As If It Were a Dream

-Clank! The sound of iron chains jolting me back to my senses.

I had no idea how long I'd had my eyes shut. Or, to be more precise, perhaps it wasn't that I'd closed them—I'd simply passed out.

My mind was numb. But one thing was crystal clear.

"Bring forth the sinner!"

Manacles bound my wrists and ankles, held taut by cold, unyielding chains. The "sinner" that man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had just called for was me.

Nothing has changed after all.

Cruelly enough, all that awaited me was the same unaltered fate.

Soldiers gripped my arms, one on each side, and began dragging me forward. Toward the platform in the square, where a massive blade of judgment awaited.

The wind was cold. I wore the tattered rags of a criminal's garb, but even so, it shouldn't have felt this piercing, as if holes had been drilled straight through my body.

As I surrendered to the flow of air and trudged onward, my brain kept churning despite itself. Maybe things are different this time. Maybe in the chaos of being hauled here, something had shifted. Maybe I'd spot familiar faces down there. I clung to that hope.

And then...

"Thus, we sentence the sinner to public execution!"

With that verdict sharp as a blade, my fragile hopes shattered into dust.

I strained my eyes wide, scanning the crowd, but no familiar faces appeared. I pricked up my ears, praying someone might speak up for me, but no cherished voice rang out.

None ever did. There was no one to defend me.

Not beneath this platform.

"..."

In the end, was it all meaningless?

I knew I fell short. I'd blamed myself plenty, wondering if I wasn't much help after all. Even so, I'd tried. I'd mastered noble etiquette that felt foreign to me, shouldered the duties of a high noble house far above my station. I'd pulled all-nighters, head nodding over books to cram in the knowledge I lacked. All to avoid dragging down the noble world, to keep from burdening those girls.

And... I'd even taken on problems that weren't mine, scrambling to solve them. I'd scraped together every coin I could, stuffing them with whatever they needed.

But this scene before me was the answer. No matter what, I'd overstepped my place.

Is this how I die?

What a fleeting life.

I hadn't asked for much. Not piles of wealth, not honors from the elite. I just wanted those girls to see me as family, even a little.

Even if I gave everything for them, was it still not enough?

...No. That was greed talking. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn't real. Just a fake.

A fake duke, a fake family head, a fake father. They had no blood tie to me—why would they embrace some outsider commoner as kin? They'd brought me in from the streets, a total stranger. Of course they wouldn't.

Yes. Those girls could never see me as one of their own.

It was the most natural reason in the world.

This time too.

-Thwack!

"Pretending to be a noble—bet that felt great, huh?! Eat this!"

Something flew at me and cracked against my head. Crushed shell mixed with slimy whites and yellow yolk, dripping down.

An egg.

"Must've been real cozy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with a full belly and warm bed!"

More objects hurtled endlessly from behind. A filth-blackened rag, a worn-out shoe, a clod of dirt, a chamber pot reeking of rot—every manner of filth came flying.

"And you weren't even family to the young ladies!"

That brutal line hit, followed by a hard stone that struck me.

-Riiiing.

Tinnitus set in from wherever I'd been hit. It wouldn't even let me listen anymore.

Skin tore, blood flowed, blurring my vision. My eyes shut on their own, my ears sealed shut.

I could see no more, hear no more.

I let it all go, accepting the truth at last. That everything I'd done was futile.

"Thrust the sin—into the block."

After reciting my crimes in full, the soldiers shoved my head into the guillotine's lunette.

I dropped my gaze quietly, eyes closing, shedding every last attachment.

Only deep tinnitus echoed now. Nothing could pierce these ruined ears.

Better this way. I wouldn't know when death came.

-Drip, drip.

One drop, two, then suddenly rain poured down. My path to the end wasn't gentle... but if the downpour drowned out the noise, that wasn't so bad.

The thought brought strange peace. Knowing nothing meant no fear. With everything lost, nothing to regret.

So I waited, breath held, for the death that could strike any moment.

Then, soon enough, a familiar voice pierced my sealed ears.

"—!"

My shoulders jerked. Sealed lips twitched open. My eyes snapped wide.

"Daddy!"

The three sisters' voices. The ones I'd heard so often. Unforgettable even now.

"Daddy! Hurry."

"What are you doing there? Aren't you going?"

"If you don't hurry, we might be late."

