Cezaria Regona

Town Courtesy | Mansion’s Garden | Daytime

A child in a white dress perches high in the branches of an oak tree, wind tugging at her white hair. From here, the whole town spreads out beneath her—only one villa and a lot of homesteads, their wooden walls shiny. The rooftops gleam faintly under the sun.

“CEZARIA REGONA! I’VE TOLD YOU A MILLION TIMES: DON’T CLIMB THE TREES!”

The shout rings out loud and harsh. A woman stands in the yard below, long white hair spilling over her shoulders, her expression tight with worry.

Cezaria startles, glancing down nervously. Her small shaky hands fumble at the bark as she starts to descend. The next moment—her foot slips.

She plummets.

“CEZARIA!” The woman’s voice cracks. She tries to catch her daughter, but it's too late. The girl crashes onto the ground.

She runs over, taking her daughter into her arms. “WE NEED A DOCTOR! Hey— look at me!”

The girl’s eyes flutter open, unfocused.

“My head… hurts,” she murmurs, then frowns faintly. “Rokku? …no… who are you?”

The woman’s breath catches. “Cezaria? What—? Do you know where we are?”

The girl lifts a trembling hand, touches her head, then stares at the blood staining her fingers.

“My name… is Hanla,” she says, slow and uncertain. “Not Cezaria… why am I… here?”

Her eyes close again, her body going limp.

Two figures run up from the path to the town—twin butlers, identical in their long blond hair and sharp orange eyes.

The woman looks up sharply. “Get the doctor. She hit her head badly. Now, Sebastian, Joachim!”

Both men turn in perfect unison and run back to town.

Town Courtesy | Mansion | Cezaria’s Room | Evening

The room is painted in deep reds and whites, its air heavy with the scent of roses. A canopy bed, draped in silks and piled with pillows, dominates the center. Victorian chairs sit neatly against the walls, the polished furniture gleaming in the lamplight.

On the bed, a child sleeps, a white bandage wrapped around her head.

Beside her sits a woman in a red dress with flecks of dirt all over her hunched shoulders—her gaze locked on the still figure. A white haired young girl, dressed in blue, clutches the woman’s dress.

Behind them stands a man in a black smoking. His short black hair neatly kept, his skin paler than usual, his silver eyes fixed on the child in the bed.

A slow blink from the girl on the bed. Then she stirs. Her small hand rises to her head.

The woman seizes it instantly. “CEZARIA!”

The man’s eyes widen, moisture gathering at their corners.

“YOU’RE AWAKE!”

“Who…are you?” the girl in the bandage murmurs.

The man steps forward, voice low. “Do you … know us?”

She shakes her head. “Is this… a dream?”

“The doctor said everything is fine,” the man mutters. He glances at the woman. “Jenna?”

“I am Hanla… where’s Rokku? I got shot—what are you—”

The girl stares at her hands. Small. Fragile. Not hers.

“Hey… is this a bad joke? This is—”

Her younger sister throws herself into her arms, hugging her tight and sobbing into her chest. “I thought you’d never wake up…”

'A cold realization slams into her mind. The injury. Rokku. Sirens, but far away. He didn't make it in time. She died. That much is certain.

“Cezaria,” Jenna’s voice wavers, trembling. “What is a ‘Hanla?”

Her thoughts spin.

I’m in this Cartaris’s body. Panic—no, don’t panic. Think straight. Keep your mind clear. This isn’t a dream. I can feel the warmth of the sheets. I can read the clock on the wall—twelve sharp. This is real. These two are my parents. And this little girl hugging me… my sister. At least for now.

If I panic, they’ll call the doctor. My body is fine. I have to pretend. To observe them. I can be Cezaria.

Her lips tremble but she speaks, as calmly as she can:
“Father. Mother. I… can’t remember you. You feel like my parents, but I can’t recall anything. And… my sister too. I’m sorry.”

The man turns to Jenna, shock in his eyes.

“Jenna.”

“I know, Chays.” Jenna whispers, tears falling.

The little girl clings tighter, crying.

“Sorry.” Cezaria whispers. “Really…”

Jenna strokes her cheek. “Little one, it’s fine. Don’t worry. Harima, let her go, she needs rest.”

Harima finally lets go, still sobbing. Cezaria pats her head gently, then the family leaves.

Chays’ expression is hard, wounded. Harima’s wails echo through the hall: “SISTER! CEZARIA!” Even Jenna can’t hold back her tears.

Alone now, Cezaria drags herself to the window.

“I’m on an island. Not dreaming. Even my voice is higher… ohh. I’m a child.”

She leans against the wall.

“Rokku… I hope you got my memo.”

Her chest tightens.

“This girl… she had a life. She’s not here now. That means…”

Her fists clench.

“She died.”

Deep breaths don’t help. Her anger burns hot. She slams her fist against the wall. But there’s no pain. Again. Still nothing.

“WHY DOESN’T IT HURT! THIS IS SO MESSED UP!”

When he checks, her hand isn’t flesh anymore. It’s marble. Like the wall itself.

“Why is my hand this shape…?”

She looks down. Her legs and feet are marble too.

“HEY—this is a nightmare, right…?”

Panic takes over.

“HEEEELP!”

The door bursts open. Chays rushes in with Harima at his side.

