I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 160 – The Memories That Remain

The path leading to Velthya’s residence felt so familiar, as if Sylvia had just walked it yesterday. The small buildings lining the road were almost unchanged, but the city’s activity was far more palpable than before. Children ran around laughing, vegetable vendors shouted their wares, and the scent of freshly baked bread floated gently through the morning air.

Sylvia walked slowly along the cobbled path, deliberately taking her time to observe every corner she passed. Her black dress fluttered lightly in the wind, drawing the attention of a few curious townspeople. Though some of their gazes felt piercing, Sylvia remained unfazed. She was used to being watched by strangers.

At the end of the road, a modest two-story house she knew well finally came into view. The small garden in front was still the same filled with wildflowers of various colors, tended yet allowed to grow naturally, just like in her memories.

Sylvia stopped in front of the large iron gate. She stared at it. There were guards there, and as she approached, one of them raised his spear to stop her.

"Who are you? This is Lady Velthya’s residence, the ruler of this city," the guard said firmly.

Sylvia wasn’t angry. It was only natural. So she introduced herself.

"My name is Sylvia Hortensia. I’m an acquaintance of Lady Velthya."

Hearing this, the guard lowered his spear and said, "Please wait a moment, I will confirm your identity with the Lady."

Sylvia nodded and waited as the guard went inside. It didn’t take long before she heard hurried footsteps, and a silver-haired woman with wolf-like ears and tail ran to hug her. Sylvia immediately recognized her Velthya, the Lycanthrope.

"Sylvia!"

Her voice rushed out like the breeze of spring mixed with surprise, joy, and longing too deep for words. Sylvia’s body flinched slightly as Velthya hugged her tightly without hesitation.

"Sylvia... you really came back to this city... I can’t believe it..." Velthya’s voice trembled.

Sylvia returned the hug lightly, though her body was still stiff as usual. "You hug me like I came back from the dead."

"You are like a zombie, you idiot..." Velthya whispered, and when she pulled back, her silver eyes were still glistening. "The last I heard, you went into a dungeon and then vanished. You have no idea how worried I was."

Sylvia simply nodded. "A lot has happened, and... I can’t explain it all in one breath."

Velthya smiled, then waved to the guard. "Open the gate. If this really is Sylvia, none of you could stop her even if all three of you turned into dragons."

The guard quickly bowed and opened the iron gate. Sylvia stepped into the yard, and as her boots crunched on the gravel, memories of her early days in this world came flooding back.

She looked at the wildflowers growing freely along the path to the front door. It was there she had once sat, shrouded in confusion after being caught in a portal. And it was Velthya who let her stay here. She also recalled the time she went on a guild mission and never returned to this house preferring an inn instead. Velthya had scolded her like a mother.

Remembering that made Sylvia smile faintly.

"This place... hasn’t changed much," Sylvia murmured.

Velthya glanced at her as they walked side by side. "You know I don’t like changing things that can still be cared for. Including this garden. I let it stay wild... because you once said you liked it that way."

Sylvia smiled softly. "Did I say that?"

They entered the house. The main room was warm and cozy, lit by sunlight from a large glass window on the west side. The scent of herbs and burning wood in the fireplace welcomed them like a second embrace. The room was filled with shelves of books, old maps, and magical artifacts. Sylvia felt as if time had rewound.

Velthya asked a servant to bring tea, and they sat on a long, soft couch in the living room.

"So, you’ve become a queen?" Velthya asked eventually, eyeing Sylvia from head to toe. "A queen of what, if I may ask? You look like a mix of nobility, executioner, and death goddess."

Sylvia exhaled quietly. "I lead... a city. Nocture. It was once just a small fortress I saved from destruction. Now... it’s a nation."

Velthya sat up straighter. "A nation? So the rumors are true... you command an undead army?"

"Yes."

"I... don’t know whether to be worried or proud."

Sylvia raised her newly served teacup. "You can be both."

Velthya chuckled softly, then leaned closer. "You know... I thought you’d never return here. This world... was cruel to you."

"Which world isn’t?" Sylvia replied. "But you’re right. I thought... I wouldn’t come back. But something drew me here again. The gods are moving, Velthya. Gods who have sat on their thrones for millennia are now taking action. And I... somehow, I’ve become the focus of their attention."

Velthya’s expression tightened. "Gods? You mean... Luminelle? Ithara? Those kinds?"

"Korthan too," Sylvia replied. "And possibly Xynareth, in the shadows. I don’t know what they’re planning, but this world will change. And I must stand in the center of it."

Velthya rubbed her temples. "I’m just a small-city ruler. I don’t have powers like yours. But if you need my help... like before, I’ll give it."

Sylvia looked at her with deep red eyes. "What I need now isn’t war, Velthya. It’s a place that still remembers... that I was once human. A place like this."

Velthya was silent for a moment. Then she stood and looked out the window.

