Just One More Hug
The ground beneath her feet suddenly gave way.
Everything she had been sensing vanished. The wind, the smells, the moisture, time, space—all of it... receding like sinking into the depths of an unfathomable ocean.
Her twenty-first strange and bizarre experience.
True to its nature as a super-magical phenomenon called regression, it was profoundly uncomfortable and riddled with questions, but the sensation signaling "arrival" was surprisingly vivid.
Twang—
The sound of something snapping.
The bracelet that was no longer hers.
The suffocating pain surging through her with every such moment.
"Hoo..."
Ifrin steadied her mind with a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes. First, she looked at the bracelet on her wrist.
"......"
Its connection point completely severed, now just a simple "string" rather than a bracelet. She carefully picked it up and tucked it into her inner pocket.
—I hated your mother, and I hated you too. You who resembled my wife.
Dikailen's voice echoed phantom-like in her ears. The scene that haunted her like a nightmare every time she slept.
...I don't want to believe it.
A corner of her heart still refused to accept it.
She believed in her dad, not Dikailen.
"You're awake."
As she began to sink into sentiment, a voice called out to her.
Ifrin turned and immediately flashed a beaming smile.
"Knight Julie!"
She sprang up, shouting, and threw herself into Julie's arms.
"Eek...!"
Julie caught her on reflex, but her face was utterly flustered.
Ifrin said,
"I'm back again."
"...Pardon?"
Julie blinked her snowflake-like eyes, looking utterly baffled.
Still, Ifrin just grinned ear to ear.
"I'm back."
"Hm... yes. Back from where, exactly?"
"...Huh?"
"Yes?"
"Huh?"
"Yes?"
They kept echoing each other until Ifrin's eyes finally took in the surroundings.
"...Huh?"
This wasn't Recor Dak. It wasn't cold or hot.
A comfortably temperate room, filled with sofas, furniture, tables, and furnishings of every kind.
"Where is this?"
"A guest room in the Imperial Palace."
"What? How is that—"
possible? Ifrin's hair suddenly stood on end with a crackle.
Whip—! Whip—!
Ifrin whipped her head left and right.
Whip—! Whip—!
She scanned the interior until her head spun.
"...No way."
And then, the realization hit late.
She hurriedly rummaged in her bosom, fingers clawing at her chest.
"......"
Gone.
Deculein's letter.
The letter that had comforted her like a solace every time she regressed.
Gone.
"...Knight!"
Ifrin whipped around to Julie in a panic. Julie flinched back, startled.
"Yes."
"Did the professor... by any chance..."
Creeeak—
The door to the guest room swung open. A fragrance wafted in through the gap.
The click of dress shoes on the floor.
"...Ah."
Ifrin stared blankly, mouth agape, eyes fixed on that one person.
Neatly slicked-back hair, a subdued black suit, sharp eyes that always seemed to pierce right through her.
Indifferent, heartless, cold, ruthless...
"Awake, are you."
...Deculein, solid as a mountain.
Gazing at him, Ifrin's body moved before any thought or greeting could form. Her legs bounced on their own.
And then.
"......"
She crashed into his arms.
Wrapped both arms tight around his waist. Buried her face in his chest.
Sobbed a little.
"...Huh?"
Julie's startled gasp came from behind, Deculein's mana surged like it was indignant(?), and a pathetic puppy whine escaped her own lips, but none of it mattered.
Right now, only this moment counted.
* * *
...Deculein was alive.
At that fact, Ifrin fainted for a moment.
There were no feelings of overwhelming joy, being moved at reuniting, or "as expected of Deculein."
It was simply the release from the crushing burden that had weighed on her mind. With the dam of her heart broken, exhaustion flooded out.
"...Professor."
After a quick nap on the bed in the Imperial Palace guest room, Ifrin lay there gazing at Deculein, who sat in the chair beside her.
He held a book in one hand, turning the pages.
"So Her Majesty still..."
"More regressions are needed. I have not fully overcome it myself."
Ifrin sighed at Deculein's words.
The past had indeed changed dramatically. Deculein had "overcome" regression and survived, but the Emperor...
"But how?"
"The rest is my burden. Not yours to worry over."
Deculein stated it calmly. Ifrin watched him quietly.
Suddenly, a dark thought surfaced in her mind.
She propped herself up, fidgeting with her hands on her thighs.
