Chapter 3
“What’s so hard about cutting a mere cake? Why are you dawdling?”
At the sharp, grating voice of her elder sister Regina, my mind snapped back into focus.
Before me stood a large chocolate cake, eighteen lit candles flickering atop it. And for some reason, I was holding a cake knife.
Confused, I darted my gaze around.
The hall, adorned with obsidian and black stone, was the banquet chamber of Anguist Castle.
Why am I here?
Just moments ago, I had been in the Grand Temple of the capital, Renia…
Furrowing my brow, I slowly swept my gaze left and right, up and down, as if drifting through a dream.
Then, abruptly, something felt off.
Regina’s face—idly tapping her nails in irritation—looked far too young.
It wasn’t just her. My father, Vincenzo, and my mother, Monica, looked nothing like the last time I had seen them. The gray hairs and deep wrinkles that had once marked them were nowhere to be found.
And above all—
Grandmother is alive.
Talia Anguist.
The grandmother who had already passed away before my death was now looking at me with concern. I hurriedly lowered my gaze to her hand. On her fourth finger was the head of the family’s ring—silver, shaped like a coiling serpent.
Is this… some kind of flash before death?
I blinked slowly.
Below the platform where the direct lineage of the Anguist family stood gathered the collateral relatives and vassal families.
They stared at me with puzzled expressions, whispering among themselves. Their murmurs, laced with faint ridicule, sounded like the hissing of snakes.
The entire scene felt eerily familiar.
Like déjà vu.
This… was undoubtedly a memory.
Amira Anguist’s eighteenth birthday banquet.
My thoughts refused to settle. Then, the wrinkled hand of my grandmother—wearing the head ring—came to rest over my right hand. With a firm grip, she guided mine and swiftly finished cutting the cake.
“Happy birthday, Amira.”
Her eyes, slightly upturned like mine, gave her a cold appearance—but the warmth in her gaze was greater than I remembered.
Could this be a dream?
I bit down on the soft flesh inside my mouth. A sharp sting followed, along with the metallic taste of blood.
For eight years, I had lived as a ghost, distant from human sensation. Even that faint pain was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
This was too vivid to be a dream—or a dying illusion.
“I wanted to be the first to give you your present.”
I looked down at the small box my grandmother held out.
I already knew what was inside.
With trembling hands, I untied the silver ribbon.
As the lid opened, a radiant emerald revealed itself—just as expected.
But this was no ordinary gem.
“…Memoria.”
The word slipped from my throat, hoarse and unsteady.
“Yes, Memoria. It used to be mine. Its capacity may be smaller than those made nowadays, but it has been well attuned. You’ll be entering the academy’s advanced class this year—you’ll need it.”
“…Thank you.”
I stared at the palm-sized emerald with unfamiliar eyes.
Before my death, I had always carried this gem with me.
The very first memory stored within it was today.
This day was significant in many ways.
A dreadful memory—but not entirely.
Whenever I missed my grandmother, I would replay this very memory from the Memoria.
It was the only recorded moment that contained her.
The storage capacity was small, so I had to delete scenes regularly—but I could never bring myself to erase the very first one.
I had watched it so many times that I no longer needed to replay it.
The memory surfaced vividly in my mind.
While I was distracted by the Memoria, the banquet had moved on.
The direct members of the Anguist family were now seated in a row at the long table atop the platform, overlooking the hall.
As the guest of honor, I sat between Talia and my father, Vincenzo Anguist.
Guests invited to present gifts formed a long line.
It was… pitifully small.
Compared to Regina’s birthday banquet, it wasn’t even a quarter of the size.
Well, even this was more than expected.
After all, who would willingly bring gifts to Amira Anguist—the family’s unwanted youngest daughter?
Most of those present were people desperate to curry favor with Talia and Vincenzo.
Or—
Those who had come to mock me.
Like Agatha Berti, standing right before me.
As I stared blankly at the hall, still dazed, my senses sharpened the moment I noticed her thin, twisted smile.
Things I hadn’t noticed before began to stand out.
At the far right, Regina straightened in her seat at the appearance of her close friend.
At the far left, Regina’s twin brother, Simone, let out a quiet snicker.
