Inheritance Loop 1: Lancel's Shadow Play (2)
"By any chance... did you need me for something?"
Lancel promptly redirected Marygold, who was beaming as she tried to sit beside him, straight to the seat across from him.
"Nothing major. It's just been two months since you started here, and I was wondering how you're holding up with the work. Viscount Ivil Shen should be handling this, but he's swamped right now."
"Ah, aha...."
Why does she look so disappointed? Lancel shot a glance at Marygold, whose energy had visibly plummeted.
The real reason he'd summoned her here—playing the eccentric noble who consults with maids—was singular.
I need to confirm if she truly carries memories from the previous loop.
Lancel fixed his gaze on a nearby potted plant, casually opening his mouth as if it were no big deal.
"Miss Mary, how old are you this year?"
"Twel—"
"Twelve?"
"Se, seventeen! Yes!"
"Not sixteen?"
"Sixteen! I was sixteen! Yes!"
She was confessing without even being interrogated.
"Right. Maid work is tough—how's it treating you?"
"...Are you trying to fire me?"
"Don't overthink it. I'm just curious."
"If it's because I stole your clothes before..."
"...Put it back nicely while I'm asking politely."
"Ah, aaaah, yes."
Lancel rubbed his throbbing temple for a moment.
"Hestie said you're a bit slippery but good at the job, so I got curious."
"Did you call me here to praise me?"
"Sure, let's go with that."
"No way...! Are you giving me a reward...!"
"Take that back. I didn't call you for praise. I just asked randomly, so answer properly."
Marygold hunched over, peeking at his expression.
"Well, I worked a bit before."
"How long ago?"
"I don't remember well... about eight years?"
Eight years ago—that was when Marygold was still a noble lady.
"Got it."
After that, Lancel kept the conversation to trivial matters, his mind elsewhere. A few questions had been enough; he didn't need to probe further.
It's confirmed: Marygold has inherited memories from the previous loop.
How much? How? From where to where? That remained a mystery.
What was clear was that she remembered the past.
Is this good or bad?
Lancel's goal was to pair Marygold with a prince. He had to witness the game's main route, the Empress Ending.
But if she remembered the past, what then? Would it help or hinder her path to empress?
He couldn't get a read on it.
Should I lay my cards on the table and ask for her cooperation?
For example: "Let's team up as regressors and make you empress for once, Marygold!" Would that help or backfire?
As Lancel's deliberations deepened—
"Alright, good work. You can go."
"Ah... already?"
"What more do you want?"
"Yes...."
Marygold slunk away, shoulders slumped.
What to do? Spill everything? Or hold back?
His endless dilemma resolved itself that night, just before he drifted off to sleep.
Congratulations! Marygold has mastered Beginner Dark Magic.
From the next Inheritance, you can purchase Intermediate Dark Magic.
※ Memories between loops using Inheritance are fully shared.
However, stats reset after the ending. Please repurchase and re-equip them.
"...?"
Lancel bolted upright in bed. He snatched the quill from the table on instinct.
Fearing the memory might fade, he hurriedly scribbled it down, murmuring the words aloud to etch them in.
The bit about mastering dark magic barely registered. What mattered were those final two lines.
"Memories from loops using Inheritance are... shared?"
Lancel listed Marygold's most recent endings:
- Warrior.
- Beggar.
- Leech.
- Saint.
- Merchant.
- First Memory Inheritance. (Current loop)
Memories from loops with Memory Inheritance are shared. Meaning...
He scribbled again:
- First Memory Inheritance. (Current)
- ??? (No Inheritance)
- ??? (No Inheritance)
...
- Second Memory Inheritance. (2nd loop from now)
Like this?
Inheritance. As Lancel recalled, it required a special condition: accumulating enough achievement points.
Once he hit 1500 points, a "regressor Marygold" carrying past memories would appear, just like now.
And the memories from "Regressor Marygold 1st Loop" would carry over to the future "Regressor Marygold 2nd Loop."
"So 1st and 2nd loops are essentially the same person."
- Linked. Memories are linked.
That probably meant she was a true regressor.
...Right?
Lancel frowned at the densely scribbled paper.
If I tell this Inheritance Marygold that I'm a regressor... the next one will remember it too.
He made his decision. Set down the quill.
