Regressing Ten Years into the Past

Peering out the window, Asella at fourteen looked every bit the picture of elegance befitting her age. She wore a luxurious dress, its full skirts billowing in vintage imperial style. Sunlight filtering through the willow branches revealed the slender silhouette beneath the fabric. Her pristine shoulders, flowing from a delicate neckline half-hidden by the collar, stirred unwitting imaginings of the body beneath. Her impassive gaze upon the flowers held a dash of curiosity. It was enough to make one wonder if she truly belonged to a different world from the deranged villainess I knew.

...She is pretty, though.

"No."

I shook off the nagging doubt that this girl might not be the same one who would become the seventh emperor of the empire. She was the villainess who had sentenced me to death time and again. No matter her childish appearance now, her inner thoughts remained unchanged.

"First things first—assess the situation. Not just one month back, but ten years. Any side effects?"

This meant it was my final chance.

"Doesn't matter. This is plenty."

Better to live one life full of endless possibilities over ten years than infinitely loop that suffocating month. Not even ten years, really. No bad endings in this life. I'd live to a ripe old age, right?

And there was even a bonus perk.

"Ending list."

"Whoa, what a charming bunch."

I hadn't realized just how many I'd racked up until they were neatly listed like this. Numbered and everything—how thoughtful. Checking them one by one, they were all deaths I'd endured. Some bad endings I'd hit multiple times. Like No. 5, Demon King's Army Victory—triggered by losing the final battle against the Demon King.

"Ugh, gives me chills."

Every single line dredged up nothing but foul memories. Never again.

I scrolled further. The list continued.

"So they do exist?"

Normal and good endings were dutifully listed too.

"Meaning if I do absolutely nothing from now on, these are the odds."

No—trash odds. Good endings sat at 0%. Time to sue for false advertising.

"Probabilities shift based on my actions going forward, then."

Wonder if I can nudge a good ending into viability. Worth experimenting.

Just then, a knock echoed, followed by a middle-aged man's voice from beyond the door.

—Young master, you truly must prepare now.

I wanted to check the status window more, but time was short.

Asella was my fiancée and the empire's princess. With the empress visiting our house, it was absurd for the Gotberg marquis's betrothed not to greet her. The sun was high, and I'd slept in like a slob till now—utterly pathetic.

In the original story, I—Ras Gotberg—was a wastrel, the family disgrace.

My standing in the family was rock bottom right now. No wonder they stuck me in the remotest annex of this massive estate and didn't bother waking me early today, lest I cause a scene.

Ten years from now, I'd lose the family, my body frail, scorned by all around me.

Let this drag on, and the same doomed future awaited. Time to change, starting now.

I rose and flung open the door.

"Oh! You're awake, young master?"

The butler startled, averting his eyes. His face rang a faint bell.

Sibers, my personal butler for sure.

I replied calmly. "Good morning, Sibers."

"Eh... Y-yes, sir."

Sibers broke into a sweat, flustered. He looked like he thought I'd eaten something funny.

"Get ready right away. Bring my formal attire. Apologize to Her Highness for the delayed greeting—properly and sincerely."

Sibers gaped at my instructions.

"Hm, too curt? Figured a capable guy like you would remember."

Only then did Sibers nod vigorously. "O-of course! It's just... I never expected you to speak so... refinedly."

"Haha, can't slack on the day my fiancée visits. Oh, and don't forget refreshments."

"Understood! Right away!"

I patted the shoulder of the scurrying Sibers.

"Yes, young master? Anything else...?"

"You work hard as always, Sibers."

Sibers choked up. His emotions were plain.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing. It's been ten years serving you, and I never dreamed you'd remember my name... Just leave it to me!"

He dashed off to his tasks. High loyalty—liked that.

With help from Sibers and the maids, I prepared swiftly. Down the stairs to the annex's first floor. Just before ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the entrance, my eyes caught the ornate array of swords and daggers above the mantel.

"Hm."

Glancing around—no servants yet, since I'd hurried down. I swiftly plucked a dagger from the display, tucked it into my waistband, and strode on as if nothing happened.

True to a marquisate, the Gotberg estate sprawled across multiple buildings on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vast grounds. My room was in one such annex. Asella strolled the garden right behind it—easy to reach.

