Warrior Marygold (11)

A fishy, metallic tang crept into his nostrils. The scent of blood and death—and Marygold.

"M-Master, I, I..."

"You did nothing wrong."

Lancel pulled out a handkerchief and quickly wiped the blood from Marygold's hands.

"This guy... he's a noble, Master."

He knew.

A member of the Imperial Knights who stuck to the 6th Prince like glue. Undoubtedly a court knight. Though he'd been felled by a single stroke from Marygold's blade.

Lancel ground his teeth as he eyed the pouch of blindweed powder clutched in the man's hand.

One wrong move, and Marygold would have been blinded for life. The thought alone made something dark and furious rise deep in his chest, impossible to suppress any longer.

Kill him? Who? The 6th Prince?

'Maybe I should.'

From the moment he'd learned the Imperial Support Force was led by the 6th Prince, hadn't he half-expected something like this?

—What the hell am I hesitating for? Just kill him. Once isn't hard; twice won't be either.

Yeah. It wasn't even as tough as burning alive.

This was for Marygold, too.

A commoner who killed a noble? Execution was the only option. Worst case, summary judgment on the spot.

A resolve began to take root deep within Lancel's heart.

This life was just one of dozens he'd repeated anyway.

'Slaughter the command staff in the train car. Culprit: Lancel Dante. Marygold slips away and lives in hiding far off... Clean and simple.'

The calculations clicked into place in his mind, and Lancel moved.

Click.

He picked up the fallen sword from the floor and muttered quietly.

"Stay in this room. In thirty minutes, it'll be like nothing happened."

Good call. Honestly, this shit pissed him off. Swords always called to him like that.

'Come to think of it, I've got nothing to lose.'

Yeah. Kill him. Burning at the stake? So what. Just start over from the beginning.

That's what he thought—until Marygold's arms wrapped around him from behind.

"Master!"

"No, Master!"

"What?"

"I-I don't know, but... please don't!"

Lancel read the fear in her trembling voice. He felt the cheap necklace rattling against her nape. She even wore it to sleep.

"Let go, Mary."

"No! I have a bad feeling... I don't want this!"

"What are you talking about? You're just imagining things, right?"

"I... I hope it is just my imagination."

A verbal sparring match with a corpse at their feet.

Lancel couldn't hide his bewilderment at this stubborn side of Marygold he'd never seen before.

'I'm fine with dying. Just let me go.'

But he couldn't say that aloud. She'd think he was insane—especially looking this calm and collected.

"Please don't, Master. Whatever you're planning, just... don't. I beg you."

Her grip was weaker than usual today. Her arms, wrapped desperately around his waist, trembled nonstop.

A little force, and he'd shake her off easily. But he didn't.

Lancel fell silent for a moment. Finally, he spoke.

"Then are you gonna die?"

Frankly? Yeah, he was frustrated.

"If the train stops now, we're in the western continent. Follow the river to the port city, take a ship to the islands—the archipelago. A fat stack of gold coins, and you'll live like a queen. The seafood there? Shellfish, fish—insanely good."

Words he'd planned to pass on after cleaning house.

Lancel laid out the escape plan solely to convince her.

"You're a commoner anyway. Mercenary life, die young—that's the script. This? That's a win. Accept it. No other options."

"No. Happiness bought with your life means nothing to me."

"...There's no other way! Why can't you get that today?"

"Some days..."

Marygold's choked voice vibrated through his back.

"Some days, our last day ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was at the guild. Others... walking the market alone."

What? Lancel went speechless.

"Some days, our last was strolling the square. Others, buying snacks on the street."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Master... every moment with you is my last."

Lancel realized she was reminiscing about a distant past.

A girl who'd lost her entire family at ten, cast out. A fallen lady wandering the streets after losing her noble status.

That's why she felt this way. Someone who'd lost so much. He sensed it faintly through their touching skin.

"Don't think surviving by using you will make me happy. Let me decide my own end."

Her voice shook fiercely, but her will was ironclad.

"The one who needs to survive this is you, Master."

Lancel rubbed his tired eyes. Honestly, this was unexpected.

"I'll turn myself in now, Master."

He imagined their positions reversed. No need to think long—he'd grovel to save his skin. But Marygold was different. He hadn't realized ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their bond ran this deep for her.

A chill settled in his mind.

And he had to admit it.

He'd gotten a bit heated, uncharacteristically.

"No. No need."

Lancel set down the sword.

Then he rummaged at the corpse's belt for a dagger. Ornate, but sharp.

"Mary. Don't misunderstand. I don't plan on dying either."

"Huh? Master?"

Lancel plunged it into his own limbs with brutal thrusts.

"Ma-Master!"

"Quiet."

"Master... why, why are you doing this?!"

Now he saw her face was streaked with tears.

To her, it must look like her guild master had lost it and was self-harming.

'This much is fine. My recovery is top-tier.'

He steadied his breathing.

If he was doing this, do it right. Half-assed, and it'd backfire.

Lancel drove it into his gut in one go. The blade pierced peritoneum, sparing vitals. To an outsider, it'd look like a serious wound.

"Grrraaagh!"

Blood surged through his body. Teeth ground together. He barely kept his eyes from rolling back.

Breath caught in his throat.

