Both sisters awakened with a jolt, gasping for breath as if something invisible had been pressing down on their chests. Their breathing came fast and uneven, panic lingering from the dream. Only when their breaths finally steadied did they realize they were still holding each other's hands.
Moonlight filtered softly into the room, illuminating the wooden ceiling above them. Their vision gradually cleared, and silence settled like a heavy blanket around them.
Eli took a deep breath, the kind someone takes before starting an important conversation.
"Sis… did you see that girl and the man?"
Sera's body stiffened for a moment. Then she slowly nodded.
Eli turned to look at her. Something stirred in both their minds—memories buried deep. When they were little, they used to sleep in the same bed, and back then, they often had strange dreams together. Those dreams faded after they started sleeping separately. Still, Sera's visions never truly disappeared. They only became more fragmented, leaving her shaken every time.
The candles were still burning, their flames steady. After a long pause, Eli spoke again, uncertainty lacing her voice.
"Sis… I think I know who Lily and Mily are."
Sera turned toward her, silently urging her to continue.
"Do you remember Rose from school?" Eli asked. "She used to sit two seats in front of us."
Sera nodded.
"One day, she was reading a novel. I was standing behind her, and she handed it to me and said, 'See, Eli? This novel also has twin side characters—but they're nothing like you. They're much luckier. They're rich.'"
Sera shifted closer. "And then?"
Eli rubbed her forehead. "I might be wrong… but the story matches our situation too well. The twins lived with their grandmother, who loved them deeply. After her death, a rich family came and claimed them as their lost daughters. They were taken to the city and enrolled in an elite school."
She paused.
"That's where they met the heroine—the real protagonist—who had been found two years earlier. Everyone adored her. No one cared much about Lily and Mily. They grew jealous, and that's how the story continued… but I stopped reading after that."
Sera frowned. "That novel… you were reading it right before we transmigrated here, right?"
Eli nodded.
They looked at each other in silence, the realization settling heavily between them.
They had transmigrated into a novel.
And they weren't the main characters.
Worse, Eli barely remembered the details, and Lily and Mily were only side characters. For now, all they could do was move forward and adapt.
Sera took a deep breath, unease lingering in her chest. The image of the little girl from the dream flashed in her mind again—the silent plea for help, the man who had looked directly at them, as if he knew they were there.
And Old Lu's words echoed faintly in her thoughts.
The Dreamer… and the Seeker.
If Lily and Mily's souls had once been misaligned with their bodies, did that mean the alignment was now complete? Or was this only the beginning?
Too many questions. No answers.
Neither of them slept again. They lay there, staring at the ceiling, lost in their own thoughts.
They silently agreed not to discuss the dreams anymore—not until they understood them better.
Soon, soft morning light crept through the window.
Sleep refused to return. Instead, something else stirred.
Fragments of memories—Lily's and Mily's—began to surface. Disconnected scenes, faint emotions, flashes of familiarity. It felt as if those memories had been waiting patiently, only now finding their rightful place.
Sera finally sat up and looked at Eli, who was trying—and failing—to fall back asleep.
Sera chuckled and lightly touched her hand. "Eli, get up."
Eli opened her eyes and sighed. "Wow. Now I'm finally free to sleep as much as I want, but sleep is angry with me—like an angry wife."
Both sisters laughed, the tension easing slightly.
After a moment, Sera hesitated. "Are you getting their memories too?"
Eli nodded.
"It seems like you're in Mily's body… and I'm in Lily's."
The rain had completely stopped. When they stepped into the hall, the countryside greeted them with quiet beauty—green hills, simple houses, and clean air stretching as far as the eye could see.
It was peaceful. Almost unreal.
They made their way to the kitchen, shared the remaining bread from the previous day, and brewed black tea from the tea leaves they found. Sitting outside on the stools, they ate their simple breakfast.
For a moment, life felt calm.
But both knew the challenges ahead were far from simple.
They had no plans for lunch or dinner—and no one to rely on.