Stepping into the flowerbed: crunch, crunch. Soft grass under my shoes. Past towering willows. With each step, her shimmering golden hair drew nearer.

A fresh breeze caressed her gently; she turned with a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠swish, our eyes meeting.

Those eyes, though.

Asella's long lashes, like crow wings, fluttered like fans above her lids. Her golden irises gleamed like topaz in the desert. A moment's lapse, and you'd swear they pulled you in.

Asella von Württemberg. The woman who would become the empire's seventh emperor. A mage ascending to the pinnacle. Or should I say magic weapon? The ultimate villainess, hating the world so fiercely she marshaled every means to drag it to ruin. And now, my fiancée.

Ugh, goosebumps.

"Your Highness."

I called lightly; tiny lips replied.

"Young Lord Gotberg."

...Hearing that voice, my fists clenched involuntarily. Fear from all the deaths she'd dealt me? Or rage?

Well, I'd spoken—but now what with this woman? Part of me wanted to sock her for every past grudge.

Hold back. Must hold back.

No more regressions. Tempted to bolt, too. Recalling her spells made my heart pound in terror. Sign divorce papers now, I'd do my thing, she'd do hers. Paradise.

But fleeing meant she'd become emperor and likely doom the world—high odds, per the ending list.

Kill Asella now, then?

Future Asella wielded immense power and magic, untouchable. Slay her pre-ascension, and I'd nix dozens of bad endings.

...She's innocent now, ten years back. But she'd killed me countless times, fact was fact.

"I humbly greet you. First time meeting face-to-face. Ras Gotberg of the marquisate offers his respects to Your Highness."

I bowed. Asella glanced down demurely, appraising me.

Wonder what happens if...

Hand creeping to the hidden dagger behind my back. I eased it out, poised for assassination.

Current Asella couldn't wield grand magic yet. I'd rolled through countless battlefields. Over in a flash.

Then the status window numbers flickered wildly.

Oh ho.

As expected—endings from her villainy mostly vanished. But one spiked: Mana Rampage to 100%.

Right, the one where her magic surges, devouring the continent.

Vivid memory. Her mana crushing me, body shattering—not pleasant. Killing her now triggers instant overload. Living bomb, basically.

What a tricky woman.

Can't kill her rashly.

Obvious I'd be the culprit; no way I'd face execution for princess regicide.

Got the ending list mechanics now. I stowed the dagger.

Ruin her now while she's young, prevent bad endings. Escape later.

A cold voice pierced my eardrum like an awl.

"Not going to draw it? That blade."

...Hm. Busted?

One number on the ending list glowed crimson, ominously surging.

[No. 056: Villainess's Hatred 6% → 99%]

No—that's just straight-up getting murdered by Asella.

Triggered when I lost my temper, pissed her off, or picked a fight.

Big ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trouble. Bad endings could hit immediately?

Underestimated her. Spotting the concealed dagger...

Tsk.

Wing it now.

"Of course I will. A man's shame to grip a sword and not draw."

"Gutsy."

"In return, won't Your Highness show what's hidden behind your back?"

Asella hesitated at my counter. She'd kept both hands there since we met.

I'd heard the story already. She'd plucked a yellow rose in the garden; I'd berated her for ruining family property, bellowing like a whale. She'd nursed that grudge.

Women's vendettas run deep.

Asella wavered, so I pressed firmly.

"We should reveal what's in hand, no secrets. We're betrothed, after all."

"...Your words have merit."

Roses tumbled from her grasp to the ground. Even betrothed, it was another house. Damaging the garden unasked was wrong. She knew it—faint tension showed.

I approached with the dagger. Slowly knelt on one knee.

And began trimming the thorns from the rose stem.

"...What are you doing?"

"Beautiful flowers bear many thorns. Can't have Your Highness pricked."

Scrape, scrape—I meticulously removed each one.

"How did you know?"

"My room's up there."

I nodded toward it. "Saw you from above. Prepared when I spotted you picking flowers."

"Hmph."

Not buying it? Too obvious a lie? Dumb rose.

Wish an assassin had shown—could've stabbed him instead.

No, that's me.

Please buy it.

Praying inwardly while shaving the stem—click. Asella bent at the waist, gripped my chin, forcing eye contact. Deep golden irises seemed poised to devour me.

"Come to my room later."

Asella flashed a devilish smile—that smile from memory.