Chapter 1
Seventeen-year-old Eleanor Fairweather woke up to find herself transformed into a 28-year-old entertainment company executive. Surrounded by a slew of artists hoping to use her influence, she felt trapped. The only one who stood out from the rest was her personal assistant, Sophie Rivers—intimidatingly professional and utterly unyielding. "What?! Liam Thorne wants to seduce me?! How could he possibly be that type of person?!" **Before the Wedding...** Eleanor stared at the endless stack of paperwork, tears welling up in her eyes. "What am I going to do? I can't handle this!" Liam Thorne, her suave and considerate counterpart, smiled gently. "It’s alright; you're still just a kid." **After the Wedding...** Hiding under her covers, Eleanor sobbed, "But I'm still just a kid!" Liam, ever the comforting presence, replied softly, "It’s alright; you’ve already grown up." Eleanor sniffled, "I can’t believe you’re this kind of assistant!" Life had taken a surprising turn for Eleanor, and it felt like a rollercoaster spiraling out of control. She had landed in a world where her age was out of sync with her responsibilities, and her emotions felt like a constant battle—a tug-of-war between the girl she was and the woman she was expected to be. Despite the glamour of her new life at Global Media Corp, she was overwhelmed. There were press conferences, networking events, and the never-ending demands of the talent she managed. Among them was Liam Thorne, her enigmatic husband, who strode through life with a charm that could easily seduce even the most steadfast heart. “Eleanor,” he called, entering her studio, “you need to attend the gala tonight.” The way he looked at her made her feel both safe and vulnerable, a confusing mix that left her reeling. "It's important." "But I’m just a kid!" she retorted again, folding her arms defiantly, instinctively seeking shelter in her childish protest. His expression softened, a mix of amusement and pride. "You might feel like a child, but everyone around you sees a capable woman. Trust me on this." The contrast in their age was becoming a hurdle for her. At times, she admired him for his calm strength, but other days, his confidence felt suffocating. As she reluctantly prepared for the gala, Eleanor caught herself in the mirror—flawless makeup, designer gown, and a shimmering future ahead—yet she felt a troubling disconnect. She was expected to play the role of a powerful executive, when deep down inside, she still grappled with the insecurities of adolescence. “Is this really who I am now?” she whispered, her reflection casting doubt over her. "Hey," Sophie knocked softly, peering into the room, "you look incredible." Her voice carried a sincerity that cut through Eleanor's turmoil. "Thanks, but I still don’t feel ready for all this." Sophie smiled knowingly. "Eleanor, you've stepped into a realm where all critics will be silenced by your talent. They don't need to see a fairy-tale princess; they need to see a force to be reckoned with. Just remember that." With determination building inside her, she took a deep breath. Maybe it's time to embrace this new chapter, not as a burden, but as an opportunity to redefine herself. After all, every story, even an unintentional one, deserves a thrilling prologue. Tonight, she would step into that world alongside Liam—her partner, her mentor, and her secret weapon. If only she could fumble through this night without revealing how unprepared she felt. As she descended the stairs of Fairweather Manor, dressed for success but brimming with vulnerability, she caught sight of Liam. He stood there waiting, his presence radiating assurance that clashed irresistibly with her trepidation. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a warm anchor in her whirlwind. “Yeah,” she finally replied, a spark igniting her resolve. Tonight, she would embrace her identity—no matter how perplexing it seemed. With Liam at her side, perhaps being just a little less than perfect was exactly what she needed to be.