“What happened, little one?” Chays demands.

“My hand—it’s stone! My legs too!”

Chays hurries over, trying to calm her.

“That’s your ability. Take a deep breath, little one.”

Harima tugs at her sleeve, eyes wide but determined. “Cezaria—touch your cheek. Trust me.”

Cezaria touches her cheek. The stone fades. Her skin normalizes.

Her breath hitches. “What… is that?”

Chays kneels in front of her, voice steady. “Your ability. You can mimic properties.”

“Mhm,” Harima nods, eyes wide but full of trust. “Don’t worry.”

Cezaria’s body trembles. Before panic can take her again, her father and sister wrap her in a tight embrace.

She shuts her eyes, clinging to their warmth.

Abilities. A new world. I’ve taken over this body… Its owner is most likely gone. And yet, I stand here, loved by her family. But I am still Hanla Carthe. Still me. And now—now I have an ability. The ability to change something.

She squeezes her father back, silent, her little sister holding her to.

Town Courtesy | Mansion | Cezaria’s Room | One Week Later

The doctor enters her room, white robe swaying, pointed mage’s hat tilted, a shining monocle fixed to one eye. His presence carries calm authority.

“Cezaria, how are you feeling now?”

She doesn’t stop moving. Her fists blur as she shadowboxes in the center of the room. Sweat beads on her forehead.

“Good, Doc. I'm fine.”

He chuckles. “Shadowboxing, hm?”

Cezaria lowers her fists, turning sharp eyes on him. “You know more about what happened to me.”

The doctor’s smile fades. He folds his hands behind his back.

“Your mana network… it has vanished. Burned out completely. That is highly unusual.”

Her brows furrow. “Which means…?”

He shakes his head gravely. “Everyone has a mana network, even those who cannot cast spells. If it disappears, it normally signifies death.”

She asks curiously. “So I’m undead?”

“No.” the doctor replies, adjusting his monocle. “You are alive—but different. A unique case. And then there is your amnesia… and the way you speak with an adult’s insight. Very unusual.”

Cezaria exhales through her nose, gaze dropping. “I hope I don’t make my parents worry more.”

“They love you.” the doctor assures, then glances at the bookshelf in her room. “Did you read the books I gave you?”

Her eyes drift toward the shelf and its newest row. Tales of guilds, wars, heroes. One title draws her gaze like always: Adventures of the Enigmatic Night — Mythic Grade Adventurer.

“Yes,” she answers with conviction. “And I want to be an adventurer.”

The doctor studies her. “I hope your parents will accept that. From the way you stare at that book… you seem very passionate.”

Town Courtesy | Mansion | Cezaria’s Room | A Few Hours Later

Harima slips into her sister’s room. She stops in the doorway, staring.

Cezaria is training again—sweat dripping down, fists punching the air, skin hardening and softening as she experiments with her strange ability. Her muscles are already more defined, her frame toning under the relentless work.

“Cezaria,” Harima says softly, “you’re training again.”

“Of course” Cezaria replies, grinning through the burn. “I want to be an adventurer.”

Harima tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Why? In the past… you always said you wanted to be a princess.”

Cezaria freezes, her grin faltering. Guilt creeps in like a shadow, tightening her chest.

She is not here. I am in her body. But if I can use this strength, if I can shape this body into something with more power… then I can do great. I want to be stronger. To uncover secrets. To go on adventures. To truly change something, rewrite stories.

The door creaks open. Chays enters, hands behind his back.

“So, little one, I hear you want to become an adventurer.”

Sebastian and Joachim follow.

Sebastian smirks. “We’ll be your trainers.”

Joachim crosses his arms. “If you can keep up with us… then you can go.”

Cezaria’s childish face hardens with focus. She nods.

Chays studies her, frowning. “Little one, you can show more emotions. You've turned so cold.”

Her lips twitch into a mischievous grin. “Then… I’m allowed to say what’s on my mind?”

Chays nods cautiously.

Cezaria jabs her finger toward the Butlers. “Sebastian. Joachim. You two. I’m going to punch you. Over and over again!”

Her tiny steps carry her forward, shoulders squared, chest puffed out like a miniature general.

I’m a kid now. Not Hanla Carthe. Maybe this is my time—to accept childish thoughts. In my last life, I had to grow too fast. But here, I can be bold.

She plants her fists on her hips.

“I WANT TO BE AN ADVENTURER! AND I WANT TO BE A TRUE BADASS!”

The room falls silent. Chays blinks. Sebastian and Joachim bite their lips—then all three burst into laughter.

At the doorway, Jenna appears, smiling wide.

“No!” Jenna teases. “You will be a princess.”

Cezaria stomps her foot. “NO, MOM! I WANT TO PUNCH SEBASTIAN IN THE FACE!”

Her proud little pose—hands on hips, chest out—has Jenna laughing helplessly.

Harima leaps into the air, punching the sky. “Cezaria, yes! My sister will be an adventurer! PUNCH! PUNCH! PUNCH!”

Cezaria basks in the warmth of their laughter.

They probably think I'm not serious. But I am. I won’t make the same mistakes again. A guild… with a crew… A life I control myself, no system to keep me docile. No need to choose the lesser evil ever again. Just focusing on what matters.