I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl

The wind howled outside, carrying snowflakes that struck the window like handfuls of white sand. It whistled sharply, sometimes shrill, making the wooden frame tremble. Sylvia opened her eyes slowly, her vision blurred for a moment before settling into focus.

The cold air pierced her skin, even though the room had been furnished with a small fireplace. She blinked, sitting upright on the large white bed with silver curtains. Her black hair was tangled, falling across the shoulders of her simple gown.

Groggy, she glanced around. The storm outside grew louder, and instinct told her this was no ordinary snowfall.

Slowly, Sylvia rose from the bed. She slipped on her shoes, her footsteps creaking softly against the wooden floor, and walked to the window. With a calm motion, she pulled back the curtains.

Her crimson eyes narrowed.

Outside, the sky was smothered in thick gray clouds, churning like waves in the air. Snow fell heavily, driven by strong winds that bent the distant pine trees. The city streets were nearly invisible, buried under the relentless white. Some of the torches on the guard towers had already been extinguished by the gusts, leaving only a faint, wavering glow.

"A snowstorm…" Sylvia whispered. She exhaled, a thin mist escaping her lips. "So today is delayed as well."

She had planned to depart for the branch temple of the Goddess of Light, Lumielle, to investigate the Church's movements. But with a storm like this, stepping outside was nearly impossible. The roads would be slippery, visibility almost nonexistent, and even an undead carriage might stall.

Sylvia closed the curtains and returned to the bedside. She sat down, leaning back for a moment, letting her thoughts flow.

It seems the schedule must change again…

A soft knock came at the door.

Sylvia turned her head. "Enter," she said flatly.

The door opened, and Velthya appeared. She wore a thick gray mantle, its fur collar dotted with snow that had yet to melt. Her silver-furred tail swayed gently, though slightly tangled from the weather outside.

"Good morning, Sylvia," Velthya greeted, her voice light yet carrying warmth. "Have you looked out the window already?"

Sylvia nodded. "I had planned to go to the temple today. But with a storm like this… it's impossible to leave."

Velthya chuckled lightly, the sound like soft music breaking through the cold air. "Of course it's impossible. Even the guards are struggling to hold the towers in weather like this. Can you imagine how foolish we'd look if we tried to venture out?"

Sylvia gave a small huff, her gaze steady. "I dislike delays. But it seems I'll have to accept it."

Velthya stepped closer and signaled to a servant waiting outside. "Bring warm tea and breakfast to Lady Sylvia's room."

The servant bowed quickly and disappeared beyond the door.

Velthya then moved to the chair by the small fireplace and sat down. "In that case, let's simply enjoy this morning. You rarely get the chance to relax, do you?"

Sylvia walked over and joined her. Her black hair draped over her shoulders, her crimson eyes glowing faintly with the reflection of the fire. "Perhaps you're right."

Soon, the servant returned with a large tray. On it was a steaming pot of herbal tea, two silver cups, and a plate of warm bread, soft cheese, and dried fruit.

"Place it here," Velthya instructed. The servant arranged everything neatly on the small table by the fire, then bowed deeply before leaving.

Velthya poured the tea into two cups. Steam filled the air, mingling with the scent of mint and sweet spices. She handed one cup to Sylvia.

Sylvia accepted it, her cold fingers brushing against the warm silver. She took a sip, then exhaled softly. "Warm."

Velthya smiled faintly. "You've always liked Anarats' herbal tea."

They ate together. Sylvia only picked at a little bread and fruit, out of courtesy, while Velthya enjoyed her meal heartily.

Their conversation began lightly about the storm that might last for days, about the guards struggling to keep their posts, even about the townsfolk's habit of hoarding food during winter.

But Sylvia noticed something.

Every time Velthya laughed or made a joke, her eyes still held something else, a shadow left unspoken. Her expression would falter, as if her mind wandered elsewhere.

Sylvia set down her cup and looked at Velthya directly. "Do you want to tell me something… but hesitate?"

Velthya froze for a moment. But instead of looking startled, she smiled faintly. "You can still read my face as well as ever."

Sylvia reached out, touching Velthya's warm hand. "It's all right. If I can help, I will."

