The Birthday That Never Reset
The children of the orphanage presented Ivetta with small, carefully prepared gifts.
Bouquets of wildflowers picked from the forest, or drawings made with crayons in her favorite colors.
I had prepared a cake so large that even after all the children ate their fill, there would still be plenty left over.
“Wow. The cake is as big as me.”
“Can we really eat this?”
“Miss, miss! Can’t you cut it soon?”
The children bounced around excitedly at the sight of the enormous birthday cake.
“You have to say thank you before you eat.”
Ivetta gently scolded them and began distributing slices of cake.
Even on her own birthday, she was taking care of the children first.
And her expression was bright, without a single shadow.
It was wonderful that she was having a happy birthday, but for the happy ending to occur, Ivetta’s regression was essential.
Only then could the original story begin.
I need to create some time when Ivetta is alone.
However, pulling her away from the excited swarm of children was no easy task.
There’s still plenty of time.
I looked up at the sun still high in the sky and tried to calm my anxious heart.
Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the ravenous little ones devoured both the cake and all the prepared food, bringing the modest birthday party to an end.
Everyone was happily patting their full bellies and smiling.
“I’ll help with the cleanup. Ivetta, you go rest.”
“But how can I leave a guest to—”
“Come on, it’s fine. It’s your birthday, yet you couldn’t even rest properly because of the children. Go inside already.”
Ivetta hesitated several times, clearly uncomfortable, before finally bowing politely and heading to her room.
At last, the minimum conditions were met.
Please.
I anxiously prayed for the moment of regression to come to Ivetta.
I made up various excuses to visit her room, but Ivetta remained simply herself.
Just a little happier than usual.
Ivetta, with her beautiful light sky-blue eyes.
This can’t be happening.
The merciless hours flew by.
Now, less than an hour remained of the day.
In the original story, this day that should have been so special was about to become just another ordinary day.
I had shut myself in my room to hide my anxious state, but I could no longer endure it.
What should I do?
The room felt suffocating.
In the end, I went outside and began wandering aimlessly.
God of Minos, why are you giving me such a trial?
While staring at the statue, resenting and praying, midnight passed before I knew it.
Ivetta’s birthday was over.
Without anything happening.
“It’s really over.”
The moment I realized there was no more hope, I wanted to cry.
I only wanted to save the children.
But no matter how good the intention, when the result twisted this badly, even the good intention would lose its color.
I bit my lip hard.
I couldn’t even imagine how far the butterfly effect of my actions would reach.
How many people did Ivetta save?
I had twisted the fates of all those lives as well.
Countless names flashed through my mind.
It felt as if the sharp edges of those names were scraping at my heart.
I endured it quietly, with a heart full of remorse.
As I stood there blankly for a long time, Ivetta appeared behind me.
“Benefactor?”
She must have been about to sleep; she had only thrown a coat over her pajamas.
“Why are you out here?”
It seemed she had come out because she was worried to see me standing motionless outside.
Her gently curved eyes and kind voice only deepened my guilt.
Please don’t look at me with those eyes.
Knowing how perfectly happy Ivetta’s second life had ended, every moment facing her now was painful.
Ivetta was meant to become the Saintess and Empress—the most noble existence in the empire.
The emperor was the perfect lover, as befitting the male lead of a romance fantasy novel, and all the citizens of the empire loved her.
It was the kind of life that suited the fairy tale ending: And they lived happily ever after.
If I had not intervened.
“I’m sorry.”
I offered a selfish apology, solely to ease my own heart.
“Yes? Why?”
Ivetta, who had no idea what was going on, widened her eyes in surprise at the sudden apology.
“Well…”
Was it coming to Diegis for an inspection at this exact time? Or was it because I got drunk on a sense of justice and eliminated the villains right before her birthday?
I couldn’t finish the apology.
Instead, I asked Ivetta a question.
“Do you think it was truly a good thing that I arrested the priests here?”
It was a lowly question.
One I could ask because I already knew what answer she would give.
The current Ivetta knows nothing, so she’ll probably smile and say it was good.
Still, I wanted to hear it.
I wanted confirmation that I hadn’t done everything wrong.
At my question, tears welled up in Ivetta’s blue eyes.
“Do you know why there are only young children left in this orphanage?”
Then, with those tear-filled eyes, she asked me.
When I remained silent, Ivetta continued.
“When the children at the orphanage reach an age where they can work, the head priest sells them off somewhere. Then he gathers new orphans from elsewhere to maintain the orphanage. That’s why only children of similar ages remain.”
“That’s…”
Ivetta’s first life had been far crueler than I knew.
“The reason Nancy was left behind is because she possesses divine power. It’s still faint since she’s young, but she has enough talent to become a mid-level priest when she grows up.”
It had been nearly twenty years since the head priest had fallen from the center of power.
His old connections had almost all disappeared, so he had no choice but to rely even on Nancy’s ambiguous talent, Ivetta added.
“In about five years, the children you saw today will no longer be here. New children will be brought in, and only Nancy and I will remain.”
At the mention of the children, emotion surged up; Ivetta bit her lip to hold back the tears threatening to fall.
“No, perhaps only Nancy will remain. Because I was judged to be useless right before awakening.”
Finally, the tears that had pooled in Ivetta’s eyes spilled over.
As if she felt sorry for Nancy, who would be left alone.
I quietly handed her a handkerchief.
Ivetta roughly wiped at her eyes with it.
“I was abandoned in front of the temple when I was a newborn. Priest Orhan found me when he returned from going out. Right beside me, a golden crow was sitting as if protecting me.”
The golden crow was a divine beast of the God of Minos.
It was such a famous symbol that it always appeared in the sacred paintings depicting the god.
“That’s why the head priest kept me until this age, don’t you think?”
Ivetta tried to smile but failed, burying her face in the handkerchief instead.
The reason the head priest had kept Ivetta tied to the orphanage was finally revealed.
He must have judged her to possess enormous potential as evidence of heresy.
“Of course, every yearly divine power measurement showed not even a speck of it.”
At last, something resembling a smile appeared on Ivetta’s lips.
It was a self-mocking laugh.
“Most people are born with divine power, but there are rare cases where it manifests as one grows. So they raised me with expectations. I must have been their only hope, in a way. If I awakened divine power, they could use that as an excuse to return to the central temple.”
The head priest and Orhan had raised Ivetta like a dog that watched its master’s mood.
So that even after awakening her power, she wouldn’t be able to rebel against them.
“I’ve gone on too long, haven’t I? To answer your question belatedly—I still feel like everything that happened to us is a dream.”
Ivetta was no longer crying, but her eyes were terribly swollen.
“I’m sorry.”
I said unnecessary things just to feel better.
I apologized once more.
But Ivetta refused my apology.
“You don’t need to apologize to me, Benefactor. You saved both me and all the children.”
Ivetta smiled with her tear-streaked face.
With an innocent expression that didn’t know what she had lost, she gave me the words I had wanted to hear.