The Law of Karma
…….
Sparkling eyes scanned my body. The gaze, like one appraising a lab rat, made my skin crawl.
“Cut it out. Seems you've forgotten who owns this body.”
No matter that he was the Magic Tower Master; he couldn't lay a finger on the Carpoem Duke's family’s one and only lady, the true power behind the Rampas Empire. Pull something like that, and the treaty could go to the dogs—the enraged duke might just storm the tower. And somehow, I had a feeling the current duke was more than capable of it.
“Abigail Carpoem. Rumors paint you as a spoiled, vain idiot drowning in luxury.”
“That's a harsh rumor for a girl who hasn't even made her debut.”
“I wondered why you'd take an interest in our Ren. Turns out the core's been swapped out.”
Benjamin muttered, propping his chin as he eyed me.
“It struck me as odd. That wasn't in the prophecy.”
“Prophecy?”
“Something like that.”
He brushed it off vaguely and snapped his fingers. A teapot and two cups appeared on the table. Steam rose from the pot as if freshly brewed. With a flick of his finger, the teapot poured itself into the cups. I watched, fascinated.
“Drink.”
“Mm.”
“No poison, so relax.”
He took a sip first. I'd been more worried about the taste than poison, but the fragrant aroma eased my doubts.
“...Not bad.”
Surprisingly, it matched my tastes. Bitter and nutty, without a hint of sweetness. People here drowned everything in honey, so it never suited me. Who knew this guy would share my palate?
“Not common in the empire. It's from the eastern continent.”
“Hm.”
I sipped the tea, reminiscent of the green tea from my past life.
“Well then, let me ask one thing, Lady Carpoem.”
Once I'd had my fill, Benjamin spoke up.
“Why did you nominate Ren for the Magic Festival?”
“To cure the duke's curse.”
“By calling in some mere apprentice mage?”
“He's no mere apprentice, Magic Tower Master.”
I met his gaze with a sly smile.
“He's talent that'll surpass you soon enough.”
Benjamin's face darkened.
“How do you know that?”
“'Cause I'm a person from another world?”
I teased, setting down my cup. His expression hardened. Still, I kept my composure. The information I held was my power. I had to turn this opportunity to my advantage.
“I know the future.”
“Precognition?”
“Something like it. Not entirely accurate, though.”
My fingers tapped the table. It was a tricky topic to explain, so I lied about precognition. No way he'd buy the original story anyway.
“I've already meddled in 'Abigail's' future, so things have shifted a bit. Meeting you like this? Wasn't in the future I knew.”
“Must've been a brutal future you had to change anyway.”
He was sharp, as expected. One brush with death was enough—I had no intention of dying like a dog here too.
Escape Abigail's fate and survive. That was my goal.
“Yeah. Abigail pulls a lot of stupid stunts. So while much will change, some things won't.”
“Like something about Ren?”
“Exactly. I know he's exceptional. A few other things too.”
Benjamin nodded at my explanation.
“I see.”
He leaned back, arms crossed, the chair creaking.
“So you're planning to use Ren, then?”
“Just borrow a little help.”
“Heh, you have a way with words.”
He chuckled unpleasantly, asking casually,
“The duke was fated to die originally, right?”
“Yeah. His death puts me at a disadvantage, so I'm saving him while I can.”
The moment the duke died, the once-united north would fracture, and the imperial family—led by the crown prince—would devour the Carpoem house. A house without its master was so pathetically vulnerable. Knowing the original story, I understood bone-deep: for me to live, the duke had to live.
“Hm. Tricky.”
“What is?”
But Benjamin stroked his chin and shook his head. I frowned at his grave expression.
“If you alter the duke's fated death, you'll violate karma.”
“Karma?”
“Yes. It's a high-level curse, judging by the signs—fueled by masses of sacrificial lives. Because of that, his death is inevitable. If he doesn't die, the world gets messy. He's a man of immense influence, after all.”
“That's...”
I fell silent, stunned. After my possession, the duke's life had grown even more precarious once. Was that karma's backlash too? Ironic. To prolong the duke's life, Abigail had to isolate herself and wreak havoc—keeping everyone at arm's length. And here I was, trying to save him to save myself, without considering the ripple effects.
