I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 74 – In Silence, In Embrace

Morning crept in gently through the dancing curtains, stirred by the breeze. Soft sunlight slipped through, illuminating tiny dust particles drifting like shards of light. I opened my eyes slowly, and the first thing I saw... was Celestine’s sleeping face beside me.

Her expression was peaceful, far from the cold or stern demeanor she usually wore on the battlefield. No anger and no tension. Just... a hidden tenderness I’d never seen before.

Her silver hair was messy, with strands stuck to her cheek. Her breathing was steady, warm against the arm she rested on.

I exhaled quietly. Last night... after she cried in my arms, I brought her to her room. But when I tried to lay her on the bed, she wouldn’t let go of my shirt—even in her sleep. So I gave in, sat on the edge of the bed, and let her rest against my chest... until I too fell asleep with her, in a silence that felt... peaceful.

I looked down at her.

Was I too close?

My heart beat steadily, yet clearly—not out of fear, but out of this unfamiliar feeling. I reached out, gently brushing aside the strands of hair from her forehead.

And at that moment... her eyes fluttered open a little.

"Hmm... morning?" she murmured, her voice husky from sleep, but her lips curved into a faint smile.

I quickly averted my gaze, something odd stirring in my chest.

"G-good morning..." I replied, awkwardly.

Celes looked at me for a few seconds, then slowly realized how closely she was still leaning against me. She gently pulled back and sat up straight, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

"L-last night... sorry if I caused you trouble," she said, adjusting her hair, not meeting my eyes.

"It’s fine... really." I turned to the window. "You needed that. I just... didn’t know what else to do but hold you."

She turned to me slowly, then smiled softly. "That was enough, Sylvia."

There was a brief awkward pause.

"So... you didn’t mind sleeping in my bed?" she asked softly.

I blurted out, "Yes," but immediately realized what I’d said and turned away, embarrassed.

Celes chuckled quietly. "My bed’s always open for you."

...Wait.

I froze. So did she.

Then both of us turned our faces away, cheeks flushed like they were kissed by the morning sun.

I stood up quickly. "I-I’ll go bathroom!"

Celes stifled a laugh, hiding her face in a pillow. "Go ahead, Queen."

I didn’t respond. But my heart...

Cold water hit my face like a slap from reality. I leaned over the sink, letting the droplets trail slowly down my neck. My breathing was heavy not from exhaustion, but from something else.

"...Damn," I muttered to myself, staring at my reflection.

"The charm of a mature woman really is hard to resist..." I touched my cheek, still a bit warm despite the cold. "Especially when I used to be forty before turning into a zombie... and Celes she’s in her mid-thirties? Her presence is dangerously alluring."

I lightly slapped my cheeks twice, trying to regain my sanity.

"Focus, Sylvia. Focus."

Outside the bathroom, Celestine sat again at the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath, gazing out the window as the morning light gently played across her silver hair. A faint smile still lingered on her lips, remembering my flustered expression—perhaps a little too honest.

"She really is different..." she whispered.

But that smile didn’t last long. The memories of the fallen from last night swept through her mind—faces, voices... now just memories among blood and ashes.

Her hand clenched on her knee.

"I have to be strong," she whispered. "For those still alive... for those who believe in me."

What happened last night wasn’t just a wound—it was a wake-up call. A reminder that strength alone wasn’t enough. She had to be more than a leader—she had to be a fortress, a final place of refuge.

She stood, fixed her clothes, and glanced toward the bathroom door for a moment, hearing the water still running.

"I don’t know what she truly feels about me," she murmured. "But if she’s by my side... maybe I can stand a little taller."

And in the bathroom, I finally sighed and wiped my face with a towel.

"Alright, Sylvia. Time to head out... before you get stuck in your own head and fall into the abyss of awkwardness."

I stepped out with my hair still a bit damp, but at least my expression had calmed. Celestine stood near the window, the morning sun dancing across her loosely flowing silver hair. When she turned and saw me, a small smile appeared—tired, but warm.

"Feeling refreshed?" she asked casually.

"More or less," I replied, trying not to stare too long. "What about you?"

She looked down a little. "Better... Thank you for not letting me go last night."

I nodded, and we left the room, walking down the hall toward the dining area. Celestine’s base might have been badly damaged, but this room was still usable. A few soldiers were eating in silence, speaking only in hushed tones. Everyone looked tired... and grieving.

But when Celestine and I entered, several of them stood and saluted, then returned to their seats with respectful posture. Their expressions held reverence—not just for Celestine, but for me as well.

I could feel their eyes. Full of curiosity, admiration, and a hint of... fear.

"No need to be tense," Celestine said as she took a seat. "Today, we’re all on the same side."

I sat across from her. Breakfast was simple—dry bread, warm broth, and small pieces of processed meat. Standard emergency rations for a base in recovery.

Celestine picked up her spoon with her right hand, but her left hand remained on the table, slightly curled as if still carrying a burden. I noticed.

"You’re still thinking about last night," I said quietly.

She turned to me, then looked at her food. "I’m the leader, Sylvia. If I don’t think about it... who will?"

I stayed silent, taking a spoonful of warm broth. It didn’t taste too bad. Actually, it was quite comforting.

"We lost twelve people," Celestine continued. "And I had to put down six more myself."

Her voice was flat, but her eyes weren’t. I could see the deep pain there, even if she tried to hide it.

I set my spoon down. "They won’t blame you."

"I know." She took a deep breath. "But I blame myself."

I wanted to say something, to encourage her. But my mouth stayed shut. I wasn’t good at talking about loss... especially when I was the one who usually brought death.

"You can start by accepting that you can’t save everyone," I finally said, soft but firm. "But you can still save those who are alive."

Celestine looked at me for a long moment, then gave a faint smile. "You sound like someone who knows what loss feels like."

I lowered my gaze. She didn’t know how deep my wounds really were. But maybe now wasn’t the time to reveal everything.

We continued our meal in silence until a female officer approached with a data tablet.

"Lady Celestine, the morning report," she said politely, handing it over.

Celestine glanced at it, then read the data quickly. Her expression tightened.

"The damage is worse than we thought. Three major buildings are unusable. We’ll need at least two weeks just for basic repairs."

I leaned forward. "Do we still have manpower and building supplies?"

"We have the people," the officer replied. "But supplies... are running low. We’re currently negotiating a trade with the eastern trade outpost."

Celestine nodded. "And medical?"

"Five medical staff were killed. The rest are working nonstop. Medicine is running low, but we still have enough for light injuries."

I cut in, "If you need manpower, I can help with my troops."

Celestine turned to me quickly. "Really?"

I nodded. "My zombie forces can help carry supplies, clear debris, guard the perimeter. They have no souls, but they’re loyal. And they won’t touch a human unless I order them to."

Celestine stared at me for a few seconds before a wide smile spread across her face. "That would help us immensely. Thank you, Sylvia."

I just shrugged. "Besides, I don’t like staying in half-collapsed places."

We laughed softly. A short laugh—not born of joy, but of the need to keep standing.

And from the window, morning light slowly filtered in. Though last night was filled with pain, this morning brought a new promise: That those still breathing... would keep moving forward.