Zombie Girls Revival System

Sid followed quietly, keeping a careful distance as he trailed the two through the house. He knew he was only a spectator in this memory, but something about the mother's behavior was too strange, too obsessive, for him to ignore. Evelise's small footsteps padded softly ahead, and her mother's frantic muttering echoed off the wooden walls until they reached the bathroom.

When the door closed, Sid slipped closer and pressed himself against the wall, listening through the thin wood. The sound of water splashing filled the room— gentle at first, then brisk as the mother scrubbed her daughter with sharp, hurried motions.

"Hold still."

The mother snapped, voice tight with stress.

"A human should be clean. A human should be pure. You can't run around like some wild animal."

Evelise's small sigh drifted through the door.

"But we kind of are, Mama… I mean— we're humanimals. Hybrids. That's normal, isn't it? I just wanted to pick herbs. I like helping things. Even the little animals who get hurt—"

"No."

Her mother's voice hardened instantly, slicing through the steam.

"Do not say that again."

Sid felt the air shift. The tone was wrong. Not scolding… terrified.

"You are not an animal Evelise."

She continued, scrubbing harder until Evelise yelped.

"The woods are not your home. They're not meant for you. You belong inside, learning how to be proper. Graceful. Controlled. If you don't behave like a human, people will only see a creature. A hybrid. Something lesser."

Evelise didn't speak after that. Just the quiet sound of small hands gripping the edge of the wooden tub. A few minutes later, Sid heard the water drain and the rustle of towels. The bath quickly concluded. Sid quickly moved away from the door, giving them space. When Evelise emerged, her mother was already guiding her, not to rest but to the living room. The small girl, fresh and damp, looked defeated. Sid followed again, silent as a shadow.

The training ritual began immediately, rigid and unforgiving, completely unsuited for a child her age. The mother placed a heavy book on top of Evelise's small silver head and stepped back with cold precision.

"Walk. Slowly. Do not let it fall. You must carry yourself with the grace of a human princess, not a frightened little creature."

Little Evelise was forced to walk, slow step by slow step, across the length of the wooden floor, the heavy book balanced precariously on her silver head. Her small shoulders were tense, fighting the urge to slump.

"Stand up straight. Higher chin. No slouching. Again."

Evelise raised her head, but her mother pushed her chin even higher.

"Perfect posture must be natura. You cannot look weak. You cannot move like a wild thing."

Sid watched her wobble, and every few minutes, exhausted, she would falter.

CLATTER!

The book hit the floor.

Evelise's face would briefly flicker with exhaustion and frustration, but before she could speak, her mother's voice would cut through the air, cold and sharp.

"Again, Evelise. You fell."

Sid, unable to stand the sight, instinctively reached out with his hand as the book fell for the fifth time, intending to catch it before it touched the ground. The mother snapped her head toward Evelise.

"Evelise! Stop looking for aid! You do not need help! You must do this yourself, or else you will be nothing— a filthy, worthless little beast clinging to the ground!"

The mother then turned her furious attention to Sid.

"You there! Servant! Stop lingering! If she is struggling with the balance, then we must increase the challenge!"

The mother grabbed a second, equally thick volume from the shelf.

"Put this on top of the first book, slowly! Increase the weight. She needs to understand the gravity of her failure!"

Sid was forced to obey the memory's command, his hands placing the additional weight on the girl's head. Evelise flinched under the sudden pressure but quickly straightened her spine, her ruby eyes closed tightly in concentration.

The second phase was worse. When the posture training broke her physically, the mother transitioned to mental torment. She forced Evelise to read historical texts aloud, demanding a "low, even, monotonous pitch." Her mother sat Evelise before a massive tome, nearly as large as her torso, its pages filled with dense historical text.

"Read, " she instructed. "Maintain a low, even pitch. No squeaks, no childish fluctuations. Human emotion is managed, never displayed. It is not displayed vulgarly. Your voice must be controlled, like a fine instrument. Any high pitched squeak is a lapse into the animal."

