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 - The Masked Fiancé, the Stolen Ally
The cobblestones of Strand Street were stained in the blue light of dusk.
The wind from the sea faintly stirred the dead leaves of ivy clinging to the old brick walls. The sky over Frosthavn, now past mid-February, was still smothered in heavy gray clouds, the sun's outline nowhere to be seen. But through a gap in those clouds, for just an instant, a pale crimson light leaked through.
Melina Solberg watched that light from the window of the drawing room in the new Solberg estate.
(*Beautiful*)
she thought.
The memories of a twelve-year-old girl and the memories of a woman who had died at twenty-five quietly mingled deep in her chest.
(*Ah, that's right. This color of light. It's the same as the day I made strawberry jam with Mother*)
Back when her mother Elise was still alive. The big kitchen of the old estate had been filled with sweet steam. White traces of flour on her mother's apron. The two of them, stirring the bright red jam in the pot with golden spoons.
When had that been?
Probably when she was eleven. A year before the fire.
Her fingertips unconsciously touched the window glass.
Cold.
This house, though it was a new mansion, felt ten times colder than the old estate.
The heating was working properly. The drawing room with its high ceiling—white marble fireplace, deep green velvet sofa, polished ebony table. Surrounded by perfect furnishings, Melina felt as though only her own breath was faintly clouded white.
—*Knock, knock, knock.*
The heavy door knocker sounded three times, with pauses of three days' worth between each.
(*They're here*)
She pulled her body away from the window. Her heart pulsed once, hard.
Not from disgust.
Rather, the opposite.
(*Now, it begins*)
In her first life, every time she heard this sound, her chest had fluttered with excitement. When she opened the door, there should have been her silver-haired fiancé standing there with a sweet smile.
Adrian Vester.
Second son of Vester Shipping.
A perfect gentleman recognized by all in Frosthavn society.
And—the man who, in her first life, left her alone in a hospital waiting room and laughed in the arms of her stepsister.
"Madam, Miss Melina. Lord Adrian of House Vester has arrived."
Old Frida opened the door and announced in a reverent voice. Frida was one of the few servants who had served since the old estate. Even in her first life, she had shown Melina compassion until the very end.
"Show him in."
Vivian's sweet voice rang from the back of the drawing room.
She sat in a chair before the fireplace, her silver-blonde hair perfectly curled today as always. In her hand, rose-scented tea. Still wearing gloves, she traced the rim of the cup.
"My, my. Please, do come in."
Vivian stood. Her deep purple dress swayed, catching the air. Only her cold, pale blue eyes were not smiling.
The door was opened wide.
What entered was a tall young man.
Platinum hair, nearly silver. Eyes blue as the sea.
A face too well-formed. Long fingers. A finely tailored black suit.
Adrian Vester.
The moment he entered the room, as if trained, he wore a soft smile.
"It has been too long, Lady Vivian."
His voice, too—that sweet voice she had grown so accustomed to hearing in her first life.
"How good of you to come, Adrian."
Vivian smiled and gestured him toward the sofa.
"Melina, come here as well."
Melina walked quietly to the center of the drawing room.
Adrian's gaze caught her.
She did not miss how his blue eyes narrowed for an instant, appraising her.
(*Yes. That's fine. Right now, to you, I'm still a "valuable prize," after all*)
She smiled brightly with the face of a twelve-year-old girl.
"It has been a long time, Lord Adrian."
Her voice was bright, innocent.
"Why, Melina. It has indeed been a while."
Adrian stood, stepped forward before her, and bowed courteously.
"I was hoping to have a long talk with you today."
That smile.
In her first life, that alone had melted her heart.
Now, she could see what lay behind it.
(*He's not looking at me*)
(*This man is looking at the Solberg family fortune over my shoulder*)
"Oh my, I can't very well leave two young people with a boorish chaperone."
Vivian laughed, exaggeratedly covering her mouth with her hand.
"I'll excuse myself for a while. …Frida, please bring them more tea."
Melina glanced after Vivian's departing back.
(*She intends to leave us alone deliberately. Well, that's more convenient for me*)
Only Melina and Adrian remained in the drawing room.
The color of the air deepened a shade.
The fire in the fireplace crackled.
"Come, sit down, Melina."
Adrian offered the sofa.
"Yes."
Melina sat at the edge of the deep green sofa, back straight. Her hands rested elegantly folded on her knees.
Adrian sat across from her.
Silence.
A little too long.
"…You've become beautiful. Far more than when I saw you at that hospital."
He looked at her with upturned eyes as he picked up his teacup.
"Thank you very much."
Melina blushed.
(*An act*)
(*I'll perform the me who truly fell for your sweet words*)
The scenes of her first life raced through her mind like a revolving lantern.
At twenty-five, she had been waiting in that cold hospital waiting room for her results.
Brain tumor. Recurrence.
It had grown.
Surgery was no longer possible.
She hadn't told anyone.
She hadn't wanted to burden him.
Her fiancé, Adrian.
He alone had been her hope.
If she married him, she could finally have a family.
That was what she had believed.
But he never came to the hospital.
When she returned home—
He was in the arms of her stepsister, Lisa.
The death of her heart in that moment.
Even remembering it now, her fingertips still went cold.
(*I won't forget*)
(*I will never forget*)
"Listen, Melina. There's something I want to tell you."
Adrian quietly set his cup down on the saucer.
That slightly formal tone.
Here it comes.
