Chapter 35
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Night of Turmoil
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I'd only lain down on the bed for a moment to clear my complicated thoughts, but perhaps because all the accumulated fatigue hit me at once...
I must have fallen asleep without realizing it.
"Mm..."
When I opened my eyes again, it was already growing dark outside the window.
I sat up in bed and pressed my temples firmly.
Fortunately, having slept deeply, the excruciating headache that had felt like it was splitting my skull before I dozed off had subsided considerably.
And with the throbbing pain gone, my reason finally returned, allowing me to view the situation objectively.
'Alright, let's sort this out slowly.'
Too much information had flooded my mind in just one day.
First, Princess Roselia seemed to know far fewer details than I'd expected.
I didn't know the exact reason, but it was probably due to me—the variable—with high likelihood.
Second, Leonier Baldinmar was also a possessor, and moreover, a regressor who had returned after failing once.
Third, Leonier knew that I was a reincarnator from Earth.
'This is ridiculous.'
A hollow laugh escaped me.
I thought I'd reincarnated into an ordinary fantasy world, but wasn't this some kind of dark romance novel?
Possessors were coming to find me as if by appointment.
And above all... suddenly, my life had become one with a one-year deadline.
Of course, what concerned me more than that was Leonier's regression.
She said she didn't know why she'd returned.
But I had a hunch.
'Arkaios.'
The word that stuck in my memory the most from what he'd told me.
[Curse.]
He had definitely sensed a terrible curse's aura from me.
What if that curse was related to the regression phenomenon that rewound time?
If it wasn't just Leonier's personal miracle, but the result of someone's intent or a massive magical phenomenon, then the story changed.
'That would make sense of Princess Roselia calling me a variable too.'
It could just be her labeling a new possessor as a variable, but considering the future that should have followed a set course due to Leonier's regression as originally planned...
There was plenty of possibility that she'd said it because that path had started twisting due to the intervention of Roselia, another possessor.
And in the midst of that tangle, the most confused was me, suddenly standing at the eye of this storm without any warning.
I rubbed my dry face and let out a deep sigh.
"Hoo..."
Honestly, I wanted to run away.
The duties of family head suddenly thrust upon me with nothing to my name, the contractual engagement with the princess, the regressor's obsession...
None of it was easy.
But I knew running wouldn't solve anything.
With my identity already exposed, blindly avoiding it wouldn't change a thing.
On the contrary, acting rashly could tighten the knotted threads even further...
I got out of bed and walked to the window.
The massive moon in the night sky was shining more brilliantly than usual today.
A moon far larger and brighter than the one I'd seen on Earth.
That must have been what it looked like when I drunkenly mumbled about it, as Leonier had said.
'...Yeah, let's not rush things.'
No answers would come from racking my brain right now.
Arkaios, who held the most crucial key, was still asleep.
Until he woke and clearly explained the curse's nature, it was best not to judge hastily.
'I can think of countermeasures slowly after Arkaios wakes. It won't be too late.'
With that thought, my anxious mind settled somewhat.
What was done was done; I had no choice but to face it and resolve it.
I straightened my clothes and opened the door.
The corridor air was chilly, but my head was clearer than ever.
Now it was time to face them again.
I slowly made my way toward the dining hall.
At that moment, in the heart of the Loen Empire—the crown prince's office.
Though it was late at night, the room was still brightly lit by magic stone lanterns as if it were daytime.
Scratch-scratch!
The only sound filling the quiet space was the friction of a high-quality fountain pen gliding over paper.
Crown Prince Demian de Loen was mechanically processing the mountain of documents piled up before him, one by one.
"Southern territories' canal repair budget proposal, huh... The granddaughter-whose care you couldn't even manage properly, letting the woman who was to be my fiancée flee to Kaltstein... Tsk."
He skimmed the document and let out a scoff.
This was a matter of imperial importance.
The engagement between the Lady Baldinmar and the crown prince.
Yet neither the imperial side nor the Baldinmar ducal house had unilaterally smoothed it over.
A mere lady had nullified this engagement by running away without a word.
And not just anywhere, but to the Kaltstein ducal house in the north, where relations with the imperial family were plummeting to the worst.
Slash.
His pen moved roughly, stamping "rejected" onto the page.
The red ink spread across the paper like fresh blood.
"Next."
Demian picked up the next document without pause.
This one was a report on the increased frequency of monster appearances near the empire's northern border.
'Monster activity has surged recently...'
Centered on the Kaltstein duchy, monsters were now being spotted regularly along Loen's borderlines.
Normally, he'd be pleased, but Demian couldn't simply rejoice.
The calm before the storm.
The word instinctively came to mind.
He didn't know why that particular phrase surfaced.