I blinked, and there they were in a flower field, breeze rustling petals. A lantern show? No way I'd been pulled here from the scaffold. No way they'd hold my hands, lead me like this. No way they'd smile at me like that, call me those words.

This nonsense was a dream, nothing more. Maybe a kind mercy on my final path—let the condemned dream sweetly on the way.

Ridiculous, really.

But... so what if it was a dream? Even a fleeting one, it beat reality by miles.

I stepped forward gladly, taking their hands. My steps were light, as if treading clouds, floating in the sky. The body weighed down by prison felt strangely weightless.

Just this moment, no thoughts needed. No trembling for the unseen blade.

Simply basking in painless peace with the girls, in this illusion of contradiction. A dream utterly detached from reality—I didn't want it to end.

But something blocked my path.

-Ding!

"..."

A transparent window, lines scrolling below. Visible only to me, unseen by others—this was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠where it all began.

The Status Window. Like a game UI, this pane fit the name perfectly.

There, the stark word "failure" caught my eye.

Yes. Failure. Nothing succeeded.

Even when desires dangled in sight, they ended in lack, never fulfillment. Drowned in work, late to act—too late, and it backfired. I knew the problems they bore, but I was always a step behind. Faster action might've solved them.

I'd agonized, dawdled, forced myself to choose abandonment. Led to despair, surrender, tears—making them set it aside themselves.

All my shortcomings. Failure. Failure. Failure again. Even trivial tasks ended in defeat.

Not one of the girls' wishes came true.

Failure—a perfectly clear word for it.

A plain, heavy verdict upon me.

Three years gone. I'd accomplished nothing.

I... could never meet their expectations. Not in any way.

So this message? Just more failure. Nothing strange.

No reason to despair now. It was utterly natural.

But... strangely, it felt too natural. Like this fate was inevitable.

-Ding!

...What?

What does that even...?

I stared blankly at the baffling lines, and the window continued.

What in the world... Ugh!

-Zap.

A stabbing headache hit, and everything shifted violently.

The flower field vanished from sight. The cheerful sky filling it turned to pitch black.

And.

"─────!!"

A scream—whose?—pierced the thick tinnitus in my ears.

It wasn't a dream. Not the lantern show, not the girls' voices.

I couldn't make out the words, but... I knew who it was.

Why? Why had she come? Why raise her voice like that for me?

Could it be... she really...?

Someone to take my side, at the very last moment?

I wanted—just for a second—to open my eyes.

Even knowing death loomed before me.

But there was no need to fear. This wasn't bad luck snapping me awake on the scaffold. The world hadn't gone dark.

I'd simply closed my eyes.

"My lord Duke. It is time to rise."

That voice hit, and my shoulders twitched instinctively at the wrongness.

"...!"

Why? How? My body should feel heavy—it didn't. Covered in wounds, clad in filthy rags? No, pristine clothes. No pain from this prone form anywhere.

This place... wasn't the execution ground?

No way.

Cautiously, I lifted heavy lids.

A familiar ceiling, a familiar face.

And.

"Good morning, my lord Duke."

The owner of that screaming voice just moments ago greeted me softly.

What... is going on?

My mind went blank as fresh paper. Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

"Today, Madam will... Hm?"

I was a sinner. Meant to dissolve into morning dew amid curses on the scaffold.

A man condemned to death for an unforgivable crime in the Hasupeln Empire.

Yet rising from bed like I'd just had a dream?

"My lord Duke. Are you listening?"

No. The premise was wrong. How was my head—meant to be severed—still attached? How had I reached this place unscathed, no bruises, no interrogation?

Impossible.

At least, for the me back then.

As confusion swirled, the voice that woke me spoke again.

"My lord Duke."

"...!"

"You've seemed distracted since earlier. Did you not sleep well?"

A familiar voice. One I'd heard countless times in the ducal residence. The last one I'd heard.

I couldn't not know it. Absolutely.

But... why did it feel so different? An uncanny dissonance from her.

"Even if you're not feeling well, today is important. Madam said she'll hand it over in the private parlor after breakfast."

And with those words, I pinpointed the unease.

Familiarity.

I'd... heard this exact line before.

Three years ago.

-Ding!

This can't be real...

In that split-second throb of headache, everything had changed.

As if all that had just happened was a dream.