what Lucas or Jayden wore.

However, I did have a few dresses packed.

I thought of Claire. Yesterday, I had still been in my uniform since we had just arrived, but would I be wearing it again today?

She liked wielding a sword, but I doubted her tastes extended entirely to masculine things.

I looked at the uniform in my hands for a moment before putting it back in the trunk.

I chose a different outfit instead.

*

Though it was summer, I had no interest in showering with cold water.

The bathroom was exceptionally clean but also appeared—by my standards—ancient. Not that a newly built bathroom would have been any different; this world was still in an early 1900s era. Even though it was another world, and magic or steam-powered engines had replaced electricity for various tasks, there certainly weren’t any smartphones here.

A steampunk smartphone would be fascinating to see. Considering there were digital clocks powered by wind-up mechanisms, maybe they could create one if they wanted.

Lost in idle thoughts, I watched as hot water flowed smoothly from the showerhead.

Gazing at the fogged-up shower screen, I tried to imagine how the hot water was generated using a steam engine but quickly gave up. I didn’t even know how boilers worked in my own world. Maybe they burned coal to heat the water. Apparently, older apartment buildings had central heating systems.

I chuckled at my ignorance, both here and in my previous world.

Strangely, I found it comforting.

If I’d lived so unaware before, why should it matter if I didn’t know things in this world?

*

"Sylvia…?"

It was only after I’d finished my shower, dried my hair, and fully dressed that Alice woke up. By her standards, it was late.

And she looked at me with a startled expression.

No, startled might not be the right word.

Alice’s expression was closer to shock as she looked at me.