Chapter 2
Eleanor Fairweather had slipped into a deep coma during the height of autumn, and when she finally opened her eyes, winter was settling in. She had been asleep for more than a month. Outside the window, the wind howled fiercely, as if it might shatter the glass. As Eleanor blinked awake, her last memory was of throwing a punch the previous night, completely unaware of the bizarre changes her body had undergone. She assumed her father’s assistant had dealt with the aftermath of the fight, and considering Thomas Westwood was always swamped with work—combined with the arrival of her brother Julian just three years prior—she figured her father, a man with one wife and a mistress who ignored the marriage laws, had little time for Eleanor's school troubles. Stretching her neck and moving her head, she felt the stiffness of lying down for too long, but her eyes darted around, alert and searching, until she spotted someone sitting beside her bed. He had a handsome, chiseled profile, with gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. In his late twenties, clad in a suit, Eleanor figured he was likely one of Thomas Westwood's subordinates. She studied the young man intently, calculating how best to approach him. Tentatively, she opened her mouth. Her voice was hoarse, a weak, sulky pitch, as she called out to him, "Uncle, can I have some water?" He jolted upright from the heap of papers on his desk, glancing over in surprise. It was indeed a striking face, slightly taken aback by her sudden awakening. Without a word, he pressed the bedside call button. Eleanor croaked softly, "Uncle, is the guy I fought okay?" "…." Liam Thorne put down the papers to pour her a glass of water. "Eleanor, you’ve been in a coma for over a month. It’s best if you don’t talk just yet." Eleanor hardly registered the formality. She continued to gaze at Liam, admiring his tall, robust figure. She brightened, saying, "Uncle, you have such a great build. If I could grow as tall as you, that would be fantastic. You’re like six feet, right?" Liam Thorne chose to ignore her comment. He heard Eleanor continue to speak: "My dad's so busy every day. Don’t you think... my little fight is something we can just let him overlook?" "…." Liam glanced at Eleanor's face, now showing signs of maturity at twenty-eight. He thought, even if it was a brawl, it was likely a fairy fight. …… Liam stood outside the hospital room, frowning as he pondered the situation. The doctor was concerned he wasn’t grasping enough of the information, so he launched into an explanation about the functions of the hippocampus. Liam interrupted midway. "Is there a chance she'll recover her memory? She keeps saying she’s seventeen—what’s behind that?" "It's hard to say. Whether or not she regains her memories will require continued observation; it's too early for conclusions," said the doctor. Just as Liam was about to respond, the door to the hospital room swung open with a creak, and Eleanor peeked out, her tousled hair framing her face. "Uncle, I’m hungry. Can I get some takeout?" "…Sure." Liam felt utterly lost, especially when the seemingly seventeen-year-old Eleanor, despite her twenty-eight-year-old visage, referred to him as “uncle.” His assistant contemplated sending her to the restroom to take a good look in the mirror. When Liam returned with a takeout bag, he heard a commotion coming from the restroom: "What happened to my face?!" "…Eleanor, please come out and eat," he called through the door. She emerged, using a crutch like a little rabbit on a hop, her face a mix of shock and indignation, droplets of water sliding down her cheeks. Stunned, she pointed at her reflection, exclaiming, "How did I get so old?! I clearly protected my face during the fight…” Liam took in her head wrapped in bandages and after a pause said, "Eleanor, you haven’t aged; you were in an accident and have lost your memory."
