Volume 6 Chapter 21 Cianie Hartmann ②
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Starly crept closer, silent as breath.
Without a sound, she became the very air—drifting forward, step by careful step.
She descended the stairs, passed through the living room, and approached the bedroom door, where she felt it—a subtle, steady presence.
He’s asleep, she thought.
She turned the doorknob. Inside, he lay still, his breathing soft and even in slumber.
Curled beside him was a Beastkin girl, feline ears twitching—perhaps stirred by instinct, sensing an intrusion.
It’s fine, Starly reassured herself. Let the day cradle her. Let sleep protect her.
”…Klock,” she whispered, brushing her fingers over his.
His warmth pulsed through her palms. She felt the beat of his heart.
No. That’s not the goal, she reminded herself.
She drew a deep breath and fixed her gaze upon him.
Skill Activated: Divine Disassembly.
A name with no real meaning.
A friend had once called it that—as if to sanctify the monster-like technique with divinity.
It was elegant, yes, but hollow. The name never matched the essence.
But that was the nature of “skills.”
Connection—Complete.
Analyzing strain on human body—Minor. Within negligible threshold.
Accessing memory domain.
Access granted. Connecting memory data. Dream world stabilization complete.
Domain secured. Initialization of divine expansion—
Clear. Clear. Clear.
Domain expansion—complete.
She exhaled slowly, fully.
Last night, she’d been too late.
If it could be done tonight—if there was still time—then she would not falter.
Closing her eyes, she descended—deep, deeper—into the oceanic dark of consciousness.
”I must understand you. Teach me, Klock. Everything about you.”
* * *
”What’s that? I don’t really get it, but if it makes Cianie feel better, I don’t mind,” he said, tilting his head. “By the way, can Cianie use magic?”
The exact words. Just as they’d been at the end of last night.
Cianie exhaled, relieved. It worked.
This was the past, reconnected and rewritten by the two of them—a recreated memory.
Unlike the one-way current of reality, this allowed for rewinding. A second chance. A strategic do-over.
”Well, actually, recently I’ve learned—” she began, but—
”Ah, sorry. I have to go soon,” he interrupted, already moving to stand. “It’s getting late. I’ll send you home right away. It’s an important time right now, so I can’t afford to show any weakness to my father.”
And there it was.
Not everything would go according to plan.
Even if she repeated yesterday’s actions perfectly, outcomes shifted.
She remembered telling him once—a small change could reshape the future.
…The real Klock. The version in reality.
He had begun to sense something.
Maybe she was too hasty. Maybe she’d filled the moat too fast. Now he looked… cautious.
The effects had begun.
He was on the verge of turning fifteen—hovering just before adulthood.
A remark that hadn’t existed yesterday.
He took her hand—her hand—and gently led her from the hideaway, his shoulders weighed down.
The leash she had tried to place on him wasn’t holding as tightly as she’d hoped.
She considered stopping him. Confronting him. But no—her purpose came first.
She followed, quiet, resigned.
Before parting, he kissed her.
So gentle.
She couldn’t reconcile this version of him with the boy destined to abandon her the next day.
Her heart cracked in two. She grabbed his collar, wanting to demand answers, to cling.
”…Goodbye, Klock,” she murmured, barely audible.
”Yeah. See you, Cianie. Again!” he replied, waving like a child.
She asked no more.
What could she ask of someone who didn’t know what tomorrow held?
She waved at him from the same crossroad—just as she had seventeen years ago.
Until she could no longer see his back, still so boyish. So small.
”…Well. What should I do now?” she asked herself aloud.
This was Livorno—the far northern edge of the Royal Territory.
Croce-controlled Sand territory was a fair distance away, but she had told him it was nearby.
Had he known she’d come from so far, he might never have agreed to meet.
She’d lied. For proximity. For the sake of fate.
Now what?
This was a fabricated world. A recreation. She had no obligation to return “home.”
With brief hesitation, she pivoted.
Extending her senses, she locked onto him.
Target: the Lord’s Manor of Livorno.
She would track Klock—observe his final day within the Livorno house.
She was here to investigate. Remaining close was logical.
She followed him from a safe distance.
Strangers passed by. Occasionally, their eyes met hers, and she marveled at how real this world felt.
Perhaps… perhaps the system worked through her eyes. The goddess’s eyes. After all, the same being had shaped both.
Maybe it was the past—perfectly calculated and reborn.
She reached a wide street.
She knew this road. From memory, if not from frequent use.
The houses thinned out, replaced by well-maintained lawns.
Up ahead, a building rose like a crowned tree above lesser trunks.
Yes. His home.
How nostalgic.
She had once been so sure she’d live here.
In the end, she never even stepped inside.
The lights in nearby homes flickered on.
The sky darkened fast, the red rim of the day fading far behind.
The streets emptied.