"You know... I still kept your old clothes upstairs. The ones you bought here and left behind. I don’t know why... but I couldn’t throw them away. Maybe because part of you still lives here, among the cracks of time left unhealed."

Sylvia fell silent.

Then said quietly, "May I go upstairs?"

Velthya nodded. "Of course. Your old room was never locked."

Sylvia stood, her dress softly brushing the wooden floor. She climbed the stairs, each step stirring echoes of the past. In front of a simple wooden door, she stopped. Slowly opened it, and inside...

...everything was just as it had been.

A wooden bed with an old blanket. A small desk with notebooks she had once written in. A small window facing the garden. And in the corner, her clothes still hung neatly.

She stepped in, sat on the edge of the bed. One hand touched the pillow. Sylvia’s gaze softened, not from fatigue... but from something harder to explain. Memories. Loneliness. And the truth that even though she now ruled over death, some things in life still lingered in the heart.

Soft footsteps echoed from the stairs, and Velthya’s voice followed gently from behind the door. "Sylvia... if you need a place to stay for a few days, this house is open. I’ll prepare a guest room, or you can sleep here if you wish."

Sylvia smiled faintly, unseen by anyone.

"Thank you, Velthya," she said, almost a whisper.

The day passed peacefully. No war. No blood. Just two old friends, sitting in a small house filled with moments of the past.

But outside, the world kept turning. And Sylvia knew... another call would come by nightfall. For fate never waits.

And history... never stands still.

Night slowly descended upon the old city, cloaking rooftops in pale silver moonlight. The sky shimmered faintly, dotted with only a few stars brave enough to pierce the world’s magical haze. The magical lanterns hanging along the streets glowed gently, like tamed fireflies.

In her old room, Sylvia sat by the window. She wore a simple outfit found in the old wardrobe a loose, warm, dark blue dress. The Abyssal Regalia rested on the table. The Rapier of Night hung quietly by the chair, and her gloves and stockings were folded neatly. For the first time in a long while, Sylvia felt no need to stay guarded.

She held a cup of warm herbal tea Velthya had made earlier. It tasted sweet and slightly bitter, its scent of cinnamon and wildflower roots filling the room like a silent hug.

From downstairs, faint sounds could be heard: kitchen utensils, soft footsteps, and occasionally Velthya humming while washing dishes. Everything felt... normal. Too normal for a queen who usually lived among death’s mist, dimensional magic, and the whispers of gods.

Sylvia rested her head against the window frame. Her eyes gazed out at the now-quiet streets. A few people still passed by, but most homes were already closed and peaceful. Like a heartbeat at rest after a long day.

"Peace... feels strange," she whispered to herself. "But that doesn’t mean I hate it."

The bedroom door was gently knocked. Velthya’s voice followed from behind, soft. "I made some snacks. If you’re still hungry, come downstairs."

Sylvia answered briefly, "Later. Thank you."

The door wasn’t opened. Velthya knew when to leave Sylvia alone, and when to be by her side. And that was one of many reasons Sylvia could never forget this place.

Time passed. The moon moved slowly across the sky. The night wind blew softly, carrying the scent of leaves and dew from the small garden below.

Sylvia rose, walked slowly to a small bookshelf beside her bed. She touched one of the old notebooks its cover faded, edges slightly torn. She opened it slowly. On the first page was her own handwriting.

First month in this world. Day 3. I don’t yet know how to go back. But Velthya gave me a place to stay. At least I’m not sleeping on the ground tonight.

She closed the book again.

Her face was calm, but her eyes held an unreadable glimmer. She sat again, this time on a chair, and slowly began tying her hair. freёnovelkiss.com

Then... from afar, a sound.

Soft. Barely audible.

Like someone plucking the strings of an old instrument. Or wind brushing a wind chime in an attic window. The note was... soothing.

Sylvia realized it came from the backyard.

She opened the window wider. The air came in, cool and clean. The sound continued a simple melody, played by someone unseen.

Driven by curiosity, she went downstairs. Her steps light on the old wooden stairs. The living room was empty. Velthya was nowhere in sight. Sylvia walked to the back door and opened it slowly.

In the garden, under an old tree with low-hanging branches, Velthya sat on a wooden chair, cradling a small harp-like instrument. Her fingers danced slowly over the strings, playing a melody that seemed to come from nowhere, yet felt... familiar.

Velthya turned and smiled when she saw Sylvia.

"I’m just playing something you once sang. Do you remember?"

Sylvia sat on a nearby stone bench, shaking her head. "Maybe. But I’ve forgotten. Too many voices have drowned it out since then."

Velthya simply continued plucking the strings, saying nothing. Her music filled the night with quiet peace.

And in that foreign night, in a world drawing ever closer to divine chaos... Sylvia felt peace.

Even if only for a moment.

Even if only for this night.

But it was enough. Because even a queen of death... needs a place to sit, and breathe.

And beneath that foreign sky, two women who had once lost everything sat together.

They said no more.

Only waited for morning.

Only enjoyed the memories that remained.

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