The Time That Will Never Return (2)

The maids sprang into frantic motion the instant the duchess collapsed. Servants rushed in with makeshift stretchers and began carrying her away. The three sisters hurried after them. In that cauldron of chaos, dinnertime came to a complete end.

"..."

"How is she, Widen? Mother?"

Lucilla blurted the question as soon as the family physician withdrew his hands from examining the duchess. She was surely hoping for reassurance—that there was nothing wrong, that she'd wake up any moment.

But Widen's response was far from encouraging. Instead of optimism, a heavy sigh ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠escaped him.

"It would be best if you... prepared yourselves."

"What...?"

A stunned silence fell. Then, in the brief hush that followed, the air shifted dramatically.

"What do you mean?! Mother's... why would Mother...!"

"Sh-She's not badly hurt, right? She just collapsed suddenly..."

"...Yes, as Lady Ellensia says, she isn't seriously injured. However, the duchess is showing signs of a certain illness."

"Signs of an illness...?"

"If I may boldly ask the young ladies: Has the duchess been suffering from sleepwalking lately?"

All three sisters wore expressions that suggested they had their suspicions.

"And it would be sleepwalking that didn't exist before. I know this. As her personal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠physician, I am well aware she had no such chronic condition. That's precisely what makes this... problematic."

"This is proof that she has fallen into the Jewel's Sleep."

Beneath the sleeve Widen had rolled up on the duchess, strange blue spots marred her skin.

"No... that can't be..."

"Mother..."

The sisters' faces crumpled in unison.

The Jewel's Sleep. This illness left the body unscathed. It didn't cause major injury or threaten life directly. Yet beneath its harmless facade lurked a cruel shadow. It began innocently enough—with sleepwalking or sudden narcolepsy—but inevitably led to an eternal slumber from which there was no awakening.

"Isn't there... something, anything else? A way?"

"...I'm sorry."

Veronica's desperate plea was met with Widen's solemn verdict, another heavy sigh underscoring his words. Even he was powerless. No one had ever cured this disease.

"No way. Mom... why Mom of all people!!"

Lucilla finally burst into sobs, her cries echoing through the room. Her sisters couldn't hold back their tears either, and even some of the servants guarding the room bowed their heads in gloom.

"The spots haven't fully spread yet—only three so far. She might wake once more before they do. Don't miss that moment."

"Waaah! Nooo! Mommy—!"

With Widen's advice ringing in their ears and Lucilla's wails filling the air, I slipped quietly from the room.

This wasn't a place for a fake like me.

I'd bought myself a little time by stepping aside. But it wouldn't last forever.

'After the duchess wakes...'

Yes. The same events I remembered would unfold.

This brief window was for thinking.

I didn't need to read it all—I knew it by heart. The Status Window had popped up abruptly amid my panic, and I'd seen this overview endlessly since.

It detailed House Freyvelric's predicament, background, and progress on prior measures.

But it changed occasionally, letting me vaguely gauge that three months had passed.

"..."

Three months gone.

Three months in the ducal residence. Three months training to become the fake duke.

In other words, no escape now.

-What? Lessons for a noble house...?

-Indeed. You'll receive training to become a person befitting nobility. You must become Duke Freyvelric.

That marked the start of my bond with House Freyvelric. Everything began when I became the fake duke.

Or rather, none of it would have happened if I hadn't.

If I'd refused. If I'd blocked entry to House Freyvelric.

If the starting point never existed...

Then I could have slipped away unscathed and survived.

But that was impossible now. After three months here, even fleeing was out of the question.

If only the regression had sent me back before entering the ducal residence.

Why this timing...?

...No. Really?

Would I truly have escaped if returned earlier?

Would I—

"..."

Staring at the window snapped me back to reality.

"No time to daydream when survival's on the line."

I shook my head to clear it and scanned the text again. Mostly familiar phrases, but I had to check for anything new or overlooked.

Quick read-through: Nothing major differed from pre-regression.

Except one glaring detail.

"As expected. This is the only difference."

This unique window stood out as the sole change ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from before. Past records resetting was natural for a bygone era.

But this was different.

"...'Some memories have been lost.'"

Troubling. Regression without memories was pointless. No foresight, no preemptive action. Stripped of its core benefit, it was just dying twice over.

Truly vexing.

Yet... it wasn't the case.

"Doesn't seem like I've forgotten much."