Now’s the time.
She scanned her surroundings.
Then leapt the gate in a single, fluid motion.
She held her dress carefully. It had been some time since she wore a one-piece like this in the real world. Her movements felt off—slightly restricted.
Then, a presence.
Large. Alive. Nearby.
──Ah.
Their eyes met.
A large dog—leashed near the entrance.
That’s right…
He’d said once that he had a dog.
She’d forgotten. It was seventeen years ago. Understandable.
”…Good evening,” she said softly, hoping not to startle.
No point in resetting now.
She approached, praying the dog wouldn’t bark.
Pant, pant, pant.
The dog wagged its tail, tongue lolling with interest.
She extended a hand.
It sniffed, then licked her fingers—friendly, perhaps even welcoming.
She exhaled.
Relieved.
”…Good boy,” she said, smiling faintly.
This wasn’t reality. If it barked, she could erase it. But she didn’t want that. Not even as a thought.
She stroked its head. Then noticed something on its collar.
Letters.
She leaned in.
Adelina.
Her body froze.
No… She squinted, thinking she’d misread. But no—it was clear. Adelina.
If memory served…
That was the name she’d gone by.
The name he had given her.
”…It’s hard to interpret,” she muttered.
Why had he given that name…?
Regardless, she had a job to do.
She left Adelina behind and circled to the back of the manor.
A window.
She checked for movement.
Nothing.
Then, with a soft thmp, she landed on the second-floor balcony. (T/N: Thmp used to suggest a soft, controlled landing—not a harsh “thud.”)
She peered inside.
Curtains drawn. No light from within.
No presence.
”Divine Disassembly,” she whispered, activating her skill once more.
This body—was divine.
A doll sculpted from the will of Goddess Teekua.
A demigod walking the mortal world.
Her form shimmered—softly—and then she passed through, silent as a shadow.
The room was cluttered.
A storage space—stacked chairs, mop handles, old supplies.
She weaved between objects and reached the door.
Paused. Listened.
No sound.
She turned the doorknob—slowly, quietly.
”Hmm. Just as I imagined from the exterior, a stylish interior,” she murmured.
’Klock… you lived in a lovely house.’
In the chicly structured hallway, the lights didn’t scream for attention but possessed a quiet presence.
Many things caught her eye, but she reminded herself to prioritize what she needed to know over the desire to wander.
There were things she had to know. That was why she was recreating the past.
”I wonder if there are no servants in this house,” she whispered to herself.
He should have had a sister. If there were only three people in the mansion, did that mean it was just family?
”Perhaps they’re simply out. Not unusual to send servants home at night,” she mused quietly.
In noble households, servants often encountered crime, which led to strict hierarchies within the staff. It was common for those below a certain rank to remain indoors, rarely venturing out.
In rural regions, or among families with modest means, even hiring servants was a challenge. Some relied on a single maid-of-all-work, or a local girl who came by occasionally.
In that sense, this Livorno residence—tucked away in the countryside—didn’t feel particularly out of place.
”…A human voice,” she noted, barely breathing the words.
She moved across the wooden floor with utmost care, the presence still far.
Slipping through a doorless entry, she stepped into the second-floor gallery.
A room with a high ceiling. Paintings adorned both the upper and lower walls. It might have been a working passage.
After confirming the area was clear, she jumped from the gallery into the exhibition room.
If there are artworks here, then this mansion likely isn’t a simple two-story residence, she thought. More likely, it’s built like a castle—one wing for guests, another for living quarters. You wouldn’t reach the family’s space from here. The main staircase must be at the center.
She turned the corridor’s corner, glanced briefly ahead, then leapt onto the grand staircase.
Supported by white pillars, with a red-carpeted floor and symmetrical iron candlesticks, the circular stairway exuded elegance.
With no fires lit, it was clear no one lingered nearby. She didn’t bother descending the normal way—just leapt and landed smoothly on the lower floor.
This was the central staircase.
The lights were on. Arching beams rose from columns dividing stairways that led to different second-floor areas.
Structures like this usually place study rooms, libraries, or kitchens on the first floor, she considered.
Klock is probably on the second floor—no…
She stopped. Listened.
Faint footsteps. Two people.
They were approaching.
If there are only three people in the mansion, one must be Klock, she reasoned.
She looked around.
Nothing large enough to hide behind.
She spotted a door and rushed over.
Inside, there weren’t many furnishings—just more paintings on display. A table, some chairs. Not a dining room.
A salon. They likely wouldn’t enter here.
”I see. Maybe they just came from the dining room,” she said under her breath. “The one behind must be Klock’s father—or no, perhaps his mother. The ones coming this way… that could be Klock and his sister.”
She would have liked to greet them. But she was trespassing—illegally.
More importantly, they were ghosts of the past. Mere recreations.
