I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl - Chapter 269

Chapter 269: Chapter 265 – The Stillness Between the Queen’s Breaths
Warm mist still clung to Sylvia’s skin as she stepped out of the great bath. Droplets of water slid from the tips of her long black hair, falling onto the stone floor and evaporating before they could even form a puddle.

She exhaled softly a quiet, contented breath, like someone who had just regained full command of her own body.

“That’s enough,” she murmured.

Her gaze shifted toward Stacia, who still sat at the edge of the bath, absorbed in the thick tome resting on her lap.

Steam veiled part of her face, but her calm, focused expression remained visible. Page after page turned beneath her fingers without pause.

“Don’t soak for too long,” Sylvia said gently. “You’ll lose mana focus if you stay in enchanted water for too long.”

Stacia didn’t look up. Her reply came in her usual quiet tone, almost like a whisper.

“I know, Sylvia. Just a bit more.”

Sylvia shook her head lightly, her damp hair swaying with the motion.

“Always the same,” she muttered, then walked toward the door, her steps graceful but unhurried.

When she stepped outside, the cooler air of the castle brushed against her skin. With a snap of her fingers, a long black gown materialized from her storage a dress of elegant cut, its back layered with fine lace that rippled like mist. In an instant, it wrapped itself around her, flowing gently with each step she took.

The castle corridors were quiet that morning. Soft purple light from enchanted lanterns flickered along the walls, swaying faintly with the breeze drifting through the tall windows.

In the distance, the rhythmic echo of undead guards’ footsteps could be heard, measured, mechanical, unbroken by any trace of life.

Sylvia moved calmly toward her study on the upper floor. When the large double doors opened, the scent of fresh ink and parchment greeted her.

The room was brightened by natural magic crystals hanging from the ceiling, and already felt alive because two figures were there before her.

Celes stood by the large desk, her half-loose silver hair slightly messy from hours of writing reports. Meanwhile, Aurellia sat at another table, thin glasses perched on her nose, signing documents with a serious expression.

A small flame floated at her fingertip, lighting the black ink candles they used for fast writing.

Both looked up when Sylvia entered.

“Your Majesty!” Aurellia said quickly, rising to her feet. “You’ve finished training?”

Sylvia smiled faintly. “And bathing. It seems the two of you never stop working even after the sun changes color.”

Celes looked up, her eyes sharp but softened by a hint of a smile.

“Someone has to make sure this castle doesn’t collapse under the weight of paperwork, Sylvia.”

Sylvia raised a brow. “That sounds like a mockery.”

“Not a mockery,” Celes replied immediately. “A fact.”

Aurellia hid a small laugh behind her hand while Sylvia sighed quietly. She walked over to her desk, sat down, and began to pull one stack of reports toward her.

But before her fingers could even touch a pen, Celes spoke sharply.

“No.”

Sylvia blinked. “No… what?”

Celes crossed her arms. “You’re still not allowed to work. Your body hasn’t fully stabilized. You need more time.”

Sylvia gave a small huff. “I’m just sitting, not fighting gods.”

“Sitting that turns into three hours of overtime, a hundred documents, and collapsing at your desk like usual,” Aurellia added dryly without even looking up from her papers.

Sylvia glared at her, but Aurellia only smiled faintly, clearly familiar with the queen’s habits.

“Celes is right,” Aurellia continued flatly. “You’ve just recovered. We can handle this.”

Sylvia leaned back in her chair, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” she said at last, her tone half-resigned.

She sighed deeply. There was no point in arguing when the two of them were united.

Finally, she rose and moved to the long sofa by the wall. Sitting down, she crossed her legs and leaned back, watching them work from afar.

Celes wrote quickly, occasionally reading reports aloud in a low voice, while Aurellia checked the castle’s security sigils on the map beside her. The sound of scratching pens, rustling papers, and faint glowing magic filled the room.

For a while, Sylvia simply watched them as two figures who had once been mere silhouettes on her battlefield, now part of her quiet days.

But after several minutes, a familiar restlessness began to creep in. The sounds of pens and parchment, and the ticking of the magical clock on the wall, started to blend into something like a lullaby.

She idly swirled her cup of tea, watching the black liquid tremble faintly. Her eyelids grew heavy.

Just for a moment, she thought. I just want to close my eyes for a bit.

Her head rested against the sofa cushion, her hair slipping softly over her shoulders. The gentle voices of Celes and Aurellia faded into a distant hum soft, blurred then disappeared altogether.

Within minutes, Sylvia’s breathing slowed, her face relaxing completely. The faint light of dusk spilled through the tall windows, draping over her sleeping form serene, beautiful, and fragile in a way she never allowed herself to be on the battlefield.

