Chapter 3: The Punishment of an Empty Vessel.

「Rachel! You’ve woken up—thank goodness, truly!」

The door bursts open with force, and Mother rushes straight to my bedside.
When she places her cool hand against my cheek, the realization that I thought I’d never see her again brings a rush of emotion—my eyes grow hot with tears.

“Mother…”

“Rachel, your complexion is still poor. Come now, let’s have the doctor examine you.”

Mother has the same black hair as mine, styled in a chic chignon.
Her sharp, upturned eyes—identical to mine—make her strikingly beautiful, yet she appears quite severe.

But this mother of mine is neither cold nor harsh.
Despite her formidable appearance, she overflows with love—gentle, kind, and warm.

“Now then, let us take a look. First, a full-body examination and a check of the mana flow, shall we?”

Swept up in Mother’s momentum, I hadn’t noticed him earlier, but behind her stands Dr. Donald, the royal physician, with his long white beard.
Further back, Sara peeks in with a worried expression.

Ever since I awoke, strength refuses to return to my body, and a heavy lethargy weighs me down.
I can feel Dr. Donald’s warm mana flowing through me from head to toe, yet I can do nothing but let it happen.

“This is…”

“Doctor, what is it? Rachel is recovering, isn’t she?”

Mother flusters and panics as the doctor’s face grows stern and grave.

As for me… somehow, I already understand what he’s about to say.

Yes.

“My mana is completely depleted.”

The vast mana that once surged within me is now barely detectable.
Something that has existed since the moment I was born—its absence is so stark that even in my confusion, I cannot fail to notice.

“Such a thing…”

“Madam, please steady yourself!”

“But—I’ve never heard of mana drying up before!”

Mother seems deeply shocked by the doctor’s words.
She sways, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Sara quickly moves to support her at the waist.

“It’s unheard of, yes. Even I have only read of it in old texts—this is the first time I’ve witnessed it myself.”

“What can we do?! How can we restore it?!”

Mother seizes the doctor’s arm and cries out in a shrill voice, but he only shakes his head with a troubled expression.

I simply watch the scene unfold in a daze.
Strangely, seeing Mother so distraught seems to clear my own mind.

In this world, there is no one without mana.
Nobles tend to have large reserves, while commoners usually have less.

The difference between “much” and “little” comes down to the size of one’s mana tank—like a barrel that stores it.
For some it’s the size of a washbasin, for others a well, and so on—each person varies.

I originally possessed an exceptionally large capacity.
My mana pool was the size of a lake, always brimming full.

For that to dry up means the tank itself has vanished.

Without sufficient mana, the body’s natural defenses weaken—colds and illnesses worsen easily.
Constant fatigue would make even walking on one’s own a struggle.

Even someone with only a washbasin-sized tank can live without issue so long as it remains filled.
The only real difference lies in the scale of magic one can wield.

Ah… so that’s it.
This may not be forgiveness, nor some fleeting dream after all.

Perhaps this is the punishment given to me—the one who tried to harm others, who caused suffering.

In my previous life, I used this very mana to try to injure the Saintess.
Surely that’s what this means.

If so… how fortunate that is.

The only one who has to suffer now is me.

This time, I won’t have to hurt anyone else.
No need to make others miserable.

Sara and the coachman, who never needed to die.
The Saintess, whom I tried to harm out of jealousy.

Perhaps… I really can start over.

Relief wells up inside me, and a single tear naturally slips from my eye.