𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠
On a clear sky, on my 25th birthday, my head was severed in front of a crowd.
My innocent younger brother, Florenci, was murdered before me, and my execution occurred amidst my wailing.
More than the abusive shouts of the executioner and the people’s scorn towards me, it was the desperate voice of Galatona — my faithful spider fairy, Ga-chan — that stayed with me.
ㅤ
[Nya! NyaNyaNya!!]
ㅤ
I’m sorry, Ga-chan. I promised we’d always be together, but…
The heavy curtains of the stage called life were forcibly lowered by someone else.
My body was sinking into the bottomless swamp of death.
ㅤ
🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸🔸
ㅤ
[NyaNyaNyaNyaNyaNya!!]
ㅤ
Ga-chan’s screams reverberate in my ear.
Although she is a very docile child, I don’t think I’ve ever heard her cry like this before.
As I ponder this, I startle.
I was supposed to have been executed a moment ago.
It was said that criminals who die fall into the underworld and suffer forever in magma, but. . . . . .
ㅤ
“Ga-chan, why are you here?!”
[Nya!!]
ㅤ
Ga-chan, as white as meringue and fluffy like cotton, dives onto my face.
She nuzzles against my cheek, seemingly delighted.
Could it be that Ga-chan followed me all the way to the underworld?
ㅤ
“Ga-chan, you can’t be here! Go back to where you were immediately—―”
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The moment I tried to sit up and persuade her, I felt something odd.
I am lying on a bed with clean sheets spread over it.
It’s hard to believe this is the underworld, amidst magma.
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“Where is this. . . . . .?!”
ㅤ
I recognize this place; it’s my home that I haven’t set foot in for five years.
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“What on earth is going on?”
ㅤ
The moment I touch my cheek, I realize.
My skin, which should have been ravaged from overusing magic, was smooth.
ㅤ
“Huh?!”
ㅤ
The nails that were peeled off during interrogation are in perfect condition, and I can’t find my rough, familiar hands anywhere.
ㅤ
“Ga-chan, what happened to me?!”
[Nya]
ㅤ
Ga-chan returns to me with a hand mirror. Does she want me to check my condition in the mirror?
I can’t remember the last time I saw my reflection.
My complexion was pale, my eyes were sunken, and dark circles were prominent. My cheeks were thin, and my limbs were skinny.
I remember those who knew the old me saying unanimously, “You look like a different person.”
I took the offered hand mirror and anxiously peered at my face.
ㅤ
“W, What is this?!”
ㅤ
My long straw-like golden hair had regained its luster, and light had returned to my nearly blind blue eyes. My rough skin was smooth like silk, and my cracked lips were plump and had good color.
It’s hard to believe, but the man reflected in the mirror was younger.
Confused, I jumped off the bed and checked the calendar in the familiar bedroom.
ㅤ
Holy Year 1880, the second week of Mutsu-no-month, Hinotori’s day.
ㅤ
“Five years ago from the day I was executed—―?!”
ㅤ
That means I have returned to being 20 years old.
And it was two months before my father died.
ㅤ
When I opened the drawer of the dresser, I found the pocket watch with the Duke Mendoza family crest that was taken from me by my uncle.
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“Has time been turned back?!”
[Nya!]
ㅤ
Ga-chan seems to answer as if to say that’s what happened.
What on earth happened?
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“Then, Florenci?!”
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The memory of the moment when my younger brother Florenci’s head flew off—he who was executed before me—is vividly stuck in my brain.
In a hurry, I rushed out of the room and headed for Florenci’s bedroom.
The outside was still dim, it must be early morning.
I opened Florenci’s bedroom and rushed to the bed.
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“Whew… whew… whew…”
ㅤ
Florenci, younger than when he was executed, was sleeping soundly.
Before him, I fiercely pinched my own cheek.
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“Ouch!”
ㅤ
This is not a dream.
The throbbing pain in my cheek told me it was real.
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“H, How can something like this happen?”
ㅤ
While crying hard in front of sleeping Florenci, I woke him up.
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“Graciela-oneesama, what’s wrong?”
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Even though I woke him up, Florenci gently called out to me without getting angry.
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“Did you have a scary dream?”
ㅤ
Yes, everything that happened was just a terrible dream.
As I hugged Florenci, I cried until my tears dried up.
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