Chapter 3: The Awakening

Consciousness returned like a wave crashing against rocks—sudden, violent, disorienting.

The ceiling above her wasn't right. Not the white ceiling of her bedroom. Not the institutional tiles of a hospital. This ceiling curved gently, dark wooden beams crossing pale plaster, illuminated by soft golden light from somewhere beyond her field of vision.

Mizuki blinked, trying to clear the confusion. Her body felt wrong—too small, too weak, proportions all wrong. She tried to lift her hand and stared in disbelief at the tiny fingers that came into view. A child's hand. Not her hand. Not possible.

Yet it moved when she commanded it.

Panic surged. Mizuki tried to sit up, but her small body betrayed her, muscles uncoordinated and weak. A scream tore from her throat—high-pitched, unfamiliar, terrifying in its strangeness.

Footsteps pounded against wooden floors. The door flew open, and a woman in a long dress rushed in, her face a mask of concern beneath a white cap.

"Lady Elysia! What troubles you, little one?" The woman reached the bedside in three quick strides, leaning over to examine her. "Another nightmare?"

Elysia recoiled, pressing herself against the ornate wooden headboard. The woman looked like she'd stepped out of a historical drama—long skirts, apron, hair tucked beneath a cap that no modern person would wear.

"Who—" Elysia's voice caught in her throat, so high and childish that it seemed to belong to someone else. She swallowed and tried again. "Who are you? Where am I?"

The woman's brow furrowed. She reached out, pressing a cool palm to Elysia's forehead. "No fever. Perhaps the excitement of yesterday's hunt was too much." She smiled kindly. "It's Agnes, little one. Your nursemaid these three years since your birth. You're safe in your chambers at Blackwood Manor, as always."

*Three years since birth.* The words echoed in Elysia's mind, impossible yet explaining the tiny hands, the weak limbs, the childish voice. She glanced down at herself—small body clothed in a white nightgown with embroidered edges, nothing like the uniform she last remembered wearing.

Memories crashed through her mind like a tsunami. The confession. The rejection. The viral humiliation. The rooftop. The fall.

She should be dead.

"A looking glass," Elysia demanded, her child's voice making the request sound like a petulant demand. "Please, I need to see."

Agnes frowned but reached for a small hand mirror on the nearby dressing table. "Such strange requests today, Lady Elysia. Here then, if it pleases you."

Elysia snatched the mirror with uncoordinated fingers, nearly dropping it before managing to hold it before her face. The reflection knocked the breath from her lungs.

A toddler stared back at her. Round cheeks, soft black hair, and eyes—violet eyes, impossible eyes—wide with shock. Not Mizuki Kamiya's face. Not her eyes. Nothing familiar remained except consciousness trapped in this alien form.

"This isn't possible," she whispered, the child's voice making the words sound absurd. "I was seventeen. I was in Tokyo. I was..."

*Falling. Dying.*

"Lady Elysia?" Agnes's concern deepened. "Shall I fetch the physician? Your words make little sense."

Before Elysia could respond, the bedroom door swung open again. A tall man entered, his presence immediately dominating the room. Dark hair streaked with silver at the temples, sharp features set in lines of perpetual authority, clothing rich but severe—everything about him radiated power and command.

"What commotion is this, Agnes? The child's cries echo through half the manor." His voice matched his appearance—deep, controlled, accustomed to obedience.

Agnes dropped into a curtsy. "Forgive me, Your Grace. Lady Elysia woke in great distress. She speaks strangely and seems confused."

The man—clearly someone of importance—approached the bed, studying Elysia with penetrating dark eyes that matched her new reflection. "Is that so? What troubles you, daughter?"

*Daughter.* The word struck Elysia like a physical blow. This imposing stranger claimed her as his child. And Agnes had called him "Your Grace," a title from another era, another world.

"I..." Words failed her. How could she possibly explain? *I'm a teenage girl who jumped from a roof in Tokyo. I'm Mizuki Kamiya. I'm dead or dreaming or insane.*

"Nothing of consequence, I'm sure," the man continued, not waiting for her response. "Children have nightmares. It builds character to overcome such fears without excessive coddling." He turned to Agnes. "See that she returns to sleep promptly. I have council matters to attend before dawn."

