Volume 7, Chapter 62 – Shattered Dream

A shattered dream.

A chaotic, disordered dream of only three colors: black, white, and gray.

The narrative was incoherent; even a little thought would reveal illogical parts, but the person in the dream couldn’t realize it, merely being swayed by emotions—fear, joy, or other negative or positive feelings. Dreams are such absurd things.

But she knew. This was a dream.

The entity named Anastasia watched the armies deployed on the plain with an expressionless face. Then, from a god’s-eye view, she expressionlessly watched the entire scene unfold. The Anastasia on the plain was thrown into chaos over the death of the black-haired, red-eyed elf, even unsure what to do next.

In the past, such scenes would have stirred her emotions. But now, having moved on from the past, the guilt and self-blame for failing to protect Dofi still existed, but were no longer as intense as they had been during those fourteen years, potent enough to make her legs go weak upon recollection. Even if one called it favoritism for the new, that was the reality. People always favor the new and neglect the old, adapting quickly to new environments. Once accustomed to current life, even earth-shattering upheavals from the past become distant memories, making one shake their head and sigh, “I was like that back then? There were clearly better options.”

Yes, she had already arrived in this brand-new world, becoming a new Anastasia, different from the one in this world. It was time to let go of the past and embrace a new life.

Watching her past self from afar, holding Dofi and crying out, Anastasia repeatedly recited these thoughts in her heart.

It was no different from self-hypnosis.

She wanted to move on from the past but couldn’t. She always faintly felt that everything was just a beautiful dream. When the time came, her soul would return to its original world, ending naturally, leaving only a heart unable to calm down long after waking—a punishment for failing to protect Dofi.

As if her past, always-effective dreamscape felt defeated, the surrounding space shattered like smashed glass, crackling sounds incessant. Then, the vast plain vanished, replaced by the Twilight Flower kitchen. Anastasia was very familiar with this place; it was here she prepared meals for Fia, the Crown Princess.

And now, before her lay the familiar silver tray and teapot. Dried forget-me-nots tumbled up and down inside the pot.

Making tea…

Anastasia’s hand, reaching for the teapot, paused, then withdrew.

She felt fear.

She wasn’t unaware that the tea she brewed was getting increasingly bitter; she just pretended not to know. Even understanding the tea tasted wrong, she could only serve it. It wasn’t just tea-making; the same happened when brushing hair or dressing. She would unknowingly lose focus, and upon regaining awareness, a large chunk of time had passed, the memory in between seemingly carved out, a blank.

More evident was her increasingly frail body. Now, even walking has become strenuous. She could only try her best to conceal the changes in herself to avoid burdening those around her. Fia’s efforts for her were plain to see. If the already taut string were pulled any tighter, what would happen didn’t need to be said.

Thus, making tea became a fearful act, a daily reminder that her body was deteriorating. And she could only watch from a third-person perspective, powerless, as her body declined bit by bit.

She stared at the teapot before her, sweat forming on her palms.

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How long has this tea been steeping? How long was I lost in thought? A minute? Three? Ten? There’s no way to know.

Taking the tray over had become a test in itself.

No. If I don’t take it, everyone will ask what’s wrong. That would only be worse.

Anastasia forcibly suppressed her slightly trembling heart. She picked up the tray and walked towards the dining hall. But the moment she took a step forward, the surrounding walls and stone pillars rapidly receded. Even the tray and teapot in her hands vanished. She found herself in a quiet garden with a fountain and a stone pavilion.

This was the garden in the rear courtyard of the Twilight Palace. Though it didn’t have as many plants as the greenhouse Yelido prepared for Veronica, it excelled in tranquility, allowing moonlight to illuminate the fountain and flowers unobstructed.

The sky was filled with stars; even the shadows on the moon were clearly visible.

Anastasia felt no confusion about the change in scenery. She accepted this drastic shift naturally. Her previously tense heart had already calmed under the moonlight.

The moonlight was like this last night too.

Anastasia couldn’t help but recall sitting with Fia under the stone pillar last night, sharing dinner, then thinking of Fia’s confession-like words. A warm current ran through her calm chest, filling even her stiff limbs with vitality. She found she could control her body; it seemed she could walk back to the Twilight Palace right now.

Back then, I didn’t have the right to respond to Dofi’s feelings. But now, I should, right?

Anastasia looked down at the lavender dress representing her identity, a color different from the Anastasia of this world. Whenever she saw this dress, she would realize she was not a replacement.

Ahh, I should go find Dofi immediately, then invite her to this courtyard bathed in silver moonlight. No need for flowery words; even just walking side by side would be enough to make one happy.

As this thought formed, a crisp, lively voice like a silver bell sounded behind Anastasia.

“Anastasia? Why are you here alone?”

“Your Highness, I… I don’t know why I’m here either…”

Hearing Fia’s voice, Anastasia quickly turned around. Subconsciously lowering her gaze like a servant, she soon felt a slightly cool, boneless touch on her arm. Fia clung to one of Anastasia’s arms, linking arms with her like a lady attending a banquet.

Anastasia’s eyes widened, only to meet Fia’s puzzled gaze, as if she were the abnormal one.

“Why do you look so surprised? After I said those things, and now that Anastasia has her own body, isn’t it normal for me to link arms with you while walking?”

“But I’m just a maid.”

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“Saying that again,” Fia pouted unhappily. “Does Anastasia not want to accept my confession?”

“No…”

Anastasia’s voice trailed off, but her gaze didn’t leave Fia’s face. Illuminated by moonlight, even with her brows furrowed in displeasure, Fia’s angle remained so adorable it was hard to look away. Those ruby-like eyes reflected her own image—a dumbstruck expression.

