Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Meeting Another Regressor
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Rachel's eyes sparkled at the marquis's remark.
The outfit she wore now was not a dress. She had on a white blouse paired with a vibrant crystal green jacket and pants.
The structured volume typical of women's clothing was much reduced, creating a flat silhouette, but the waistline was cinched narrow like an hourglass, with the upper and lower parts puffed out.
Glossy fabric preserved its elegance, accented by lace, frills, and embroidery for a touch of delicacy.
"Green's all the rage these days, isn't it?"
Marquis Nerus showed curiosity toward the unfamiliar attire—an interest unlikely for a stuffy noble.
"Dresses are inconvenient when there's so much activity. And last time, I nearly died because of Prince Damian."
Marquis Nerus stroked his chin, recalling the irreverent incident at the banquet.
"Right, that happened."
"So I'm avoiding dresses from now on."
For the first time, Marquis Nerus faltered at Rachel's words.
"Even at balls?"
"Yes."
"Then with the other young lords..."
Marquis Nerus trailed off as he glanced at Enoch, then shut his mouth.
'It means I won't be popular with the other young lords.'
"I have my title and territory, after all."
Ordinary women without titles usually married men and bore children to carry on the line.
But Rachel was different. She had no need for a man.
Marquis Nerus, however, seemed to misunderstand as he looked at Enoch and nodded.
"Worried about bandits? Should I take the sword?"
Marquis Nerus eyed the dagger and swordbreaker on Rachel's waist belt.
"A woman with a sword? No, it's fine."
He implied that even if a woman swung a sword, how skilled could she be? Rachel pretended not to notice.
"Thank you for trusting me."
Thanks to that, her attire was oddly mismatched for a tea party.
"This way."
The marquis entered the mansion. Mary followed him to unpack, while the butler accompanying the marquis guided Rachel.
The place the butler led her to was a greenhouse. Inside the glass-walled structure, vibrant flowers flaunted their beauty.
Mary gasped in admiration without realizing it.
"Miss, I've never seen such a beautiful place!"
"Thanks for the praise."
A woman popped out from behind a large shrub.
The riding outfit suited her perfectly. Her high ponytail of copper-red hair swayed like a horse's tail. Her long limbs and slender figure were model-like.
"Cool outfit. Which tailor made it?"
The other woman leaned in so suddenly there was no time for greetings.
Like Marquis Nerus, she propped her chin with thumb and forefinger, scanning Rachel up and down.
"I commissioned it custom."
"Nice overall, but I wouldn't recommend green. It's the cause of noble sickness."
Rachel jolted at those words. Soon, in the near future, many nobles would fall ill and die.
Symptoms included diarrhea, vomiting, respiratory distress, convulsions, and heart failure. It struck nobles more than commoners, earning it the name "noble sickness."
But that was in the future. Rachel didn't know the cause and assumed it was the black sorcerer's curse—so how did she know?
"Oh, introductions first? I'm Lekeya Nerus."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Rachel Peristera."
"I know. That's why I invited you after hearing about you."
Rachel blinked. She couldn't tell if Lekeya meant the "want to be friends" story or something else.
"Butler, you can go now?"
At Lekeya's order, the butler left. Confirming he was gone, she turned to Rachel.
"I'll get straight to the point. I know the future. And I think you do too."
Rachel and Enoch exchanged glances instantly. This was unexpected.
"That reaction confirms it, huh?"
"I'd like to hear more details."
"Not hard. Sit first."
At Lekeya's gesture, wooden stems rose behind them, weaving into simple chairs.
Rachel's eyes gleamed. In that brief moment, mana swirled two laps near Lekeya's heart, exited her fingertips, and vanished behind them—then wooden chairs appeared.
'It doesn't make my stomach churn.'
Artifacts made her queasy, but Lekeya's spellcasting felt fine. Rachel blinked at the difference.
"Not black magic, then."
"You're the priest? Thanks for confirming it's not black magic. I've been called a witch nonstop and haven't met priests."
Rachel and Enoch sat on the chairs she made. Impressively comfortable for something improvised.
"First, to check: which of you knows the future?"
"Me."
"Thought so. How far?"
"Two years ahead."
"Same as me."
Pain shadowed Lekeya's face as she spoke.
"It's no secret from the priest, right?"
"No, he knows everything and helps me. He's a friend."
"Then I'll trust and tell you."
"Not my place, but aren't you trusting us too easily?"
Maybe from hanging with Abyss lately? Rachel nitpicked Lekeya's easy trust.
It was nice to be trusted so readily. But when things went this smoothly, it made her uneasy.