"Yes, Duke Dominus," Agnes replied with another curtsy.

*Duke.* Not just any authority figure—actual nobility. Elysia's mind reeled, struggling to process information that contradicted everything she knew about reality. Modern Japan had no dukes. No nursemaids. No manors with wooden-beamed ceilings and canopied beds.

The Duke—her apparent father—gave her one final assessing look before turning to leave. "Control yourself, Elysia. Blackwoods do not disturb an entire household over nightmares."

The door closed behind him with finality, leaving Elysia alone with Agnes once more. The nursemaid clucked her tongue disapprovingly.

"Your father works himself to exhaustion these days. The Francea border dispute leaves him little rest." She adjusted Elysia's blankets with practiced movements. "Now, shall I bring warm milk to help you back to sleep?"

Elysia shook her head, still trying to orient herself in this impossible situation. "No. I—I need to be alone. To think."

Agnes raised an eyebrow. "Such adult phrases from one so small." She sighed. "Very well. Call if you need me. I'll leave the connecting door ajar."

After the nursemaid retreated through a small side door, Elysia forced her unfamiliar body to move. With effort, she managed to climb out of the enormous bed, small feet landing on cold wooden floors. Wobbling, she made her way to the window and pushed aside heavy curtains.

Moonlight illuminated a scene from another world—manicured gardens stretched away from the manor house, giving way to forests in the distance. No skyscrapers. No neon signs. No traffic sounds. Just crickets, distant owl hoots, and the rustle of wind through trees.

"Not possible," she whispered, pressing tiny hands against the glass. "Not possible."

Yet the cold window beneath her palms felt utterly real. The ache in her legs from the short walk across the room felt real. The racing of her heart and the shortness of her breath felt real.

Elysia staggered back to the bed, climbing with difficulty onto the high mattress. She lay on her back, staring at the canopy above, trying to make sense of her situation.

Facts first, she decided. Organize what she knew.

She had been Mizuki Kamiya, seventeen, high school student in Tokyo, 2023.

She had jumped from a twelve-story building.

She had expected death.

Instead, she was apparently Elysia Blackwood, three-year-old daughter of Duke Dominus Blackwood, in a world with manors and nursemaids and nobility.

Either she was:

1. Dead, and this was some bizarre afterlife

2. In a coma, having an elaborate hallucination

3. Insane, having a complete break from reality

4. Actually inhabiting the body of a child in another world

None of the options made logical sense, yet one of them had to be true.

If this was death, there was nothing to do but experience it.

If this was a coma dream, nothing here mattered.

If she was insane, rational planning was pointless.

But if, somehow, impossibly, she had been reborn or transported to another body, another world...

Elysia's small hands clenched into fists. If this was real, then she needed to survive. To understand. To adapt.

And to never, ever reveal what she knew—that she had memories of another life, another world. That inside this child's body was the mind of a seventeen-year-old girl who had chosen death over humiliation. Such claims would likely be attributed to demonic possession in a world with dukes and manors. She had seen enough historical dramas to know what happened to those accused of supernatural afflictions.

No. She would observe. Learn. Adapt. The skills that had made Mizuki Kamiya socially invisible would serve Elysia Blackwood well—watching, analyzing, understanding the rules of this new existence before attempting to navigate them.

A strange calm settled over her as she made this decision. Whatever had happened—death, dream, madness, or impossible rebirth—she would face it with the one skill she had mastered in her previous life: the ability to create a persona that served her needs.

Elysia closed her violet eyes, forcing her small body to relax. Tomorrow would bring more information. Tomorrow she would begin understanding this new reality. Tomorrow she would start becoming whoever Elysia Blackwood needed to be.

For now, she allowed exhaustion to claim her, sinking into darkness once more—not the final darkness of death, but the temporary respite of sleep.

---

Morning brought chaos and clarity in equal measure.

Sunlight streaming through partially opened curtains woke Elysia from troubled dreams of falling. For a blessed moment, she thought herself back in her Tokyo bedroom—until she saw the wooden beams above, felt the unfamiliar softness of the feather mattress, and remembered.

