Just like Dolores, Juliet found herself unable to answer the question.
She allowed her gaze to drift ever so slightly toward the table where the Empress and Dahlia sat. Having chosen a secluded spot in the open air, partially concealed by trailing vines and marble columns, Juliet remained unnoticed by anyone in the room.
Dahlia had haunted her thoughts for years—a specter woven through her darkest memories. But never had Juliet imagined their reunion would unfold like this: unexpected, unplanned, in a place where power and poison mingled so freely.
*How quickly time flies, doesn't it?*
Dahlia carried a tray of medicines to the Empress with practiced grace, her movements fluid and deferential.
"Archbishop, this is a young woman I've grown quite fond of lately," the Empress announced, her voice warm with pride as she introduced Elizabeth to Archbishop Gilliam seated beside her. "She possesses an exceptional gift of healing."
"Ah, the gift of healing, you say?" The Archbishop studied Dahlia with renewed interest, his gaze sweeping over her appraisingly. "A true rarity in these troubled times."
Watching the scene unfold, Juliet felt confusion knot in her chest.
*If she truly possesses the gift of healing... then why the medicine? Does she heal and prescribe simultaneously?*
As soon as one doubt took root, others followed like weeds spreading through fertile soil.
*But none of this changes the fundamental problem. There is still no evidence.*
*And besides... Dahlia appears capable of manipulating people's memories.*
*Still...*
Dolores was visibly distressed by the ease with which Dahlia had installed herself at the Empress's side—close enough to whisper secrets, close enough to pour poison.
"I'll summon the carriage now. Please wait here," she said abruptly, not even pausing for Juliet's response before hurrying away.
---
"That woman? Is that Dahlia?"
Theo and Ashelrid recognized her the instant they glimpsed her through the terrace doors, though no one had ever described her appearance to them.
They had no idea who Dahlia truly was, but they knew Juliet had come specifically to identify her.
"Yes." Juliet's voice was measured, controlled. "But she no longer goes by that name. She's Elizabeth Tillman now."
"What does that mean?"
"Just something I overheard..."
"Damn it all." Theo raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "This grows more tangled by the hour."
"And according to Sir Jude's investigation," Juliet continued quietly, "the Tillman family does indeed claim to have a younger daughter named Elizabeth. But there is no mention of such a daughter in any official records."
*A significant discovery.*
"Did she alter their memories as well?"
Juliet was beginning to comprehend just how deeply Dahlia had burrowed into the fabric of everything around her.
The ability to manipulate memories was more than unsettling—it sent ice crawling down her spine. A person who could rewrite the past could become anyone, could make anyone believe anything.
"Where is Dolores?"
"Dolores?" Theo blinked. "What does she have to do with this?"
"Didn't she call for you?!"
As Juliet and Theo exchanged bewildered glances, Ashel stepped forward to clarify:
"She mentioned she would take a separate carriage and return ahead of us."
"Dolores said that?" Juliet's frown deepened.
"Yes."
A cold knot tightened in Juliet's stomach.
*What if something happens to her? Wandering the Imperial Palace alone is dangerous enough under normal circumstances.*
*And Dahlia's hostility toward anyone connected to the Marquis's downfall is unmistakable.*
*That alone could place the girl in grave danger.*
"To be honest, I don't like any of this," Juliet said, alarm threading through her words. "Dolores is simply being used—she doesn't understand what she's walking into."
But then Theo, shaking his head slowly, said something unexpected:
"You know... it's strange. I feel as though I've seen that woman somewhere before."
"Whom?"
"Dahlia."
"Dahlia?" Juliet turned to him sharply. "When could you possibly have seen her?"
She studied his face—and then understanding dawned.
*No wonder she seemed familiar to them. They had indeed crossed paths briefly while infiltrating the black market in Carcassonne. And Theo possessed an uncanny memory for faces.*
"Ah!" Theo exclaimed suddenly, snapping his fingers as if a locked door had burst open in his mind. "I remember now! I know where I've seen her!"
He paused, his expression growing troubled.
"The mad Pope—Sebastian—had a younger sister. She died young, tragically."
"Genovia?" Juliet asked carefully.
"I don't recall the name with certainty... perhaps. But I'm certain it was that face. She was said to possess one of the greatest divine gifts ever recorded. A prodigy. But because of that very gift—or perhaps because of what it attracted—she perished in a fire. Her power supposedly remained only within the Soul Gem."
