The Grand Duchess of the North — 1

I sat at a round table where a single teacup sat abandoned, gazing for a long while at the empty garden.

Theresia had fled this place as if in flight, vowing that she would break off the engagement no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠matter what. Someone was sure to say that things between us had soured. What sort of rumors would spread about a couple so devoted mere days ago, now torn apart? I imagined Theresia would manage it all gracefully enough on her own. If she wanted to save her dear brother, she would tread carefully even without my saying a word.

Even so, her family would die regardless... but that was no longer my concern. After all, I could neither save those meant to die, nor had I any reason to try.

"Did your fiancée leave, Young Master? You've returned early."

"She's no longer my fiancée, so there's no need for formality. 'Miss Violet,' was it? Call her whatever you like."

"...I beg your pardon?"

Renald, who had just brought the tea, wore a dumbfounded expression, but I only gave a faint smile and shook my head.

Word of the broken engagement would spread soon enough. Yet there was nothing to fear. Yuria wouldn't concern herself with my affairs, and Father had opposed this marriage from the very beginning. He might even genuinely rejoice at it and try to give me some gift or other. Love is nothing at all — so you've finally come to your senses, he'd say, no doubt.

A wry laugh escaped me, and I raised the teacup to hide it. The scent of chamomile filled the garden. What I remembered, from having lived it far too many times, was that Theresia had loved this chamomile tea. Savoring the fresh aroma, I took a slow sip, and the fragrance of herbs spread through my mouth.

"I suppose I won't be coming back here."

In one hundred lives, the woman named Theresia had never once been absent. She had always been my fiancée, and she was often beside me when I died. But this life would be different. In my 101st life, I no longer wished to lay eyes on the woman called Theresia. She was the first thing that came to mind whenever I recalled my foolish past lives — so wasn't it time I forgot her?

Lost in these thoughts, my hand slowly tilted, and soon tea began to spill from the cup.

"Young Master, your tea—"

"It's fine. I'm doing it on purpose."

Watching the chamomile trickle down toward the ground, I thought: wasn't chamomile good for sleep? Perhaps tonight I would sleep quite deeply. For the first time in a very, very long while.

Whether it was the chamomile's doing, or the severing of a tie to a past no one else knew, my body felt beyond refreshed when I woke that morning — it felt flawless. How long had it been since I last slept like this?

Lying in bed had always meant nightmares. Dreams that made me relive every death I had endured, one after another, ending at last in my most recent death. They had tormented me at first, though by now they hardly troubled me — and yet, with no dream at all, my body felt noticeably lighter. It would be nice if it stayed this way.

I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, then swept a dry hand down my face. The 'tomorrow' that came again after a regression was never guaranteed to be a good day. Once, I had died on the second day itself — so it was best not to let my guard down, at least until I had laid eyes on the Crown Prince's face. Still, this much was...

"I'm fine."

Fine? I was doing splendidly. Yuria was family, and so could not simply be cut away — but Theresia had never been necessary to my life. The first thing I had resolved upon beginning my 101st life was that I no longer needed to hold any attachment to Theresia. There was no more need to strive to survive. No need to labor against unknown variables, or for the foolish hopes I had carried for so long. Cutting away what should be cut away, taking along what was worth taking — that was how I would live. And waiting at the end of it would be my eternal rest.

Best to think it through calmly. As I dipped my hands into the water the servant had brought, the cool sensation stirred something to mind: just as on the day of my regression, there was an engagement scheduled for today as well. Though things would surely unfold quite differently from the day I remembered.

'The Imperial Princess's birthday banquet was today, wasn't it.'

Mirazen Juliet. Whenever that name surfaced in my memory, my expression twisted. Unlike Yuria or Theresia, what bound me to her could not be called a mere bad history. Ours had been something far more tender — and far more complicated.

The woman reciting that declaration in a flat, even voice had eyes swollen from weeping. She looked as though she might sink to her knees at any moment — she must have wept a great deal. A memory from the days when I lived as though my mind had come loose. A memory utterly disconnected from the present, one that I alone remembered.

If it came to it, I even had a plan to make use of the Princess. There had been a life where I loved her, but in the end, wasn't that just one more loop whose memories had gone dim? Truthfully, I doubted whether I could ever hold a person's heart again at all. What made me aware of my own nature, here and now, was the question of why I had been able to meet nothing but such wretched deaths. The Crown Prince — and the woman who would serve as my link to him: the Princess. It was a path I would rather avoid, but I kept in mind that I would approach her if I had to.

"Will you be taking your meals alone again today, Young Master?"

Renald asked as I wiped the water from my face with a towel. Come to think of it, I had avoided shared meals all this time. Meeting their faces brought back the memories of dying, and the food would refuse to go down. But now? There was no particular need to avoid it. By now, yesterday's broken engagement had surely reached Father's ears as well. I would have to wait and see whether he'd wear a satisfied smile, or scold me for handling things on my own.

I shook my head and spoke. "No, I'll eat with everyone today."

"...As you say, Young Master."

