Melina Solberg sits alone in a hospital, secretly waiting for her test results. The brain tumor has returned and grown. Surgery is no longer possible. She may only have three months left to live.
She tells no one. She doesn't want to burden her fiancé, Adrian Falk. She has spent her whole life trying not to be a burden.
When she was a child, her mother Elise died in a fire while saving her. After that, Melina's father Henrik blamed her for the tragedy. He remarried Vivian, his former secretary
Reborn: No Longer Your Fool - Cold Reunion, Rippling Waters
The morning in the old town carried the sea breeze gliding over the cobblestones. The scent of salt mingled with the smell of bread baking somewhere, creating an atmosphere unique to this city.
Melina Solberg walked along Strand Street with the collar of her black coat turned up. She felt as though the smell of the hospital still clung to her body, and she wanted to replace the air in her lungs.
(...It's cold.)
Mid-February. At this time of year, Frosthaun received only about three hours of daylight. Gray clouds hung low, trying to make one forget the sun's existence. Yet the city still moved. People wrapped themselves in thick coats and hurried toward their respective destinations.
Melina's footsteps were quiet—far too quiet for a twelve-year-old girl. Her platinum blonde ponytail, tied low, swayed gently with each step. Her deep brown-hazel eyes slowly scanned the faces of the people passing along the street, as if observing them.
(That pharmacy will close in two years.)
(That café on the corner—Lisa and I used to go there often in my first life.)
(The second floor of that building is supposed to house a small gallery.)
Memories of the future. The map of the city called Frosthaun, held by the self who had died at twenty-five, quietly unfolded in her mind.
But.
(There are also many faces I don't recognize.)
That was only natural. She was twelve now. There was no way her twenty-five-year-old self could have known every corner of this city thirteen years ago. The memories of the future were, at best, only "the range of what she herself had seen."
That was what frustrated her.
(I can't control it perfectly.)
Time rewinding—why had such an absurd thing happened to her alone? She didn't know. She didn't know, but precisely because of that, she had to move carefully.
A single horse-drawn carriage passed along the cobblestone road, its heavy wheels clattering. The smell of exhaust. No, not just carriages. Automobiles ran here too. This city was a place where old and new coexisted in strange balance.
Strand Street was a cobblestone thoroughfare roughly six hundred meters long, cutting through the heart of Frosthaun's old town. Boutiques, cafés, antique shops, and law offices. Old brick buildings lined the street, each bearing nearly a century of history.
At number forty-two stood a three-story brick building, ninety years old. The first floor housed Café Morgen. On the second floor hung the sign for Berg Law Office.
Melina glanced up at that sign for just a moment.
(Berg Law Office.)
In her first life, she had never once visited. A specialist in inheritance and corporate law—she hadn't even properly known such a person existed.
No—"hadn't tried to know" was more accurate.
She had felt as though no one permitted her to look at her own rights.
...She had been weak.
The her of that time had been weak, foolish, and desperate only for someone's approval.
(Not anymore.)
Melina began walking.
That was when it happened.
She caught sight of a man walking toward her from the opposite direction.
Deep chestnut hair. Somewhat long, loosely tied at the back. His bangs occasionally fell over his left eye. Sharp gray eyes. Calm eyes that revealed no emotion.
He was tall. Perhaps 187 centimeters. Beneath a black wool coat, he wore a dark gray three-piece suit. In his hand, a leather briefcase.
A lawyer, she knew immediately.
His atmosphere said so.
Quiet, orderly, and yet carrying a coldness that kept others at bay.
Nikolai Berg.
In her first life, she had learned that name much later. A man who had graduated at the top of his class from Frosthaun University's law faculty and distinguished himself at Berg Law Office as a specialist in corporate law and inheritance. Later, as the head of the Berg Group, he would come to wield great influence over this city's business world.
(He should be twenty-seven now...)
In Melina's memories, Nikolai Berg had always been a "distant existence." Someone whose name she occasionally glimpsed in newspaper articles or society gossip.
She had never once exchanged words with him directly.
They passed each other.
For an instant, their eyes met.
Nikolai's feet stopped.
"...You."
A low voice. Amid the surrounding bustle, it reached her ears with strange clarity.
Melina stopped. She turned around.
"Is something the matter?"
Her voice remained composed. A calm voice emerged, surprising even herself.
Nikolai narrowed his eyes slightly. His gray eyes stared intently at Melina's face—precisely, at her "eyes."
"Forgive me. You're from the Solberg family..."
"Yes. I am Melina Solberg."
Nikolai exhaled briefly.
"As I thought."
At those words, a chill ran down Melina's spine.
(As I thought?)
(This man knows me?)
What did that mean?
"My condolences regarding the fire. ...You're remarkably composed."
That way of speaking.
It carried far too much of an "equal footing" tone to be directed at a twelve-year-old girl.
Melina understood in an instant.
(This person has noticed.)
That the air she wore was not that of a twelve-year-old girl. This man, looking at her—someone he should be meeting for the first time—was sensing something.
A dangerous opponent.
At the same time, a useful one.
"Thank you for your concern. ...I don't remember that night very well."
Melina tilted her head slightly as she said this. A consciously innocent gesture.
Nikolai's expression didn't change at her answer. He simply nodded quietly.
"I see. ...It's cold. Why don't we talk inside for a bit?"
He indicated with his gaze the café right beside them.
Strand Street number forty-two, first floor.
Café Morgen.
──.
Inside the café, it was warm.
The aroma of roasted coffee beans and the sweet scent of cinnamon. Behind the wooden counter, an elderly female shopkeeper silently wiped cups.