"...Professor. I have one question."
But her voice must have sounded off.
Deculein thud—closed the book. Lifted his head to look at her.
As if to say, speak freely.
"Professor. What kind of person was my father?"
"......"
Deculein fell silent. Uncharacteristically, he seemed to ponder, taking his time.
Ifrin didn't interrupt. She just waited quietly.
"Well."
A low murmur.
Slowly continuing.
"He was the man you imagine him to be."
"......"
Deculein neither revealed the truth, defended himself, nor badmouthed her father.
If his goal was to avoid hurting her, it was truly the right answer.
Ifrin's expression darkened heavily, but only briefly. She clenched her teeth and looked up at him.
"Professor. Can I go somewhere?"
"...Go?"
"Yeah. I still have something to do. Something to check."
Deculein regarded her wordlessly. Meeting those patient eyes, Ifrin added,
"If you're worried... Ah."
Wait, even I think that's ridiculous.
Worried? Deculein, about me?
Ifrin let out a hollow chuckle and shook her head.
"No way you'd worry..."
She muttered to herself, feeling foolish, when suddenly.
"Worried."
Deculein said. Ifrin waved her hands dismissively.
"Nooo, that was just my nonsense—"
"It is."
"—ri..."
Her mouth clamped shut. Her ears perked up belatedly at what she'd just heard.
She blinked blankly and asked again.
"...Pardon?"
"I am worried."
A clear sentence formed by Deculein's voice.
"You now carry regression within you."
"......"
Gulp. Ifrin swallowed.
Whatever the reason, he said he was worried.
Fingering her throat, she asked again.
"Then... should I not go?"
Deculein gave no reply.
Gauging his mood, she tried once more.
"Don't go, don't go, me? 'Cause you're worried?"
"No. It's fine."
He shook his head.
"This is free time anyway. Saving Her Majesty will intensify from the next cycle."
"Ah... okay."
Deculein rose from the chair.
"I'll take my leave. Tell Ahan when you depart."
"...Yes."
Ifrin bowed her head, and he left the room.
Stride, stride. Stride, stride.
"...Tch."
For some reason, it felt disappointing, but soon she rose too.
"Hm... should I get a train ticket?"
The task left for her.
Thinking of "that place" she hadn't been able to visit while fleeing during regressions, Ifrin prepared to move again.
* * *
Ifrin's destination, "that place," was Juhale, territory of the Ilayde family.
A small village where the Luna family once resided. A rural hometown where a five-minute walk led to a stream, and ten minutes took you deep into the mountains to get lost.
Among it all, the gravesite where her father was buried.
The village cemetery.
"......"
She stared silently at the tombstone reading Kaigan Luna, then quietly turned around.
"Granny."
"Yup~? My grandbaby's here?"
Our cute granny smiled at me with crinkled eyes. I smiled back at her.
"Hey."
"Yeah. No cryin' today? Ya always bawl when ya come."
"...Hey."
I lowered my tone. Granny's wrinkles furrowed in question.
Ifrin asked carefully.
"Dad... he actually hated me, didn't he?"
"......"
A question she'd never asked in her lifetime, one that had never needed asking.
Granny's face stiffened in that instant.
A somewhat fatal change.
Proof too clear from our granny, who couldn't lie.
That alone told Ifrin everything.
"Wha— no, no way~ Absolutely not!"
Granny denied it, of course, and Ifrin deliberately gaped wide in a grin.
"Kihihi~ Just kiddin', kiddin'. Why would Dad hate me~?"
Right now, she just laughed. No need to torment Granny too when only she needed to hurt.
"Ya rascal! What kinda joke is that?"
Granny's face flushed apple-red. Even as the stinging palm smack-smack—hit her cheeks, Ifrin kept laughing.
"Sorry, sorry."
"Ya bet! Yer dad loved ya so much, so, so...!"
"...Yeah. Right."
Ifrin murmured softly when—
—Ifrin~
Grandpa's call echoed from afar.
"Oh, it's Grandpa."
Grandpa approached with hands behind his back, steps brisk and swishing.
A mountain folk trait, perhaps. Every step up the mountain felt like shrinking ground technique.
"What's up, Grandpa?"
"Well, see here."
Grandpa pointed toward the back of the cemetery, the mountain entrance.
"Ya headin' back quick today?"
