Cecilia's hurried footsteps rang out clearly as she burst through the gates of Village. The sound of her leather boots striking the ground was louder than usual—uneven, betraying how hard she was forcing herself to keep moving fast. Several villagers who had been drying their harvest or fixing their fences froze in unison when they saw the figure in her arms.
Lilya hung limply, her head resting against Cecilia's shoulder, her blond hair tangled and disheveled. Her face was unnaturally pale, and the dried blood beneath her nose was enough to make anyone who saw it hold their breath.
"What happened?"
"That's… Lilya, isn't it?"
"Why is she—"
Anxious whispers spread quickly, like sparks in dry grass. Cecilia did not stop. She did not answer a single question. Her jaw was set, her eyes fixed straight ahead as if the world around her no longer existed. She adjusted her grip slightly, making sure Lilya's head wouldn't jolt. Every step felt heavy, but she forced herself not to slow down. Her focus was singular.
To bring Lilya home.
The simple wooden house finally came into view at the end of the road. Cecilia nearly ran the last few steps, pushing the door open with her shoulder. It creaked loudly as she entered, then she shut it behind her with her foot.
Inside, the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Cecilia hurried to the bed and, with movements that were almost overly careful, laid Lilya down. She made sure her body didn't tilt, adjusted the blanket slightly, then stepped back half a pace.
Only then did her knees give way. Cecilia pulled over a nearby wooden chair and collapsed onto it. Her hands trembled as she touched the back of Lilya's hand—cold, still, unresponsive.
"Lilya…" Her voice shook. "Please… open your eyes…"
She leaned closer, watching Lilya's breathing. It was there—weak, but present. That alone kept her from completely panicking.
But as the minutes passed with no change, her last line of defense crumbled. Tears fell one by one, soaking into the sheets and Lilya's hand.
"I'm begging you…" she whispered. "Don't leave me…"
There was no answer.
Cecilia jolted to her feet, the chair scraping harshly behind her. She wiped her tears away with her sleeve, steadied her ragged breathing, and stared at Lilya with unwavering resolve.
"I'll get my parents," she said firmly, as if making a vow. "Hold on."
The door slammed shut behind her.
The door opened again with a soft creak. Cecilia's father, Harlan, entered first, placing his heavy cloth bag on the small table. His eyes immediately went to Lilya's unconscious form on the bed.
"Cecilia, tell me everything again. From the beginning. Don't leave anything out," he said sternly.
Cecilia nodded quickly, still breathing hard. "We'd finished gathering herbs on the hill and were heading home like usual. Lilya suddenly… her nose started bleeding, then she screamed and clutched her head. Like something was hitting her from the inside. I caught her right away, but she passed out immediately, Father. She's still breathing, but she's so cold."
Rasa, Cecilia's mother, entered behind her husband and went straight to the bed, placing a hand on Lilya's forehead. "Her fever isn't high, but her skin is pale, like she's lost blood. This isn't ordinary poison… or maybe it isn't poison at all."
Cecilia stood beside her mother, twisting the hem of her clothes. "I checked her protective bracelet—it's still active. No bite marks, no poisonous plants. But when she collapsed… it felt strange. Like something foreign. Like… magic?"
Harlan shook his head as he opened his bag. "We start from the basics." He took out several small bottles: deep red firebloom root powder, clear green moonleaf extract, and dried silvervein leaves.
"Rasa, prepare the mortar. We'll make a blood-calming draught. Add silvervein—it can draw out foreign energy, if there is any."
Rasa began grinding the ingredients in the stone mortar with steady rhythm. A bitter aroma quickly filled the room. "Cecilia, fetch fresh water from the back well. Cast [Purify Water] as you pour it."
Cecilia stepped outside briefly and returned with a bucket. As she poured the water into the pot, she murmured, "[Purify Water]." The water shimmered faintly, as if a subtle light cleansed it.
Harlan mixed the powders into the water and set the pot over a small stove. The flame burned low as steam rose. "This will take some time. Cecilia, sit beside her. Hold her hand—physical contact can help draw in healing energy."
Cecilia knelt by the bed, holding Lilya's cold hand. "Lilya… please wake up. I… I can't imagine if you're gone. You're… the only one who makes these days meaningful."
Rasa glanced at her husband with a faint smile. "Cecilia has always been so protective of Lilya. Ever since they were little."
Harlan stirred the potion and nodded. "Yes. They're like sisters."
The potion simmered, its color turning a faint red. After a few minutes, Harlan poured it into a small bowl. "It's ready. Rasa, lift her head gently."
Rasa propped Lilya up with an extra pillow. Cecilia blew lightly on the steam, then carefully dripped the potion onto Lilya's lips. "Drink this, Lilya… please…"
A few drops went down. Lilya's body trembled slightly. A faint flush appeared on her cheeks.