Morgen was a long-established café that had operated in Frosthaun's old town for nearly thirty years. Its specialties were coffee and cinnamon rolls. The owner, Birgitta Ek, was famous for remembering each customer's name—a difficult but warm-hearted woman.
"Oh my, Nikolai. You're early today."
Birgitta called out from the counter.
"Yes. I have something to discuss with someone."
Nikolai chose a window seat and pulled out a chair for Melina.
The gesture of ladies-first was natural and refined.
Melina sat down obediently.
"Two coffees. And a cinnamon roll."
"Right. Give me a moment."
Birgitta began brewing the coffee with practiced efficiency.
A quiet time flowed.
An old radio on the counter played local news at low volume. Water temperatures in Frost Bay, the harbor's arrival and departure schedules—that sort of content.
(The sound of a radio. It's been a while.)
In her first life, she had listened to music through a smartphone app. She had barely ever touched a radio. In this world thirteen years ago, radios were still in active use.
"...My name is Nikolai Berg."
Nikolai began quietly.
"I run a law office on the second floor of this street. My specialties are corporate law and inheritance."
"I am aware."
When she answered without a moment's hesitation, Nikolai's eyebrows moved just slightly.
"Oh?"
"Berg Law Office. Among the younger lawyers from Frosthaun University's law faculty, you're said to be the most trustworthy inheritance specialist in this city. I heard so from customers who come to drink Birgitta's coffee."
This was a lie.
To be precise, she had taken the reputation she'd heard in her first life and transplanted it into the present era.
Nikolai's mouth relaxed just a little.
"That's an honor."
But his eyes were not smiling.
"...Are you really twelve years old?"
He struck at the heart of the matter.
(As expected.)
Before the cups arrived, Melina folded her fingers on the table.
"...How do I appear to you?"
She countered with a question.
Nikolai fell silent for a while.
"At the very least, you don't look like a twelve-year-old who just lost her mother in a fire."
"Is that so."
"I won't say you have no grief. But your eyes aren't the eyes of a child drowning in despair. ...They're the eyes of someone who has set her sights on a goal."
The coffee arrived.
Steam rising from the white cup. Beyond it, Nikolai's gray eyes observed her.
"It's hot, so be careful. The cinnamon roll is fresh from the oven."
Birgitta said as she set down the plate.
"Thank you."
Melina smiled.
After Birgitta left, Melina tore the cinnamon roll apart with her hands and took a bite.
Sweet.
Warm.
In her first life, she had learned this taste only after she was much older.
She chewed slowly and swallowed.
Then, she raised her face.
"Nikolai."
She called his name for the first time.
"...My mother's will has been falsified."
A quiet voice.
The air inside the café tensed in an instant.
Nikolai slowly returned the coffee cup he had been about to set down to its saucer.
"...What did you say?"
"Thirty-four percent of the shares in Élise Naturel. And the real estate of the old estate. All of it should rightfully be inherited by me. But the copy of the will currently held by the Solberg family contains conditions that can only have been added after my mother's death."
"Conditions?"
"Obtaining the approval of Élise Naturel's board of directors by the age of twenty-five. My mother would never have written such a condition. She had been trying to teach me about the company little by little since before I was grown. She always said, 'By the time you're twenty-five, you'll be a fine businesswoman.'"
She pressed down, from the pit of her stomach, the tremor that threatened to enter her voice.
"My mother genuinely wished for me to inherit the company. She trusted in my future. A mother like that would never write a condition that tested her daughter, like 'you cannot inherit without the board's approval.'"
Nikolai crossed his arms.
All emotion had vanished from his expression.
"That's an extremely serious claim for a lawyer to hear."
"I understand."
"If the copy and the original of the will differ, problems arise regarding its validity as a notarized will. Handwriting analysis, witness examination—it could even develop into a criminal case."
"Yes. That's precisely why I wanted to consult a trustworthy specialist. ...You."
Nikolai exhaled deeply.
"...Why me?"
"Because you are the strongest inheritance lawyer in this city. And also,"
She paused for a moment.
"...I've heard that you are someone who stands by those in weak positions."
Nikolai's eyes widened slightly.
"Who told you that?"
"Now, who could it have been?"
Melina smiled softly.
Nikolai remained silent for a while.
"...Interesting."
He murmured in a low voice.
"I can't say I believe you yet. There's no evidence. And honestly, I still doubt whether you're really twelve years old."
"Naturally."
"However,"
Nikolai looked straight into Melina's eyes.
"Your eyes are not the eyes of someone who lies. ...Miss Solberg. Regarding your mother's will, if I'm acceptable, I'll lend you my strength."
──.
When they left the café, the outside air felt even colder.
"I'll see you home. Depending on the direction."
"No, I'll be fine. I'm going to a relative's house now."
"A relative?"
"My maternal uncle's house. Near the Linden district. I have a small errand."
"...The Linden district."
Nikolai's tone dropped just slightly. The place where the old estate had been. The place where the fire had occurred.
"I need to confirm something about sorting through my mother's belongings."
"I see. Be careful. If anything happens, come to the office anytime. ...Don't rush. The evidence is definitely there."
"Thank you. ...I'll be counting on you."
Melina bowed her head politely and began walking.
Under the dull gray sky, she pressed her feet into the cobblestones, one step at a time.
She felt Nikolai's gaze on her back.
(He noticed, then.)
Being seen as a twelve-year-old girl would only last a few more years at most. Rather, she had gained an understanding adult as an ally. This wa
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