Chapter 3
“…! Oh my goodness!”
Everyone who saw her open her eyes froze in shock.
“Ceres!”
A middle-aged woman, who had been at the front of the group, hurried inside with tears brimming in her eyes. She rushed to Grace’s side and threw her arms around her.
“Ceres, you! Do you know how terrified your aunt was? What were you thinking?”
…Aunt?
Still bewildered, Grace found herself locked in the woman’s trembling embrace as her voice cracked with grief.
“No matter how hard life is, how could you possibly try to take your own life?”
…I tried to take my own life?
What kind of nonsense is this?
“Never mind. Forget it. The fact that you’re awake—that’s enough for me.”
The woman dabbed at her damp eyes and smiled brightly, patting Grace’s shoulder in relief.
Grace watched that hand for a long moment, then finally spoke in a slightly irritable tone.
“And you are?”
“…What?”
“I said, who are you?”
“O–oh my! Ceres?”
“Ceres… That’s been bothering me since earlier. Why do you—and that brat from before—keep calling me that?”
“Oh, oh my…”
“Oh my” this, “oh my” that.
As the woman clapped both hands over her mouth in shock, Grace clicked her tongue in annoyance.
What the hell is going on here…?
Would someone please explain this situation properly?
***
“Heh… Ha ha…”
A hollow laugh was all she could manage.
“So let me get this straight…”
She was dead. And then somehow, she was alive again?
“…But in the body of some girl I’ve never even seen before?”
It took her an entire day just to piece together the bare minimum of what had happened.
“What in the world…?”
No matter how much she thought about it, there was no good answer. She had died—so why was she inside another person’s body?
Though… it is a familiar face, in a way.
She hadn’t seen this girl in life. But after death, there had been one figure.
That woman she had met in the darkness.
The platinum hair, the pale violet eyes—an image that had stuck with her. Seeing that same face in the mirror had nearly made her choke.
A sweet face, and yet it sucker-punched me from behind.
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed obvious. Taking that hand—that had to be the cause.
Had she known it would lead to this disaster, she never would have taken it, no matter how pitiful those eyes had seemed!
Why revive the dead just to throw them into this mess?
Sighing, she twirled a lock of platinum hair around her fingers.
Ceres Drow.
Seventeen years old, according to what she’d overheard. A girl with enough troubles to drive her to suicide. That boy she’d met yesterday—the one who called her sister—apparently was her younger brother.
“…Seventeen, huh?”
Grace—no, Ceres—let out a half-bitter chuckle.
“I’ve… gotten younger.”
Should she be glad about this? Or should she cry?
At that moment—knock, knock.
The boy from yesterday came in, trailed by a maid carrying a tray of simple food.
“…”
The boy studied her closely, his face full of words he seemed too reluctant to say.
“Hey, kid. You’ve got something to say? Go on.”
“…Antonion.”
“Antonion?”
“That’s my name. So stop calling me ‘kid.’”
Ceres smirked as the boy’s face twisted in irritation. His stubbornness reminded her of someone long ago.
Artie was exactly like that.
Artea—one of her oldest friends, alongside Kainel. When they were young, he’d been small and delicate-looking, easy to tease like a little brother. And whenever she did, he’d flare up just like this.
Who would have guessed that little brat would someday become the youngest Tower Master in history…
Lost briefly in memory, Ceres turned her gaze to the maid, who had been eyeing her nervously since entering.
“Um, Lady Ceres? How are you feeling?”
“I don’t hurt anywhere.”
“Thank goodness.”
The maid let out a long, relieved sigh.
“While you were unconscious, Lord Antonion worried himself sick. He came by every single day to check on you—”
“Jay, don’t say useless things.”
“O–oh! My apologies.”
Startled by Antonion’s sharp rebuke, the maid bowed quickly.
“My name is Jay. If you need anything, please tell me.”
Ceres only nodded and rose from her seat.
That aside…
Step.
Creeeak—
Step.
Creeeeak—
“…Tch.”
She clicked her tongue as the grating sound stabbed her ears with every step toward the table.
Step.
Groooan—
…Was this place a decrepit inn?
Even the bed last night had been unbearable—squeaking and groaning at the slightest movement, impossible to sleep on properly. And it wasn’t just the bed. The floors, the furniture, every piece of this room looked so old it might crumble if she so much as touched it.
“So this is what they call the room of a neglected noble’s daughter?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
“I mean—look at this place.”
The mansion itself was large, and there were servants around, so it had to be a noble family. And her so-called aunt yesterday had been dressed in finery.
But then…
Ceres glanced down at her own clothes. Decent material, clean enough—but faded, fraying, and worn to threads at the hems.
Hah. They’re no better off either.
Antonion’s clothes weren’t much different. And Jay’s maid uniform—well, it spoke for itself.
“…Because this house is ruined.”
“Ruined?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Antonion pressed his lips shut and hurriedly left the room. Jay, caught under Ceres’s questioning gaze, looked awkward before excusing herself as well, promising to return once the meal was finished.
“…Hmph.”
Ceres watched them leave, then turned her eyes to the table.
A rock-hard loaf of bread, a bowl of watery stew with barely any solids.
Some meal this was, for someone who had just clawed her way back from the dead.
“…A ruined house, huh.”
It didn’t take long for Antonion’s words to prove true.
***
“What a disgustingly fine day.”
The garden was overgrown with weeds, a once-grand space now left desolate and forlorn.
Sitting in a shaded corner, Ceres gazed blankly up at the sky. The flawless blue felt almost offensive to her eyes.
“Three hundred years…”
She laughed under her breath. Hollow. Bitter.
No wonder her mind felt like it was spinning away again—she had just learned a fact that turned her entire existence upside down.
What?
Come again?
What year is it right now?
It’s 1513, milady.
…You’re joking.
Pardon?
Unbelievable…
L–Lady Ceres?
That was how the conversation had gone, when she casually asked Jay the year while the maid was cleaning.
And with that, her world crumbled all over again.
I died in 1213.
Which meant… exactly three hundred years had passed.
What the hell had she been doing for three centuries?
I did feel like I’d woken from a very long sleep…
Back in that darkness, the sensation had been real—like rising from an endless slumber. But three centuries? Who could have imagined?
“…Hah.”
Her thoughts had turned, of course, to the Elesia household—the count’s family she had once led.
She had already resolved that if she ever went near them, it would only be to watch from afar. She wasn’t going to march in and declare, I am Grace Elesia, head of the family—hand the title over!
Who would believe such madness anyway? She barely believed it herself.
But still…
Enoch. I wonder if that fool managed on his own.
She worried if her disciple had been taken advantage of.
But then she remembered.
Three hundred years…
By now, not even his bones would remain.
