Back to Everyday Life
……The regressor Sophien's fate was noble.
Born into the most exalted bloodline in the world, that of the direct imperial lineage. The legitimate eldest daughter, her claim possessed an impeccable legitimacy rare even in the annals of the empire's history.
Yet, in that perfect life of dominion, nothing held true meaning for her.
It was a paradoxical existence, tormented by death yet unable to die—a life where even future deaths remained uncertain.
Did something as romantic as a natural death even exist for her?
Would the final chapter of birth, aging, sickness, and death open for her as well?
And if, in the moment she grew old and withered away naturally, she regressed once more to that January 1st...
If death never ended, merely repeating eternally...
How, then, should that life conclude?
Or could it even conclude at all?
Thus, while humans vaguely imagined and feared their distant deaths, Sophien pondered a universe where her own death did not exist. She ruminated on the infinite wheel of repeating deaths.
And so, she had craved boredom.
If she acquired everything slowly, thought lazily, gazed indolently, she could at least forget that distant wheel, if only a little.
She could escape it.
……Until some bastard shattered that defense mechanism.
From the moment she met him as her tutoring mage, through the passing seasons to now.
He had always forced knowledge upon her. Demanded she confront the world directly, taught her emotions other than sloth.
At first, it was intriguing.
She simply accepted it as novel.
But as time passed, he burrowed deeper like a thorn, and seeing him brought torment, joy, anger. She began to dream in her sleep. To imagine futures not spent alone.
It was unfamiliar.
"……Hmm."
Chirp chirp— chirp chirp—
Now the morning sun rose, birds twittering.
Sophien gazed silently at Deculein.
"……He is asleep."
Ahan beside her was the same.
"Indeed."
Deculein was sleeping.
Of course, not sprawled out.
In the imperial palace's private chambers. He slept standing sentinel like a knight outside the door.
"He barges into the palace on his own whim…… Nothing happened until morning. He claims to have seen a future where I die?"
"Indeed, Your Majesty. Most unsettling and strange words from the Professor……."
In any case, Sophien smiled in disbelief.
"Your Majesty, what shall we do?"
"……We shall see."
Sophien stroked her chin in thought.
"First, this merits punishment."
She jabbed her finger at Deculein's cheek. Yet he did not wake.
"Your Majesty. Please take care. The Professor will most dislike it."
"……And what if that wretch dislikes it?"
The only one who could call Professor Deculein a wretch.
Ahan looked up at Sophien with eyes full of admiration.
"However…… Doing it twice would be excessive."
She slyly withdrew her finger.
Even an emperor had ministers difficult to touch.
Instead, she gazed intently at the sleeping Deculein.
"……Ahan."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Suddenly, Sophien recalled Rohakan's prophecy.
That one day she would come to love Deculein, and thereby kill him.
That she would slay with her own hands the sole being who could give meaning to her life.
"Perhaps I, for this professor's sake……."
—No, that's not it! I really have urgent business! Aaaah! Aaack! Ack! Aaaack!
"……."
—Ack! Aaaack! Aaaaaaaaack!
"……What madness is this?"
A wail echoing from the stairs below the chambers.
As Sophien furrowed her brow, Deculein slowly opened his eyes.
"Professor. Awake at last. Nothing hap—"
—Aaaack! Let go! Let me goooo—!
Another monstrous cry.
Deculein listened quietly to the frantic voice, murmuring like a sigh.
"……Ifrin, is it."
"Ifrin? Your disciple?"
"Yes. It seems something has befallen her."
Deculein spoke shamelessly, as if he had slept not a wink. His appearance was flawless.
"Then go see to it."
"No. Your Majesty's peril has yet to—"
"Good grief. If there were true peril, you would have died sprawled in sleep."
Deculein ground his teeth subtly. Sophien laughed at the sight.
"So even you fear a slap?"
"……Ahem."
Deculein merely cleared his throat wordlessly.
The imperial palace dungeon.
I narrowed my eyes at Ifrin behind the iron bars.
"Hehe."
The culprit herself grinned innocently, as if delighted. Not a puppy, yet hehe— hehe—
"Speak."
"Professor, I'm back to now! I checked the calendar and freaked out! February!"
I glanced at her wrist. A bandage-wrapped bracelet connected the severed part.
"What happened to this?"
Ifrin rattled the bars excitedly.
"That god bastard must've backed off. No point pushing in a situation that's already exposed—they'd lose key forces."
"So surrender? It's over?"