Sebastian had later used that stone to claim the papal throne.
He wore her portrait in a locket, close to his heart.
And Juliet had seen it.
At first, she wanted to scoff—dismiss the notion as absurd coincidence. But Ashelrid nodded gravely:
"She truly does bear a striking resemblance to that portrait."
"But didn't you tell me before that *I* resembled Genovia?" Juliet asked, doubt coloring her voice.
She too had glimpsed the portrait of Genovia.
"That's precisely why that lunatic Pope abducted you," Theo muttered, his jaw tightening as old anger surfaced with renewed force.
"But how can you claim Dahlia also resembles Genovia?"
"It's peculiar, but you both remind me of her in different ways..." Ashelrid interjected carefully, watching Juliet's reaction. "Although, frankly speaking, there's no direct resemblance between you and this Dahlia."
Juliet's lips pressed into a thin line. The comparison was deeply unpleasant—to be told she resembled someone entangled with so many painful memories from her previous life.
And yet... it explained a great deal.
*I've been tormented by the same question for so long: why did Sebastian support Dahlia so unconditionally in my past life?*
*It seemed impossible to believe it was merely her divine gift or her healing abilities.*
*But if Dahlia truly resembled Genovia—Sebastian's beloved younger sister, gifted and lost under mysterious circumstances—then everything falls into place.*
*If a woman suddenly appeared before him who both mirrored his dead sister's face and possessed similar power... he couldn't help but be captivated.*
"But how is such a thing even possible?"
"They say there are at least three people in the world who look exactly alike," Ashel offered, attempting to lighten the mood as he noticed how pale Juliet had become.
---
As Juliet had feared, Dolores remained within the walls of the Imperial Palace.
"Did you really think I would give up so easily?" she muttered to herself, a bitter smile twisting her lips.
*Yes, Juliet warned that catching Dahlia was impossible. But Dolores had her own scores to settle.*
*She had merely followed the Marquis of Guinness's orders and accepted payment for her services—yet she was the one who ended up rotting in a prison cell. And she never even received her fee; the Marquis had gone bankrupt before he could pay.*
*But how was it that the suspicious woman who orchestrated the Marquis's downfall now stood as the Empress's trusted servant?*
Dolores halted mid-step, spotting a familiar figure ahead.
The woman turned.
There was no doubt—it was her. Dahlia.
"Do you recognize me?" Dolores's voice rang out, sharp with challenge. She wasn't about to squander this opportunity, especially with Dahlia alone and unguarded.
The blonde woman regarded her with cold, empty eyes. Not a flicker of recognition.
"Why should I know you?"
"What?!" Dolores sputtered. "We met at the Marquis of Guinness's mansion!"
Dahlia tilted her head slightly, as though straining to recall some trivial detail.
"Do you truly remember me? How curious."
"Don't play the fool with me!" Dolores snapped, her hand dropping instinctively to her belt. "I remember *everything*, understand? You deceived the Marquis!"
After Juliet had warned her about memory manipulation, Dolores—terrified of forgetting—had written down every detail related to the events at the southern residence. Every name, every date, every horror.
And now she remembered with perfect clarity what Dahlia had done: how she had used homeless wanderers and orphaned children to create magical stones... while they were still *alive*.
But the woman now called Elizabeth merely stared at her, utterly devoid of emotion. Her face was smooth as polished marble, her eyes revealing nothing.
"Hello?" Dolores felt ice flood her veins. Her voice cracked, and for the first time, genuine fear flickered through her bravado.
*It's no use.*
The words seemed to come from nowhere—or perhaps from everywhere at once.
"What—?"
As Dolores instinctively stumbled backward, her face draining of color, a strange sound escaped Dahlia's lips. Not quite speech. Something older. Something *wrong*.
A moment ago, there had still been pupils and whites in those eyes.
Now they were swallowed entirely by black—fathomless, infinite, like staring into the void between stars.
"Ah— *Ah*—"
Dolores trembled violently, pure terror seizing her limbs. She spun to run.
But in the span of a heartbeat, the woman was no longer standing before her.
Where Dahlia had been, a massive serpent now writhed—sickly yellow scales gleaming in the filtered light, its jaw unhinging impossibly wide.
And a moment later...
The short, strangled scream dissolved into an ominous rustle.
Then silence.