Chapter 64
The bottle, knocked from the shelf, shattered on a slightly lower ledge and poured its contents directly onto Sophia’s head.
Startled by the sudden assault, Sophia instinctively lost her grip and dropped the mouse she was holding.
A sour stench clung to her nose, making her stomach churn. As she wiped the liquid trickling down her face, she looked ahead—only to see the mouse standing still, almost as if mocking her.
She glared at the creature, and it unmistakably smirked.
“You’re quite the troublemaker, huh?”
“You’re the one who did it.”
She responded irritably—then froze.
The mouse… had spoken.
“Y-you can talk…?”
“Me? Talk? Or maybe you just stepped in and absorbed enough magical residue to understand me? You’re in a gloomy old wizard’s workshop, after all.”
“…What the hell.”
“Anyway, I don’t need this anymore. You can have it.”
With that, the mouse placed the necklace it had been holding on the table.
“Thanks for the fun!”
The moment those words were spoken, a wave of drowsiness washed over Sophia. Her limbs lost strength, and she collapsed onto the floor, the spilled potion soaking into her clothes.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. It felt like every drop of energy had drained from her.
Propping herself up against the wooden table, she tried to steady her breath. Then came the sound of a door opening.
That was the last thing she heard before sleep consumed her.
✦
Blink. Blink.
She forced her heavy eyelids open, blinking several times.
When she pressed her palms to the ground to rise, she felt the rough texture of sand and dirt.
What…?
She distinctly remembered collapsing inside, not outside. The floor had been wood, and if anything was unpleasant, it was the slick texture of spilled potion—not dirt.
Sophia sat up and slowly scanned her surroundings.
“…Where am I?”
Houses built entirely of wood and mud. Stalls shaded by cloths, selling fruit, grain, and wooden dolls.
A bustling marketplace just beyond a shadowed alley where sunlight barely reached.
And she was here. Standing in it.
Sophia instinctively understood.
“This isn’t Mesios Island.”
It wasn’t where she had been. She was sure of it.
Running her fingers through her hair, she paused. The strands slipped through her fingers far too quickly.
When she grabbed a handful of her hair to confirm, she realized it had been cut—hair that once reached her waist was now cropped short.
Eyes wide, she glanced around, spotted a water jug, and moved toward it to check her reflection in the surface.
Short hair. A bruise under her eye and a split lip, as if she’d been punched. And black eyes—foreign, unfamiliar. Every time she blinked, they stared back.
“…What on earth.”
Everything moved at her will, yet the face and body weren’t hers.
More than that, she wasn’t even the same age. She looked older—not twelve, but several years beyond that.
Brushing off the dirt from her plain shirt and pants, she stood and took in the village again.
Dirt-walled buildings, dusty roads, outdated infrastructure. Even the poorest towns in her time didn’t look this medieval.
What is going on?
The last thing she remembered was being doused in a strange potion by that damned mouse…
“Oh. That must be it.”
The mouse had said it was a magician’s workshop.
If this was the result of magic—and if she’d been thrown back in time—
“…What a pain.”
She didn’t even know what kind of spell this was, so how could she return to the real world, to Lorei?
As her head throbbed in frustration, noise erupted from the marketplace.
“What’s going on?”
“An outsider arrived! And apparently, he’s insanely good-looking!”
“That’s it?”
“Hmm… no, there was something else. A healer, maybe?”
Drawn by the chatter, Sophia followed the crowd toward the commotion.
As she neared, she spotted a familiar figure surrounded by a throng of curious onlookers.
“I’m telling you, there’s no need to be so wary!”
“We can’t just let strangers in unchecked.”
“Oh, come on! You’d turn away someone this adorable?!”
Hair like a bundle of rainbow-colored cotton candy. Eyes that changed color with every word—sky, earth, ocean, forest.
“…Peyton?”
In this unfamiliar world, his was the only familiar name she knew.
