I Have Reincarnated Yet Once Again-Chapter 12 – The Stillness That Bleeds.

The early morning air at Black Rose Palace was crisp, carrying the scent of dewed grass and a faint woody aroma drifting in from the courtyard's edge.

Sunlight spilled through the tall glass windows of the north wing, casting long, golden bars across the marbled floors. A hush rested upon the palace corridors, broken only by the occasional whisper of footsteps or the rustling of trees outside.

Thin, silvery threads of rain was falling from the overcast sky, each droplet light and fleeting. They tapped softly against the windows and leaves, barely wetting the ground, as if the clouds were testing the earth with a tentative touch.

The palace was just waking—still drowsy, still quiet.

Except for Evelyn.

She sat cross-legged on a cushion beside the arched window of her private chamber, the hem of her silken robe brushing against the cool floor.

Her small fingers rested on the cover of a thick, worn book. Though the page was open before her, her eyes were focused far beyond the text—beyond the walls, beyond the columns of sunlight streaming in.

Evelyn: "Third lap."

Her voice broke the stillness.

Across the room, Cassy—feather duster in hand—looked up from the vase she was cleaning.

Cassy: "Third lap of what, Your Highness?"

Evelyn didn't respond right away. She tapped her index finger lightly against the open page, her gaze still fixed on the window.

Evelyn: "The laps Clair takes before delivering her report. She's watching the second-floor corridor near the east side."

Cassy blinked, stepping slightly closer.

Cassy: "You can see that far?"

Evelyn: "No. But I don't need to."

A beat of silence followed. Cassy frowned, her eyes drifting to the window, then back to Evelyn.

Cassy (thoughts): [ She's not even looking at Clair... How can she tell?]

The morning passed like a well-rehearsed play—each act unfolding with quiet precision. One after another, Evelyn's five maids entered the chamber throughout the hour, their steps soft, movements rehearsed, and voices low. Each one knelt or bowed in turn before offering her their reports.

First came Lily, the most talkative of the group, though today she kept her tone subdued. Then Lora, composed and poised as always. Ella followed, cold and composed. After her came Melinda, cool and grounded, flour still dusting the hem of her apron. Lastly, as expected, Clair—precise in timing, silent in movement.

None of them raised their voices. Their words flowed in clipped, quiet exchanges—like messages passed beneath the surface of normalcy.

Cassy stood to the side, not daring to interrupt.

She watched Evelyn instead.

Despite being the youngest in the room, Evelyn commanded the space effortlessly. She didn't bark orders, didn't assert herself physically—but none of them dared treat her as anything less than a superior.

Not one maid spoke with condescension.

Their tone was always precise. Measured. Respectful.

Almost... reverent.

Cassy: [ She understands everything they say without needing to ask twice.]

Evelyn responded with few words.

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Evelyn: "Noted. Good work. Stay alert."

And nothing more.

No questions, no clarification. Just acknowledgment—and that was enough.

When Clair finished her part, she hesitated. Just for a moment.

Clair: "The head maid. Acting suspiciously. A few changes. Patrol schedules as well."

Evelyn: "Observe. Do not interfere."

Clair bowed and left.

Silence returned, like a curtain falling on the last act of a play.

Cassy, still rooted in place, stepped slowly toward Evelyn. The girl hadn't moved since Clair's departure. Her eyes were once again lost in the distance, beyond the rain-splattered glass.

Cassy: "They... they all knew exactly what to do."

Evelyn didn't answer. She rested her chin against her hand, brows slightly furrowed.

Cassy: "None of this is coincidence, is it? The change in guards, the strange movements... even that phrase Melinda mentioned the other day..."

Evelyn's gaze didn't shift, but her voice did return—softer, edged with warning.

Evelyn: "It's starting."

Cassy: "Starting what?"

A stillness fell again.

Then Evelyn whispered—

Evelyn: "A purge."

Cassy sucked in a breath, nearly dropping the duster in her hand.

Cassy: "But... but we're not at war. There hasn't been a single skirmish in—"

Evelyn closed the book on her lap with a soft thump.

Evelyn: "Wars don't start with armies. They begin quietly. With missing papers. Poison. Eyes that see too much."

She turned slowly, her pale lashes catching the light.

Evelyn: "It's already begun."

Cassy swallowed. Her voice came out smaller.

Cassy: "Why do you think so, Your Highness?"

Evelyn didn't answer right away.

Her gaze wandered, but not in confusion. It was the gaze of someone sifting through memory. Of someone weighing thoughts too old for their face.

Evelyn: "...Nothing. After all, life is a battlefield full of uncertainties."

Cassy: [ That doesn't sound like a child. Not like any six-year-old I've ever known. Is she really the same princess I once knew? Can a head injury change someone this much?]

The hours drifted by like petals on water. The sunlight faded into gray. The quiet of the palace thickened like fog.

Evening fell quietly, like velvet laid over stone.

Cassy had long since been summoned to assist in the lower wing. Evelyn didn't ask where or why—she already knew. That wing had seen unusual movement these past two days. It was only natural for someone to be watching it now.

And now, she was alone.

She stood by the arched window again, her silhouette framed by the deepening gloom. Outside, the garden was glistening with soft spring rain, droplets clinging to the petals of the black roses that lined the hedge. The flowers, proud and still, swayed ever so slightly as if bowing beneath an unseen weight.

She pressed her small hand against the cool glass, her breath leaving a faint mist on the window.

Her forehead followed, resting against the pane.

The silence wrapped around her like a cloak.

Evelyn: [ They think they can control me by watching me.]

Her breath was slow. Even.

Her eyes, narrowed.

Evelyn: [ But I'm not someone who anyone can control. At least not anymore.]

She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift.

—A man's voice screaming someone's name.

—A throne drenched in blood.

—A sigil burning in fire.

Memories that no six-year-old should have. Memories that should have been lost with death. But they weren't.

Not for her.

Evelyn: [ They don't know who I am.]

Not really.

Not yet.

They saw only the porcelain doll. The arrogant little girl.

They didn't see the sharp mind behind her blue eyes. They didn't see the blood-soaked past hiding behind her small frame.

Her fingers curled slightly against the window.

Something had begun to shift.

The five maids had reported in succession—each seeing fragments of a larger picture. Servants with unfamiliar brooches. Cloaked figures speaking with servants. Patrol changes. Ciphered whispers passed between maids.

Every thread pulled tighter now.

Tighter and tighter.

And Evelyn knew that.

This palace will no longer be quiet anymore.

Evelyn remained at the window.

Still.

But within her, something stirred.

The wind outside howled briefly as the clouds shifted. The garden bowed under the wind's weight.

And Evelyn—porcelain, poised, perfect—watched with narrowed eyes.

Her voice was a whisper—heard only by the rain and the stars.

Evelyn: "They think they're watching me..."

She raised a hand, brushing her fingers lightly over the glass.

Evelyn: "...But they have no idea— every step they take is already within my grasp."