The Unexplained Scar
Victor lightly tapped the back of her hand, as if sensing her thoughts.
Since they hadn't known each other before, Ibel had to treat Lucas like a complete stranger.
Of course, she'd play the part flawlessly, but feelings didn't sever cleanly like chopping firewood.
Lucas—the Lucas who'd always acted so endlessly carefree.
The one who'd modified bombs and laid mines to cut off the enemy's pursuit.
When she'd grown exhausted, wondering if she should just quit everything…
That was when he'd snuck up, claiming he'd found wild strawberries, and slipped some to her to eat in secret…
Now he was gone.
Gone forever, never to be seen again.
"It was around the time he returned from the Rashia Empire. He brought back a ton of bareniye. Try some—it'll lift your spirits."
"Ah, yeah, I bet it will!"
Bareniye was jam made by stewing raspberries—or small, tart wild berries—in sugar.
In Richter, jams were usually smooth with no trace of the original fruit, but the Rashia Empire was different.
The ingredients themselves were preserved whole, somehow.
On a broader note, it was similar to Franche's compote, though the preparation differed.
"I remember you saying you like eating local specialties the local way. I'll prepare tea in the Rashian style, so you can sip it with the bareniye."
"He'll love that."
She'd only dozed off briefly, but evening had already arrived.
The delicious aroma filling the mansion suggested they were roasting a whole suckling pig for an honored guest.
There were a few nagging annoyances, like dirt under her nails, but overall, it had been a peaceful day.
To think not having to shoulder everything alone could feel this comforting.
She'd thrashed about just to survive on her own, yet shadows kept clinging, dragging her into the mire.
But now, she could consult on any problem that arose.
"Oh, right—that man who came to the mansion. He was a real pest. Insanely persistent."
"Is that so."
Victor paused mid-rise. Ibel had her back turned at that moment and missed it.
"I didn't learn much, but he wasn't even a real sculptor, yet he asked to use part of the garden for 'sculpting,' so I refused."
"Good call."
"He might snoop into our relationship… Seems like the type who could easily charm women. I should warn the maids."
Ibel furrowed her brows.
At her nonverbal sign of displeasure, Victor smiled faintly.
Yes, winning Ibel's heart was no easy feat.
Tearing down the meticulous walls she'd built had taken him a long time, too.
"Let's feed him some disinformation."
"Sounds good."
Ibel grinned and hooked her arm through his on her own.
It felt like being a mischievous rascal kid.
Lucas Steiner.
He was the kind of man who could crack jokes even in agonizing pain.
Born into wealth and raised in luxury, like the capital's nobles these days, he was fascinated by all sorts of novel gadgets.
His trip to Inggris's Great Exhibition in 1851 with his father hooked him on travel and invention.
Naturally, he traveled with at least eight servants and bodyguards, staying only in the finest hotels.
In other words, no chance of getting shot.
"But I have no idea where this came from."
Lucas stood before the mirror, rolling up his shirt.
His lean abdomen emerged, free of any flab.
It had once been flawless skin.
Now, a massive scar resembling a gunshot wound marred it—jagged and poorly healed, as if untreated properly.
Damn it all.
He scratched his head furiously, then sighed at his servant's approach, straightening his clothes.
This was one reason he'd rushed to see Victor.
Am I going mad? Hallucinating? Or has my memory been wiped?
He had no clue.
Lowering his shirt, Lucas wrinkled his nose.
He'd bring it up with his friend after dinner.
Dinner with Lucas was as enjoyable as expected.
His sharp-witted humor kept the laughter flowing throughout the meal.
Though she couldn't share memories, just having Lucas alive before her eyes was solace enough for Ibel.
"I'll head out first, then."
"Good night, Your Highness."
"Sleep well, Madam."
Lucas winked and waved at Ibel. Victor watched her leave the dining room to the end.
Then Lucas grinned.
"Man, you're totally head over heels. When I first heard, I thought it was some scheme."
"Does it seem genuine?"
"Yup, completely."
"That's a relief."
Victor downed his drink in one go and stood. The rest of the talk called for privacy in his personal quarters.
"I've got something to say. It's serious—no, I'm not losing it, so don't worry."
Soon, the liquor was replenished.
A dimly lit room with just a few candles.
Lucas suddenly rolled up his shirt.
"Take a look at this. It's obviously a gunshot wound, right? Botched surgery traces and all."
For a split second, Victor's impassive blue eyes flashed sharply.
He knew what that wound was. But as he recalled, the old Lucas had never been shot.
The man guarded his life meticulously, even on travels.
"Did you pass out drunk in some alley?"
"No way. You know I'm careful."
"Yet."
"This just appeared one day. Few months back? Freaked me out."
Grumbling, Lucas flopped onto the sofa, clutching his head.
"Am I insane? Amnesiac? Split personality? I ran through every possibility. Still no answers."
"The scar's ragged."
"Yeah. Stitches scream novice—not some skilled surgeon, but a rookie fresh out of training."
Exactly…
Ibel had learned suturing out of necessity on the battlefield.
And that gunshot was from that day.
The last day.
The very day time had rewound, when Lucas had been carried in, shot.
"You wouldn't know, but it's driving me nuts. When the hell did I get this?"
"Maybe you died once and regressed."
His calm reply made Lucas's eyes bulge.
"Whoa, never thought I'd hear fairy-tale nonsense from you. Best joke I've heard all year."
"Not a joke."
"What?"
Now Lucas eyed Victor's head suspiciously.
Of course—it wasn't easy to swallow. It made no sense.
"You died without knowing and time rewound?"
"Something like that."
"Better if I claimed sleepwalking and dual personalities—at least that tracks. But you're not one to spout such absurdity seriously…"
Mumbling in confusion, Lucas snatched the expensive bottle.
"Anyway, this thing's giving me nightmares lately. Maybe time to find a witch."
"Assuming it's your second life, how about thinking how to live it?"
"Hmm… So how do you reckon I died? Drunk? Or sudden stroke?"
Half-resigned, Lucas asked hollowly. Victor answered without hesitation.
"Loyal to the nation, never betraying me. Venturing alone into danger to save everyone left behind."
"Ooh, heroic stuff. Intriguing. But that's not me."