From the very beginning, I was Dofi’s captive.

Anastasia couldn’t help but give a bitter smile.

“But wouldn’t that cause trouble for you? I don’t have Miss Claire’s strength to convince nobles. Just knowing I have a place in your heart is happiness enough for me.”

“No. If I say no, it’s no.”

Letting out a dissatisfied hum, Fia continued forward, still linking arms with Anastasia.

After losing her memory, Her Highness occasionally has this childish willfulness.

Yet this willfulness fills the heart with warmth.

Even though we’re bickering, it’s so peaceful it makes one involuntarily curve their lips.

This was the life she yearned for—no war, refugees, hunger, or lamentation. Everything was so peaceful it felt as if such times would last forever.

Anastasia was led forward by Fia, taking a step.

Then, the solid floor beneath her crumbled with a roar. It felt like missing a step on stairs, or falling off a cliff. An intense sense of weightlessness enveloped Anastasia’s entire being. She hurriedly reached upward, trying to grab something, but only saw the cave entrance above growing farther and smaller. The world bathed in silver moonlight was separated by a cavern, while she fell deeper and deeper into the abyss.

The terror and cold sweat brought by death instantly covered her body. She thrashed her limbs wildly like a drowning person until that small, distant point of light, the cave entrance, completely disappeared.

“Gah!”

Abruptly, Anastasia opened her eyes.

The familiar scent of orchids and light pink bed curtains. The bed was so soft it felt like falling into clouds.

It’s Dofi’s room.

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Anastasia stared blankly at her right hand, which had somehow stretched towards the ceiling. This gesture, fingers splayed as if trying to grasp something, already foretold much.

“Was it… a dream…?”

Her voice was full of melancholy, but more so relief. Just moments ago, she nearly thought she would drown in that bottomless abyss. Even now, back in reality, that intense weightlessness and suffocation lingered in her mind. Struggling to sit up, her gaze involuntarily shifted to her left arm. In the moonlit courtyard, that was the arm Fia had clung to. Even though it was a dream, the residual soft touch on her arm felt so real, as if Fia had truly held it.

She couldn’t help but smile.

So dreams can project onto reality. I should have held Dofi tightly then. It was just a dream; even if I went a bit overboard, no one would know.

But waking up now meant the soul transfer ritual must have succeeded.

To live with a new identity, then wait quietly with Dofi for the Anastasia originally from this world, who was transferred over, to wake up. No, since I’m the one who came later, it’s only fair I accept a slight disadvantage. From now on, I shouldn’t be called Anastasia. Maybe think of another name? That would make it easier to distinguish, truly separate from the identity of Anastasia.

What should it be? Anasthasia? Angelina?

No. Since Dofi granted me a new life, it’s better to let Dofi name me.

Thinking such thoughts, Anastasia rolled out of bed. Although her body gave feedback of weakness, she didn’t pay it much mind, attributing it to just waking up. The room was now utterly quiet. She walked to the floor-length mirror to observe her body—clad in a soft, silky white nightgown, her fair, smooth shoulders reflecting a healthy pink under the morning sun. Her lovely face exuded youthful vitality, skin taut and unblemished, showing no trace of roughness. Her golden hair was lustrous, falling naturally and softly to her waist.

These were characteristics of a young, frequently exercised body.

Pity I didn’t open my eyes to see Her Highness right away. Otherwise, it would have been the most perfect rebirth.

Thinking idle thoughts, Anastasia’s gaze fell on the teapot placed on the table—the unused set she had taken out yesterday. Subconsciously, she walked to the teapot and began preparing tea. It was 7 AM; breakfast would be soon.

Before breakfast, let’s see if my tea-making skills have deteriorated.

What she feared yesterday now vanished without a trace, even her sense of awe gone. Anastasia was in exceptionally high spirits. She skillfully opened the pot lid to boil water, carefully portioned the dried flower petals into the pot. But just as she picked up the teapot, her hand suddenly went weak. The entire pot dropped an inch; if not for her quick reflexes, the steaming hot water inside would have splashed onto her feet.

“Huh?”

Placing the teapot aside, Anastasia stared blankly at the hand that had just held it.

This feeling of weakness… it’s as if my body hasn’t changed at all…

How could that be?

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Anastasia couldn’t help but laugh. Even Lianne and the death row inmates succeeded. How could it fail only for her? It must be that her soul had just merged with the body and hadn’t adapted yet, like how Lianne couldn’t even stand steadily upon first waking.

I should rest a bit more.

She pushed the tea set towards the cabinet and turned back towards the bed. Normally, she’d be thinking of changing into that lavender dress and starting the day’s work. But today, having just transferred her soul, resting a bit more was fine.

In her pleasant mood, even thoughts of slacking off were hard to suppress.

Until the door was pushed open from the outside by Fia.

Seeing Anastasia already awake, Fia, who entered, clearly froze. That troubled face struggled to force out a smile.

“Anastasia is awake already.”

“Mhm, I feel much lighter.”

“It must be because you slept well.”

However, Anastasia didn’t miss the faint bloodshot streaks in Fia’s eyes. Coupled with not seeing Fia sleeping beside her when she woke—Anastasia always woke earlier than Fia—Anastasia couldn’t help but tilt her head slightly.

“Your Highness didn’t sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“Why? Isn’t the transfer ritual over?”

Hearing this, Fia’s expression stiffened. Her gaze, already avoiding Anastasia’s, lowered further. She stepped into the room, leaning back against the door, her voice full of guilt.

“There was a bit of a problem with the experiment… The transfer failed.”

“Eh?”

Her bright expression instantly froze. Anastasia stood rooted to the spot, dumbfounded.