Cecilia's face brightened. "Father… look! Her cheeks—they're a bit red!"
Harlan nodded, still cautious. "Good, but we wait. If she doesn't wake by tonight… we'll try a stronger remedy."
The three of them sat in tense silence, the oil lamp burning dimly. Cecilia kept holding Lilya's hand, her whisper like a prayer. "Come back… I'm here. I'm waiting."
Lilya's consciousness awakened without sound. Only vast emptiness—dark, silent, without direction.
"Where… am I…?" she murmured.
Her body was wrapped in soft white light, warm like a thin blanket. She stepped forward hesitantly.
Letters appeared in the air.
[Soul Synchronization — 42%]
"Synchronization… of the soul?"
Warmth spread through her head. Fragments of memory began to flow.
A cramped room. The smell of instant food. The glow of a monitor. Exhaustion mixed with satisfaction after finishing a late-night raid.
"That's… not my life…" she whispered, yet it felt far too real.
Panels of light appeared, displaying scenes from another existence.
A weary man staring at a screen. On that screen, a blond girl in ornate armor—strikingly similar to herself.
Lilya's cheeks warmed. "Why… is that outfit so revealing?" she murmured, quickly looking away. "And why do I know the name of that armor… Celestial Veil?"
[Soul Synchronization — 68%]
The memories grew clearer. Max level. Complex skill combos. Endless nights in a virtual world to escape loneliness. A foolish death on a staircase.
Lilya staggered, clutching her chest.
"Not… similar…" she whispered. "This is… another past."
The panels shattered and merged into her. There was no pain—only calm understanding.
[Soul Synchronization — 100%]
The final light sank into her chest. Then everything went dark—comfortably dark, like falling asleep in a warm embrace.
"I'm not him," Lilya said softly. "That name… Hikaru… is just part of an old story."
She smiled faintly.
"But his wish… to live again, to not waste a second chance… hasn't that already come true?"
On the wooden bed, Lilya's right fingers twitched slightly. Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened.
The wooden ceiling of the home she had known since childhood. The scent of herbs filled the air. Her chest rose and fell—her breathing heavy, but real.
Night had fallen. The oil lamp glowed dimly.
Footsteps sounded—pacing, then slowing.
Lilya shifted her gaze.
Cecilia stood near the table, stirring a potion. Cecilia's parents were there as well.
Cecilia turned—and froze.
The metal spoon fell onto the table with a sharp clink.
She hurried to the bedside, nearly stumbling, then stopped short, staring at Lilya's face as if afraid her eyes might close again.
"L-Lilya…?" Her voice trembled.
Harlan let out a relieved breath. Rasa covered her mouth, tears spilling over.
Cecilia knelt, her trembling hand touching Lilya's arm—warm. Real.
"You… you're back…" Her breath caught as she smiled through tears. "Thank goodness…"
Lilya looked at Cecilia's tear-filled eyes. Warmth spread in her chest.
"Cecilia…" Her voice was hoarse but gentle as ever. "I'm sorry… for worrying you."
Cecilia shook her head quickly, tears falling onto the blanket. "Idiot. What matters is that you're okay…"
Lilya smiled faintly, about to nod. At that moment, her gaze drifted above Cecilia's head. For an instant, something appeared—transparent, neat, and familiar.
[Cecilia Veldrin – Herbalist Lv. 12]
Lilya blinked once, not in shock but in instant recognition.
Ah… this…
Hikaru's memories surfaced at once, like a status screen she had opened thousands of times in Eternal Realm Online. A passive Appraisal menu. A standard feature for high-level players that displayed basic information without activating a spell. A Sword Saint build like the character he had created possessed it by default.
So… this is an effect of those memories, she thought calmly, though her heart beat a little faster.
I can see people's levels now.
She took a slow breath, keeping her composure. No panic—just a quiet, growing curiosity mixed with faint wonder.
If that's the case… what else can I see? What else does this body remember?
Cecilia continued staring at her with tearful eyes, unaware of what had just crossed Lilya's mind.
"Lilya? Are you okay? You look… a bit pale again."
Lilya shook her head lightly, her smile widening just a little—the gentle smile of a village girl.
"I'm fine, Cecilia. Really… I'm completely fine now."
Cecilia let out a relieved sigh and wiped away the remaining tears with the back of her hand. Her hand still held Lilya's arm, as if afraid to let go.
"Then… get some rest, Lilya. You were unconscious for a long time. Your body needs to recover. I'll be here if you need anything."
Lilya nodded faintly, her eyes growing heavy again.
"Thank you, Cecilia…"
Cecilia smiled softly and carefully adjusted the blanket over Lilya's chest.
"Don't worry. Go back to sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow."
That night, in the small house of Eldwyn Village, silence settled once more—accompanied only by Lilya's steady breathing, and Cecilia remaining at her side, keeping watch in quiet vigilance.