The moment she said it, Peyton turned his gaze from the elder woman to her.
Beaming like a child, he reached out and grabbed Sophia’s arm.
“See! Just like that—”
Then, placing a hand briefly on her face, he healed her. The sting in her lip, the throbbing in her eye—all of it vanished.
“Perfectly healed!”
“This is unbelievable…”
“That’s why I’m useful! All you have to do is give me a place to sleep. I don’t need food or money—just a bed. In return, I can heal anyone, no matter how close to death they are!”
He pulled away from Sophia and continued to boast, but all eyes had turned to her.
“Is it true? Are you really not hurt?”
“…Yes.”
She tried to answer calmly and gently brush off the hands touching her, but curiosity only made their grip stronger.
“When did you get injured? How could it heal so fast?”
“Are you sure you’re not pretending?”
“What if your body explodes later or something?”
Voices overlapped chaotically. Hands grabbed her like vines, uninvited and clinging.
Sophia clenched her jaw and looked up at Peyton.
Their eyes met—her own silently begging for help.
But he turned away, continuing to ask the elder for a place to stay.
Right. This is the past. Past Peyton doesn’t know me. We’re not connected.
“Please back off.”
How had she forgotten that? How had she assumed he’d protect her?
“Don’t touch me.”
Just because she’d been treated kindly recently—had she already forgotten?
“Back. Off.”
Her sharp tone finally made people recoil. Eyes narrowed, she glared at the ones who had touched her, brushing off her clothes and straightening up.
That’s right. She had always been alone when things got hard. She’d always had to survive by herself.
“I’m fine. Just like I was never hurt in the first place.”
“…”
“That’s all. So stop asking.”
With that, Sophia pushed her way out of the crowd and walked off. Her feet carried her instinctively through the village.
Strangely, every alley and path was familiar. Like they were etched in her memory.
A shiver of discomfort tickled her spine. Scowling at the sensation, she opened a door she somehow knew was just ahead.
The hinges creaked unpleasantly. Inside, she found scattered wood carvings all over the floor.
“What now…”
She picked one up and examined it. It wasn’t ordinary wood.
“Whil… rosa, ithius.”
Do not allow one who bears a blade.
“Twibon ri irosia.”
May your dreams be peaceful.
Ancient script. Carved messages left by someone.
Even more curious—she could understand it. Perfectly.
Even though she had never studied ancient languages before.
What kind of dream is this…
Only magic could create something this surreal.
Sighing, she looked down at the white flower placed beside the carvings.
If this culture resembled hers, that flower was likely meant to honor the dead.
Her eyes stung.
“…This feels… really bad.”
She bit her lower lip and began gathering the carvings—and the flower.
Just as she finished, someone pounded on the door.
“Anybody home? Did the owner skip town?!”
She didn’t need to open the door to know who it was. Grandpa.
“…Some things never change.”
She muttered softly, barely loud enough for even herself to hear, and opened the door.
Sunlight spilled in, and standing in it was a person who radiated like a rainbow—smiling brightly.
“Hey there! We meet again!”
Sophia hesitated, unsure how to respond to his casual tone. But her instincts reacted faster.
“What do you want now?”
“The village elder said I should stay here. Said this place was roomy since you live alone.”
“…”
“You’re the only one who lives alone, apparently.”
Ugh. So they dumped him on me, huh? Just like always.
That thought came naturally—and startled her.
Always? Them? She’d never met these people before.
While Sophia stood stunned, Peyton kept chattering.
“Don’t worry about food. I don’t need to eat. Just treat me like a plant. I grow on attention, not water!”
“…Uh-huh.”
“My name’s Peyton Sel Meria. And you’re…”
He paused, recalling something an old villager had said. Then with renewed confidence:
“Leon!”
“…”
“Right? That’s what I heard.”
Leon. That name.
The name Peyton had mumbled while trembling in a nightmare.
So now, I’ve become… the nightmare in Peyton’s memory.
