I Got Reincarnated a Chapter 160 – The Memories That Remain

Chapter 160: Chapter 160 – The mories 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 ti to observe every corner she passed. Her black dress fluttered lightly in the wind, drawing the attention of a few curious townspeople. Though so 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 ca into view. The small garden in front was still the sa filled with wildflowers of various colors, tended yet allowed to grow naturally, just like in her mories.

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

Hearing this, the guard lowered his spear and said, "Please wait a mont, 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 imdiately 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 ca 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

like I ca 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, mories of her early days in this world ca 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 ti she went on a guild mission and never returned to this house preferring an inn instead. Velthya had scolded her like a mother.

Rembering 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 welcod them like a second embrace. The room was filled with shelves of books, old maps, and magical artifacts. Sylvia felt as if ti had rewound.

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

"So, you’ve beco 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 co back. But sothing drew

here again. The gods are moving, Velthya. Gods who have sat on their thrones for millennia are now taking action. And I... sohow, I’ve beco the focus of their attention."

Velthya’s expression tightened. "Gods? You an... 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 rembers... that I was once human. A place like this."

Velthya was silent for a mont. 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 ti 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 sothing harder to explain. mories. Loneliness. And the truth that even though she now ruled over death, so 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 monts of the past.

But outside, the world kept turning. And Sylvia knew... another call would co 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 shimred 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 tad 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 ti 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, dinsional magic, and the whispers of gods.

Sylvia rested her head against the window fra. Her eyes gazed out at the now-quiet streets. A few people still passed by, but most hos 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 an I hate it."

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

Ti 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

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 glimr. She sat again, this ti on a chair, and slowly began tying her hair.

Then... from afar, a sound.

Soft. Barely audible.

Like soone plucking the strings of an old instrunt. Or wind brushing a wind chi in an attic window. The note was... soothing.

Sylvia realized it ca from the backyard.

She opened the window wider. The air ca in, cool and clean. The sound continued a simple lody, played by soone 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 instrunt. Her fingers danced slowly over the strings, playing a lody that seed to co from nowhere, yet felt... familiar.

Velthya turned and smiled when she saw Sylvia.

"I’m just playing sothing you once sang. Do you rember?"

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 mont.

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 won who had once lost everything sat together.

They said no more.

Only waited for morning.

Only enjoyed the mories that remained.