Volume 7, Chapter 63 – Suppression

The oppressive silence during breakfast was suffocating.

Everyone was here except for Claire.

The only sounds at the table were the clinking of cutlery against plates, and even those were exceedingly faint. Even the maids waiting beside the table were afraid of making any noticeable noise.

Even those who finished first dared not leave the table with their plates on their own.

The air felt so cold it seemed to have solidified.

After a long while, long enough for the food on the plates to grow cold, Friede, extremely uncomfortable with this atmosphere, finally opened her mouth, her voice stiff.

“Um… Lady Fia, where is Miss Claire?”

“Making a new vessel.”

“Oh… I see…”

Withdrawing timidly, Friede dared not say anything more. Her plate was already completely empty, so she could only awkwardly fiddle with her fork.

Silence fell once more.

Everyone knew what had happened, but no one dared to speak. Fia’s gloomy expression and slightly reddened eyes made even the usually lively Liti dare only to bury her head and fiddle with her food.

In the end, it was Anastasia who broke the impasse.

Emerging from the kitchen as usual with a smile, she had the maids bring desserts from the kitchen and place them before each person. Additionally, Anastasia herself carried a silver tray with teacups matching the number of people present.

“Why the long faces? It’s just one failure. It doesn’t mean it will always be like this. I’m still alive and well. Always looking so mournful, as if I’m already dead, isn’t fair to Miss Claire who’s working hard. Especially you, Your Highness, you should be more optimistic.”

“Ah…”

Faced with Anastasia’s chiding, Fia could only offer a weak agreement. Only towards Anastasia could she not get angry. She had confidently promised to keep Anastasia here, only to end in failure. She couldn’t lift her head.

“So, what caused the ritual to fail specifically with Miss Anastasia?”

Lianne, also unable to bear the atmosphere any longer, tried to lighten it. However, the moment the words left her mouth, she realized she shouldn’t have spoken. As someone who had been saved, discussing someone who hadn’t been saved in this situation was suspiciously like making callous remarks.

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Her voice abruptly grew softer.

“There must be a reason…”

“I don’t know.”

Her head lowered, Fia’s voice remained subdued.

“No matter what method I used, or how much power I poured in, I couldn’t merge the soul with the vessel. Last night, I experimented on others again… they all succeeded…”

The problem could only lie with Anastasia.

Perhaps she and Laplace had been too naive from the start. Anastasia wasn’t from this world; maybe her soul itself existed in a special form. If what resided in Anastasia’s body now wasn’t a soul, but an incomplete consciousness, or something else entirely, of course the ritual couldn’t succeed.

Fia couldn’t voice these thoughts. There was still Claire. She feared that speaking them might turn imagination into reality.

“It seems I’m a uniquely special existence.”

Deliberately using a light tone to ease the atmosphere, Anastasia served the steaming flower tea to each person. Fia stared at the tea blankly for a moment before finally picking up the cup and taking a small sip.

There was no bitterness at all.

But there was too much honey; the tea wasn’t brewed by Anastasia’s hand.

Anastasia must have had another maid brew it. Fia could guess the reason. Anastasia simply wanted to cheer her up. She was too easy to read. However, from entering the kitchen until now, a full quarter of an hour had passed. Considering the worried glances the maids who came out with her were casting her way, Anastasia’s condition could only be worse than before. In fact, when Anastasia accompanied her downstairs earlier, she had already noticed Anastasia was sweating profusely, clearly struggling.

It was unknown whether her physical condition had deteriorated further after a day, or if yesterday’s transfer ritual had injured her. If it was the latter, Anastasia’s body could no longer withstand a second failure.

It’s like the scythe of death whistling past my ear.

Unable to help herself, Fia offered a low word of advice.

“Anastasia, you should rest more. Just stay in bed.”

“So? How’s the tea?”

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Even hearing this, Anastasia acted as if she hadn’t heard at all, covering it with a louder, more cheerful voice.

The unaware Friede chimed in.

“It’s very sweet. Did you brew it, Miss Anastasia?”

“That’s right. This is something the other me doesn’t know how to do. Right now, you could call it my unique secret weapon.”

Anastasia hugged the tray and laughed brightly, her expression devoid of any shadow, as if the impending swap was happening to someone else.

But this only made Fia feel worse.

Without touching the tea on the table again, Fia pushed her chair back, the legs screeching sharply against the floor as she stood up.

“I’m done.”

With just this simple, lifeless sentence, Fia left the dining table.

