I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl

The black carriage with silver trim rolled steadily over the stone road, drawn by a once-brown horse now turned zombie. Its body moved calmly, showing no signs of fatigue. The steel wheels creaked softly, breaking the silence of the winter forest.

Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was different. The velvet curtains remained tightly drawn, and the two figures resting on the cushioned seats had yet to fully wake. Alicia slept with her head tilted slightly to the side, her silver hair a tangled mess over the small pillow, lips parted faintly with steady breaths. Stacia was tidier, her body curled under a thick wool blanket up to her chin, her pale face peaceful after a long night.

Sylvia gazed at them for a moment. Sitting opposite, her chin resting on her hand, she finally exhaled a short sigh.

"You two sleep so deeply… as if the outside world doesn't exist," she murmured quietly, her voice nearly lost in the rhythm of the wheels.

For a while she considered staying inside, but after an hour passed, boredom crept in. Her crimson eyes flicked to the curtained window, feeling confined in the cozy space. Slowly, she stood, reaching for the heavy black cloak hanging by the seat, and stepped outside through the side door.

The moment it opened, cold air swept against her face. The morning wind carried the scent of snow and frozen earth, mingled with the occasional chirp of small birds in the trees. Sylvia drew in a deep breath. Though her undead body did not need air to survive, the human habit clung to her still. That breath gave her a fleeting sense of freshness, though her mind whispered that the air stabbed like ice.

She descended the small step, then climbed up onto the driver's seat at the front of the carriage. Pulling her cloak tighter, the black fur at her collar fluttered lightly in the wind. Her hands rested folded in her lap, and for a moment she simply sat, staring at the long road ahead.

"You're far too calm," she said to the zombie horse, her voice low yet clear, as though speaking to a living creature. "Even if I told you to run, you wouldn't mind, would you?"

The horse only flicked its ears slightly, continuing its steady pace, head held high.

Sylvia smiled faintly. There was a different kind of peace in sitting outside, letting the cold wind brush through her long black hair. The steel wheels rolled smoothly, almost without jolt despite the icy stones beneath. The carriage had indeed been built for comfort, and with the tireless strength of a zombie horse, the journey felt more like gliding than rattling.

After several minutes of quiet, Sylvia reached into the small leather satchel by her side. She pulled out an old book, its dark brown cover worn, corners creased from frequent use. Faded golden letters on the cover read: "Traditional Recipes: Soups, Breads, and Warm Tonics."

It wasn't hers for long. She had bought it from a merchant on a whim. At first she thought a recipe book was useless for an undead. But once, long ago, she had been human and even a man before reincarnating as a woman and becoming what she was now.

She opened the first page, her fingers tracing the neat handwriting, accompanied by simple sketches of vegetables and cuts of meat.

"Potato and garlic soup… hm. Too simple."

The next page.

"Honey toast. Requires real honey, not sugar. Hard to find in winter."

She chuckled softly, turning another page. Each time she read, she wasn't only imagining the taste, but also the setting that came with it: a plain wooden table, steam rising from a bowl, light conversation drifting around it. It wasn't necessary for her anymore, but the image carried a warmth she couldn't quite explain.

Sylvia leaned back in the driver's seat, letting the book rest open on her lap. Her eyes moved slowly from recipe to recipe as the morning wind brushed against her face. Occasionally she lifted her gaze, watching the forest road ahead the skeletal trees dusted with snow, their frozen branches glittering with frost.

Small birds darted low, searching for seeds or insects beneath dead leaves. From afar, the sound of a stream carried faintly, following the natural routes traders often chose to cross in winter.

Sylvia closed the book for a moment, murmuring,

"If I tried cooking this… Alicia would laugh, Stacia would probably criticize the spice proportions… and Sofia…"

Her words faltered. The faint smile faded, replaced by the heavy ache of longing in her chest.

"…Sofia would probably insist on tasting it, then say it's 'acceptable,' even if it was awful."

She let out a soft laugh, tinged with bitterness. She tapped the book gently, then opened it again.

