She remembered the ship.

Very old and very big.There will be a "creaking" sound when you step on the deck, and the sour smell mixed with the smell of old wine keeps wafting out of the cabin.

She remembered the endless ocean and the salty sea breeze, and the little marks made with her fingernails on the walls.

On the day that row of little scratches ran the length of the wall, she heard the shouts of the crew.Her shelter had no portholes, but she was called out after a few minutes.

In front of her is no longer the sea, but a bustling wharf.The crew were busy doing the final inspection, and a stranger had appeared at the bow, and the captain motioned for her to go over.

"Her?" The stranger looked down at her critically.

"Thirty Galleons," the captain replied. "Here's what's left." He handed a purse to the stranger, and Tracy looked up at it, which she remembered being handed to the captain by her father.

"Okay." The stranger weighed the purse, poured out a small amount from it and handed it back to the captain, "This is extra for you."

She didn't understand what was happening, it was the stranger reaching out to grab her, she flinched, and finally burst into tears.

"Don't cry!" The captain hurriedly reprimanded, and then lowered his voice to warn, "Have you forgotten what your father told you?"

The crying stopped abruptly, and she looked at the captain in panic with tears in her eyes, her father's request before leaving: "Be obedient."

"Good girl." The captain smiled and pushed her towards the stranger, "Go."

The stranger wore a rich floor-length gown, deep red, embroidered with dark patterns.He stared at her coldly, like staring at a puppy who doesn't know what to do.

She sensed his unkind gaze, and dared not make a sound again.

"What's your name?" In that luxurious manor that she didn't dare to look at, in that round study room covered with astrological carpets, the person who looked like her father asked.

"Tracey," she replied timidly.

"Forget it." The owner of this manor ordered, "Your name will be 'Advanla' from now on—remember it."

Edwin La Davis.

She chewed the new name quietly, as if calling someone else.

No one asked her opinion, and no one cared about her feelings.With one command, Tracy became Edwin La from now on.Not to mention others, after many years, even she gradually forgot her original identity.

"Would you like to call Uriah and Constance, uncle?" asked the stranger standing by the window, "and let them see--her?"

"Let's talk about it tomorrow." The host waved his hand, "Take her to her room, Haydn. Also," he emphasized, "her name is Edwina, and she is the youngest daughter of me and your aunt."

"Yes." The stranger named Haydn replied respectfully, but when he turned to face her, he still had a dismissive expression.

Even though they had confirmed her new identity before she set foot on foreign lands, that didn't mean everyone would take it seriously.

Haydn led her through the long corridor with mosaic windows and up the stairs.Finally he stopped in front of the door at the end of the second floor, turned the handle and opened the door.

She opened her eyes wide, unable to imagine that this was her future bedroom.

"Be careful." Haydn had a panoramic view of her expression, he smiled sarcastically, and "reminded" almost harshly, "Don't drip your saliva on the carpet."

She blushed suddenly.

"Behind that door is the bathroom. The house-elves clean up every afternoon, and if you need something extra just ring the bell on the bedside table."

"What is a house elf?" She blurted out, and then felt ashamed under Haydn's strange eyes.He seemed to be too lazy to talk nonsense with her, so he turned and left along the same path.

That night Edwina suffered from insomnia.The smooth silk and satin sheets under her body were extremely cold, and the fire in the fireplace not far away had long been extinguished, and Edwina felt very cold. She curled up and hugged her knees, and finally couldn't help sobbing softly after a long time.

She wanted to go home, even if it was a place she couldn't go back to.

Volume [-] Edwinra: The Colorless Age

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