Side Story Episode 2. Wish You Were

No matter how many times she looked back on it, the memory still felt strangely foreign.

Standing before the mirror, adjusting the last details of her appearance, Lillian let her mind wander back to that moment.

When she first saw Swan finally open her eyes, she had thought she might cry out of sheer relief.

This wasn’t the first time Swan had lost consciousness. She had always been frail, falling ill every time the seasons changed.

And each time, Winston, the orphanage director, had lashed out at Lillian and forced her to care for Swan, claiming that it was her punishment for not taking better care of her.

But Lillian had always known the truth—Winston didn’t give her that responsibility out of some moral lesson.

Most likely, he thought it was a waste of manpower to have the teachers tend to a sick child when he had someone like Lillian at his disposal.

Honestly, it worked in my favor.

For Lillian, it was a relief. Instead of doing other chores, she could stay by Swan’s side.

And so, after several cycles of illness and recovery, it became natural—whenever Swan was sick, it was Lillian who nursed her back to health.

The first person Swan saw when she woke up, the first name she called, was always Lillian.

But this time, it was different.

“…Your eyes… they’re just like Agnes’s.”

Lillian had been standing a few steps away from Swan’s bed.

Beside the bed, Cedric had been watching over Swan even before she regained consciousness.

The moment she opened her eyes, she had called out to Cedric.

And in that instant, Cedric knew—without a doubt—that the girl before him was the daughter he had lost.

“I was afraid I’d be deceived again this time… but there’s no mistake… You’re my daughter.”

There was no room for doubt.

How could there be?

Swan looked exactly like the late Duchess of Maynard, Agnes.

When she had been lying in bed, unconscious, there had still been room for uncertainty.

But now that her eyes were open, there was none.

A girl who bore the same face as his deceased wife.

A girl with the same striking blue eyes.

A girl whose hair, though dark, carried traces of Cedric’s own color.

Even without words, her mere existence proclaimed the truth—she was Cedric and Agnes’s child.

No further proof was needed.

Swallowing his tears, Cedric had pulled his lost daughter into a tight embrace.

And Swan, in turn, had smiled brightly as she wrapped her arms around her father.

On her pale, illness-worn cheeks, joy was evident—but so was a faint sorrow.

Swan was the brightest, most beautiful girl Lillian had ever known.

But even she, a child of Merrifield Orphanage, had moments of sadness.

The difference between them was that when Swan was sad, she smiled even brighter.

A smile full of sunshine, without a single trace of tears.

Lillian was the only person in the world who could recognize the sorrow hidden beneath it.

But right now, that understanding didn’t matter.

“My lady… You’ve truly returned…”

Mary, who had been standing beside Lillian, finally burst into tears as she took a step toward the bed.

And it wasn’t just Mary.

The other servants were no different.

The servants, who had long watched over the empty mansion, wept—not just at the touching reunion of father and daughter, but also at the fact that the young lady, whom they had nearly lost to illness, had finally opened her eyes.

“This is truly a miracle… such a relief…”

“How much suffering they must have endured, both of them.”

“I never imagined she’d look so much like Madam Agnes. How did she grow up to be this beautiful?”

Lillian lifted her head. At her height, she had to crane her neck to properly see the adults’ faces.

Every one of them was overcome with emotion.

People who had never exchanged a single word with Swan, yet were moved to tears simply by her existence.

That’s strange.

Just moments ago, when Swan had first woken up, Lillian had felt as if she might cry.

She had almost called out to her and rushed to her bedside.

But then Swan had been swept into Cedric’s embrace.

The room had filled with joyous voices, people shedding tears of relief.

And in the midst of all that, Lillian suddenly realized—her eyes were no longer stinging with tears.

This is a good thing, but… why does it feel so strange?

It wasn’t jealousy. If she had wanted to be jealous, she would have been long before, back at Merrifield Orphanage.

In truth, Lillian had been waiting for a moment like this.

Swan had always been the princess in her world—the heroine of a fairy tale.

Though she had endured hardships, she was meant to reunite with her family someday.

To be surrounded by people who loved her, to finally be rewarded for all the suffering she had endured.

To move forward into a future where only happiness remained, embraced by love.

Lillian had never doubted that such a moment would come.

And she had always imagined herself at Swan’s side when it did—wiping away tears of joy, smiling just as brightly.

…Then why?

Why, when she had finally reached this moment, did she feel this way?

It was then that Lillian realized how different a fairy tale was from reality.

When a princess in a story found happiness, all Lillian had to do was smile and close the book.

The princess’s happiness and Lillian’s own joy were separate, unrelated things.

But in reality, it wasn’t like that.

Everything was playing out like a fairy tale.

The princess in Lillian’s life was finally taking her first steps toward happiness.

But—one thing was different.

Here, Lillian wasn’t just a reader.

This was Swan’s fairy tale—but it was also Lillian’s life.

I never thought of them as separate before.

Swan had always been by her side.

Her fairy tale and Lillian’s life had always been one and the same.

That was why Lillian had been able to shine a light on Swan’s story and feel happiness in doing so.

But… what if Swan wasn’t by her side anymore?

What if she was no longer with her?

Swan… has found her family.

She no longer needed to be with Lillian.

That was how things were meant to be.

But the thought terrified her.

A life without Swan.

Losing Swan for Swan’s sake.

…I don’t want that.

And so, in a place filled with warmth and tears of joy, Lillian felt out of place.

The girl with short brown hair took an unconscious step back.

And then—

She ran.

Not even knowing what she was running from.

* * *

That Night
Lillian carefully made her way to Swan’s room once again.

Navigating in the dark with only the moonlight to guide her was second nature to any child who had lived at Merrifield Orphanage.

Of course, knowing how to walk without making a sound was just part of the skill set.

But even someone as adept as Lillian hadn’t quite mastered the art of moving silently in plush indoor slippers.

So, for the first time in a long while, she walked barefoot down the corridor.

She gently pushed open the door—so quietly that even the hinges made no sound.

Moonlight spilled into the room.

And—

“Welcome, Lily.”

Sitting on the bed, her long black hair glowing silver in the night, was Swan.