"I've made my judgment. The year I turned nineteen, I died. Beheaded on the guillotine. But I opened my eyes two years prior."
Anyone else would call it a lie. But Rachel couldn't say it.
Lekeya's smile deepened.
"See? Same boat, so you can't deny it."
Finally, someone who recognized not just déjà vu, but regression.
Rachel suspected the black sorcerer Crow did too, but without facing him, it hadn't felt real.
Meeting someone who remembered clearly made her heart pound.
'Right, 20th round, bound to happen. But how many? What about my plans?'
"I was shocked at first too. I should've been dead, but alive two years back."
Rachel felt off while listening but stayed silent.
Lekeya, returned two years prior, sought ways to avoid the same death.
Then Count Emporus, a royal advisor, was arrested on his niece's accusation and died in prison. That's when Lekeya realized the past had changed.
"I thought someone like me returned to the past. Tracing changed events led to you at the center."
Rachel pinpointed the unease.
The Nerus family was wiped out in the final round at 18th. In 19th, Paris Emporus died, not reaching year two.
This 20th round. Lekeya had no memory in between. Or rather, Rachel couldn't confirm which round Lekeya remembered as 18th.
'I survived to year two in 10th, 11th, 12th, and 18th—four times total. Which one does she remember?'
Lekeya remembered only one round, not all.
Unaware of Rachel's thoughts, Lekeya snapped her fingers.
"I was going to invite two others if not you."
Lekeya casually said if Rachel wasn't a regressor, she'd have invited Abyss, who gained a title from the Paris Emporus incident, and Jesty.
"If it wasn't me, you almost caused a disaster."
"Who knows? I'm already rumored crazy. Called a witch too, so crazy's mild."
"True."
Rachel admired Lekeya's mental fortitude. Crowds still bothered her, others' opinions stung—even after resolving to be a social outcast.
But Lekeya acted indifferent to gossip.
"Now my turn to ask. You didn't know I was a regressor, so why seek me out? Skip the flimsy 'want to be friends' excuse."
"I want to learn magic!"
Rachel stated her business without kicking away the opening Lekeya provided.
Lekeya's expression turned ambiguous, like a smile or frown.
"Magic...?"
"Yes."
"So it's magic."
"Yes?"
"You're the first to call my power magic. Everyone says it's black magic, creepy stuff!"
Lekeya jumped up and hugged Rachel tightly. Rachel was dumbfounded.
"Thanks! I doubted if I was really a witch. But the priest says no black magic, and you call it magic. I'm not wrong!"
Rachel hadn't thought she'd done anything praiseworthy, but Lekeya was so thrilled she said nothing.
Resonating with her emotions, the surrounding grass and trees brimmed with fresh green vitality.
"Not sure, but Lady Lekeya's power seems to affect plants. Helpful for flora or crops, not harmful to people?"
Lekeya shook her head vigorously. Rachel continued, assuming agreement.
"Black magic harms people, an evil force. Sometimes needs sacrifices. So your power absolutely isn't black magic."
"No one's ever said that. Even my parents feared it, never said outright."
Hearing that, Rachel realized she'd misjudged her.
She'd acted nonchalant about being called a witch, but it bothered her deeply.
She'd wanted proof from a priest it wasn't evil, but couldn't get it. If priests called it black magic, nowhere left to turn.
Even her father, Marquis Nerus, hid his daughter fearing she was a witch.
'I thought she was strong-minded. Guess not. Just pretending.'
Like a scared beast barking to hide weakness.
Lekeya pulled away. Her green eyes sparkled with vibrancy.
"I'm going to get revenge on the Third Prince who killed my family and me."
Lekeya seemed expectant of Rachel's reaction. Rachel nodded at her resolve.
"I'm taking down the Third Prince too."
Lekeya's face lit up.
"I was going to help you insofar as it didn't hinder my revenge. But same goal? I can help fully!"
Rachel found Lekeya's goodwill sudden.
They'd just met, chatted mere dozens of minutes—that was their bond. Yet Lekeya acted like a longtime comrade backing her.
"Want to learn magic? Never trained systematically, so not fit to teach. But I can demonstrate it for you anytime."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And I have tons to share with you."
Rachel empathized with Lekeya's feelings. She'd opened up easily to her, but likely told no one before.
If she'd told Marquis Nerus, he wouldn't have allowed today's visit. Didn't want witch rumors plus crazy daughter.
"Sure. I want to get close to you too, Lady Lekeya."
Afterward, the three moved from the greenhouse to the outdoor garden and chatted late into the day.
That day, Rachel gained a new friend.