Renald was clearly startled by my sudden change in attitude. A natural reaction, when a man transforms overnight. Of course, I had seen this reaction so many times that it no longer surprised me. It truly only happened on rare occasions, but when I changed too drastically, Renald would sometimes make an attempt on my life himself. 'Still, Renald is the best of the lot.' But that was only in truly extreme circumstances; in a situation like this, the most useful man I had was Renald. He was my personal butler, for one thing — and he could serve as my means of knowing what happened within this mansion, so I had no intention of casting him aside so easily.

"Is Father down there as well?"

"Yes, Young Master. He is already taking his meal below."

"He'll have something to say about my being late. Then again, I doubt my place setting is even laid out."

I descended the stairs toward the dining room, where Yuria and Father were already cutting into their steaks. Yuria shot me a sidelong glance, as if surprised, but I gave a casual shrug and took my seat as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Thankfully, my table setting did exist. They hadn't expected me to come down to eat, though, and the servants hurried into motion to fetch my food.

As I sat quietly watching the table, Yuria dabbed her mouth with her napkin and glanced at me.

"...Well, well. I didn't expect you to come down yourself. Weren't you the one who said eating alone was more comfortable?"

"One ought to eat together from time to time, shouldn't one? I am a member of House Taylor, after all."

"So you're not entirely without self-awareness."

Tsk. Apparently my answer displeased her, for Yuria clicked her tongue softly and looked away. I had expected exactly that sort of reaction. What did bother me, in truth, was that Father still hadn't said a word. Ours was an ambiguous ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠relationship in many ways. He had never killed me directly — but it was always our Duke Taylor who had tacitly approved of my deaths. How he would regard me in this life — that, more than anything, I was genuinely curious about.

"Your meal, Young Master."

Plates were set down before me one by one, and the moment I reached for my steak, a low voice sounded at my ear.

"Yesterday, word came from House Violet."

"Is that so?"

"Breaking off the engagement without a word to me. What are you thinking?"

I hadn't expected him to skip the pleasantries and speak so bluntly. Then again, this suited me fine. It meant this one thing was all Father wanted to know. Yuria's eyes widened at his words and she glared at me, but I answered calmly as I sliced my meat. "Our hearts did not align. No one's heart stays the same forever, does it?"

"And what was it you answered, the last time I said as much?"

"...There was a time I believed love would last forever."

The words spoken by the me of the first life were riddled with contradictions. I couldn't possibly recall them all, so when I answered vaguely, Father's eyes narrowed to slits. His thick beard seemed to proclaim the unshakable authority he had always held. Despite an age nearing sixty, his gaze remained razor-sharp, and I stopped my moving hand and met my father's eyes.

"So what I hear is that you now believe those words were wrong."

"The careless words of a foolish youth."

"I have no taste for wordplay."

As if to plumb my very depths, the blue eyes I had inherited pierced straight through me. Eyes with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠such insight it felt as though his hands were rifling through my mind. My father had built this ducal house alone, and I had never once succeeded in lying to him. Not that I intended to lie now, either — so Father soon blinked and let out a low hum. There had been a time I believed hearts did not change. But that had been a very long while ago. Was it not reality itself that even the wish I held now had changed?

"I'm glad to hear it, then. You weren't entirely useless after all."

"I apologize for handling the matter without informing you. I will be more careful in the future."

"Enough. Where has your foolishness ever been limited to a day or two? Besides, I never cared for House Violet even before this. We are Taylors. Noble blood is not to be scattered just anywhere."

When I nodded, Father gave a small tilt of his head, as much as to say, finish your meal. Talking with Father had always been among the easier things. So long as one framed everything around the family and made clear that every action was taken for House Taylor's sake, he was satisfied. In the past, however, my lingering attachments had clouded that judgment. That was how I slipped from his sight — and that, no doubt, was why he too had stood by and watched me die. If asked whether I hated him, I would say no. I knew now that the me of all those past lives had simply been a fool. That said, I did not truly think of him as my father, either. A card to be played, if it could be played — for in the end, the one holding House Taylor's reins was Father, and surely the day would come when I would need to invoke the name of family to wield the patriarch's power.

"By the by — isn't there a party at the palace today?"

"That's right. I'm scheduled to attend today. And... Robert as well."

Near the end of the meal, Father mentioned the day's party to Yuria. It was a topic I'd been waiting to see when he would raise. It was a party I would originally have attended with Theresia — I had to find some way of attending without a partner, after all. Father nodded at Yuria's words, then seemed to recall something and spoke again.

"Have you settled on a partner?"

"There's no need for one. I am the Young Matriarch — attending alone would hardly be a problem."

"Then go with Robert."

At that, Yuria's eyes went round. So she could make a face like that, too? As I watched the exchange with interest, Father turned his gaze back to me and added:

"You haven't a partner yourself now, have you? With your sister as the Young Matriarch, it would be no bad thing to show you standing behind her as her escort. Surely you don't object?"

"No, that's quite all right."

"Then it's settled, and I'll hear no more on the matter. Understood?"

Yuria regarded me coldly, but what the Duke had decided once could not be undone. The head of House Taylor was still Father, and Yuria, as Young Matriarch, would have no choice but to obey. Still — attending as Yuria's partner meant my own body would be comparatively free. And if so, might I not be able to meet one more person besides the Princess? A woman attending today's party. A woman among all those I remembered who was entangled with me by no ill fate whatsoever. I had a feeling that I might, just perhaps, cross paths with the Grand Duke of the North — Adele Igrit.