Klock’s parents had been arrested for their role in the war and died in prison. Meeting them now would be meaningless.
”Gina. Are you coming to my room today?” the boy asked gently.
”…No. I can sleep alone,” the girl answered quietly.
”…I understand. If you want to come, feel free to do so anytime,” the boy replied, voice warm enough to tingle in the brain.
It was unmistakably Klock’s voice—soft, kind. The voice of a boy who cared deeply for his family.
”Brother, what shall we do tomorrow?” the girl asked. Her voice was thin, fragile.
Perhaps she was unwell. Or simply shy.
She hadn’t known much about her in his former life. Noble houses guarded their privacy.
”Since our parents have gone to the Royal Capital, they won’t return for at least ten days. For now… I guess I’ll just study by myself.”
He held his breath as their footsteps passed by the door.
The father was gone. Perhaps the mother as well. Then, the third person must be a servant.
It made sense. Some staff had likely accompanied the parents. That explained the mansion’s emptiness.
Their sense of security was surprisingly lax, but this was the countryside.
Livorno was peaceful. Likely, a few guards lived in houses nearby.
Still, the lack of people only made things easier. He welcomed the convenience.
She silenced her thoughts and focused on sound.
The two were moving upward again—ascending the central staircase. Their footsteps faded.
She opened the salon door quietly and peeked into the hallway.
Empty.
Some of the lights were off. Shadows crept along the corridor.
She followed—softly, soundlessly.
Self-study… he said he’d study. That’s strange, she pondered. The conflict breaks out tomorrow. Or maybe… it hadn’t been decided yet?
She advanced, pressing against the wall until she was just behind them.
Their backs were small.
Klock walked with purpose, the girl trailing half a step behind. Judging by their heights, they were two or three years apart.
A brother and sister. Gentle, inseparable.
The girl said goodnight and entered one of the rooms lining the hallway.
Klock waved to her, then stepped across and entered a room opposite hers.
So this was his private room, she thought, legs drawn into the corridor, standing directly in front of his door.
Her heart quickened, unreasonably.
In her past life, she had never been invited inside. She had always imagined walking in together, hand-in-hand.
What now? she wondered.
Standing here meant being discovered the moment anyone came out.
She spotted another door—likely leading to the next room. She moved swiftly.
The other resident, presumably a maid, remained on the first floor. No risk of discovery.
She turned the knob.
Unlocked.
The room inside was pitch dark. Empty.
A bed frame—bare, no bedding. Nothing else.
White lime-plaster walls. Cold. Still.
T/N: Lime-plaster walls (白漆喰): A traditional Japanese-European architectural element, often seen in noble or historical buildings.
Even knowing it was pointless, she pressed her ear to the door once she stepped inside.
Silence. Not even a vibration.
Of course not. The walls were too thick.
A rough sensation scraped her ear, and she sighed, pulling away.
They considered returning to the door, but something pulled hergaze to the window.
”That’s right,” she whispered. “From the window, I can see in… and it’s harder to be spotted.”
”This is for the investigation,” she reasoned, voice barely audible. “It can’t be helped.”
She quietly lifted the window, careful not to rattle the glass. After glancing around to confirm no neighboring homes were within view, she slipped through the frame. Conveniently, the window had been left wide open. Gripping a slight protrusion on the outer wall, she began inching toward the neighboring room.
”O power of mine, manifest,” she murmured, invoking the words.
A glimmer shimmered into being in her hand—a blade of justice. Not the usual iron sword worn at the hip, but a divine weapon for judgment: a pair of massive, gleaming scissors.
With no footing, she embedded one blade into the wall. With a quiet clunk, she hoisted herself upward.
Then the other blade followed, carving a vertical path. A silent method of ascent into the next room.
As she neared the window, a sudden exhale caught her attention.
Perhaps a sigh. She paused and leaned closer.
There were no curtains. From the open frame, she caught a glimpse of his profile—and quickly ducked out of sight.
”There’s a window near the desk,” she whispered to herself. “If I lean in too much, I’ll be seen.”
The bed was over there.
Being stuck in a place like this wasn’t ideal, but she’d seen the bed earlier. That was enough.
She redefined her form once more.
Slowly—like a mist slipping through a crack—she passed the threshold.
A soft whiff accompanied her passage as she entered the room and slithered under the bed.
She’d made it.
She had entered Klock’s room.
”…Sorry for intruding without permission,” she murmured under her breath.
As an apology, she promised herself she’d bake him cookies.
Fifteen years from now. For now, this was all she could do. Hopefully, it was enough.
Peeking out from under the bed, she saw him. Sitting at his desk, completely absorbed.
”Diagonal formation… I see. In terms of training level, the level certainly—” he said, focused, voice low but clear.
It seemed Klock was diligently studying.