He just felt that nothing else could describe the current situation.
After processing imperial matters one by one for a long while, Demian suddenly stopped his pen and stared into empty space.
"You're there, aren't you?"
A question directed at the empty air where no one was.
But the response came immediately.
Swish.
In the darkest corner of the office, the shadows rippled, and a man in a black mask appeared silently.
He was the crown prince's shadow, the captain of the imperial direct intelligence unit, the Blackwing Squad.
"You called for me, my lord."
"Yes. Any news you've been waiting on?"
Demian asked languidly, propping his chin.
The Blackwing captain knelt and reported politely.
"Urgent news from Kaltstein. Noxion Kaltstein, the new family head, collapsed for an unknown reason but has regained consciousness just moments ago."
"Oh...?"
Interest flickered in Demian's eyes.
"Collapsed, you say. The northern bloodline with that monstrous stamina wouldn't drop from mere overwork."
"The exact cause is unknown, but there was a report that the mana flow inside the ducal residence twisted temporarily."
"Mana backlash? Or..."
Demian tapped his fingers on the desk.
It wasn't a simple illness.
The Kaltstein bloodline he'd observed so far, and those he'd faced endlessly from the previous generation, never fell until the moment of death.
"Interesting."
He leaned deeply back in his chair and closed his eyes.
It didn't look like worry or concern.
More like anticipation for a toy tossed into his boring routine, waiting for the right timing.
"Is the information solid? I don't want to be chasing false leads; that'd ruin the fun."
"The Blackwing Squad's intelligence has no margin for error. We've already cross-verified through the eyes planted inside the ducal residence."
"...Good."
Demian stood from his seat.
He walked to the window and gazed down at the darkened imperial palace.
The moon in the distant northern sky shone with an especially cold light.
"Then, as payback for stealing away my intended fiancée, I suppose I should send a little gift."
His voice was cheerfully casual as always, but the killing intent within was unmistakable.
Without turning, Demian issued the order to the captain.
"Hire a few from the assassin guild. Ones with decent skill but no loose ends—oh, and make sure to include a master."
"A simple assassination contract?"
"Hardly. The lord of the north won't fall to mere small fry. Consider it... a courtesy call. Mix in a few Blackwing elites and send them together. Have them meet the new Kaltstein Grand Duke in person and confirm if he truly has what it takes to protect the north."
His eyes gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
"If he's a disappointment... no need to leave him alive. It might be better for Roselia to become a widow."
"I see. Then, regarding Lady Baldinmar, who would become your fiancée..."
"Kill her if you can. She's just an obstacle in my way with her. No—we absolutely must kill her."
"..."
Demian leaned against the window frame and smiled at the man who hadn't grasped the meaning.
"If Lady Baldinmar dies in an attack, won't that give a good slap to the arrogant Duke Baldinmar who insulted imperial blood? On top of that, relations between the two ducal houses will hit rock bottom."
"Indeed... Understood."
The Blackwing captain bowed deeply.
"I shall carry out your command, my lord."
His form dissolved into black mist like fog, and with a chilling wind, the presence of the Blackwing Squad vanished from the room as if it had never been.
Perfect silence followed.
Left alone once more in the office, Demian slowly returned to his desk.
The other ministers had long since departed.
The palace corridors were deathly quiet, with only the night breeze rustling the curtains outside the window.
Clack.
He opened the deepest drawer of his desk, a secret compartment secured with double locks.
There lay a single worn leather notebook, all by itself.
Demian extracted it with the careful touch reserved for a holy relic.
Rustle.
Flipping the cover revealed pages densely filled with bizarre, twisted characters no scholar on this continent could decipher.
Strange script of interlocking straight and curved lines, like the language of another dimension.
Demian's slender fingers gently caressed the incomprehensible text.
The cynical smile on his lips vanished in an instant.
"You who have taken over our dear little sister's body..."
His gaze devoured each character voraciously.
"I wonder who you are, and by what means you stole another's body... I'm just dying to know."
It wasn't brotherly worry.
Merely curiosity toward the unknown, obsession with a variable beyond his predictions.
In his childhood... no, even recently, Roselia had been frail yet wise, subtly checking him while maintaining a proper distance.
But at some point, she changed.
Her eyes, her speech, her actions—all transformed.
As if only the shell remained, with the core entirely replaced.
Others thought the princess had gone mad, or cracked under the pressure of a political marriage selling her off to the Ledentiman Kingdom for mithril.
But Demian knew.
She was no longer his sister Roselia.
And that fact delighted him to no end.
Thud.
He closed the notebook and whispered softly.
"That day will come soon enough, so we'll meet face-to-face again..."
Demian smiled, his gaze fixed northward out the window.
"I'm looking forward to it, little sister."