I eyed the pocket watch at her waist.
"No."
"Huh? Why?"
"His Majesty's Authority still resides in you. April 9th hasn't come. If your regression persists, that's a problem in itself."
The mental toll of overcoming regression was severe. Even by Iron Man standards, the headache and fatigue lingered in my body.
"Ah…… So I'm still in danger?"
I shook my head at Ifrin's worry.
"No. You are not in danger. Safer than anyone in this world."
"……?"
Ifrin blinked wide-eyed.
"Huh? Why?"
"You are a danger only when His Majesty dies. Not now."
"So why?"
"Because if you die, the Authority returns to His Majesty."
"……Ah!"
A trait of the Authority. As it fled Sophien for Ifrin, so would it return to Sophien upon Ifrin's death.
"Thus, the Altar will never kill you. Even if you begged with your neck bared, they'd slay any who tried."
"Well…… That's a relief, I guess."
Kidnapping remained a risk, but as long as she lived, countermeasures were simple. Ifrin wasn't helpless either.
"What will you do now, Professor?"
"Step into central politics."
"Politics?"
"Yes. I remember every name you gave."
The list of Altar collaborators and puppets.
I would eliminate them all.
Entwine the guilty, fabricate for the innocent.
Tear them to shreds.
"Got it. Then I'll devour the tower. All my two years' knowledge mobilized. And, Professor. Come here a sec……."
Ifrin glanced around the empty cell, beckoning.
"Stop fooling around. Speak from there."
"Ugh, fine…… It's a secret, okay? Actually……."
She swallowed, whispering like top-secret intel.
—Assistant Professor Allen is alive.
"……."
"Shocking, right? I wasn't gonna tell—it's his privacy. Eep—"
Creeeak— The dungeon door opened.
Ifrin clamped her mouth shut.
"Ah, Professor! Sorry!"
The entrant was Delik. He saluted sharply with his knights. Then he glared furiously, eyes bulging like gears.
"How dare they! Which mad knight locked the Professor's disciple here? I'll find him and half-kill—"
"Enough. She did cause a disturbance."
"Knight Delik~!"
Ifrin waved beaming from the bars.
"Long time no see~"
"……Huh?"
Delik looked flustered. Ifrin flinched too.
"Oh right. We're not close anymore."
"Er…… I'll open it for now."
"……Yes."
Delik unlocked the bars. To the wistful Ifrin, I whispered:
—Forget the previous memories.
"……."
"And, Delik."
"Yes!"
Delik turned and saluted.
"Soon, His Majesty will select two exclusive guards."
"Pardon? Ah, yes. Indeed."
"First, I nominate you."
"……."
Delik froze.
Wide eyes, half-open mouth, flared nostrils. As if time stopped—or breath ceased.
Ifrin grinned, poking his shoulder.
"Congrats. Imperial Guard recommendation is basically guaranteed, right?"
That snapped him back. Eyes teary, he stared at me.
"Professor……."
I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Work well. Remember your loyalty now serves His Majesty—and Yukline stands behind you."
"……Yes! My loyalty is to His Majesty, and to you too, Professor…… Hey, you lot! Salute already!"
"““Ah, yes!””"
His knights belatedly saluted. I left the dungeon with Ifrin.
……One spring day, at the palace lake.
Splash—
Sophien fished today as well.
But not alone.
Deculein and Ifrin were at distant spots, Knight Delik vigilantly guarding nearby.
"Ahan."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Ahan's reply as she cooked Sophien's catch.
"As the Professor said, that curse seems truly gone from my body."
"Is that so?"
The Authority of regression. It was no longer hers.
"It feels truly relieving."
"Fortunate, Your Majesty."
Sophien twisted her lips. A sincere sneer.
"Yet somehow, I feel I knew it beforehand."
……Plop.
Ahan paused her knife, looking up.
"Ahan. I received a prophecy."
"A prophecy……?"
"Yes. That one day, not far off, I would kill Deculein."
Bubble bubble—!
A bite. Sophien merely stared at the boiling lake surface.
"Such prophecies need not be believed……."
"I must believe. It was Rohakan who spoke it."
"……."
"Yet I do not wish to kill the Professor."
Sophien smiled, hand on chin.
"Thus…… I think this now. To avoid killing the Professor, must I not die myself? If I quietly follow the Altar's plans, would not the prophecy falter?"
Rohakan's prophecy fails, and Sophien gains salvation in death.