"Why?"
"Nah~ Looked like someone was waitin' fer ya over there."
"...Huh?"
Ifrin's eyes widened. She tilted her head.
"Who's waiting for me?"
"Dunno. Asked 'em, an' they said some professor."
"...Professor?"
"Yup. Real fine-lookin' fella. Near lost my neck starin' at his face."
Professor. No further description needed—the title alone summoned one person.
Ifrin spun around.
"Ya know 'em?"
"Yeah! Granny, Grandpa, I'll head out first!"
"Hey, rascal! Be careful—don't trip!"
No need to sprint lest Deculein slip away...
He stood openly in the tree shade at the not-so-distant mountain entrance.
"...Professor."
Ifrin approached, calling out. He was gazing at the sky.
"Your hometown is clear."
The countryside's sole merit. Clear skies, good earth and grass, unspoiled nature.
Even city folk loved it for a day or two.
"Yeah. But why'd you come?"
"...The Altar may target you. Another knight is guarding you nearby."
"Aha. Delik Knight, by any chance?"
Deculein's brow twitched.
"How did you know."
"Hehe. Well... oh, right. Professor. Delik Knight's a total good guy."
"Good guy?"
"Yeah. Loyal, super loyal. So trust him. Keep him close."
"......"
Deculein's expression turned puzzled.
"...Since you, who experienced the future, say so, I shall believe it. Unexpected, though. Delik, of all people."
"I thought so too at first, but he's trustworthy."
Ifrin drew slowly closer to Deculein.
"A knight who's always sincere to you, Professor."
One step per exchange, step by step, step by step.
Three steps away, Ifrin looked up at him.
"But, Professor."
He looked down at her calmly.
"Thing is..."
"Speak."
Meeting his eyes bluer than this country sky, Ifrin said,
"Can I have just one more hug?"
"......"
Deculein's brow furrowed sharply.
Absurd, this mad fool, has her head gone rotten, brain run off—his face brimmed with such thoughts...
"I feel like killing myself right now."
Truth was, she was that desperate too.
"For real."
Her heart couldn't not ache now.
Couldn't possibly feel nothing, be casually fine.
Couldn't help but fester and rot.
Dad was my universe, after all.
"Not joking."
The genius mage who could do anything, create anything, always telling her he loved her, only her.
That proud, gentle dad.
"Just one more hug... might make it a little better."
Hated me.
Tried to sell me off.
"...Please."
Ifrin dropped her gaze. Droplets already spotted the ground.
Only then did she realize she was crying.
"Enough of that madness. Pathetic, Ifrin."
Her shoulders jerked.
Instead of permission, Deculein offered a handkerchief.
"Tch."
She took it, wiped her tears, and pouted childishly. Muttered "cheater~" while shaking her head as if unbothered.
Did it work a bit?
Deculein said,
"There will be another chance later."
"...Later when?"
"Someday."
Then he turned and descended the mountain.
"...Huh."
Ifrin stared at his back—especially his shoes—and chuckled hollowly.
High-end dress shoes even on these country trails. Character's on point. Not uncomfortable?
Halt—
Deculein stopped abruptly and turned. Ifrin instinctively straightened her back, face stiffening like a soldier's.
"Ifrin."
"Wh-what."
"If you have nothing to do, follow me. I wish to hear your memories of the future."
"...Ah, yes."
Ifrin trailed behind him.
Worn sneakers kicking stones skit-skit—, maintaining three steps' distance.
Chirp chirp...Chirp chirp chirp...
The forest path where time flowed the same. Birdsongs resounding richly through the trees.
Perhaps heralding spring—quite lively cries.
Whoosh—
Wind tousling her hair. Mountain and earth scents filling her nostrils.
And.
"Ifrin."
Deculein calling her name.
"Yes? What now."
Walking the same path, sharing time, he said,
"Was regression bearable?"
A question all too familiar.
Julie, Eli, Delik—even Sylvia had asked it once.
"Hm..."
Ifrin thought casually and shook her head.
"...No."
Puffing her cheeks as she answered.
"I nearly died from it. Ugh, thinking about it makes me wanna cry? I just believed you'd tell me to wait and kept running and waiting. That was two years. Two years. I suffered hell those two years, and when I said I wanted to die, no comfort—just 'pathetic'..."
A long grievance she'd never voiced to anyone.