The moment he returned to his room, he’d headed straight to his desk and opened a book. That alone said much.
She recalled him mentioning it was an important time, and that he was the eldest son of the Livorno family.
Serious. Responsible.
She had heard rumors of his dedication—but seeing it firsthand filled her with pride.
And guilt.
”It’s not that I was suspicious,” she admitted silently. “But… I didn’t take him seriously.”
*I see now. Klock was working hard.
I was just a pawn in a political marriage, but he… he was Livorno’s heir.
Unlike me, he carried his family’s future.*
”Was it also for our marriage?” she wondered, gaze softening.
She had heard once that Klock didn’t even know his fiancée’s name.
Sylvia Croce. Her name.
Even if he had known, it wouldn’t have changed what happened. Not at that reunion in the Royal Capital.
”I’m sorry, Klock,” she thought, eyes fixed on his back. “If only I’d been braver. If I’d stayed calm. If I’d been smarter… none of this would’ve happened.”
She sighed inwardly. From under the bed, she continued to observe.
When they met, it had always been on formal dates. Seeing him like this—unguarded, real—was refreshing.
She had always avoided looking too closely. Always too nervous. Afraid she’d give herself away.
”That’s right. I have to take a bath first. He said he filled the tub,” Klock mumbled, standing abruptly.
She jerked back under the bed as he moved.
The sound of a sliding door. Then a drawer.
Then, hurried footsteps fading out of the room.
”Maybe this is my chance,” she whispered.
Eavesdropping on a conversation might have yielded intel, but watching him alone didn’t help much.
Still, perhaps this was divine providence.
This was her only chance to investigate the House of Livorno’s interior. Something no longer possible in her current reality.
She crawled out from under the bed.
Standing, she patted down her slightly wrinkled dress.
”First, the desk,” she muttered, approaching it. She began rummaging gently, careful not to disturb anything.
”A diary… a diary… I want to read a diary,” she whispered. “Not personally. Just for investigation. There might be something important.”
Opening the drawers, she searched. Each paper, each scrap.
Her body, a divine-crafted doll. Her eyes, semi-divine—capable of absorbing vast information in a single glance.
Nothing. No leads. No secrets.
”Guess he’s not the type to keep a journal,” she mused. “Should’ve asked while he was still alive…”
No. Maybe he just hid it somewhere else.
She turned to the bed again, lifting the pillow, peeling back the mattress.
Nothing.
”Of course,” she muttered. “The servants change the sheets. He wouldn’t hide anything here.”
Next, she scanned the room—her eyes settling on the furniture beside the bed.
A dresser.
She opened it. Clothes, neatly folded. Patterns. Fabrics.
She fought the urge to admire them. Reaching under the folded garments, she searched for hidden compartments.
Nothing.
She worked from the bottom up. Finally, she pulled out the top two drawers.
One had socks. The other—
”…Wow,” she said, quietly impressed. “So tidy…”
Had Klock folded these himself? Or was it the work of a skilled servant?
She picked up one item, unfolded it. Fresh. No stains.
She brought it to her face and inhaled. Clean. No lingering scent. Impeccably laundered.
Whoever managed the linens here was precise, almost elegant in their execution.
”If not for the incident… we’d be ten years into marriage by now,” she whispered.
In life, she had been a political tool. Now she was an adventurer—living on her own terms.
This household was a goldmine of intel. Every fold, every stitch was reference material.
She picked up a few more garments, breathing in their care.
”When my time comes… what kind of work will I need to do?”
She slipped one piece with a particularly cute pattern into her pocket—for reference—and gently closed the dresser.
”Phew,” she exhaled softly.
”Cianie? What are you doing?”
”…Huh?”
A poke on her shoulder—she spun around.
Klock stood there. Just behind her. Staring.
His expression was pure confusion. Brow furrowed. Eyes wide.
”…Why are you here?” he asked, voice low and stunned.
Standing before her was Klock. His face was a picture of disbelief, as if the world had inverted.
Her mouth twitched.
Their eyes met.
Her heart dropped like a stone.
The blood drained from her face.
Notes:
• Clea – younger dog beastkin sister who also serviced Klock previously.
• Cianie – A noble girl with a fluffy white and light blue dress, indicating her high status. She has a hesitant and flustered personality but is kind and courteous. Her relationship with Klock begins as an accidental encounter and develops into a romantic interest. She has a fiancé but expresses feelings for Klock, complicating their relationship.
• Adelina – The slave girl.
• Goddess Teekua – The deity who saved Sylvia after her death and granted her rebirth as a hero.
• Gina – A kind choir member who shows genuine concern for Adelina. She’s a rare ally in this unfamiliar place, offering some comfort and companionship.
• Sylvia – The hero who accuses Klock of abandoning her in her past life. She was reborn as Anna after dying in a fire and holds a grudge against Klock.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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