"I—in this city, no, in this country—I love you, the daughter of the most prestigious family, House Solberg, with all my heart."
His blue eyes gazed at her earnestly.
"I know the grief you suffered losing your beloved mother in that fire. That is precisely why I think this: I want to give you, this time, a warm home where you want for nothing."
"…Lord Adrian."
Melina's eyes welled with tears.
(*How skilled*)
(*In those final days, too, you melted my heart just like this, didn't you*)
Adrian leaned forward.
"If you are willing, I would like to make this engagement certain once more. When you have grown a little older, I want you to marry me."
His voice was sweet, heated.
Like a boy in his first love.
But deep within the dark hazel eyes of the girl before him, the intellect of a twenty-five-year-old woman was cold and sharpened.
(*"If I am willing," is it*)
(*I know that those words of yours are a stepping stone to "securing 34% of Elise Natural's shares"*)
He intended to elegantly bind her—the Solberg family fortune, or more precisely, the shares of the company her mother had built, which she was supposed to inherit—firmly under his control.
And beside him was that woman.
Her stepsister, Lisa.
She, too, had him bound with sweet snares.
The two of them were colluding to devour her mother's legacy.
(*…I see through it all*)
Melina slowly raised her face.
Behind her tear-wet eyes, for an instant, it became as still as a calm lake surface.
At the corners of her mouth, a smile too elegant for a twelve-year-old girl appeared.
"…That is a most joyful proposal."
Her voice was low and carried well.
"However, I must decline."
—Time stopped.
Only the sound of the fireplace fire echoed, unnaturally loud, through the room.
Adrian's perfect smile froze in its exact shape.
For an instant, emotion vanished from his expression.
"…What?"
It was not the face of someone who hadn't heard.
It was the face of someone whose understanding couldn't catch up.
"I apologize."
Melina quietly tightened the hands folded on her knees.
"I wish to respectfully decline my engagement to Lord Adrian."
Her voice was so quiet it felt out of place.
There was even a cold, oppressive force to it.
"Wha—what are you saying…"
Adrian sank deep against the back of the sofa.
His blue eyes wavered with agitation.
"…This must be some mistake. Melina. You're confused."
He tried to force a smile.
"You're still twelve, and it hasn't been long since that tragic accident. That's why you're saying such things. But please, calm down and think. For your future—"
"If you are saying this for my future,"
Melina cut him off sharply.
At her sheer force, Adrian fell silent.
"Then please, let this matter end here."
She stood.
"I apologize for being unable to offer proper hospitality. Please, take your time and then see yourself out."
She bowed and turned away.
"Melina!"
Adrian stood.
The chair legs scraped against the floor.
"Wait. Talk to me. Why would you say such a thing?"
His voice clearly carried panic.
(*Why? Figure it out yourself*)
Melina did not stop walking.
"I'm saying this for your own good!"
She heard that voice at her back.
(*For my good? Don't make me laugh*)
She placed her hand on the door handle.
"Please take care on your way home."
She closed the door.
The moment she stepped into the hallway, Melina noticed that her clenched fist was trembling.
(*…I'm not afraid. This isn't frustration or sadness*)
This was exultation.
The words she had wanted to say for so, so long—she had finally said them.
Deep in her chest, something hot quietly burst.
(*With this, the first step has begun*)
She began walking slowly down the empty hallway toward her room.
Her back was perfectly straight.
Adrian, left behind in the drawing room, stood rooted to the spot for a while.
His perfect smile had already vanished.
In his blue eyes, a cold, calculating light dwelled.
He slowly looked down at his own hand resting on the table.
(*A mere girl*)
What was that girl thinking?
A twelve-year-old child who had merely lost her mother in a fire.
Adrian exhaled deeply and straightened his collar.
His expression returned to that of the perfect socialite.
He quietly left the drawing room.
Vivian Solberg was elegantly drinking rosehip tea in the first-floor salon.
Across from her, a pale-faced Adrian sat sunk deep into the backrest.
"The engagement was refused."
His voice was flat.
"Oh my, oh my. How unfortunate for you."
Vivian wore a smile at her lips.
Her pale blue eyes glinted.
"That child still hasn't recovered from the shock of the fire. Her head is all scattered."
"I don't think that's all it is."
Adrian tapped his fingers against the edge of the table.
"Those eyes were sane. …They were unpleasant eyes. As if she could see through everything."
"My, how dramatic."
She giggled.
"But this is a good opportunity."
Her smile deepened.
"For that child, you see. A position so lonely and miserable that she cannot receive anyone's protection—that suits her far better as a daughter of House Solberg."
Her voice was sweet.
But the air her words spun was cold as ice.
"I have a plan. A rather interesting little scheme."
Adrian looked up.
"…What do you intend to do?"
"Oh, you want to know?"
Vivian twirled her cup with gloved fingers.
"—I'm going to pay a visit to Henning Larsen."
At night, the waterfront of Frosthavn dissolved the streetlight glow hazily in the fog rolling in from the sea.
A corner of the old warehouse district, five minutes on foot from Harbor Tower.
Before a five-story building that stood like a particularly dark shadow, Vivian stopped.
There was no sign.
No intercom.
She took out her smartphone and sent a short message to a certain number.
Before long, the heavy iron door opened from within.
"…It's been a while, Vivian."
A low voice, as if rumbling from the depths of the earth.
What appeared was a man past middle age with dark skin and deeply carved fea
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