Chapter 5
The “ghost” stared at Franz with an expressionless face.
She looked exactly like Priscilla, not as she had been recently, but as she had appeared in her youth. It was absurdly uncanny.
Franz covered his mouth, barely holding back tears that threatened to spill. In a trembling voice, he asked,
“Did you come to see me one last time?”
It had been years since they’d last met before her death. Priscilla must have carried regrets in her heart.
Especially since, as her twin, Franz had always been under her care—more like a guardian than a sibling. She must have been deeply troubled about leaving her unreliable younger brother behind.
At last, Franz burst into tears, reaching out toward the spirit of his sister.
“I’m so sorry, Priscilla. Truly, I’m sorry. I should have visited you more often before you left like this…”
“What are you even talking about, Franz?”
Priscilla’s “ghost” stepped forward and flicked his forehead.
Thwack!
The sharp pain left Franz stunned. He rubbed his reddened forehead, utterly bewildered.
Could ghosts touch people this directly? Her hand had felt so warm and real…
‘It’s almost as if she’s alive.’
Franz quickly turned on all the lights in the house. Under the bright illumination, the youthful face of Priscilla became even clearer.
When he impulsively touched her face, he recoiled in shock at the softness and warmth.
“Y-you’re alive?!”
“Do I look dead to you?”
“But, Sister… How… how is this possible…?”
Franz’s hands hovered in the air, his confusion evident.
“You’re wondering why I look so young, right?”
Franz nodded.
Priscilla looked far younger than could be explained by simply appearing youthful. Her short hair, which she had kept throughout her marriage, had turned into long, flowing locks.
“I don’t know either. That’s why I came to you. Is it possible for someone to grow younger after dying and coming back to life?”
“No, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Not even a grand mage could pull something like that off—not even my mentor.”
Hearing this, Priscilla fell into serious thought.
‘If it wasn’t magic, then what could it be? Could there really be some sacred power in the canyon waters…?’
Watching her lost in thought, Franz pointed out something that had been bothering him.
“Wait, what do you mean by ‘dying and coming back to life’?”
“Exactly that. I was nearly murdered by Brian Muton.”
“What?!”
Sitting him down, Priscilla recounted everything that had happened to her.
“What kind of horrible person does that?”
Upon learning the truth, Franz was furious.
His slender hand clenched into a fist as he slammed it against the table.
“Let’s report this immediately! We’ll reveal that you’re alive and file charges against Brian Muton with the authorities.”
“In this state?”
Priscilla responded calmly, her usual demeanor returning as she challenged her brother’s impulsive reaction.
Franz hesitated as he looked at his sister, who now appeared to be a young lady in her late teens rather than a noblewoman in her mid-thirties.
“If people hear that a duchess who supposedly committed infidelity and jumped to her death has miraculously grown younger and returned to life, who’s going to believe it?”
“…”
“At best, they’ll think it’s some bizarre misunderstanding.”
Unable to refute her point, Franz fell silent.
Even as he saw her with his own eyes, the situation still felt surreal and hard to believe.
Priscilla reached out to her brother, speaking in a low, serious voice.
“Franz, I want revenge—not just against the Muton Duchy, but also against the Ravello family.”
It wasn’t just the Muton family that had ruined her life.
Her own family, the Ravello Marquessate, was equally guilty.
If they hadn’t forced her into that marriage, none of this would have happened.
“Will you help me?”
She gripped his hand tightly.
There was no one else in the world who would stand by her side except Franz.
Even though she was asking for his help, guilt gnawed at her for dragging her innocent brother into her fight.
Sensing her unease in her trembling voice, Franz smiled gently.
“Of course I’ll help you. You’ve always said we’re one, ever since we were kids.”
“Franz…”
“Your revenge is my revenge too. I want to see both those families punished just as much as you do.”
If not for the miracle that had occurred, Priscilla would have died unjustly.
“What should I do? Where do we start?”
Grateful for her brother’s unwavering support, Priscilla opened her arms and hugged him.
Franz hugged his sister tightly, patting her back affectionately.
“Thank you, truly.”
“Don’t mention it. If you ever need anything, just tell me.”
“Really?”
Franz nodded with a soft smile.
He owed his twin sister a great deal, and if he could repay even a fraction of it, he would gladly do so.
He truly meant it—anything at all.
“Then… become my father.”
“…What? I must have misheard you.”
Franz let go of his sister and blinked in confusion.
The face that looked so much like his own, only of the opposite gender, spoke clearly.
“Franz, I need you to become my father.”
“…Sister, have you gone mad?”
“No, I’m completely serious.”
On the way here, Priscilla had nothing to do but think. She had considered countless possibilities on her own.
How could she exact perfect revenge on them?
After much deliberation, she came to a critical realization.
‘I can’t take revenge as I am.’