Velthya looked at Sylvia's hand resting on hers. Her golden eyes trembled, her voice hoarse as she whispered, "Sylvia…"

She drew in a deep breath, then bowed her head. "Very well. I'll tell you. Everything I've kept inside."

Sylvia stayed quiet, giving her space.

Velthya clasped Sylvia's hand tighter, then met her gaze head-on. "About the Church… about my father… and about who I really am."

She inhaled deeply, as if summoning courage long buried. The fire cracked softly, its light dancing across her beautiful yet burdened face.

"I must be honest with you, Sylvia," she said at last, her golden voice trembling. "All this time I've hidden something from you. Something not only about me, but also about the kingdom where I was born."

Sylvia remained silent, her crimson eyes attentive, no judgment there, only patience.

Velthya lowered her gaze, squeezing her friend's hand. "I'm not only the mayor of Anarats. I am… a princess of the Lycanthrope Kingdom."

Silence. Only the storm outside roared, as if to emphasize the weight of her words.

Sylvia did not look surprised. She only nodded slightly. "I had suspected. Your authority, the way people regard you… those are not traits of a mere city leader."

Velthya gave a bitter smile. "You've always been able to see through what I try to hide. Yes, I am a princess. But I left the palace. I chose to live in Anarats, to devote myself to this city, because I grew sick of the endless political intrigues there."

Her expression hardened. "But that wasn't the only reason. The Church of Light no, not only them, but others as well have begun infiltrating. Not only into human kingdoms, but into the realms of other races. Including my own."

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. "So they even try to control the Lycanthropes?"

Velthya nodded. "They come in the name of 'faith and virtue.' They speak of equality, peace, of a world that can only be led by humans because they are 'blessed by Lumielle's light.' And my father… our king, so easily believed them. He allowed priests to sit as advisors, to hold sway in the council."

Her voice rose, her silver tail bristling. "When we know humans have never fully accepted us. They always look at us with suspicion. Yet the Church managed to cloak their poison with honeyed words."

Sylvia nodded slowly, sipping her tea. "They wield religion as a weapon of politics. No wonder I hear complaints from other cities."

Velthya's golden eyes shimmered. "If only my mother were still alive. She could have stopped this."

Silence stretched. The wind battered the windows, making them groan.

"How did your mother die?" Sylvia finally asked softly.

Velthya clenched her teeth and lowered her head. "It was… called an accident. Her carriage plunged into a ravine during a diplomatic journey. But strangely… Her body was never found. Not a single trace except the wreckage."

She exhaled heavily, her hands curling into fists. "It was all too neat, too clean. I am certain there was something behind her death. And ever since then, the Church has been free to tighten its grip in the palace."

Sylvia studied her. "You suspect they murdered her?"

Velthya didn't answer right away. Her eyes trembled, then slowly she nodded. "I have no proof. But my heart… my heart has always told me so. The Church wanted to eliminate their greatest obstacle. And my mother… was that obstacle. She was firm, wise, and never allowed their poison to take root."

She buried her face briefly in her hands and whispered, "I hate admitting this. But I am weak. I couldn't uncover the truth alone. That's why I chose to leave the palace, to disguise myself as mayor here in Anarats. Here, I can protect my people directly. But I know… one day, they'll come here too."

Sylvia sat in silence, letting her words settle. The storm outside raged louder, as if echoing Velthya's turmoil.

Finally, Sylvia set down her cup and touched Velthya's trembling hand. "You are not weak, Velthya. You chose a different path. You left the comfort of the palace to stand by your people. That is not a weakness. That is strength."

Velthya looked at her, eyes brimming. "Sylvia…"

"I understand your anger toward the Church. I've seen their ways myself. And if your mother truly was killed because of them, then sooner or later, the truth will surface."

Sylvia tightened her grip on Velthya's hand. "And when that time comes, I'll stand with you. You are not alone."

Tears slipped from the corner of Velthya's eyes, though she quickly brushed them away. She let out a small, shaky laugh. "You know… I've waited so long to hear those words. I always feared one day I'd collapse with no one to catch me. But now… I feel relieved."

Sylvia only nodded and gave a faint smile. "That's why I came here."