Evelise's throat was dry, her voice thin, but she persisted, draining all expression from the dry facts she read and Sid gently tilted the book closer when she struggled to see, but the mother immediately snapped her fingers.

"Straighten her spine, Servant. Add more weight on her lap. She must learn to focus under pressure."

Sid hesitated.

"She's just a kid—"

"Do it!"

Sid obeyed only because the memory forced him along its path, placing two heavy stones across Evelise's small thighs. She trembled under the pressure, her voice dropping again into a dull monotone as she read on.

"Good."

Her mother said, cold approval hanging in the air.

"This is proper discipline."

The emotional conditioning was the cruelest of all. Her mother stood before her and delivered cold, cutting insults with a steady voice, as if reciting facts from a ledger.

"You startle too easily. You blink too often. You are too soft in the face, too delicate, too instinctive. These flaws are unacceptable."

Evelise's eyes shimmered for a moment, but she clamped her lips shut and forced her face back into an emotionless mask. Sid moved closer again, offering a handkerchief when her eyes watered, but the mother's glare snapped him still.

"If she cries, we begin again. Evelise— Iron Mask. Do not disappoint me."

This was the climax of the cruelty. The mother systematically began tearing down her daughter's sense of worth, like stripping bark from a young tree.

"You smell of dirt. Your ears are too large; they make you look simple."

Evelise's jaw clenched, her ears twitching despite her efforts to remain still.

"Your tendency to run off shows your lack of breeding. You will never be worthy of a proper human family until you discard that animal weakness."

A single tear tracked down little Evelise's cheek, but before it could fall, her mother's voice became icy venom.

"I said no sentiment! We do not waste energy on weakness! You must become an Iron Mask."

Sid watched, horrified, as Evelise hastily scrubbed the tear away with the back of her small hand, her entire body rigid. He saw the genuine, deep seated pain and confusion in her eyes, instantly sealed away beneath a layer of forced, terrifying neutrality. The tiny girl was deliberately and methodically learning to bury her heart.

Hours passed in this repeating cycle of posture, voice, and emotionlessness. Sid's chest tightened each time Evelise staggered or flinched, wanting to pull her behind him and scream at the mother that she was destroying her own child. But the memory held him in place, forcing him to witness everything without the power to change it. The more he watched, the more the cold truth settled in his bones. The strictness, the icy exterior, the tyranny he had seen in the first dead chapter—none of it was natural. It was manufactured.

This woman was not teaching Evelise to be strong. She was forcing her daughter to erase herself.

The relentless training continued without a break, extending even into the evening routine. After the excruciating session on emotional suppression, the mother transitioned directly to dinner.

Sid, still trapped in the servant's role, found himself carrying a small tray into the dining area— a simple wooden table set for two. He placed the plate of meager, plain looking food in front of little Evelise.

Evelise was utterly exhausted, her eyes drooping, but her posture remained painfully straight, the consequence of hours spent balancing books. She reached for her fork, and the mother instantly slapped the table.

"Evelise! What are you doing?"

The girl flinched, her eyes snapping back to her mother.

"You eat like an animal gulping down scraps! You must understand the propriety of consumption!"

The mother lectured, her voice never rising above a tight, controlled pitch.

"Servant demonstrate the proper way to hold the fork. Show her how a human like you holds it."

Sid had to move, his hands mimicking the motion of picking up the fork. The mother continued her severe lesson:

"You do not shovel, Evelise. You do not chew loudly. Every movement must be precise, deliberate, and silent. You must savor the food like a civilized being, not merely gorge for survival."

Evelise, fighting sleep and hunger, struggled to comply. She had to place the fork down after every tiny bite, wipe her mouth delicately, and sit with perfect, painful posture before picking up the fork again.

"Your appetite is too large. That is a sign of your animalistic nature."

The mother criticized as Evelise quickly finished the small portion.

"You will be satisfied now."