"Why... why this...!"

"Ca... call someone, q-quick!"

"H-Huh?!"

Marygold floundered.

Lancel wrung out the words amid groans.

"Wake the sleeping bastards! Some psycho came in... stabbed me and left—hurry!"

22.

"...What?"

"Y-You need to see this quick, Your Highness!"

Midnight commotion. The 6th Prince's drowsiness vanished.

Heading to the command car—once the party hall—boisterous voices rang out.

"Where the hell are the guards? Drag 'em to the stocks!"

"I-It wasn't us... Your Highness, you..."

"Daring to use His Highness's name?"

The first sight: cowering guards under shouts. The prince had moved them all last night.

Seizing the chance with no eyes on him to snatch Marygold up.

But now, things felt off.

"Sir Lancel's in bad shape, Your Highness."

"Lancel? Suddenly? How bad?"

"See for yourself."

At the cluster of soldiers, Lancel lay bandaged head to toe.

Arms, legs, torso—serious wounds at a glance.

"Said he blocked someone kidnapping Miss Mary... got stabbed."

The 6th Prince's face hardened.

He didn't register injured Lancel. Only the corpse beside him.

"Had blindweed, they say. Where'd he get rare poison like that? Suspicious—investigate his background."

"Don't bother!"

The prince sensed the situation twisting.

"Sir Lancel's critical. Best rush him to the capital for treatment ASAP."

When he heard Lancel and Mary heading back to the capital urgently for care.

The 6th Prince finally scanned his remaining forces.

The 1st Imperial Support Force faced war soon, yet morale was shattered—like routed remnants. Not fit for battle.

Just a demoralized heap before him.

"Your Highness, request reinforcements now..."

"Shut up."

He'd come for glory himself.

No commander wanted empty hands.

23.

"What in the world happened?"

When Lancel arrived in the capital by cart, familiar faces awaited.

The Court Count—alerted by letter—rushed first.

Never dreamed his future son-in-law would nearly die before reaching the front.

"A capable knight, and this before the battlefield?"

The Court Count had paced anxiously the whole escort. His daughter a widow? Nightmare fuel.

Lancel, supported by Marygold, limped down, pale as death.

"Take me to His Majesty. I have much to report."

"What do you plan?"

"Go back. To the front."

"In that condition?"

His perforated body had endured forced march; color long gone from his face.

But his eyes burned fierce.

"The 6th Prince's army will be annihilated soon. Assemble fresh support and deploy."

"...Watch your words. You mean that?"

Lancel had proof.

Why? He'd seen it on the way here.

Ah, there it was. Route lost meant one of three: dead, captured, or vanished.

The support force headed to a hot zone, but capture was likeliest over death. Ransom negotiations for princes would drag years, even decades. Naturally, out of the route.

'Tch. This loop's busted.'

6th Prince? Whatever. But the 5th was different. Wasn't this loop all for him? Never even seeing his face—Lancel sighed emptily at the news.

Well, still.

"Gotta do what I gotta do."

He glanced at Marygold supporting him. Worry etched her face; their eyes met.

To him, this world was infinite time, a prison where death meant nothing. He'd smashed and reset plenty. It was fine. Wake up, good as new.

But not for Marygold.

For her, always the last.

Today.

Tomorrow.

Before.

Why? Lancel felt oddly comforted by that truth.

Like it reminded him of something forgotten.

Hm.

'Dunno.'

* * *

Reporting everything to the Emperor (fake), Lancel gained minor command of the 2nd Imperial Support Force—800 men total.

Wandering war-torn lands, he devoted every day to battle. Nothing else to do now. Call it filial piety to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his father-in-law the Court Count and parents. Empire's war hero as son and son-in-law? They'd puff up with pride. Not like loop 3's statues everywhere, but solid career.

Just never properly met his fiancée, Lady Iceford. Endless fronts for his valor; she didn't welcome him anyway. No reason to cross paths. Probably gnawing some weirdo by now. Not his problem.

Only one.

"Master."

Warrior Marygold alone stayed by his side.

Ten years passed.

. . .

Marygold fought alongside her lord for five years, amassing countless merits in war.

With your honorary knighthood from the Imperial Family, shining days surely await.

But your lord's sudden death led you back to loneliness.

A world without him holds no meaning.

'Don't cry. We'll meet again someday.' Marygold remembered her lord's first lie forever. No way to meet the dead in this world.

Loneliness. Solitude. Loss. You drown in swamp-like grief, day by day. Avenging 'everything' that killed him.

Tonight, too, the Dark Knight of the cheap gem necklace haunts the streets.

[Cheap Gem Necklace and Dark Knight Marygold - fin]

What.

"Wasn't this a decent run?"

Lancel broke into a cold sweat at the sorrow-drenched ending. Bad ending. Literally.

'What went wrong?'

Failed to connect her to a prince? His fault, sure. But ten damp, musty years? Felt off. Decent vibe, no?

'Why'd I even die?' Not random. Something happened.

Hm.

Now he wanted to end her story cleanly.

Best: link to a prince. At least see her with a proper husband. Anyone but him—his marriages ended poorly.

"How do I handle this yandere protagonist?"

Next loop arrived.

Lancel faced a shocking message from the start.

"For real?"