Silas heard someone humming.
The firewood in the hearth crackled as it burned, bringing warmth and a sense of security to the room.
A young woman hummed a cheerful tune, as if she were sitting not far from him. Her clothes rustled as she moved, accompanied by a constant "swishing" sound.
Silas opened his eyes and saw Cecilia sitting beside his bed, gluing matchboxes together.
The black-haired, blue-eyed girl sat sideways, working by the firelight from the hearth. Her expression was focused, her movements practiced.
She held a matchbox in her left hand while her right hand dipped a small brush into paste, applying it to the edges of a square piece of paper before folding it into shape.
In just a few moments, one matchbox was complete, and she tossed it into the basket beside her.
The room was cramped and dim, with only the hearth before Cecilia casting a warm glow.
A bit of paste had gotten on her nose, and her delicate face looked pale and bloodless. Her thin frame was draped in ill-fitting, patched old clothes.
Cecilia, why are you dressed like this?
Didn't I already tell you to throw away that brush? Don't we have money now?
Seeing his sister like this, Silas felt both heartbroken and startled. He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn't move, and he couldn't make a sound.
"Silas, you're awake?"
Cecilia looked up, her eyes meeting his, and immediately broke into a delighted, radiant smile.
Her azure eyes reflected the firelight, sparkling in the dark room.
Where am I?
Wasn't I just...
Wait, where was I before I fell asleep?
Silas's mind felt muddled and confused, as if someone were stirring a pool of memories with a stick, churning up sediment and making it impossible to recall anything clearly.
He tried to sit up, but his body felt tightly bound by something, unable to move.
Turning his eyes, from the edge of his vision he saw that he was wearing a straitjacket covered with many black straps that bound him tightly.
"There now, you just woke up, so don't move."
Cecilia came over, reached for a cup of water on the table beside the bed, and helped him drink.
Then she took a well-worn, faded towel and gently wiped his face, dabbing away the sweat that had formed on his forehead.
Silas stared at her in a daze.
"What's wrong with you, staring at me like that? Don't you recognize your own sister?"
Cecilia seemed amused by him.
After wiping away his sweat, she straightened up and turned to drape the towel over a rope beside the stove.
"You must be hungry. I'll go make you something to eat."
With that, she started to walk toward the door.
Don't go!
Cecilia, don't leave me!
Watching the girl's retreating figure, Silas suddenly felt overwhelming panic. He wanted to get up, wanted to stop her, but his mouth refused to open.
The restraints on his body grew tighter and tighter, pulling him down, down into endless darkness.
Cecilia!
The warm little room receded from him, the girl's graceful silhouette growing more distant.
Darkness gradually filled his vision. Silas struggled with all his might but couldn't move, only able to watch as she reached for the door.
"Oh, by the way, Silas..."
Cecilia gripped the door handle and turned back, her voice carrying from far away.
"You seem to have been eating very little lately. Make sure you eat well, okay?"
"Cecilia!"
Silas shouted, sitting bolt upright in bed.
What met his eyes was his bedroom in his Backlund residence.
Right, this is where I am...
He gasped for breath, gradually remembering from the familiar scenery. Yesterday, he had escaped from the battle in Jowood District.
When he returned, he felt extremely exhausted, so he lay down to rest for a while. He hadn't expected to have a dream.
In the dream, after such a long time, he had seen Cecilia again.
"..."
After catching his breath for a while, Silas calmed down.
He made no further movement, just sat on the bed in silence, his face wearing an expression of nostalgia and sorrow.
The scene he had seen in the dream should have been from the room the siblings rented together while trying to survive after their parents died.
By the time he had transmigrated, the two of them had already been deceived by Sirius into coming to his house, so theoretically, he had never actually seen that room in person.
But that hearth was styled just like the one in his current Backlund room.
Perhaps the original body's memories had merged with his own, creating an illusory dreamscape.
In the dream, Cecilia had been so close to him...
The corners of Silas's mouth lifted slightly, but he quickly sank into even deeper sadness.
The winter morning was cold and quiet. Now that he had woken up, there was no one beside him to greet him or ask after his well-being.
"Meow."
A cat's cry suddenly came from outside the room.
Then the door handle was pressed down from outside, the door swung open, and a black shadow slipped into the room. With a "thump," Silas suddenly felt his legs grow heavy.
"Meow~"
The black cat Luna cried out to him.
She had grown larger again, her fur sleek and glossy all over. When she pressed down on Silas's legs, she had considerable weight.
"Hungry?"
Silas, forcibly pulled out of his melancholic mood, asked without much enthusiasm.
"Meow."
The black cat looked directly into his eyes, alternating her front paws on the blanket in a kneading motion.
"I know, I know. Let me get up first."
Silas threw back the covers.
The black cat nimbly dodged out of the way, avoiding being caught underneath.
She raised her tail and followed at Silas's heels, accompanying him as he washed up, changed clothes, and watched him prepare his own breakfast.
But when Silas placed the raw meat into a dish and set it before Luna, she didn't immediately go to eat. Instead, she tilted her head and looked at him.
"What are you looking at me for? I don't need to eat."
Silas waved his hand dismissively.
He had been thinking that while the black cat was eating and not bothering him, he could take advantage of the dream still being fresh in his memory to reminisce about Cecilia for a while.
It was rare for his sister to speak to him in a dream...
At that moment, he suddenly froze.
In the dream, the last thing his sister had said to him was, "Make sure you eat well."
Indeed, since killing Mr. A, he had barely eaten anything.
Because he was already Sequence 5, his body had undergone a fundamental transformation.
Even if he didn't eat, it wouldn't affect him. At most, when his body lacked flesh and blood, he would go buy several kilograms of fresh raw meat to replenish himself.
It had been a long time since he had eaten a real "meal" in the true sense.
"...Fine."
Silas didn't know why this dream had appeared, but he wasn't going to bother figuring it out either.
He turned and walked into the kitchen.
The empty kitchen contained nothing but raw meat for feeding the cat.
He rummaged around chaotically before finally finding a tin of biscuits in a corner, stored in a metal container and barely still within its expiration date.
Probably left behind casually by the previous occupant, Charles.
He opened the tin with one hand, then stuffed the dry, salty biscuits into his mouth, chewing expressionlessly.
I'll go buy some groceries later, he thought.