Chapter 3
Eleanor Fairweather sat in confusion, as if the world had just dealt her a heavy blow, leaving her entirely disoriented, even forgetting how the accident had happened. Liam Thorne's gaze was fixed on her, concerned that she might faint right in front of him. Fortunately, the growl of hunger from her stomach jolted Eleanor's sluggish mind awake. With a moment's hesitation, she tossed her crutch aside and plopped onto the couch, tearing open her takeout box. “I haven’t lost my memory; I've time-traveled. I must have!” she exclaimed, taking a mouthful of rice before suddenly looking up. “Uncle, where’s my dad?” “Thomas Westwood has been on a business trip in Africa. He should be back this week,” Liam replied. “Oh.” Eleanor sighed softly, pouting slightly. Then she inquired, “What about my mom? Not my aunt, but my real mom. I’ve been out cold for so long, and she hasn’t come to see me?” “…” Liam stood silent, caught off guard by the brightness in her innocent eyes. He pressed his lips together, unsure of what to say. Eleanor didn’t press further; she resumed her meal with a slightly pouted expression as the realization dawned on her that no family had visited her during her month-long coma. A sense of grievance welled up inside her, but after spending years feeling neglected, the hurt had gradually become a familiar ache. Liam watched her with an urge to comfort her, but after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed a few tissues from the nearby box and handed them to her. Eleanor took them gratefully, blowing her nose vigorously. Surprisingly, she looked young for her age, with soft, light brown curls framing her face. Her skin was smooth and taut, her delicate features almost giving her the appearance of being younger than the average high school student. She looked as if she could still pass for a college freshman. Watching the girl clad in her plain hospital gown, alone and eating her takeout, Liam felt a surge of compassion wash over him. “Uncle…” Eleanor called out again. Each time she uttered that word, Liam felt a pang in his chest, especially remembering the glamorous young woman she'd once been. “...Please don’t call me that,” he responded. “Then what should I call you? Big Brother? Liam, Big Brother?” Eleanor said, stuffing her mouth full again and speaking with a nasally tone, “It's fine. You also don’t need to call me Eleanor Fairweather anymore; just call me Feilan.” A year younger than her, Liam was unsure how to respond. Suddenly, Eleanor seemed overwhelmed, setting down her chopsticks, blinking rapidly, her lips trembling as tears pricked her eyes. “How did I suddenly turn twenty-eight…” The sorrow of youth washed over her like a tidal wave, and she fought hard not to cry. Liam lived a solitary life, adept at helping himself but struggling to console others. After a moment’s thought, he offered more tissue as he finally mustered, “Well, on the bright side… at least you won’t have to worry about getting into fights anymore…” Eleanor glanced up at him, silent as she wiped her eyes. After a moment passed, and the urge to cry faded, she grabbed her meal and began eating again. “Liam, Big Brother, are you my dad’s assistant?” Liam watched her eat and shook his head. “No, I’m your assistant; I’ve only been by your side for six months.” Eleanor nodded, whether in accepting her current reality or finding a fleeting sense of peace. “So, I’m your boss.” “Yeah, you’re the general manager of Global Media Corp.” “The chairman is my dad, right?” Eleanor’s face lit up with self-deprecating humor. Liam stayed silent, not sure what to say, feeling that the seventeen-year-old Eleanor was different from the one he had gotten to know over the last half year. After finishing her meal, Eleanor wiped her mouth and settled back into her hospital bed. Liam noted her demeanor; she didn’t seem particularly happy, but he was also someone who dealt with his own angst privately, having lost touch with the innocent emotions of youth. Eleanor's earlier persona as a flamboyant socialite was too deeply ingrained to be dismissed simply because she had lost her memory overnight, and Liam hesitated to poke at her wounds. After lying in bed for a while, Eleanor couldn’t sleep; her feelings of sorrow and drowsiness ebbed away. She looked at Liam, whose focus was still on her. A wave of restlessness sparked within her as she wiggled her toes outside the bed. When Liam didn’t react, she called out sweetly, “Liam, Big Brother, are you working?” “Mhm,” Liam nodded, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses as he glanced over. Seeing that she had his attention was like catching a live fish; she quickly seized the moment. “Liam, Big Brother, are you nearsighted?” Liam shook his head. “Nope, not at all.” “Then why wear glasses? Take them off so I can see!” Eleanor leaned over the edge of the bed, resting her chin on one arm, while her other hand reached for his spectacles. Watching her display what seemed like childlike energy, Liam couldn’t fathom how she’d grown into the woman she once was. Being a caring individual, he removed his glasses. Eleanor’s reaction was one of awe; her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as she clasped her cheeks, squealing, “Liam, Big Brother, you’re so handsome!” Liam ignored her. He put his glasses back on and returned to reviewing papers. Bored, Eleanor let out a soft sigh and rolled over. The noise piqued Liam's interest, and he suggested, “Want to watch some TV? Or maybe play a game?” He pulled out his tablet from his briefcase and handed it to her. Eleanor took it and gasped, “They have such advanced gadgets now?” Remembering her seventeen-year-old self when everyone still used basic flip phones, getting her hands on a touchscreen tablet immediately electrified her thoughts. She beamed, “I guess time traveling has its perks!” Seeing her thrilled demeanor, Liam couldn’t help but smile slightly. He moved in a bit closer, explaining how to download games from the app store and how to play smaller games. For the seventeen-year-old girl, using tech was second nature; before long, she was completely immersed in the screen, completely ignoring Liam’s presence.
