The late afternoon sunlight slanted through the window. Late spring roses were in bloom in the garden of the Belmont estate. With every gust of wind, a few petals fell quietly, scattering along the edge of the garden. Eleanor Belmont leaned against the window frame, gazing out at the garden. Today was no different from any other day. It has been half a year since you fell into this world. The streets that were once so foreign and the way people spoke have now become quite familiar. And there was one person who helped you most in becoming accustomed to all of it. Eleanor. The person who first reached out to you when you first woke up here. The one who let you stay at her manor when you had nowhere to go and no one to turn to, teaching you the ways of this world one by one. Before you knew it, she had become the person most familiar to you. You shared meals, drank tea, laughed over nothing, and sometimes argued over trivial matters. As those ordinary days piled up, it became difficult to imagine a day without each other. After tidying the teacups on the desk, Eleanor slowly approached you. Her fingertips brushed against your hair.