“Can’t you remember anything? Not even me, your brother?”
The large man pointed to himself as he spoke, as if he were my brother. Could I have had a sibling I didn’t know about? No, that couldn’t be. My grandfather had never mentioned any half-siblings.
My parents married young, had me, and shortly after, they passed away in an accident. There was no way I had a hidden sibling.
“I don’t have any siblings…”
I had no relatives left. After my only family member, my grandfather, passed away ten years ago, I had been living alone. The idea of having a sibling was absurd.
“What on earth is going on!”
“Are you sure you treated her properly?”
The man claiming to be my brother grabbed the healer by the collar and yelled. The healer, lifted off the ground by the bear-like man, looked pitiful.
Well, it was a common occurrence. Patients’ guardians often couldn’t control their anger and directed it at pharmacists or healers with verbal abuse or even violence.
I could understand their feelings, but healers and pharmacists couldn’t simply cure illnesses instantly. Convincing patients or their guardians of this was even more challenging.
Seeing that the man’s anger towards the healer seemed to be about me, I calmly tried to soothe him.
“Please don’t use force… Wouldn’t it be better to explain it to me so I can understand? Threatening the healer won’t make me become this Claire person. So, explain why you’re calling me by that name.”
“Claire…”
The large man, with tears in his eyes, threw the healer aside. He then looked at me with the most pitiful expression. His face was like that of a tragic heroine, but his actions…
Seeing a grown man cry so sorrowfully like a child made me feel as if I had committed a grave sin.
But the real victim here seemed to be the healer, coughing on the floor as if he might stop breathing any moment.
I had thought healers were treated better than pharmacists. Well, life is tough everywhere. I set aside my sympathy for the healer and turned to demand an explanation from them.
“If you don’t like the name Claire, should I call you Little Cherry, like when you were young?”
I looked at him with the most exasperated expression as he asked, his eyes swollen and red.
“Cherry?”
“Little Cherry… As you grew, your hair color lightened a lot, but when you were young, it was a deep pink, like an unripe cherry, so we called you that. You looked like the smallest, roundest thing in the world. Cute. You still are, of course…”
He sniffled as he spoke. I felt dazed, like I had a fever. Hearing such nonsense, it seemed like he was the one who was sick. Shouldn’t the healer treat him instead?
My hair was indeed reddish, but it was a dark red, more like a fully ripened cherry than an unripe one.
And being called the smallest round thing? I had never been described as small due to my rapid growth.
I was actually as tall as most adult men. Little Cherry, really? Besides, this was my first time meeting him today. When did we become close enough for him to use such nicknames?
What was more puzzling was that the other three people in the room were looking at me, not the large man, with expressions that said they couldn’t understand why I didn’t recognize him. As if it were obvious I was Claire, or Little Cherry.
It was frustrating. Being surrounded by people acting like it was natural to call me Claire instead of Jane made me feel like I was the one confused.
“What on earth is going on…”
What was even stranger was that the hair cascading past my shoulders was indeed a light pink, like an unripe cherry, just as they said.
Even my usually stiff, broom-like red hair was now soft, like expensive velvet.
“Even my fingers are short and delicate…”
My hands were small, white, and smooth, like those of a noble lady, with no signs of roughness or scars.
Not the rough hands of someone who handled medicinal herbs, but delicate, untouched by water. I clenched and unclenched my fists, though the movements were awkward, they were indeed mine.
“So, I’m Claire?”
“Yes. Claire McCain, my Little Cherry…”
Not the Little Cherry nonsense again… But no matter how I looked at it, this body didn’t seem to be mine, and I couldn’t keep denying it in front of people who looked like the world was ending whenever I spoke.
Claire McCain… It was a familiar name…
“I’m feeling a bit dazed, so could you tell me more about myself? And introduce yourselves too.”
I addressed the large man and the beautiful woman.
They introduced themselves hesitantly. The large man was Shuri McCain, Claire’s brother, and the blonde woman in the blue dress was Elaina McCain, his wife.
And I was their only sister, Claire McCain.
Claire McCain. The name was indeed familiar. Where had I heard it?
I struggled to remember who Claire McCain was. It was hard not to recall, as her name had been mentioned frequently in the Calovania Empire recently.
About two weeks ago, during a royal hunting event, Ian’s younger brother, Prince Daniel, nearly lost his life. His horse had reared up in fright and thrown him off.
The horse, startled, almost trampled him underfoot. Prince Daniel, terrified, had looked up at the horse ready to trample him.
The event happened so quickly that no one had time to react.
At that moment, a young lady nearby bravely threw herself to save him.
The lady who made a name for herself that day was none other than Lady Claire McCain.
Thanks to her, Daniel only suffered minor scratches. Claire, however, was seriously injured.
She had been kicked in the head by the horse and had not woken up for nearly two weeks. There were rumors that she might not survive. Some even said she was already dead…
The problem was that these people were calling me Claire McCain. Not Jane.
When I asked for a mirror, I finally understood. This body was not mine, but that of an unfamiliar young lady.
I now understood why Shuri McCain called her Little Cherry when she was young.
With pink hair and a small frame, Claire McCain looked adorable and perfectly suited the nickname.
“Shorter and paler… But what happened to me?”
I thought hard, massaging the back of my neck to ease the aching headache. What was my last memory?
It wasn’t clear, but I remembered the last moments of being trapped under a clock decorated with a golden dragon in the burning pharmacy.
“Did I die then and enter this Claire’s body? Then what about Claire?”
While I was lost in thought, the healer, who had regained his composure, began explaining my condition to the two.
“It seems Lady Claire suffered a head injury when she collapsed, causing memory loss. It’s uncertain whether it’s temporary or permanent.”
The healer diagnosed me with amnesia. It made sense from his perspective, as I had no memories of myself or my family.
I didn’t argue with his diagnosis. Explaining that I was not Lady McCain but a commoner pharmacist named Jane would only result in a diagnosis of insanity instead of amnesia.
“No, really, this body is Lady McCain’s, but the person inside is Jane.” Who would believe that?
Even if I explained it reasonably, they might think I was possessed and call for an exorcist.
Would an exorcism drive me out and bring Claire back? Probably not. Claire likely didn’t survive.
Thinking about being exorcised, I really felt like an evil spirit.
What about my body… Let’s not think about that. The fire wasn’t small, and my body couldn’t have survived intact. I stopped imagining it any further.
