I've Tried Going Back to Life After Dying - Chapter 11

I think the last time I was afraid to sleep was when I was a child.

Back then, there was a maid who was an excellent and entertaining storyteller.

She was the daughter of some minor noble under our family’s banner, placed in the earl’s household to learn proper manners. But she had a real talent for spinning the most ordinary things into captivating tales.

For Lauren, who couldn’t go outside, she would weave these fantastical stories that made you wonder where she came up with them, always delivering them with great humor.

“I believe she married that baron’s son who was her childhood friend, didn’t she?”

When Hildegard was about ten, the maid left to get married.

“Wait, no—didn’t she become a librarian to help with household expenses?”

Nowadays, she must be working in some library somewhere. Hildegard fondly remembered her in her uniform.

She was so lost in nostalgia that she nearly forgot her original concern.

Hildegard knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight. She absolutely must not sleep. She was too terrified to close her eyes.

The last time she felt like this was after that storytelling maid terrified her with tales of “The Seven Mysteries of the Earl’s Household”—stories about ghosts that appeared in children’s bedrooms night after night.

The ghosts the maid described weren’t scary at all. In fact, meeting one supposedly granted you a lifetime of modest happiness.

In the eastern countries, they were called “house children” and considered symbols of good fortune or something like that.

Given how creative that maid was with her stories, it was surely just something she made up to entertain Lauren.

But while Lauren listened with delight, Hildegard had been trembling in fear.

Something appearing in your room at night? What could be more horrifying?

Even if you ignored security concerns that thing was a ghost! Not human!

That night, she hadn’t slept until morning. Every tiny sound made her jump, and by then, passing out from exhaustion would have been a hundred times better.

For the first time in decades since that night, Hildegard faced another sleepless evening.

“If I wake up and it was all just a dream…”

After finally reuniting with Lauren, to think it was just a dream…

That would hurt as much as experiencing his death twice.

Her youthful parents, the lively servants, her beloved childhood home—all of it. Atrey, her friends, the precious school and its cafeteria.

Everything had appeared so vividly before her, filling her heart with joy. To think it was all just a dream…

“I’d die twice from despair.”

When morning came, she’d return. She wouldn’t get to hold Lauren’s hand in his final moments.

And worst of all, even if she went back there, her husband would no longer be in this world.

“What if I just don’t sleep?”

Moonlight streamed through the window into the darkened room. The distant song of a nightingale reached her ears. Just as she wished time would stop right there, Hildegard fell asleep.

“What a wonderful morning.”

Bathed in the rising sun, Hildegard took a deep breath of the morning air.

The early dawn air was damp with dew, but the birds chirping by her ear sounded like they were saying:

“Hildegard, it’s morning. A new morning. Congratulations.”

She could hear nothing else.

Hildegard had truly died. She died and returned to the past.

“Being alive—just that alone is wonderful.”

Though she had returned from death, she felt no pain or discomfort, so she didn’t find it frightening.

There should have been no complaints.

The mansion’s servants and Austin were here, and Hildegard was supposed to spend her busy days as the marchioness for a while longer.

Once Austin married, she planned to buy a small house in the countryside and live a life devoted to reading. Free from ledgers and contracts, she’d spend her remaining years immersed in romance novels.

But when she thought about returning to her old life, what surfaced in her mind was that she didn’t want to leave this one.

“Each day is finite, and life is but a fragile, fleeting stage where we string those finite moments together.”

With that, Hildegard looked up at the morning sun.

Perhaps she stared too long.

Her eyes stung, so she decided to go back to sleep for a while.

The second day of her return was a holiday at the academy.

From the very first day, she’d been given the impudent nickname “Nodding Lady,” but somehow, she’d grown fond of it.

When the break ended and she returned to the academy, she’d nod enthusiastically to meet everyone’s expectations.

Hildegard was accustomed to giving.

If people wanted laughter, she was happy to provide.

Eventually, maybe one or two students would follow her lead and start nodding along to the teacher’s words.

Life was full of possibilities, after all.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t go to the academy today, so she decided to have an important talk with her father instead.

No matter how much time she had, Hildegard never neglected her mental task management.

What needed to be done now, what could be done now, what could wait.

Using those three pillars, she mapped out today’s plan of action.

As a result, she realized there was something she absolutely had to discuss with her father today. In fact, she was grateful today was a holiday.

“I must get Father’s approval as soon as possible.”

Even though she was alone in her room, Hildegard continued her lively soliloquy at full volume.