The remaining people looked at each other. Liti wanted to chase after her, but Milu held Liti back. Only Anastasia offered everyone an apologetic, wry smile before turning and quickly following Fia.

A pace that would have been effortless before now felt like her legs were filled with lead, making even her weightless clothes a burden. Anastasia caught up to Fia—or rather, Fia had actively stopped, waiting for Anastasia in the shadows of the corridor.

“Your Highness…”

“……”

Fia’s lips moved. She wanted to say it was enough, there was no need to keep up the act. However, Anastasia’s earlier behavior had already answered her—she wouldn’t listen. Fia could only let out a long sigh, trying her best to ignore the heavy stone pressing on her chest, and ask as usual,

“What is it?”

“Are you angry?”

“No.”

“You already were when you said that…”

Anastasia gave a helpless smile. She took off her maid’s apron and stored it in her storage item, then pulled out a hand mirror, illuminating it with the light of [Illumination].

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“Look at your expression. It’s gloomy and tired. The only difference between you and a street drunkard is that you don’t make a loud fuss and don’t smell of alcohol. This doesn’t suit the Crown Princess of the Kingdom.”

Fia reluctantly glanced at the mirror. Anastasia was right. Her eyes were red, her expression dark, full of gloom and dejection, reminiscent of those unkempt, scruffy drunkards—no different from Clark when she first met him.

Talking about becoming Anastasia’s hero, but in the end, it was just self-indulgence.

How pathetic.

Fia wanted to mock the reflection in the mirror, but her pride prevented her from moving her facial muscles. In the end, she just averted her gaze.

“Sorry for getting your hopes up for nothing.”

“What are you saying? You were trying your hardest to create a body for me. And you did succeed in the end. The problem lies with me. Creating the most perfect physical body for a Fifth Tier practitioner from scratch in just a few days is a dazzling, unrepeatable achievement in anyone’s eyes. I can’t think of anyone else in the entire World Tree Continent besides you who could accomplish this.”

This is avoiding the main issue.

“If I couldn’t create a vessel for Anastasia, then it’s all meaningless, just a waste of time. Enough, I don’t want to argue about this with you—”

“Meaning is assigned by people. You think it’s meaningless, but I think it’s more than enough. Just seeing you, Your Highness, put in so much effort for someone from another world like me is already deeply satisfying. Your current despondent appearance only makes me feel guilty… If I had never come, you wouldn’t be so troubled.”

“Are you saying I’m causing you trouble, Anastasia?”

“A little bit.”

Fia looked up at Anastasia, only to see the troubled look and a hint of helplessness on her face.

Anastasia would never say something like Fia was causing her trouble. This was just her way of trying to cheer her up.

It’s really unsightly.

Making Anastasia show such a troubled and sorrowful expression.

But she found it very hard to smile again.

“Does Your Highness have any plans for today?”

Suddenly, Anastasia asked.

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Unclear what Anastasia was getting at, Fia shook her head slightly.

“No.”

She had tried everything she could. Even if she went to assist Claire, Claire didn’t need her—ultimately, swapping souls with one’s counterpart from another time and space was something that had never happened before, neither on the World Tree Continent nor in the universe of the Shining Age. There were simply no traces to follow.

It was precisely this complete lack of leads that made one feel powerless, not knowing where to start.

A look of surprise appeared on Anastasia’s gentle face, gradually turning into happiness. She put away the hand mirror, stepped forward, and clasped Fia’s hands with her own.

“Then may I ask Your Highness to accompany me to the Land of Exile? I’d like to clean up my old home.”

She could, but was it necessary? Couldn’t they just ask maids to clean it?

She thought such things, but Fia didn’t voice them. That wasn’t the answer Anastasia was hoping for.

She withdrew her hands from Anastasia’s grasp and managed a weak smile.

“Let me freshen up first. I haven’t bathed for several days.”

“Of course. I’ll go inform Colita and the others so they won’t worry.”

“Shouldn’t we call a few more people? Cleaning there will be troublesome, won’t it?”

“No need. You’re underestimating my abilities as Head Maid.” Folding her hands before her, Anastasia said proudly, “You just watch.”

Without waiting for Fia to explain, Anastasia quickly walked away with pattering steps. That figure walking out into the sunlight showed no trace of weakness.

Anastasia is trying hard too.

My emotions affect those around me. Even Anastasia is trying so hard, so I shouldn’t be so downcast…

Standing in the shadows of the corridor, Fia rubbed her face and took a deep breath.

Take a good bath, then use teleportation magic to go to the Land of Exile. I wonder what Anastasia really wants to do.