Chapter 4
The hospital room felt oddly still, with two figures occupying the space: one was seated in a chair beside the bed, and the other lay beneath the crisp white sheets, lost in an afternoon that slipped by unnoticed. As the day darkened outside, Liam Thorne shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a long breath. He turned his head and noticed Eleanor Fairweather, completely absorbed in her game, her fingers tapping away at the tablet screen. Glancing at his watch, Liam realized it was already 7 PM. He set down the documents he'd been reviewing, slid them back into his briefcase, and broke the silence. “Eleanor, it’s getting late. We should go grab something to eat.” Eleanor shook her head, her hair bouncing softly. Still focused on the screen, she replied without looking up, “Let’s just order takeout. I’ll eat anything, really.” Liam studied him for a moment, hesitating. After a second’s thought, he urged gently, “You’ve been cooped up in this bed for over a month. It’d be good for you to get out a bit.” He regretted offering her the tablet; he hadn’t anticipated how captivating it would be for someone with amnesia. With a final tap of the screen, Eleanor leaned back against the pillows, resting her head and smiling. “This is seriously fun.” “Let’s go eat,” Liam repeated, a hint of insistence in his voice. Finally, her expression cleared, and with an enthusiastic “Okay!” she hopped out of bed, glancing around for her clothes. Liam handed her a thick jacket, saying, “How about we just eat at the cafeteria downstairs?” Eleanor’s emotional landscape was a little chaotic, but in terms of mealtime preferences, she was quite easygoing. She slipped into her black puffer coat and changed into shoes for outdoors, leaning on the cane as she followed Liam out the door. Growing up under the shadow of Thomas Westwood—his father absent and his mother indifferent—Eleanor was loosely tied to the Fairweather legacy, but she had always been self-aware, not aiming for grandeur. Her life had been about enjoying the small pleasures and living comfortably. The underlings around her appreciated her soft demeanor and penchant for charm, leading to a sort of affectionate camaraderie. As they strolled to the hospital cafeteria, the energetic buzz of the dinner crowd washed over them. Eleanor chuckled, “It’s so lively in here!” Liam found them a clean table and asked her to sit while he joined the queue for food. Wrapped in her oversized coat, Eleanor nodded dutifully and gazed around, her eyes wandering over the constant flow of hospital patrons. When Liam returned, steaming tray in hand, he noticed Eleanor was fixated on a small, brown curly-haired Poodle at the entrance. The dog was affectionately nudging its owner's leg. Liam couldn't help but think the Poodle bore a slight resemblance to Eleanor with its soft demeanor and innocent curiosity. As Eleanor caught sight of Liam, she turned her face away, a shy smile creeping onto her lips. He wasn’t one to pry; after all, Eleanor was only his boss, and her chaotic personal life held no relevance for him. For months, he had adopted a stoic presence, going through the motions of work without delving into personal matters. He handed her the sanitized utensils and asked, “Is there anything else you want?” Eleanor scanned her meal, chuckling lightly, “Nope! This looks perfect.” Seated at a communal table in the hospital cafeteria, the contrast between Liam's formal suit and Eleanor's bulky puffer coat was stark. She lifted her spoon, then hesitated, glancing at Liam. “So, did you tell my dad about my amnesia?” “Not yet. Just that you’ve woken up,” Liam replied, realizing he had overlooked this aspect. He pulled out his phone, adding, “I’ll let him know right now.” Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t have to. I just meant—if he doesn’t know, it’s probably better that way. I mean, if you call now, it’s likely just his secretary answering.”