“One life must be replaced by another. But for someone like the duke, a single life won't balance the scales. It'll cost many lives.”
“So lifting the curse means someone else dies in his place?”
“In some form, yes. Disasters claiming lives, a mad killer on the loose...”
“That's...”
“That's the law of the world.”
I clenched my fist on the table. The duke's vast influence, the chains of cause and effect, the butterfly effect of a twisted fate—it was obvious with even a moment's thought. To know the future and change it required resolve.
To survive, I was dooming innocents.
“...If I don't save the duke, I'll die.”
“So you'll sacrifice others instead?”
His mocking jab pierced like a dagger. Until now, I'd treated this like a game—clearing quests to survive. But his words yanked me back to reality. This wasn't child's play. My choices could doom others. Saving the duke—and Abigail—would demand countless sacrifices.
The Magic Tower Master was warning me.
“...I still want to live.”
Even so, I wanted to live. Not die pathetically like Abigail. Not waste away helplessly here. I'd thrash harder than before, flail even if it was ugly—just to live longer.
“No matter how many it costs, I'll survive.”
I glared at the man across from me, vowing it to myself. What I lacked was resolve. The ruthless determination to do anything to survive. That's why his provocation shook me so.
Regaining my calm, I met Benjamin's eyes squarely.
“Kukukuku.”
He burst into genuine laughter—the truest smile I'd seen from him. A touch psychotic, too.
“Hahaha, good. That's the spirit to be useful.”
Like appraising merchandise. I'd been tested, after all.
Benjamin continued, smile lingering.
“Fine. I'll help you out—specially.”
“...You? Ren can break the curse too.”
“My help isn't about that piddly curse.”
“Then what?”
I eyed him suspiciously. Ren was trustworthy—that pure boy helped without strings. But this one? He had ulterior motives. Paranoid as I was, I couldn't fully trust him.
“I'm no omnipotent god, but this insight makes me nigh omniscient. I can tell you how to dodge karma.”
“Such a method exists?”
After his long lecture on karma, hope warred with deeper suspicion. Shady. Extremely shady.
“Whatever, don't believe me then.”
My skeptical look only made him more brazen.
“...Fine.”
I set aside my doubts for now. What gain could he get lying to me, someone he'd just met? I wasn't officially the heir yet; he was the Magic Tower Master. What scheme against little old me? Unless he was just bored.
“Tell me. What's the method?”
My shift prompted his sly grin.
“Simple. Karma seeks substitutes when an event doesn't occur as fated. So make it never have happened.”
“Make it never happened? The duke's death?”
Not heal the curse, but erase the moment he got it?
“Possible?”
It sounded like wordplay, infuriating. Like he was toying with an ignorant girl.
But Benjamin remained shameless.
“For me? Yes.”
“You? How? Oh.”
I realized my foolish question. What else but magic from the Magic Tower Master?
I regarded him anew.
“So there's magic that can do it. What kind?”
“Hm, sharp as ever, Lady.”
He twirled a finger in praise, then extended his hand. Suddenly, a flower from my bedroom decor was in his grasp.
“Watch closely.”
As he gripped it, the flower wilted instantly—vibrant that morning, now shriveling in his hand.
“What the...”
Then the real shock: the dried husk bloomed back to life, fresh and full.
“I wield time magic. Costs a ton of mana, sure, but rewinding a flower's time? Easy.”
“You can rewind the duke to before the curse?”
“Worth a shot. A figure like him will guzzle mana, but doable.”
“You can handle it?”
Pre-curse meant at least two years back. Rewinding the world's most influential man's time—two whole years. No ordinary mage could. But Benjamin, Magic Tower Master? Maybe.
Hope flickered as I watched him.
“No.”
“...”
Hope shattered with a crash. I gritted my teeth, glaring at his playful grin.
“Then why spout nonsense?”
“No need for my mana, Lady.”
“Then whose...!”
“Yours.”
His finger—or rather, the white flower he held—pointed straight at me, waving.
I blinked in confusion.
“Mine?”
“Yeah. Didn't Ren mention it?”
“Ren...”
Our recent conversation flooded back naturally.