Her Rebirth.

"Well, I do hope I do get a copy," the girl muttered to herself.

Her steps were light as she walked through the busy streets, dressed in a brown tunic dress with a small cream hat perched on her hair. She looked just like every other commoner in the street.

Well, she had to dress that way to avoid drawing attention to herself. Besides, she was going somewhere very important today.

She stopped in front of a modest building tucked between a tailor’s and a spice shop. A large wooden signboard hung above the door, swaying slightly with the breeze. A smile tugged at her lips.

The Bookstore.

She swung the door open and took a deep breath, whiffing in the fresh air of new paper. It was quiet here, and safe. It was basically a little haven hidden away from the noise of noble life.

"Miss Lia! You’re finally here," a middle-aged man called out as he walked toward her, his round glasses slightly askew and his apron dusted with paper shavings.

"Mr. Thomas!" Amelia’s eyes lit up as she moved toward him. "Are the books finally here?"

"But of course," he chuckled, his voice as warm as ever. "You think I’d let my favorite customer wait too long?"

"I was beginning to think you had forgotten me," she teased gently.

Mr. Thomas waved a hand. "Impossible. You’d camp outside my store if I did."

She laughed, soft and genuine. It had been three years since she’d first wandered into the shop, bored and restless with a noble life that stifled her.

Mr. Thomas was the bookstore owner, and he had introduced her to the world of novels, romance, hot steamy romance to be specific, that stirred her imagination and made her heart flutter. They were improper, of course, according to other noble ladies. But Amelia knew the truth: they read them too. Just never in public.

She had come to the bookstore because she was to get a new book. She had practically read all the ones she had during the past week because she was trying to bury Aldric out of her mind. Though she found herself wanting him more, often fantasizing about him treating her the same way the male leads treated the one they loved.

"I read through everything I had last week," she admitted as she moved toward the shelves. "I needed something to distract myself."

Mr. Thomas gave her a knowing smile. "The usual spot. Second row to the left. I saved a few for you."

Amelia clasped her hands together in delight. "Thank heavens. I was starting to reread The Duke and the Dressmaker for the third time."

He gave her a knowing look. "Again? That’s the fourth time this month."

"I needed the comfort," she muttered, brushing her fingers along the shelves. "Besides, it’s not my fault those fictional men set standards no real one ever meets."

Mr. Thomas laughed heartily. "Well, you’re not wrong there, Miss Lia."

She beamed and placed her attention back on the rows of books before her, her fingers grazing the spines as she hummed a soft melody. Her eyes scanned the titles until they landed on one she hadn’t read yet, A Song Beneath the Willow Tree. She’d heard about this one, the tragic romance between a captured general and a disguised noble girl.

It may have just the right amount of angst she was looking for and hopefully, some steamy scenes along with it.

Just as she reached for it, a hand shot out beside hers and plucked it from the shelf.

"Oh—!" Amelia blinked in surprise and turned to see the culprit.

A boy, no, a young man, stood there, casually flipping through the book. He had short black hair that fell slightly over his forehead and wore a newsboy’s cap tilted just enough to give him a roguish charm. His eyes, a deep gray, slid to her with amusement.

It reminded her of one person.

Keiser.

But he wasn’t Keiser; he didn’t look like him.

"Did you want this one?" he asked, holding it up between two fingers.

Amelia quickly gave a casual smile. "No, it’s alright. I hadn’t claimed it yet."

He turned the book in his hand, glancing at the summary on the back cover. "A Song Beneath the Willow Tree. Heard it’s painfully romantic. That your style?"

She tilted her head and answered in a playful tone. "Is that judgment I hear?"

He laughed, a quick, warm sound that made her chest rumble just a bit.

"Well, I did pick it too," he said, lifting the book meaningfully. "So I’m probably no different from you. Or are you judging me too?"

She couldn’t help but smile. "That depends. Are you reading it for research or for pleasure?"

He tilted his head, considering her question. "A little of both, I suppose. I like how honest they are; clumsy emotions, grand gestures, people actually saying what they feel. It’s rare."

That took her aback slightly. "Most men wouldn’t admit that."

"I’m not most men," he said with a small smirk.

"Arrogant, are we?" she said, mockingly narrowing her eyes.

"Well, I don’t think I’ll term it arrogance, just a statement of fact," he replied, handing the book over to her. "Here. I’ll let you have it. I was only going to skim it anyway."

She took it from him, their fingers brushing briefly, and she felt something spark through them. "Thanks."

"Do you prefer bad endings or happy endings?"

"Mostly happy endings," she said, hugging the book against her chest. "They’re predictable in the best way. Real life’s too... complicated."

He raised a brow. "That’s a fair point. Though I prefer something messier. Love stories with no clear end. The ones that make you wonder if they’ll actually survive each other."

Amelia laughed softly. "You sound like you’ve read too many of the angsty ones."

"I probably have," he admitted. "My sister’s obsessed with them. She got me hooked."

She smiled more genuinely at that. "What was the last book you liked?"

He paused. "The Star and the Soldier. It was quite tragic and also beautiful."

"Good choice," she nodded. "The ending ruined me."

They both lingered by the shelf, bantering about which books had the best leads, the most infuriating heroines, the plot twists that actually made sense. She found herself laughing more than she had in days. The ache in her chest , the one Aldric had caused, was quiet for a little while.

After a while, she glanced at the clock and gave a small sigh. "I should probably go," she said, tucking the book under her arm. "It was... nice talking to you."

He gave her a small smile. "Likewise."

She hesitated for a moment, then added, "I’m Lia."

He nodded. "Kai."

Her heart gave a tiny, inexplicable flutter.

"Well, Kai," she said, taking a step back, "maybe I’ll see you around."

"Maybe," he echoed, tipping his cap.

She turned and walked back to the front, the book in her hand, warmth blooming in her chest

And behind her, Kai stood by the shelf a moment longer, his eyes still lingering on her retreating figure, the corners of his mouth tilted in thought.

"Well, she is more interesting than I thought she was."