Chapter 5
He seemed to adapt quickly to this new life, reassuring Liam Thorne, “He’s not a doctor; knowing or not knowing won’t matter. At most, they’ll just get some more money into the hospital’s account, which is pointless. They still want to drag me back to Fairweather Manor, and I really don’t want to go back there.” Liam Thorne had initially worked at the headquarters of Fairweather Enterprises. Seeing his potential, Thomas Westwood appointed him as an assistant to Eleanor Fairweather, hoping this unreliable Eleanor might gain some wisdom from the experience. Although he came from the headquarters, Liam was reluctant to play the role of a puppet. Since Eleanor was now the boss, he knew he had to follow her lead. He nodded, “Alright.” Eleanor Fairweather was enjoying her meal while chatting away, occasionally asking, “Liam, how old are you?” and then, “Do you have a girlfriend?” It was as if she were an exuberant auntie. The Eleanor before her memory loss wasn’t this enthusiastic. She was usually too lazy to engage, spending her time in the office doing three things: drinking water, going to the restroom, and flirting with handsome and beautiful coworkers. Unless it was a life-or-death situation, she generally didn’t care much. As an atheist, Liam didn’t answer her question but instead fixed his gaze on Eleanor, pondering the possibility of her being possessed by this energetic new persona. Finally, he said, “Twenty-seven, single.” Eleanor giggled and grew curious about Liam’s college life. Watching her mouth flap open and closed, Liam couldn’t shake the feeling that she might suffocate if she stopped talking. To avoid her from diving into high school tales, Liam decided to steer the conversation elsewhere, asking, “Do you like puppies?” Eleanor paused, perhaps inspired by the poodle she had just seen, and replied, “Not really, I just think their little butts wiggling is pretty funny.” Seeing Liam’s expression change from pale to alarmed, Eleanor realized her words were a bit inappropriate for someone she saw as an elder, so she hurriedly added, “I do like them! It’s just my aunt is allergic to dog hair, so we can’t have one at home.” She immediately caught herself treating Liam like he was older, though they were clearly peers. After a few circles of thought, she decided to drop it. Liam couldn’t be bothered to dwell on her habits, thinking that even years down the line, Eleanor would still remain unchanged. After dinner, they walked back to the hospital room. Once Liam dropped her off, he turned to leave. Eleanor, feeling a bit sad about him going, leaned against the doorframe and asked, “Liam, are you leaving?” Liam nodded, and she continued, “Will you come back tomorrow?” “I’ll be here for a while, until you’re discharged.” Watching her demeanor that was almost pitiful, he thought for a moment and decided to leave his tablet behind, saying, “If you can’t sleep, play with this for a bit. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.” Eleanor happily took the tablet and blew him a kiss, her mood instantly lifting. Liam couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how delighted she looked just moments ago. He walked all the way to the elevator with a smile still hanging on his lips. Eleanor went back to her room, playing “Onmyoji” for over three hours. She was just about to level up her character to 30, having pulled what seemed like an SR spirit card, when the screen suddenly went black… In the dead of night, Eleanor, with nowhere to release her pent-up frustration, knelt on her bed, clutching the tablet and crying. Her fingers jabbed at the screen for an eternity; her joints felt almost arthritic, yet the screen remained unresponsive. When Liam arrived at Mercy Hospital the next morning, he found Eleanor sleeping soundly, oblivious to the world around her. Her legs were tucked under the blanket in a way that seemed cold, but she still clutched the tablet tightly. Seeing her like that made Liam involuntarily smile. He reached out to tug at the tablet, wanting her to lie down comfortably, but as soon as he nudged it, she woke up.
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