Chapter 83: Memory Loss

Morning...

The sun rose, its light spreading warmth across the world.

Inside the room, Alicia’s eyelids twitched slightly before slowly opening.

"Good morning, Alicia. Did you sleep well?"

Jisha’s gentle voice came from the side, startling her.

"Sister Jisha?" Alicia blinked, then gave a soft smile. "Um! Good morning to you too, Sister Jisha. I slept really well!"

Jisha let out a breath of relief and gently helped her sit up.

"How’s your body? Do you feel any discomfort?" she asked.

"Discomfort?" Alicia was slightly taken aback. She looked down, checked her body, and felt nothing unusual.

Lifting her head, she shook it lightly. "I don’t feel anything strange, Sister Jisha. Did something happen? Why are you asking?"

Jisha remained silent for a moment, her brows knitting together.

That’s odd... She seems completely fine. Shouldn’t her trauma have left her panicked or scared?

She thought in confusion.

It wasn’t that she wanted Alicia to suffer, but such reactions were typical in these situations.

After all, the incident had just happened last night. She should still be in shock—or at least showing signs of fear or distress.

"Sister Jisha?" Alicia waved her small hand in front of her face. "Are you okay? Why are you quiet?"

"Ah!" Jisha snapped out of her thoughts, looking a little embarrassed. "It’s nothing, Alicia. By the way, have you had breakfast yet? Would you like me to bring you something to eat?"

Alicia pursed her lips and rubbed her small stomach. "I’m hungry, Sister Jisha. I want to eat."

"Good! It seems like your appetite has improved," Jisha said gently, patting the little girl’s head.

"Improved? Are you saying I didn’t like eating before?" Alicia asked curiously.

"It’s not that you didn’t like it," Jisha replied with a long sigh, "but you were sick, and that made you lose your appetite. Melissa used to make breakfast for you every day, but you never touched it. That’s..."

Before she could finish, Jisha’s expression froze, and her body stiffened.

She quickly shut her mouth and looked at Alicia nervously. To her surprise, the girl remained calm—the name "Melissa" didn’t seem to stir any memories.

"Melissa? Who’s that, Sister Jisha? One of the maids?"

The question made Jisha’s heart skip a beat.

"You... What did you just say? You don’t know Melissa?" She asked, her face draining of color in panic.

"No, I don’t," Alicia replied, her brows knitting in confusion.

Jisha stared at her in disbelief, eyes wide. Then a possibility struck her. "Did she lose her memory because of the trauma?"

But the more she thought about it, the less sense it made. Even with severe trauma, memory loss was rare.

If anything, traumatic memories usually grow more vivid—tormenting the person again and again.

If it wasn’t the trauma... then who took her memories?

Jisha wondered, her thoughts clouded with confusion.

Suddenly, a figure came to mind, and her breath caught.

Nolan! It must be him!

She cried silently.

After all, he was the one who had been by Alicia’s side last night.

If anyone could be responsible... it had to be Nolan.

That man...

Jisha rubbed her temples, looking helpless.

She never expected Nolan to do something like this. Yet, strangely, she also felt a sense of relief. If Alicia no longer remembered Nina and Melissa, then perhaps she would no longer be haunted by the trauma they left behind.

There was only one drawback—Melissa and Nina would never live on in Alicia’s memories again.

But... did that really matter?

Of course not.

They were traitors. They deserved to be erased from Alicia’s heart forever.

With a soft smile returning to her face, Jisha pinched Alicia’s chubby cheeks and said, "Alright, wait here. I’ll go prepare your breakfast."

"Um! Thank you, Sister Jisha!" Alicia replied with an innocent smile.

Jisha gave a small nod and stepped out of the room.

Once she was gone, Alicia turned her gaze to the window on her right, where morning sunlight streamed in and filled the room with warmth.

"Melissa, huh? That name sounds... familiar? But also... strangely familiar?"

***

Inside a spacious room, a stunningly beautiful woman lay motionless.

Her bluish-white hair flowed gracefully down her back, but her beauty was now overshadowed by a frail frame and a gaunt face. Her skin was pale, as if drained of blood.

She was Syra Balfron—the wife of Orlan and the mother of Alicia. In her prime, she was known as a graceful and highly respected woman.

It was no exaggeration to call her one of the most beautiful women in the southern region. Admirers and suitors had come from far and wide, all captivated by her charm.

But in the end, she chose Orlan, her childhood friend, as her life partner. They lived happily together, though Syra remained childless for the first six years of their marriage.

It was only after giving birth to Alicia that she fell into a coma—and since then, she had only regained consciousness on rare occasions.

From that moment on, her body began to weaken, her beauty slowly fading until she resembled nothing more than a fragile figure of skin and bones.

At this moment, Nolan and Alex stood quietly at her bedside, their expressions solemn.

Across from Alex, Orlan sat in a wheelchair, gazing down at his wife, whose condition worsened with each passing day.

"This is my wife, Prince Nolan," Orlan said in a heavy voice as he gently stroked her gaunt face. "As I mentioned, her health has been steadily declining ever since she gave birth to Alicia. It’s been six years... and I fear she could lose her life at any moment. That’s why I asked Jisha to create a magic circle that can continuously replenish her vitality—so we no longer have to rely on daily doses of vitality-boosting potions."

He pointed to the ceiling, where a green magic circle rotated slowly. From it, a faint emerald glow descended, bathing Syra’s body in light and giving her pale skin a slightly healthier hue.

Orlan’s love... It’s stronger than I thought,

Nolan murmured softly.

Maintaining a magic circle like that wasn’t cheap. It required an immense supply of magic stones and a steady flow of vitality-boosting potions—just to keep Syra’s life force from fading.

Nolan didn’t know the exact amount Orlan had spent over the past year, but he estimated it to be around forty million Sharn.

Vitality potions were costly—far beyond what any ordinary person could afford.

"Don’t worry," Nolan said, patting his right shoulder. "I’ll help you cure her, just as we planned."

At those words, the sorrow on Orlan’s face faded, replaced by a look of relief.

"Thank you, Prince Nolan..."