"……If the current me thinks thus, could not the past me as well?"
"Your Majesty! No, you must not."
Ahan knelt, bowing nearly in tears.
Sophien shook her head.
"Hmph. Merely a hypothesis. In any case, I cannot overcome regression like Deculein. My spirit is not that monster's equal."
Regression was no longer her Authority. Yet she could not leave it forever with that child Ifrin.
It was a yoke and curse only she could—or must—bear.
"……If Your Majesty perishes, the empire falls."
"No. My eyes are keen. With that Deculein alone, the empire turns smoothly. Besides, who knows?"
Splash—!
Sophien raised her rod.
The surging fish amid the spray: a crucian carp, the species Deculein once taught her.
"Perhaps I am the true monster deserving death."
Then.
Sploosh—!
A rock plunged into the lake with a boom. Sophien turned.
—Ah, aaaack! S-save me! Save me! I fell in! It's deep here! Professor, Professor! So deep! Too deep!
Ifrin.
Fallen while fishing, yet Deculein ignored her, focused on his line.
—Glub glub! Professor, h-hey! Hey, Deculein! Glub ack—
Delik belatedly rescued her. Soaked Ifrin clung to his back, gasping.
Meanwhile, Deculein—with a good haul—sneaked closer.
Bragging his catch, no doubt.
"……Is this everyday life? A first for me."
Ahan smiled at Sophien's contented words.
"Yes. Indeed, Your Majesty."
Gentle sunlight settling. Deculein approached through the clear breeze, displaying his basket.
"I have ten. How fares Your Majesty's catch?"
As expected.
That iron will matched his competitiveness; he always demanded rivalry in fishing. Another measure against sloth.
"Six. You win, Professor."
"Congratulations, Professor."
Sophien and Ahan smiled with different meanings.
Sizzle— sizzle sizzle—
Blazing sun pouring down. Morning growing hot.
At last, the university term began.
"How many openings is this?"
Ifrin sat on a campus bench, slurping ice cream with a sigh.
Blooming cherry blossoms and couples stung the eyes, lingering unease in her heart—but peace was nice.
"Ifrin?"
A calling voice. Approaching footsteps.
"Ah~ Yeriel!"
Yukline's businesswoman, Deculein's sister Yeriel.
"Here. Eat while warm."
"Yes! Thanks!"
The food: the latest trend from House Yukline, a waffle.
Cookie with odd patterns topped with cream—highest dessert, lines too long even for the rich.
"Crunch…… Mmmph."
One bite melted her brain. Ifrin blissed in crisp sweetness, a first.
"Who…… invented this?"
"Dunno. Snagged it from my bro's junk pile."
"Junk?"
"Yeah. His study’s full of his—or someone's—doodles turned inventions. Anything decent, I turn into business."
"Huh…… Wild."
Magic professor, dessert inventor, emperor's guard—what inhuman?
"Nom."
Ifrin took another bite. Yeriel smirked.
"You heading to class soon?"
"Yeah."
"Me too."
"……Huh?"
Yeriel's words struck Ifrin odd. Yeriel chuckled.
"Me too…… what?"
"Why. So. I'm a student here. No dropout or expulsion. Got a problem? Ridiculous."
"No! No no. Not a problem, but……."
"Hmph. Just for liberal arts. Management, economics. Hands-on's best, but theory matters."
"Mm. Fair."
Ifrin changed topics, munching waffle.
"Oh right. Joining the Magic Tournament this time."
"Magic Tournament?"
"Yeah. Mages team up for grand magic, mid-grand stuff—competition."
No time before due to papers, but now plenty.
Grab all extracurriculars, stuff self with club activities.
Yeriel said,
"Hmph…… Sure? Ask my bro to judge then."
"Huh? Nah……."
Ifrin shook her head. A petal landed on her crown.
"He'd do it? He's swamped."
"Ask. He'd for you? Better than that Rellin or whoever."
"True, but~ Judging's a hassle. And honestly, he'd drill too hard……."
……Ten minutes later.
Tower 77th floor.
Head Professor's office.
"I shall oversee it."
"……Wha?"
Ifrin's eyes shook at her advisor. Saliva pooled; heart raced oddly.
Deculein signed documents.
"I heard you enter the Magic Tournament."
"Ah~ Well, yes, but if you're busy, I'm fine—"
Thud—!
Before she finished, his seal stamped the entry form.
Ifrin gaped. Deculein returned it, saying:
"But anything short of champion is unacceptable."