Chapter 24

Florence Love Seymour became a different person overnight.

It wasn’t just a small change. Everything about her changed—from her likes, way of speaking, body language, and personality to even her abilities.

Can someone change so much just because they lost their memory?

If everything about someone is different, can they still be the same person?

People can change their behavior, but their true nature doesn’t change. Even if memory affects personality, it doesn’t change the natural traits someone is born with. The same goes for natural talents.

But Florence could now use magic and spirit powers that she couldn’t use before.

“Daddy! Brother, Sister!”

She now smiled brightly without any shadows in her heart. Was she really the same Florence?

Her light blue eyes were full of confidence, like she truly believed she deserved to be loved. Her strong faith never shook.

But what was she believing in? She didn’t even know who she really was.

Still, she didn’t seem afraid of her missing memories. She just believed she was meant to be loved. That silly and naive belief almost looked cute.

Grace was someone who doubted things. She knew more about Florence than her father and brother. Florence would complain, cry about things being unfair, but never give up.

‘What did I do wrong? What did I do?’

Her shouting, her angry lips, and her teary eyes—Grace sometimes thought calmly when Florence wasn’t around.

She told herself that Florence had done nothing wrong.

And it was true. Florence hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just a baby born into the world. How could a baby be blamed for anything? She had no fault.

But her very existence was the problem.

Just being there was a mistake. That was her sin.

Because Florence had done nothing wrong, there was nothing to fix. You can’t erase a life that was born by killing its mother. So, the Marquis Seymour held back his hatred and raised her until now.

Blake and Grace felt the same.

When Florence was around, they felt overwhelming disgust. It was more than logic—it was a deep, sickening hatred. Seeing her felt worse than seeing a rotting corpse full of maggots.

They felt imaginary smells and horrible sensations. Just knowing they shared blood with “that thing” made them want to scratch their own skin.

But now, “that thing” felt different.

They no longer felt disgust.

So the Seymour family accepted Florence—who claimed she lost her memory—as someone new.

Once the hatred was gone, the Marquis and Blake completely fell for their “poor youngest daughter.” Grace, too, accepted her to some degree. The new Florence was lovable. She smiled sweetly, acted cute, and said kind things. She knew how to make people feel good.

She even started to show special talents, like a blooming flower.

Blake and Grace were talented mages like their father. But they couldn’t use spirit powers like their mother. Their father had always regretted that.

But the new Florence was good at both magic and spirit powers. Of course they found her special.

‘Father and Blake are actually soft-hearted.’

The two men poured love into Florence as if making up for not loving her before. Grace knew they had suffered inside, unable to understand their own hatred for her.

The Seymours were smart people.

They knew, deep down, that a baby can’t be blamed for its mother’s death. Hating her for that was just abuse and misdirected anger. They knew that.

‘If only we could truly believe that Florence killed Mother, things would be easier.’

If the Marquis truly believed that, he wouldn’t have cared about what people thought. He would’ve killed the baby himself. Because she wouldn’t have been his daughter—just his wife’s killer.

But he knew the truth. That’s why he couldn’t kill her. And even though he knew, he still couldn’t stop the hate. He suffered between logic and emotion.

Blake once opened up to Grace.

He talked about Florence’s face, which looked like their mother. Her sad eyes begging for love. Her weak, helpless body.

‘Why can’t I love her, Grace? She shares our blood.’

‘I know she didn’t really kill Mother.’

‘But when I see her… I feel like tearing her apart.’

‘Is this a curse?’

Blake truly cared about his family. He was a good and kind man.

‘She looks like Monica… That makes it worse, Grace.’

‘I feel sick.’

‘The more I hate her, the more I hate myself. What should I do about her?’

He and the Marquis were probably the ones who most wished they could love Florence freely.

Grace kept some distance. Of course, she also felt relieved that her little sister had changed. She didn’t feel guilty for hating Florence. She was just glad she no longer had to see the person she hated.

Her sister was not “that thing,” but this girl who lost her memory at nineteen.

It had to be that way.

It was that way.

For sure.

“I’m actually from another world,”

‘Florence’ said.

Linus wasn’t surprised. He had already guessed something like that, even before she said it. He didn’t know it was a different world, but he knew she wasn’t from this one.

She wasn’t an angel, demon, or spirit. She was something else.

“Why aren’t you surprised?”

“I already knew you were someone else.”

“You’re no fun. I thought you’d be shocked this time.”

“I have to know everything about you.”

‘Florence’ opened her eyes wide. Linus kissed her long eyelashes. When he pulled her into a hug, her small body leaned against him, soft and warm. He ran his hand through her hair—it was smooth and a little cool. She giggled and shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m actually not this pretty.”

“Were you ever pretty?”

“What?! You said I was pretty!”

“You are pretty. Just not as pretty as me.”

“…Wow, you’re so annoying…”

Even though she sounded mad, she didn’t deny it. She just pouted. Linus chuckled.

He hadn’t always thought she was cute or pretty.

Objectively, her face was nice. Not perfect, but very well-balanced. Big eyes, a sharp nose, and pretty lips. Many people would be attracted to her—but Linus wasn’t.

If he wanted to see the most beautiful face, he could just look in a mirror.

So he never really cared about whether others were pretty or not.

He didn’t obsess over his looks, but he knew the truth. If someone asked him if he liked his own face, he might say no—but he didn’t care about people’s appearances anyway. ‘Florence’ used to complain, saying, “You just have crazy high standards.” And Linus partly agreed.

“By now, it doesn’t really matter if you’re pretty or not. I just love you.”

“L-Linus…”

“Even if you had the body of an old woman, I’d still recognize you.”

Her round eyes filled with tears, and she pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you, Linus… for saying that.”

She had always been scared.

She believed the love she got after being reborn belonged to her, like it was meant to be. But the love from Linus still made her nervous. Because she knew love between a man and woman can depend on looks. She wanted him to love her completely, no matter what.

She wanted to hear:

“You and that old Florence are not the same.”

“But it’s the same body.”

“She didn’t shine like you.”

You’re better than Florence.