Don't tell her.
Yeah. Too many variables, irreversible. Once said, "Regressor Marygold" would remember forever.
No take-backs.
If he ever had to reveal it, it'd be a last resort.
Plus, the risk of her feeling some fated bond.
- No way! You're a regressor too! Forget everything—let's just live together!
What then? If she wouldn't leave him?
Headache waiting to happen. A future empress clinging to a fringe noble's son wouldn't end the game.
Lancel didn't want to scrap every loop with a "Regressor Marygold."
Yeah. He was just Marygold's Empress Maker, not a romance target. A normal ending extra at best—never a capture target.
Didn't their actual marriage end badly?
...'.
Lancel stared at the scribbled page, then tore it to shreds and tossed it.
3.
Roaring flames engulfed the pyre in the square.
- Add more fuel!
- It's burning bright!
What were they burning? Smoke and fire obscured it.
A black silhouette flickered through the blaze, hinting at a human form.
Public executions by fire were rare. Reserved for grave sinners—blasphemers against the imperial family.
Even busy maid Marygold halted, transfixed.
- Behold! The sinner's fate!
Marygold narrowed her eyes at the flames. The charred shape danced teasingly in her vision.
- This sinner who swung a blade at the empire's prince—witness his end!
Thud.
Her heart clenched.
- For defiling the sacred—for this demon's blasphemy, he burns here!
Wind gusted. Flames parted briefly.
In that instant, the sinner's face emerged.
An illusion of locking eyes with the blackened corpse.
- Behold the end of history's greatest criminal!
Her heart pounded like a drum.
Thump.
- Traitor...!
Thump.
- ...Lancel Dante!
"No!"
"Eek!"
Marygold jolted awake from her nap.
"Ugh, why do you keep doing this, miss! You're scaring me on purpose, right? Be honest—no yelling if you confess. On purpose?"
Pina, startled awake too, glared with twitching eyes.
Marygold wiped drool from her mouth.
"This won't do, Pina."
"What? Skipping work?"
"Not that... well, I'm not skipping—I'm resting after finishing, Pina."
"Sure, sure. So what's not working?"
Marygold clutched her head, trying to shake off the nap-dream. It clung stubbornly. Her body trembled.
It was searing into her memory.
"...My benefactor...!"
The first time she'd seen that scene, living as a maid. She'd thought, A bad guy got punished.
But no.
Recalling the empire's nature from her memories, and Lancel's character—it wasn't that simple.
"Pina. Seems like I'm the only one who can protect my benefactor in this world. Or maybe... that's why I exist."
"What? Still half-asleep?"
"This can't go on."
"...?"
Marygold sprang up.
"Pina. No matter how the continent fractures into war like old times, no matter the false accusations and injustice—even then, there's one way to survive unscathed."
"That again?"
"Become a big shot. So big you can't be killed even if you wanted...!"
Pina yawned it off, but Marygold's eyes gleamed.
"Big enough to outlive any crisis and spend life together... a titan even emperors and royals fear...!"
"Yes, yes. Got it—go to Hestie before you get scolded. Know what time it is?"
"Huh?"
"Lunch was ages ago."
"...!"
Marygold scrubbed floors as punishment that day.
4. That evening.
"What the hell."
Lancel woke to something tapping the window intermittently.
A bird?
A raven perched on the sill. When he stroked it lightly, it bobbed its head, pointing at its ankle repeatedly.
A letter-like object was tied there.
Lancel narrowed his eyes.
Not a bird.
Mana cloaked its body. A familiar or summoned beast.
A magician's tool—a summon and extension of self.
He already knew who: only one mage he'd met this loop.
The familiar's senses link to its master.
He poked the raven's eye.
- Hiiiaak!
A scream echoed distantly, like an afterimage. From down the hall.
- Mary! It's late—quiet down!
- S-sorry! Sorry!
- Hush!
"...."
The flustered raven dropped the ankle-tied letter at Lancel's feet, then flapped away into the night.
Lancel scratched his head.
This feels ominous.
What could it say? He held the letter to the lantern and unfolded it.
Words beyond imagining stared back.
[From the secret organization 'Darkhood,' devoted followers of the great Lancel Dante]
"...?"
From the opening, Lancel sensed something was deeply wrong.