Still here. Still impossible. Still real.

Agnes bustled in shortly after, accompanied by two younger women. "Good morning, my lady. Time to prepare for breakfast. The Duke expects promptness."

What followed was an education in the helplessness of childhood in this world. The women dressed her like a doll, brushing her hair, washing her face, selecting her clothing without consultation. Elysia endured it, using the opportunity to gather information.

"Will Lady Victoria be at breakfast?" one maid asked Agnes while fastening tiny buttons on Elysia's dress.

"Yes, with Master Sebastian, as always," Agnes replied.

*Sebastian. Victoria.* Names to remember. Apparently siblings, given the context.

By the time they finished preparing her, Elysia had gleaned valuable information: she was the youngest of three children; her brother Sebastian was the eldest at ten years, showing promise in scholarly and political matters; her sister Victoria was seven, already skilled in riding and basic swordplay. Their mother, the Duchess, had died shortly after Elysia's birth—a fact mentioned in hushed tones when they thought she wasn't listening.

Agnes led her through stone corridors to a dining hall where the Duke already sat at the head of a long table. Two other children were taking seats—a boy with the Duke's sharp features softened by youth, and a girl with fierce eyes and hair pulled back severely from her face.

"Finally," the Duke commented, barely glancing up. "Sebastian, continue."

The boy—Sebastian—nodded importantly. "As I was saying, Father, Tutor Landry believes my scholarly progress would be best served by attending the Cathedral lectures on classical governance."

"Reasonable," the Duke replied. "Victoria?"

The girl straightened. "Commander Blackthorn says I've mastered the basic forms and can begin actual sparring next week."

A nod of approval. "Good. Consistent progress."

Agnes led Elysia to a chair with added cushions to compensate for her small stature. As she climbed up, both siblings gave her quick, disinterested glances before returning to their breakfast.

"And you, Elysia," the Duke said, finally acknowledging her presence. "Agnes reports disturbed sleep and strange talk. Are you ill?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to her. Elysia felt her heart race. This was her first test—respond as they expected, or reveal her disorientation and risk consequences she couldn't predict.

Instinct took over. She lowered her eyes demurely and spoke in the softest, most childish voice she could manage.

"Just bad dreams, Father. I'm sorry for causing trouble."

The Duke studied her for a moment, then returned to his breakfast. "See that it doesn't become habit. Blackwoods control their fears, not the reverse."

Crisis averted. Sebastian and Victoria's attention drifted away, their younger sister too uninteresting to hold their focus. Elysia picked at unfamiliar food, mind racing beneath her carefully composed expression.

She had confirmed several facts:

- This was a hierarchical, formal society with strict expectations

- Children, especially girls, were expected to be obedient and controlled

- Her father valued discipline, achievement, and emotional restraint

- Her siblings were being groomed for their respective roles

And most importantly, she had proven she could navigate this world. Her instinct to observe before acting had served her well.

As breakfast continued around her, Elysia made her first definitive decision in this new existence: she would become exactly what they expected—a proper, unremarkable noble daughter—while secretly gathering knowledge, strength, and understanding.

Whatever had happened to bring Mizuki Kamiya's consciousness into Elysia Blackwood's body, she would make the most of this second chance at existence. The mistakes and humiliations of her past life would not be repeated. The weaknesses that had driven her to that rooftop would be replaced by careful calculation and strategic patience.

And perhaps, someday, she would understand why she had been given this impossible second chance.

Perhaps she would even discover if the Abysmal Flame—her imagination's greatest creation—could exist in this new world of dukes and swords and ancient manors.

But that was for later. For now, she had a role to play and a world to learn.

"May I be excused to the gardens, Father?" she asked in her most innocent voice. "I promise to stay within sight of the windows."

The Duke waved a dismissive hand, already turning his attention back to Sebastian's academic achievements.

Elysia slid from her chair, hiding a smile of satisfaction. Her first successful navigation of this new reality. Small victories would build toward larger ones.

After all, she had a lifetime ahead of her—a second lifetime that shouldn't exist, but somehow did.

And this time, she would not waste it on fantasies.

Or so she thought.