Flipping the Pages Open

Anastasia ends up grieving for her parents' death even in her dream.

She had been thunderstruck all day long, and even when night already fell, not once did she stop thinking about them. She couldn't snap out of her hollowing storm of dread.

Perhaps, that explains why they also appear to her even in her slumber.

There, she finally got a clear view of what they looked like - a brunette who seemed to be an older version of her and a lean man with a few white hairs sticking out from his ebony black hair. Right then, what made her want to burst into tears again was the heart-wrenching look of fatigue on their smiling faces.

They were clearly exhausted, probably from working so hard every single day just to provide for their family.

"Mama, Papa... I'm sorry I couldn't remember you. I'm sorry I left you all by yourselves. I'm sorry..."

Anastasia just couldn't simply rest in peace, knowing that her parents must have sacrificed a lot of things for her while she's just idly living like this.

Thus, as soon as the clock strikes midnight, the undead rises from her sleep.

She has to do something.

She wants to know everything.

Anastasia has been meaning to unfold her forgotten origin since the beginning. She decided to take baby steps at first, but now that she remembered her precious family - a significant, pivotal piece of the broken puzzle called her history, she wishes that things would just escalate quickly. She wants to recall all of it as soon as possible.

"Maybe that can help me..."

Standing before the vanity mirror, Anastasia then pulls one of its drawers open and takes out the journal she found in Zen's room.

After that memorable train of happenings in the piano room, the fact that she has this with her almost slips her mind. She regretted being too caught up in her feelings and trivial pondering that time.

"It's all because of that guy... Yeah, that's right, it's his fault. He kept swivelling my attention around and making me lose sight of something this important," she thought in annoyance.

Though she's blaming him now, she also feels embarrassed for admitting that he has that much influence on her.

"Anyway, let's see... I'm not sure what's inside. Could this be a diary?" she wondered out loud, scanning through the notebook's front and back hardbound covers.

"Oh, there's a tiny lock. How cute."

Anastasia fiddles with a small, heart-shaped lock that's obviously missing a key. She then takes this chance to put her secret ability to pick locks in good use.

Doing it with a bobby pin only takes a short while, and eventually, she's able to open it without a hitch.

As soon as Anastasia flips the first page, two certain things catch her attention almost instantly.

First is the nostalgic, dusty smell that fills her nostrils the instant she takes a whiff of it. The brittle texture of its cream-colored pages also tells her that the journal has seen better days.

Second thing to take note of, there's the remarkable amount of girly designs and stationery stickers. Going by those flowers, glitters and mini hearts alone, she can already tell that this doesn't belong to Zen.

"Quite the effort they poured in here, I say," she mumbled in amusement, referring to the real owner.

That's when she suddenly lays eyes on a particular spot on the back of the cover - a beautiful cursive writing of her name and quite probably, her surname.

At this, she almost chokes on her saliva in surprise as she gawks at the letters with saucer eyes.

"Anastasia... Bellen?"

Just by spouting out those words makes her heart race. She's now close to tearing up once more.

Her insides are being stirred by the feelings of wistfulness and belongingness - as if finding herself all over again.

"This is... probably my diary, then. Perhaps, that's why I'm a little familiar with the penmanship."

After coming to that conclusion, Anastasia finally decided to start reading as she braced herself for a world of revelations. Make it or break it - either she ends up not remembering anything at all despite reading the whole thing or she recovers all of her memories as she re-lives her past self's reality.

"Hopefully, I recall something... Anything at all..."

On the other hand, there's Zen who also decided to spend the rest of the night awake.

He's been playing the piano for a while now.

Matching the forlorn atmosphere in that dim room is a deep, melancholic music. His candle-like fingers prance around the porcelain keys, letting his despondent emotions to seep through every note. Though his eyes are glued on their smooth surface, his mind's far from that place.

Then, a moment later, his song finally comes to an end.

"It's so late already. You ought to rest."

Only then did his company step a foot inside.

Dressed in a butler suit, a fair-skinned guy with ghastly white hair suddenly makes an appearance. Though most of his figure remains obscure as he stays back in the shade of a dark corner, he carries that sense of mellowness expected from an adult.

"Young Master."

At that, Zen eventually turns to him with a scowl marring his frame, a dark, formidable glint glazing his crimson pupils.