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When she opened her eyes, she was met with an unfamiliar ceiling. Silky, cream-colored curtains danced with a gentle breeze, casting a dim, golden light into the room. As she tried to understand where she was, an icy wave of panic pierced her heart. A few breaths ago... what had happened a few breaths ago? A sharp, burning pain, followed by an endless darkness... Now she was here, in a completely different place.

As she slowly tried to sit up, she felt a strange, foreign weight on her body. When she raised her arms, the luxurious touch of the thin, embroidered fabric she wore slipped through her fingers. This... this wasn't her bed. The color of the walls, the arrangement of the furniture in the room, the light, sweet scent hanging in the air... nothing was familiar.

With trembling steps, she got out of bed. Her feet sank into a soft, thick rug. The room was a silent testament to wealth and ostentation. Walls covered in intricately patterned wallpaper, carved wooden furniture that looked antique, and a huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling, scattering the light into thousands of fragments with its countless crystal pieces... Every detail was far removed from the simple and functional world she was used to.

Hesitantly, she approached a full-length mirror standing by the window. When she saw her reflection, the shock and confusion within her reached an indescribable level. This... this wasn't her. The young woman in the mirror had her features, yes, but it was as if a painter had rendered them on a completely different canvas. Much younger, much more... delicate. Long, night-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her flawless, alabaster white skin formed a striking contrast with her dark, emerald green eyes. She wore an elegant, embroidered nightgown, again made of silk.

"What's happening?" she whispered to herself. Her voice sounded strange and unrecognizable, coming from this unfamiliar throat. This had to be a dream. A bad, very bad dream. But dreams didn't feel this real. Even the panic felt in dreams wasn't this tangible.

Just then, a soft rustling sound came from the door, and the wooden panel slowly creaked open. An elderly woman entered, her gaze worried and cautious. She wore a dark, simple dress, and her graying hair was pulled back tightly at the nape of her neck. Deep lines on her face bore the marks of weariness and many years.

"Lady Aurora, you're awake?" The woman's voice was slightly trembling and anxious. An uncertain fear was visible in her eyes.

"Aurora?" the young woman asked, her brow furrowed. "I... I..." She tried to remember her own name, but her mind was foggy and blank. Who was she? That sharp pain a few days ago, that dark void... everything was mixed up.

The elderly woman became even more flustered at the young woman's confused expression. She approached her with quick steps and touched her forehead with the back of her wrinkled hand. "You don't seem to have a fever, thank goodness. Perhaps you're still dazed, my Lady. I'll inform the servants immediately to prepare your breakfast. You'll feel better after some rest."

Without waiting for the young woman to reply, the woman hurried out of the room. The young woman sank onto the edge of the bed. Her mind was like a whirlwind. Aurora... the name didn't sound familiar. But who was she then? Why was she in this strange body? This luxury, this splendor... everything was alien to her.

A few minutes later, two young maidservants entered the room. They wore matching navy blue and white aprons. Bowing respectfully to the young woman, they silently began to prepare her breakfast. Their movements were swift and professional, as if they were accustomed to such situations.

"Where is this place?" the young woman asked them, her voice still bewildered and uneasy. "I... where am I?"

One of the maidservants, the younger one, replied with a gentle and timid demeanor. "Vancroft Manor, my Lady."

"Vancroft Manor? I've never heard of it before." The young woman's voice was hopeless. Maybe the name would remind her of something, but nothing stirred in her mind.

The other maidservant, who seemed older and more serious, spoke with a slight frown. "My Lady, are you alright? This is where you were born and raised. The daughter of Lord and Lady Vancroft..."

The young woman looked at them helplessly. "But I... I really... I..." She couldn't remember her name. It was terrifying. She couldn't even remember who she was. "I think I had an accident and..." She couldn't finish her sentence. She knew they wouldn't believe her. They saw her as Lady Aurora, and her claiming to be someone else must sound absurd.

As the breakfast table was being set, the young woman looked around at the luxury and splendor with a mixture of awe and confusion. Silver candlesticks, delicate porcelain plates, sparkling crystal goblets, and a variety of delicious foods... Everything looked incredibly expensive and meticulously arranged. But all this wealth didn't fill the emptiness and confusion within her.

While she was eating her breakfast, a tall, broad-shouldered man with sharp and stern features entered the room. He wore a dark, ornate dressing gown. When the young woman first saw him, a chilling coldness gripped her. The man's gaze was cold and distant, as if he were looking at a point far beyond her.

"Aurora, I'm glad you're awake." The man's voice was as cold as his expression, as if he were making a forced show of politeness.

"You... who are you?" the young woman asked hesitantly, her heart pounding. There was nothing familiar about this man.

The man frowned slightly, his dark eyebrows furrowing. "I am your father, Aurora. Lord Harrington Vancroft."

"Your father?" The young woman's confusion deepened. This was impossible. Her father... her father was a warm, playful, loving man. This man was like ice, as if his heart never beat.

Lord Vancroft paused for a moment, as if disturbed by his daughter's words. "Is something wrong, Aurora? You don't look well. Do you have a headache?" His voice was still cold, but a slight hint of concern could be detected within it. Perhaps he was only worried about the continuation of his lineage.

"I... I really... I..." The young woman couldn't remember her own name again. This helplessness was suffocating her. "I'm not Aurora. There must be a mistake."

Lord Vancroft curled his lips into a mocking smile. "A mistake? Nonsense. Perhaps you had a bad dream. Now eat your breakfast and rest."

No matter how much the young woman pleaded, she couldn't convince the man. He kept calling her Aurora and thought she had lost her memory or was ill. After breakfast, Lord Vancroft left the room with a brief and formal "Get well," leaving the young woman feeling even more alone and helpless. She was all alone in this foreign body, in a foreign world, and she couldn't even remember who she was... But she knew one thing: she wasn't this Aurora Vancroft. Somewhere inside her, her real identity was hidden, and she had to find it.

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