Tiya’s Smooth Regression Life Chapter 13

“Uh…?”

 

As Tiya’s eyes widened into perfect circles, the sharp gaze of the woman in the mirror lifted languidly.

 

“Is this… me?”

 

Jet-black straight hair contrasted against cheeks as white as the first snow falling silently at dawn. 

 

The corners of her eyes stretched upward elegantly, giving her a haughty look, while her golden pupils were as cool as sharp-edged metal.

 

Perhaps thanks to the effect of the Tall-Tall Potion, her regrown front teeth were perfectly even; with just a slight twist of her lips, she achieved an arrogant smile that seemed to look down on others.

 

Tiya cupped her cheeks and babbled as if entranced. 

 

“Woooooow. Winter, I look seriously cool…”

 

<Don’t be ridiculous.>

 

The sight of a proud, sharp-featured beauty stamping her feet like a child was absurd.

 

But the true absurdity was just beginning. 

 

“This height! This fierceness! This sharpness! I’m like—like… a snow leopard prowling the mountains in search of prey!”

 

<More like a snow leopard freezing to death.>

 

Before long, Tiya grabbed a fire poker in her hand, took a sword-drawing stance, and murmured in a low voice. 

 

“Hah. So you finally realized. Yes. I am the snow leopard of the North—Astiya Vladizev.”

 

<Please stop…>

 

Winter covered her face with both hands, groaning as though the embarrassment were her own.

 

It was only after a significant amount of time had passed that Tiya finally moved away from the mirror. 

 

“Gasp, this is bad. I was so stunning and cool I lost track of time! Winter, I’m not late yet, right?”

 

<Yeah.>

 

Winter answered in a voice that seemed to have aged ten years in the span of a moment.

 

If she was to slip out of the estate according to plan, she needed to move now. Tiya reached for the travel bag she had secretly packed.

 

It had been burdensome in her child’s body; now, as an adult, even its weight felt light.

“Being an adult is the best!”

 

Just as she gleefully tugged the bag toward her—

 

Clatter.

 

The music box perched precariously at the edge of the bedside table tipped.

 

<Be careful!>

 

Winter’s warning came too late.

 

Clink—

 

The music box rolled once across the floor, and with a sharp, discordant chime, a greenish light burst outward, filling the room before fading.

 

“W-What was that just now? A ghost? Did you call your friends, Winter?”

 

<I have no friends. Show it to me.>  

 

How could anyone have no friends?

 

While Tiya was still reeling at the shock to Winter’s social life, Winter examined the music box in Tiya’s hands and muttered,

 

<Now that I look at it, that collector got their money’s worth. This isn’t a music box; it’s a Memorial Box.>

 

“A Memorial Box?” 

 

<An expensive magic tool that was once trendy in the capital. It can save surrounding scenes using the mana stone embedded inside.>

 

However, the projected imagery was crude and could not record sound, and the number of replays was limited compared to the price. The trend faded quickly.

 

<Something has already been stored in it… Wait. Why are you winding it?>

 

“Huh? Gasp, I did it without thinking!” 

 

Tiya hurriedly pulled her hand away from the winding key. The castle inside the glass dome began to spin slowly as a lullaby melody emerged.

 

Soon, a faint light spread in all directions from the music box, gradually beginning to take a certain shape.

 

A cradle bathed in sunlight. Toys and dolls piled like small mountains.

 

A nursery that seemed to smell faintly of milk unfolded before her like a faded masterpiece.

 

In an instant, Tiya became a minor figure occupying one corner of that painting.

 

And when her gaze fell upon the main figure—

 

“…Mother?”

 

A past Tiya did not remember began to move.

 

<This makes no sense…>

 

Tiya’s mother was looking into the cradle, smiling brightly.

 

As Tiya approached as if possessed, she saw a newborn baby flailing inside the cradle.

 

Jet-black hair. Amber eyes.

 

She realized instinctively.

 

“This baby… I think it’s me.”

 

The young Duchess of Vladizev carefully lifted the infant and extended her outward, as though to show her to Tiya.

 

As Tiya flinched backward, something passed straight through her and took the baby into its arms.

 

She recognized the back at once.

 

“Dad…”

 

When the young Duke turned toward her, his face was no longer impossibly distant and elevated.

 

And because of that, she saw it clearly.

 

Spring sunlight brimming in her father’s eyes.

 

Tiya had never seen him look so warm.

 

The young Duke smiled as though he possessed the entire world and pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead.

 

“So Dad… used to smile like that.”

 

The young Duchess lightly struck her husband’s shoulder, scolding him about something.

 

“My Mom… she was originally this healthy.”

 

One by one, the past began to settle in Tiya’s heart.

 

A father who smiled gently. A healthy mother.

 

Moments she would want to take out secretly on lonely nights and look at again and again…

 

“They look happy.”

 

It was perfect.

 

Beside her, Winter, who had been equally unable to tear her eyes from the scene, snapped back at Tiya’s voice.

 

She shook her head lightly, turning away from the apparition and inspecting the memorial box in Tiya’s hands.

 

<…I should have realized when I saw the decoration inside resembled Frost Fortress. It must be something that was lost from the Vladizev estate.>

 

“Mm….”

 

Tiya merely nodded, not noticing the odd dryness in Winter’s voice.

 

Her gaze remained pinned to her parents’ faces.

 

‘What are they saying?’

 

She watched her father’s lips, trying to read them.

 

‘This child… cannot… no…’

 

At that point, the lullaby cut off sharply. The image scattered like a mirage.

 

It felt like watching snow fall in a desert. Tiya lingered in the fading afterimage.

 

It was Winter who brought her back.

 

<Let’s go. We can’t delay any longer.>

 

“Ah, right.”

 

This was not the time to be entranced.

 

Tiya carefully set the music box back on the bedside table.

 

Then she glanced around her room, which now seemed strangely empty, and slipped over the windowsill to leave the estate.

 

* * * 

 

That morning, Mia began her day by tidying Tiya’s bedding—her mistress having disappeared before morning preparations.

 

She spent the entire morning cleaning Tiya’s room before stepping out around noon to ask her colleagues,

 

“Have you seen the Young Lady?”

 

“I’m not sure. Isn’t she with the Count?”

 

“Mmm, she said she would be, but I haven’t seen her face at all.”

 

“Then she must be with the Count. Don’t even think about going to check. You know how frightening he is.”

 

At her colleague’s worried warning, Mia, who had been about to head toward the Count’s office, hesitated.

 

‘Right. She did say she would be with the Count all day today.’

 

Since she lacked the courage to actually check the Count’s room, Mia made an effort to set her worries aside.

 

Meanwhile, at that very hour, in the study of Count Valloze.

 

In the silence broken only by the scratch of pen against paper, the aide spoke.

 

“The Young Lady will not be coming today. She visited me last night to inform me that she would be spending the entire day with Young Master Lev.”

 

Shurka looked at his aide.

 

Eight years as the Count’s aide had taught him that there were different kinds of silence from his master.

 

This silence was the kind that asked, ‘Why report such a thing?’

 

“I reported it in case you were waiting for the Young Lady.”

 

The next silence carried a rebuke—‘Why would I?’—and the unspoken threat, ‘Do not waste my time with such useless reports.’

 

Having silenced the aide without saying a word, Shurka began to move his pen again. 

 

However, he failed to notice one thing. At some point, Tiya’s visits had become such a given that a pocket watch sat ready on one corner of his desk, always prepared to check the time she had demanded as her payment.