"Awake? Can you hear me?"

A gentle, melodious female voice reached her. She opened her eyes. Through blurry vision, she saw a woman with pale golden hair, dressed in a long gown. Her soft features and tender expression matched her soothing voice—like warm winter sunlight. The woman gazed at her with deep concern.

She didn’t seem dangerous.

"... " The girl nodded slightly.

*I can hear... but where am I? Who am I? What’s happening?*

Her mind remained foggy. She could barely think, staring blankly ahead. Instinctively, she touched her aching head—and felt thick bandages wrapped around it.

"Let me introduce myself. I’m Shirin, the village doctor, I suppose. Your carriage crashed and tumbled down the mountainside. Luckily, you were fortunate—no danger, no lasting effects."

Shirin paused, hesitating. After a moment, she asked, "Where are your parents?"

"... "

"I don’t remember. Sorry." The girl shook her head with a trace of apology.

"No need to apologize. It’s not your fault." Shirin frowned, her expression turning grave. "Amnesia?"

"Yes." The girl nodded, secretly glancing around.

She was in a simple white room—bed, walls, table, and chairs all pristine. To the right, a window framed a forest and distant emerald mountains.

"That’s troublesome. Might be a head injury. Do you recall your name?"

"No."

Shirin asked more questions, but the amnesiac girl remembered nothing. Finally, Shirin comforted her, "Don’t worry too much. It might be temporary. After resting, your memories could return. Until then, why not choose a name for yourself?"

"Luya..." The name surfaced in her mind. The girl spoke it timidly.

"Alright, Luya. Rest well. I’ll leave now. If you need anything, ring that bell." Shirin pointed to a small, delicate silver bell on the bedside table. "I’ll come help."

"Okay, I know." Luya nodded obediently and smiled at Shirin.

After Shirin left, Luya closed her eyes, intending to sleep.

But it was morning—bright sunlight filled the room. Having been unconscious for who knows how long, she felt no sleepiness.

*Should I get up?* Shirin said to rest, but her head only ached slightly. No other discomfort. *I wouldn’t be a bad patient, right?*

Curiosity overcame hesitation. Luya lifted the thin white blanket, swung her legs to the bed’s edge, and prepared to step down.

The bed was high—about sixty centimeters to the floor. Her feet couldn’t reach, but it wasn’t far. She jumped down easily, slipped on the cotton slippers beside the bed, and walked to the window.

Standing on tiptoe, she gripped the sill and looked out.

Beyond the forest and mountains, a towering ancient tree stood close by—hidden from her bed view. Its lush branches teemed with life, filled with cheerful birdsong.

*Chirp-chirp—*

Huh? An urgent sound caught her ear. Luya spotted a plump gray bird with an orange chest on a thick branch. It fluffed its wings aggressively, chirping rapidly. Before it, a long-haired girl in a light yellow jacket straddled the branch. She gripped another twig with her left hand, reaching out with her right—trying to grab a nest hidden in the leaves. Another identical bird darted around her, attacking, but she kept shooing it away.

*What’s she doing?* Luya worried. *That’s so dangerous—what if she falls?*

*Should I call an adult?* She thought of the bell.

Before she could move, the girl snatched the circling bird and stuffed it into her jacket pocket.

The remaining bird lunged at her.

"Perfect chance!" the girl yelled. She yanked her hood up to block the attack, grabbed the nest, and pulled it free.

Inside lay six or seven white eggs.

Luya’s brows furrowed instantly. *She risked her life just to steal eggs?*

*What a bad kid!*

"Stop!" Luya shouted.

"Huh?" The girl turned. Surprisingly, her face was cute—round with baby fat, almost pinchable. But a hint of mischief flickered in her eyes.

Her expression shifted to surprise and delight. "You’re awake?"

*Huh? Does she know me?* But now wasn’t the time.

"Give the eggs back to the birds!"

"Huh?" The girl looked confused. "Why? I worked hard for these..."

"That’s wrong!" Luya puffed her cheeks, fuming.

"Huh?" The girl shook her head. "What’s wrong? Don’t worry—I’ll share some with you later."

"I don’t want any! Put it back, or I’ll call an adult!"

"No!" The girl waved frantically. But she didn’t return the nest. Instead, she emptied the eggs into her pocket, released the trapped bird, and ignored the two birds chirping mournfully around her. She scrambled down the tree—nimble as a cat—slid down the trunk with a light jump, and vanished before Luya could reach the bell.

She was clearly a habitual offender.