Time slipped by, and Sylvia sank deeper into its pages. Some dishes she could imagine making with the supplies in her dimensional storage; others were impossible in this winter. Still, she read on, as if each recipe was a small story that soothed her.

The steady rhythm of wheels on stone became her background music. Now and then, a branch cracked under the wheels, or a bird flapped away from a nearby tree, adding different beats to the rhythm. But all remained calm.

In her heart, Sylvia knew this peace was fragile. The Church was still hunting them. The world was still dangerous. Yet for this morning, seated on the driver's bench with a recipe book in her lap, she allowed herself the rare comfort of a quiet moment.

After a long while, a voice from inside the carriage broke the silence.

"What's going on out there?" Alicia's voice was hoarse, heavy with sleep.

Sylvia glanced at the curtain. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

But the fabric shifted slightly, and Alicia's tired face appeared, silver hair messy. "Are you… reading a book?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes," Sylvia replied curtly.

Alicia blinked. "A recipe book? Are you serious?"

Sylvia raised an eyebrow. "Why not? Reading doesn't make me weak."

Alicia chuckled, her voice still rough. "I just never pictured you sitting calmly on a driver's bench, reading soup recipes."

Sylvia snapped the book shut with purpose. "Better than staring at the road in silence."

Alicia laughed softly, then let the curtain fall closed. "Alright… carry on. If you find a good recipe, make it for me later."

Sylvia shook her head lightly, but a faint smile returned to her lips. She opened the book again, this time to a page titled "Herbal Tea with Cinnamon."

The carriage rolled on. The once-pale sky slowly brightened as the winter sun climbed, though its light remained dim. The cold air bit harder, but Sylvia didn't flinch. Her cloak was thick enough, and her mind was too occupied with the book to care about the chill.

Hours passed this way. Sometimes she read, sometimes she watched the woods, sometimes she simply listened to the wind. The outside world might be full of danger, but this morning, time seemed to slow, granting them space to breathe.

The carriage continued all day, winding through frozen forests and small snow-covered valleys. The hours crawled, yet for Sylvia, the journey felt like a rare pause, calm, almost undisturbed. Now and then she closed the book, gazing at the shimmering frost of the woods in winter sunlight, before returning to the simple recipes.

By midday, Alicia and Stacia were finally awake. They sat propped against the cushioned seats, still pale but far fresher than yesterday. Sylvia stole a glance through the half-drawn curtain. Relief stirred within her, seeing them eat and converse lightly, though their bodies had yet to fully recover.

Time moved on, the weak sun descending once more. The sky deepened to gold, then to crimson, casting warm hues over the snowy ground. The air grew colder, every breath visible as a faint mist.

Sylvia finally closed the recipe book, tucking it back into her satchel. She drew in a long breath, eyes set forward. "We're nearly there."

Alicia pulled the curtain slightly, her eyes lighting up at a distant shape. "The gate…" she whispered.

Stacia, though weak, turned her gaze too. "The castle…"

Indeed, through the evening haze, stone towers rose proudly, blackened walls reinforced with magic reflecting the orange sky. Black banners marked with a dark flower encircled by chains swayed in the frigid wind. Ahead, massive iron gates stood guard, flanked by ranks of zombie soldiers, their vacant eyes glowing faintly.

The silver-trimmed black carriage slowed as it approached, steel wheels carving a long trail over frozen ground. Sylvia sat tall on the driver's bench, her gaze sweeping the view with an unreadable expression, a mix of relief, weariness, and deep belonging.

As the zombie horse halted before the gates, the guards shifted aside at once. The colossal doors creaked open, heavy with power, pushing cold air outward.

The wheels turned again, this time carrying them through the great entrance. The sun dipped almost fully below the towers, leaving the castle silhouetted in grand, ominous shadow.

Sylvia glanced into the cabin, seeing Alicia and Stacia peering out the window, their eyes glowing faintly with wonder. "We're home," she said softly.

The carriage rolled slowly into the inner courtyard. Lines of enchanted torches flared to life along the path, lighting the way, welcoming the queen and her two sisters back.