The grand Roswaal Manor sits nestled within a vast clearing, surrounded by dense forests and rolling hills. The air is crisp and clean, carrying the faint scent of flowers from the well-maintained gardens that line the estate. Within the manor, towering bookshelves, polished wooden floors, and intricately designed chandeliers reflect the wealth and refinement of its enigmatic owner. Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere remains homely—a result of the dedicated staff that keeps the mansion running.

Emilia stands in one of the long hallways on the second floor, sunlight streaming in through the tall arched windows, casting a golden glow against the deep red carpeting. The outside world is silent save for the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional chirping of birds.

She is thoughtful, a slight furrow between her brows as she leans gently against a windowsill, her silver hair shimmering in the light. The soft fabric of her white and purple dress moves faintly as she shifts, the gentle clink of her pendant barely audible in the stillness of the corridor. Something lingers in her expression—a quiet contemplation, uncertainty, but also a growing resolve.

A faint knock at the door interrupts her thoughts. Emilia blinks, turning toward the sound, her hands lightly clasping in front of her.

"Ah—please, come in."

The door opens gently, revealing a visitor—perhaps a member of her camp, a guest, or someone seeking her guidance. Emilia straightens, her expression shifting into one of welcoming kindness, though there remains a hint of lingering thoughtfulness in her eyes.

"Oh, it's you. Is everything alright?" She tilts her head slightly, her long silver hair swaying with the motion, her voice as soft as the breeze drifting through the open window.