After exchanging subtle glances with the two, Agatha lowered her eyes.
“To celebrate Amira’s birthday, I have prepared a special gift.”
Her maid stepped forward and placed a luxurious velvet pouch on the floor.
From it, a long, thick boa constrictor slithered out.
“An Anguist should, of course, have at least one loyal serpent. It was quite difficult to obtain. As mystical as its color is, it is also a highly devoted species.”
The direct bloodline of the Anguist family, who worshipped a serpent deity, all possessed the ability to command snakes like extensions of their own limbs.
So gifting a pet snake to a direct descendant was not unusual.
However—
There was one problem.
“Go on, find your master.”
At Agatha’s whisper, the rare silver serpent hissed and swiftly slithered toward the platform.
As it drew closer—
I screamed.
Because the problem was me.
Amira Anguist… was terrified of snakes.
At my shrill scream, Vincenzo clicked his tongue in irritation. My mother, Monica, glared at me for making a scene.
Talia watched me with stern eyes.
Meanwhile, the boa had already climbed onto the table.
As it flicked its tongue right before my face, I felt like I might faint at any moment.
In fact, my consciousness was already beginning to fade.
In front of the collateral relatives and vassals, I was exposing my weakness and frailty for all to see.
I tried desperately to hold onto my senses—
But it was too late.
My mind snapped.
Driven mad by fear, my scream abruptly cut off.
My dark green hair, which had been swaying, turned pure white.
My black eyes, once gleaming like obsidian, shifted into a brilliant gold.
Murmurs spread through the banquet hall.
Golden eyes—the mark of the Anguist family’s signature ability.
The Basilisk.
A power so rare that only one appeared per generation—typically in the heir to the family.
“A-A Basilisk ability?”
“But Lord Zenovio already awakened it, didn’t he?!”
As confusion spread—
My hair rose against gravity, drifting in the air.
Then, the ends began to transform.
Into snakes.
“It’s Medusa’s ability! Everyone, close your eyes!”
An elder among the vassals, one who recognized the power, shouted urgently.
At that moment, the boa constrictor froze stiff in place.
I leapt over the table with ease and landed below the platform.
My body moved differently now.
The clumsy Amira, who could barely walk properly in uncomfortable shoes, was gone.
Step by step, my heels clicked sharply against the floor as I approached Agatha Berti, who had yet to grasp the situation.
I lifted her chin.
The snakes at the ends of my hair opened their jaws, hissing threateningly.
“W-What is this…?”
Paralysis crept up from her feet, and only then did fear finally appear on Agatha’s face.
“Child, that’s enough.”
A warm voice came from behind.
A rough hand, worn by time, covered my eyes.
My grandmother.
Without hesitation, she poured a potion between my parted lips.
—
That was the extent of the memory stored in the Memoria.
Back then, having lost my reason, I only learned what had happened afterward by replaying it.
Have I… returned to the past?
To the very day my misfortune began—
My eighteenth birthday.
The power known as Medusa’s curse was an ability that turned anyone who met the wielder’s gaze into stone.
Like the ancient monster Medusa.
This ability was inherited through the daughters of the Anguist family.
Unlike the Basilisk, the appearance of a Medusa wielder was irregular—roughly once every five hundred years, though even that was uncertain.
The previous wielder had lived a thousand years ago.
The Leto Empire was divided into five regions—east, west, south, north, and the sky—each ruled by a great house that worshipped a different animal, producing corresponding abilities.
But among them, only Medusa’s power was called a curse.
Because it was nearly impossible to control.
When emotions surged, the power would spiral out of control.
And when it did—
It did not distinguish between ally and enemy.
Many met tragic ends.
Some turned themselves to stone.
Others… their own children.
For the timid Amira of the past, awakening such a power—before everyone—was nothing short of humiliation.
“To celebrate Amira’s birthday, I have prepared a special gift.”
And now—
That very moment was unfolding before my eyes once again.
“An Anguist should, of course, have at least one loyal serpent. It was quite difficult to obtain. As mystical as its color is—”
“Not Amira.”
A voice cut in, cold and precise.
“Amira Lady.”