Celes glanced over from her desk, then sighed quietly as she looked toward the sofa.

“I told you,” she murmured to Aurellia, “she’s still not stable.”

Aurellia smiled faintly, adjusting her glasses.

“And as always, she only believes it when her body forces her to rest.”

They returned to their work in silence, while on the sofa, the Queen of Death slept dreamless, wrapped in the gentle light of sunset and the lingering scent of unfinished tea.

The silence was not emptiness, but a fragile kind of peace, the kind that exists only between two great wars.

The golden afternoon slowly gave way to twilight. The sky outside the castle windows turned pale orange, its light reflecting off the polished stone floor.

The enchanted lamps shifted hue, glowing softly gold to keep the warmth in the air without disturbing the calm.

Celes stopped writing for a moment. She looked over the last report, sealed it with a light magic stamp, and set her pen down. Rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand, she said, “Aurellia, I’ll check the tactical room for a moment. Make sure these are sent downstairs before nightfall.”

Aurellia nodded without looking up. “Understood. And Celes…” she added softly, still writing, “….don’t overwork yourself either. You haven’t slept.”

Celes clicked her tongue but didn’t reply. She cast one last glance toward the sofa, where Sylvia slept with her head tilted gently against a cushion.

The queen’s face was peaceful, so different from the stern, cold figure of strength she usually was. Now, she looked… human.

For a moment, Celes simply stood there, watching Sylvia as if making sure the dream wouldn’t end too soon. Then, almost unconsciously, her lips curved slightly.

“You always make me worry, Sylvia…” she whispered, barely audible.

Her gaze fell on the cup of tea on the small table beside the sofa. Its steam had faded.

Celes lifted a finger slightly, and in an instant, a soft wisp of warmth rose again the tea reheated.

She turned toward the door. As her footsteps faded from the room, only Aurellia and Sylvia remained.

Aurellia glanced at them both the sleeping queen and the unfinished reports. A faint smile touched her lips.

“Even in your sleep, you make us work twice as hard…” she murmured softly.

Yet beneath her words lay a quiet relief she couldn’t quite hide. Because in the weeks after the great war and the near-fatal wounds, every steady breath Sylvia took felt like a blessing.

Time moved slowly. Twilight turned to night, and stars began to appear in the deep violet sky beyond the tall windows. The magical lights in the ceiling dimmed, syncing with the rhythm of night.

Sylvia still slept, her breathing deeper now, calmer. For a brief moment, her hand, which hung over the edge of the sofa, trembled faintly as if she were dreaming. But behind those closed eyelids, there were no visions of battle, no blood or fire. Only a gentle darkness like a silent black sea.

…..

When soft light pierced through the dark curtains and brushed her cheek, Sylvia slowly opened her eyes.

Her eyelids fluttered slightly before opening fully, revealing a pair of gentle red eyes still hazy from sleep.

She looked up at the familiar ceiling, carved with dark violet flower patterns, a place she knew all too well. But it took her several seconds to remember how she had ended up here.

“…My room?” she whispered softly, her voice hoarse and tender from deep sleep.

She pushed herself up slowly. The smooth black blanket slipped from her shoulders, and the cool morning air kissed her skin.

The air in the room was fresh. The window was half open, letting in the spring breeze carrying the scent of violet blossoms from the castle gardens.

Sylvia glanced around. The room was neat as always with no signs of haste, yet she could faintly feel Celes’s magical aura lingering in the air. She touched the edge of the bed, and indeed… a trace of energy remained.

“Celes…” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re the one who carried me here, aren’t you?”

Her tone held a blend of gratitude and the faint irritation of someone reluctant to admit weakness. She exhaled softly and turned toward the window.

The sky outside was fully bright now. Morning sunlight washed over the castle courtyard, making the black and violet flowers shimmer like crystal.

She gazed at it for a moment. The light that had once bothered her now felt strangely warm.

“So it’s morning already…” she whispered, leaning back against the headboard. “I didn’t even notice when I was brought here.”

Her hand moved to her chest. She could feel her heartbeat steady, but a little slow.

So, my body really hasn’t recovered completely.

Normally, no one could have moved her without her knowing, even in sleep. But last night… she hadn’t felt a thing.

“If I were in full condition, I would’ve woken the moment someone touched me,” she muttered with mild annoyance.

Then, with a small chuckle, “So you were right, Celes… I’m still not stable.”

Her smile was faint, closer to embarrassed than proud. It felt strange, having someone so stubbornly protective of her.

Her hand reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. The glass, carved from black crystal, was cool to the touch, and the water inside was still fresh. She took a sip slowly, the chill sliding down her throat with a quiet refreshment.