Everything remained crystal clear. What I'd done here, how I'd lived. Choices made, consequences endured. All intact in my mind.

No need to look far: I knew today's date, that Veronica waited outside earlier, the dining hall scene, even the exact moment the duchess would collapse. I knew the urgent message she'd wanted to deliver went unsaid.

Easy to dismiss memory loss.

"I haven't forgotten a thing."

So why this line? Not future loss, but past tense—already lost.

Yet I couldn't sense any gap.

"...Whatever. No need to dwell."

If I remembered, that sufficed. Not urgent anyway.

From today. Mere hours away.

That's when it all truly began.

Now, it would.

I knew the future, but no reason to follow it blindly. Having clawed back from death's edge, why repeat as a condemned prisoner?

I wouldn't meet the same end.

"Your Grace. Madam has awakened."

I didn't belong here.

So... I needed a plan to leave.

"You've come."

"..."

The same summoning voice led to an unchanged scene.

The room was silent. No maids or servants stood guard. Not even Physician Widen.

In that quiet space, Duchess Rozalin Freyvelric lay in bed, her weary eyes barely open, turning toward the entrance.

Her cracked voice broke the hush.

"Come sit here."

"Then I shall—"

"No. Tia, you sit beside him too."

"Me... as well? But the two of you should—"

"Yes. You need to hear this too."

Tia. The only other soul permitted here with me. Despite her maid outfit like the others, she wasn't one of them. Not a mere maid or head maid.

Tia was the household's sole attendant.

She approached lightly and sat by the bed. Rozalin resumed.

"So... Jewel's Sleep. And if she falls asleep this time, she'll never wake. These medicines... are useless too, I know."

A death sentence, essentially. Doomed to lie forever in unbreakable slumber.

Rage, denial, outburst would be natural. Lashing out at innocents too.

Yet Rozalin suppressed it, clutching the blanket tightly.

"A cruel fate. Never to see my children grow. As a mother, unable to watch them mature..."

"That's not true. Why speak as if you're dying...!"

"Tia."

"..."

Tia fell silent at Rozalin's headshake.

"Even now, I yearn to see their faces. I don't want to die. But... I can't. This time mustn't be wasted."

Her gaze shifted to me.

"First, one question. Over these three months, what did you think of my daughters?"

"...Forgive me."

"...I see. Too short a time?"

No. Not the brevity.

I simply didn't know. Then or now.

That was my honest answer.

"I... knew I'd fall to the Jewel's Sleep. So I prepared. The moment I close my eyes, my daughters become orphans without father or mother. So... I sought to fill that void. They're too young, too fragile. What would become of them with predators circling?"

"..."

"I searched endlessly for someone resembling my late husband. Scoured the Hasupeln Empire—remote villages, brothels, rugged mountains, even offshore isles. Whenever time allowed, I hunted. If their missing father returned hale to protect them, no foul schemes could touch them. Then I found a boy, alone, with a face strikingly like his."

The duchess had brought me here abruptly, taught noble etiquette, schooled me in society, then introduced me to the girls as their returned father.

That was my origin as fake duke—and the truth behind the Status Window's report.

"Forgive the late truth, but asking you to be their father... that was my plan. And this too."

"Wish for anything. I'll surely awaken in time. Just protect my children until then, and any desire is yours. So... I boldly beg you."

The duchess bowed deeply.

"Please, safeguard my daughters."

Her face screamed desperation, as if the world might crumble.

Accepting this ritual made me truly head of House Freyvelric. No longer fake—wielding full ducal authority.

That path led to the same doom. The brutal past repeating. Execution, denial of all I'd done, head rolling.

But... I couldn't refuse that desperate face before.

...And now.

"I want to survive, Madam. So, exactly three years."

"Three years?"

"In three, Lady Veronica comes of age and can inherit. I'll play the fake duke until then."

"..."

"Promise me. In three years, you'll spare my life."

To survive, I demanded first—unlike before. Not a request. Not permission. A claim to authority.

"I promise. On the miraculous name of Freyvelric."

Thus, I secured power. Pre-regression, she'd vowed anything for protection, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never awoke from the Jewel's Sleep.

This promise granted my sole right to live.

Yes. I didn't want to die.

To avoid it, I needed the house's shelter—for now.

"I accept the succession."

The one chance coming in time.

Until escape's opportunity arrived.