come back tomorrow
339 Words
One month ago, Lilith had woken up in a body that was not her own.
The transmigration had been abrupt. One moment she was in her apartment, grading papers and drinking cold tea. The next, she was staring at a thatched ceiling, with someone else’s hands and someone else’s name.
Lilith.
Daughter of a minor noble who had died under questionable circumstances.
Owner of a cottage, a chicken coop, and three acres of roses that no one wanted.
The first week had been panic.
The second week had been grief.
The third week had been acceptance.
By the fourth week, she had decided: _This life would be quiet._
No court. No politics. No men.
Just bread, chickens, and mending her own dresses.
She had been doing well.
Until today.
The police office was a small stone building at the edge of the village. The kind of place that smelled like old paper and rain.
It was sparse.
One desk. One clerk. One fly buzzing against the window.
Lilith stood there, still dusted with garden dirt, and said, “There is a man in my garden. Unconscious. I need someone to remove him.”
The clerk didn’t look up from his stamping.
“We’re short on men today, miss. Come back tomorrow.”
Come back tomorrow.
Lilith blinked.
The man had been lying face-down in her roses for hours.
He could be dead by tomorrow.
He could wake up by tomorrow.
Either option was a problem.
“Tomorrow,” she repeated, voice flat.
The clerk finally glanced at her. “Yes, miss. Unless it’s urgent?”
Is an unconscious stranger urgent?
Is a political scandal urgent?
Is _her_ peace urgent?
With a sigh, she turned on her heel.
No. The law would not help her.
So she would help herself.
Outside, the sky was still soft blue and pale gold. Calm. Peaceful.
A lie.
Her hands clenched at her sides.
Fine.
If no one would take him, then she would.
It was time to take him in.
Just this once.
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