[[Based on xPetone's 'Masked Lady AU' on Deviantart/Tumblr... Consider this the Masked Lady's origin story.

Spoilers: For Miracle Mask.

Set: AU. Set mainly during the MM flashbacks, with a roleswitch between Randall and Angela. So... these two are going to be the opposite from the game counterparts.]]

Balance

After the search ends, after the funeral, Angela's tears dry out. There's nothing she could have done, she realizes. No amount of pouting, crying or begging could have prevented him from leaving. He was too obsessed with his dreams to dwindle on her worries.

The day he set off, he gently freed himself from Angela's embrace, ruffling her hair. He was a prodigy at seventeen; no one doubted he knew what he was doing.

"Everything will be fine. Trust me, Ang!" Those were his last words, and she embraces them now.

She's fine.

Why should she feel guilty for surviving— for living?

She'll have her own adventures, without him. She'll surpass him. It serves him right for leaving her with their overprotective parents.

Eventually, she answers Randall's calls to come out and play. Her friends don't mention her brother and she's fine with that. They splash in the river, roll around the Memory Knoll and explore the woods.

When Randall frets about getting lost, she laughs, "Everything will be fine!"

After all, she's only ten.

There's a new boy in her class. He seems quiet, but not in an anxious sort of way like Randall. Mr. Collins introduces him as 'Hershel Layton' and asks him a question for good measure. Of course, Angela knows the answer, but Collins ignores her arm waving in the air.

Instead, Hershel answers in a clear yet unassuming voice. He's correct. Angela is irritated… and maybe a little impressed. She lets out a huff.

Hershel must hear her, because he turns around in his seat, meeting her gaze. His eyes widen.

Not this again. Angela's eyes narrow. She'd hoped to find a fellow archaeologist in Hershel, someone who could share her ideas, but it's obviously not meant to be. The last thing she needs is another boy pining after her—

He smiles; it isn't a lovesick expression, or a lewd smirk, but a genuine smile. He gives her a respectful nod and returns his attention to Mr. Collins.

After class, she claims him as her friend.

At seventeen, it's time for her to consider eligible marriage candidates.

Seriously. Her parents want to pair her up with one of the rich boys in town. According to them, it's all about business. (Why should her heart have a say in the matter?)

She and Randall have been dating for a few months— she got tired of his wistful glances and asked him out— but marriage had never crossed her mind.

While Randall certainly has the wealth, he's not quite perfect in her parents' eyes, or Mr. Ascot's. He's a dreamer, yet he lacks determination. Angela doesn't see the problem— Randall just lives life at his own pace. He's always there to listen to her ramblings or soothe away her complaints. He's patient, kind and sweet. What's wrong with that?

The Layton family are a tad poor for her parents' tastes, but that doesn't exclude Hershel from their consideration.

"What about your newest friend— the one you called a true gentleman...?"

"Hershel is my secretary," Angela answers plainly. His job is to organize her research, take notes and help with puzzles. "Our relationship is strictly professional."

Her mother hums. "There's that adorable boy… Alphonse Dalston! You two were so close when you were younger."

Angela snorts. 'Adorable' and Dalston should not exist in the same sentence. Misunderstood, maybe, but not adorable. Dalston would agree.

"We're just friends— well, friendly rivals," she explains. "We have a bet to see if he can his raise hotel empire before I find my treasure—"

"Oh, Angela. Not this again..."

They've already lost her brother, so she could at least tolerate it if they were simply worried about her like Randall. But it's the way they so easily dismiss her ambitions that makes her angry.

Angry and determined.

That night, she discovers the secret of the mask, and knows she is destined to reach the treasure. She'll buy her way out of her parents' hands, out of this town, and she'll head straight to Gressenheller.

…With some assistance from Hershel. He promises Randall he'll protect her, even if she doesn't need it.

Despite Hershel's reassurances, Randall makes one last bid for her to stay.

"A-Angela, will you marry me?"

Angela blinks at the black box in his clammy hand. At first, she thinks it contains a ring. But no—she scolds herself for the mistake– it's a golden Azran coin.

"Where did you get this?" she breathes.

"I found it buried on the edge of the dessert..."

"You travelled all that way just to find me a gift?"

"H-Henry helped—"

Angela throws her arms around his neck and kisses him fully on the lips, ignoring the the awkward coughs from Hershel and Henry.

"When I come back," she says, breaking away from the kiss, "we'll throw the engagement party of the century."

She loses her balance.

"Promise me you'll look out for Randall!" she cries.

"Just drop the mask!" is Hershel's strained reply.

"I can't—!" To do so would mean admitting she's a failure, and saying goodbye to her freedom. It's not fair.

When her parents find out what she's done, they'll never let her leave the house again. She's too dainty, too ditzy, too dull. Her only future will be to wait until she's married off to the highest bidder, which surely won't be Randall after he allowed her to go on this expedition.

Fuck her parents.

"Thank you, Hershel…"

She releases his hand.

Maybe she'll meet her brother down there.

For the next eighteen years, she goes by the name of Sharon; a simple farmer in a simple farming town. For the first time in her life, she isn't obscured by someone else's shadow. Firth is a kind man, but he never smothers her with his care. He gives her space when she needs it.

Her biggest concerns are tending to the animals and bringing the crops in on time. Most of the townsfolk are older and show no romantic interest towards her. There is one occasion when a hiker passing through town pops her the question, but she turns him down and he continues on his way.

She's free.

Then, the letter arrives, addressed to one 'Angela Redoll'. Everything comes flooding back with her tears.

For the first time, she wishes one of her friends had come to save her.

Where are they now? Hershel is an archaeology professor at the same university where he studied. Angela knew he always had it in him— he just had to apply himself to archaeology. She doesn't blame him for disappearing.

But Randall... Randall has been living it up with Henry in a dessert city, funded by the gold from Akbadain and her family's inheritance, double what he would have gained if Angela had married him. Her 'death' was for nothing.

Her tears evaporate in the heat of her fury.

The letter writer offers to take revenge on Randall and Henry for her. All she needs to do is reveal where the Mask of Chaos is.

I don't need your help, Angela writes back. I'll do it myself.