It was virtually impossible for Priscilla Muton to punish her husband, the Muton Duchy, or even the Ravello Marquessate.
As a woman tied to her husband and father, her position was fundamentally restricted.
The first thing she needed to do was abandon Priscilla Muton and become someone entirely new.
“And the best way to do that is to become your hidden daughter.”
By claiming to be Franz’s daughter, she wouldn’t need to fabricate a complicated origin story—she would just need to register her as his daughter with the authorities.
After hearing her explanation, Franz asked in a troubled voice,
“…Sister, how old are you right now?”
“Eighteen.”
“I’m thirty-four right now, so to have an eighteen-year-old daughter… When would I have had to—?”
Priscilla had already calculated the age gap and awkwardly rolled her eyes as she answered with a sheepish grin.
“Very early?”
***
Franz’s cabin, nestled deep in the forest, was simple yet cozy.
Tall, green pine trees surrounded it, and a clear stream flowed nearby.
The cool breeze and sunlight streaming through the leaves created an atmosphere of perfect tranquility.
‘It’s remote, but it’s a place with fresh air.’
Priscilla crouched by the stream, dipping her hands in and splashing the water playfully.
Franz, a nobleman by birth, living alone in such a forest was half his choice and half due to circumstance.
Most mages were known for their reclusive tendencies, enjoying solitude to research or invent.
Franz had been no different, often disappearing alone for long periods to experiment with magic since he was a child.
But that wasn’t the only reason he had chosen to live independently.
After Priscilla’s marriage, Franz had faced implicit pressure to leave the family, eventually forcing him out.
Worried Franz might become an obstacle to Alex inheriting the title, their stepmother had ensured his departure.
The Marquess of Ravello had given Franz no financial support when he was pushed out, leaving him to save up and build this house on his own.
‘If only Mother had been alive, things might have been different….’
Looking up at the clear, cloudless sky, Priscilla reflected on her life.
In the Trisanne Empire, one could only engage in economic activity at the age of eighteen.
Though parents could grant exceptions starting at twelve, the Marquess and Marchioness had, of course, refused to allow it.
Priscilla had waited anxiously for her eighteenth birthday.
But that spring,
Her father, addicted to gambling and incompetent in business, had unilaterally informed her of her engagement to the Duke of Muton.
At first, Priscilla had vehemently opposed the marriage.
She worked tirelessly to earn money and leave with Franz, but the Ravello family thwarted her every effort, constantly threatening and manipulating her.
“If you refuse, we’ll have no choice but to marry Franz off. Let’s see… The youngest princess of the northern Morada Kingdom is looking for a husband.”
“Are you kidding me? Franz can’t survive in the cold north! And Morada bans magic entirely!”
“That’s why we’re telling you to marry the Duke of Muton! If you marry him, not only Franz but our entire family will be at peace!”
So, she had married, and this was the result.
Chipped away by the unfair reality, Priscilla’s once lively and bold personality had gradually withered.
Up until the conflict caused by her husband’s infidelity, she had chosen to avoid confrontation and seek peace instead of fighting for what was hers.
She had learned that resignation was far easier and more comfortable.
‘It’s fine. As long as I don’t let myself get hurt, no one can hurt me.’
Back then, she had genuinely believed that—it was the only way to endure.
‘But now, things are different. If anyone dares to hurt me, I won’t stay silent. That’s why I need a new identity and a new life.’
Clenching her fists tightly, Priscilla recalled her conversation with Franz from the previous day.
“I think the name Claire would be nice. What do you think?”
Franz, who had said he’d consider her proposal of becoming her father, suddenly asked this question at dinner the night before.
When Priscilla gave him a puzzled look, he smiled faintly and said,
“If I ever had a daughter, that’s the name I’d want to give her.”
Just as Priscilla had sacrificed for her brother, Franz had always been gentle and obedient to his sister.
Even with her difficult request to become her “father,” he hadn’t refused outright.
She was grateful but also felt guilty for burdening him with such a heavy responsibility.
To repay this debt, she was determined to make her revenge a success.
Priscilla dusted off the hem of her dress and stood up.
Watching a bird sing leisurely atop the brick roof, she thought,
‘This is just like Franz’s kind of home.’
Despite being recognized as talented, he hadn’t joined the Mage Tower, choosing instead the simple, quiet life in the mountains.
Her gaze shifted to a small flower bed in front of the outer wall.
‘Did Franz grow these?’
Unfortunately, all the plants in the flower bed were wilted and dying.
Priscilla gently touched the leaves of one plant, feeling a pang of sadness as if she were looking at her past self.
‘It would’ve been lovely if you had thrived….’
Just then,
A white light began to radiate from her fingertips, spreading across the entire flower bed.
Moments later, the wilted plants began to revive, growing rapidly until they covered the entire outer wall of the house.
—
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