Chapter 06
A sudden laugh escaped her lips as she flung the window wide open.
The weather was still dazzlingly clear.
Yet, unlike just a short while ago, the bright day no longer filled her with pointless irritation.
Perhaps venting, even just a little, had done the trick.
“Ugh, seriously! Lady Grace, do you even realize what a rotten temper you have?”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
If her disciple had been nearby, he would no doubt have scolded her again for lashing out at the wrong things. He’d have called her ill-tempered to her face.
At the thought, a faint smile tugged at Ceres’s lips.
Her gaze then fell upon a small flowerpot sitting on the edge of the windowsill. She picked it up carefully.
Inside was something shriveled and lifeless, so dry it was impossible to tell what kind of plant it had once been.
With a soft exhale, the withered thing in the pot began to change in her hands.
What had been brittle and dead stirred back to life, sending forth green shoots that soon unfurled lush leaves, and at last a delicate violet blossom bloomed.
“Elangse flower, was it?”
Recognizing the plant, Ceres did not stop there.
Moments later, the violet bloom wilted even faster than it had blossomed. The fresh leaves shrank and crumbled away until nothing remained but a single tiny seed.
“A fine medicinal herb for reducing fever.”
She smiled, pleased at the seed’s healthy state—then suddenly froze, her expression hardening.
Letting out a short sigh, she dropped the seed back into the pot.
“…What am I even doing right now?”
Habits truly were frightening things.
She no longer had any need to collect such herbs.
“Honestly…”
With a click of her tongue, she covered the seed with soil once more.
The plant sprang up again, just as before, leaves unfurling and the blossom blooming bright.
“It really is strange, isn’t it?”
That even though her body had changed, her powers remained.
The power to turn back time.
Whether it was an object or a living being, anything she touched could be rewound into its past—or pushed forward into its future.
It was this mysterious ability that had once allowed her to save so many lives, earning her the title of Saint.
All she had to do was return a patient’s afflicted body part to the time before it had fallen ill, and the ailment would vanish.
“Of course, there were exceptions.”
Congenital illnesses, those present from birth, were beyond her reach.
Nor had her healing reputation ever rested solely on this strange gift—it wasn’t something she could use freely.
“The side effects were nothing to scoff at.”
On a small flowerpot, it hardly mattered. But if she overused it, her body would pay the price.
Piercing headaches, fainting spells, sudden nosebleeds—such tolls were the norm.
“Kai used to absolutely hate it when I overdid it.”
Once, she had collapsed right in front of him. Ever since, he would glare so fiercely at anyone who came seeking her aid that patients often fled in terror.
“He practically drove them away single-handedly.”
More than once she herself had been caught in his ire and chased out.
“Well, what matters is that I still have the power now, don’t you think?”
Perhaps it had been tied to her soul. Whatever the reason, she was grateful it remained even in this new body.
“I fixed the bed right away, didn’t I?”
That first night, the creaking frame had been unbearable. Before the next evening, she had turned back its time, restoring it.
She had learned then just how much happiness could come from something as simple as a comfortable bed.
“It’s really quite useful.”
She couldn’t help but marvel again at her own gift.
Though, there had been a time when she cursed it bitterly.
“When I discovered it didn’t work on me.”
That was when she had lived as Grace Elesia.
After learning she was terminally ill, she had tried to use her power on herself.
Nothing.
No matter how many times she attempted it, all she gained were the excruciating side effects.
Her temper had flared.
Why could she save everyone else but not herself? What kind of cursed ability was this? She had raged and sworn at it for days.
“But only for a little while.”
Soon she accepted her fate, and in some ways, her heart had grown calmer.
Knock, knock.
Ceres, who had been gazing out at the scenery and reminiscing, turned at the sound.
Her maid, Jay, entered hesitantly.
“Lady Ceres.”
“What is it?”
“Um… Lady Agne is asking for you.”
“My aunt?”
“It must be because of what happened earlier. I heard Lady Agne is very angry… I-I hope it’s not because of me…”
Tears welled up in Jay’s eyes.
What slander had those three concocted this time? Surely they had twisted words, making up stories to frame her mistress.
“What happened earlier? What do you mean?”
“Eh…? Pardon?”
To Jay’s astonishment, Ceres looked genuinely blank, as though she had forgotten the entire incident.
“I’ll be going, then.”
“Wait, but—!”
Jay reached out, trying to stop her, but Ceres only waved her hand lightly and swept out of the room.
“Wh-what do I do?”
Jay stamped her feet anxiously, watching her vanish.
All she could do was sigh in helpless worry.
***
“Come in, Ceres.”
Contrary to Jay and Antonian’s fears, Agne welcomed her niece warmly, even personally pouring her a cup of tea.
“What did you need me for?”
Showing no interest in Agne’s kindness, Ceres went straight to the point the moment she sat down.
“….”
Agne’s brow twitched ever so slightly before smoothing out again.
“Perhaps those girls weren’t lying after all.”
When the maids had reported that Ceres had suddenly doused them with water, Agne had scoffed.
She had assumed they were merely shifting blame, fearful of being scolded for ruining their clothes.
Ceres? That timid child?
This was the girl who tiptoed through the gardens, afraid of stepping on even a single ant. And she had splashed her own maids, whom she found so intimidating? Impossible.
“That’s what I thought…”
Yet now, watching her niece’s composure, Agne could not deny something about her had changed.
“She used to cower before me, unable even to raise her head.”
And Agne had worked hard to ensure it was so.
When the girl, newly orphaned and lost, had clung to her, Agne had nurtured that dependence carefully.
‘Ceres, do you really think so?’
‘Y-yes?’
‘If that is your choice, then I’ll respect it.’
‘Ah… yes.’
She had played the doting aunt, while quietly undermining every decision the girl made.
‘Look at this. You insisted on it, and this is the pitiful result?’
‘Tsk, you should’ve consulted me first. What a mess.’
‘Good heavens… why would you have anyone do such a thing, Ceres? You’ve ruined it all.’
‘See? Your choices only ever bring disaster.’
It hadn’t taken long before Ceres had lost the ability to act on her own. Terrified of deciding anything, she came to regard her aunt’s word as law.
“But now…”
This unruffled girl before her—who was she?
“Surely you didn’t call me here just to have tea?”
Rather than waiting anxiously for her verdict, Ceres pressed her for an answer.
Agne’s expression flickered strangely.
“The sanatorium sent word.”
“The sanatorium?”
Ceres tilted her head, baffled by the sudden topic.
Agne sighed heavily.
“Julia has collapsed again.”
“…Julia?”
And who might that be?
“My, Ceres… do you mean to say you don’t even remember Julia?”
Of course I don’t.
Ceres gave her no answer, only a steady, searching gaze.
Agne, nodding as though she understood perfectly, explained gently:
“Julia is your younger sister.”
“…My sister?”
So she had a sister too?
