Chapter 6
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Chapter 6
I stepped out of the Training Grounds and ventured deeper into the Garden. Though I hadn't seen it in nearly fifteen years, the layout came to mind with unsettling familiarity. It brought tears to my eyes—but not the kind born of pure joy.
'If only this cursed thing didn't exist, I could have savored the emotion without reservation.'
Glaring at the black mark etched across my palm, I slipped into a secluded thicket where towering cypress trees grew so densely that few would dare venture. Even that felt insufficient. I launched myself upward through the verdant canopy—once off the ground, once ricocheting off a trunk mid-air, once more from a lower branch. Three bounds carried me to a perch near the dizzying crown of the ancient tree.
I settled onto a thick bough and stared at my palm, then opened my mouth.
"...Blade. Answer me."
[Thish name... call it properly. Thish body ish Bardegiosa!]
A slurred, drunken voice reverberated through my soul. I had hoped for silence. The familiar sensation of the Demon Blade made me grimace without mercy. There was nothing welcoming about this reunion.
"What is that idiotic tone?"
[Hic... heard it. Hey, time moved. Sho... I sleep now...]
"No, don't you dare sleep! I rewound time, so why are you still clinging to my hand?!"
[Sho... complicated... matter...]
"Explain yourself before you sleep! Hey! Hey! This damned Demon Blade!"
The slurred voice faded into silence, and Bardegiosa spoke no more. I clutched my palm and screamed, then irritably extended my hand. The black mark flared, and the blade materialized.
The Bardegiosa series used the master's soul as its scabbard. That was why I could summon it from my bare hand whenever I wished. Even if I discarded it, the blade would return to the mark if the distance grew too great. Normally an advantage—but for me, it was a curse I couldn't escape.
"Wake up, Blade."
I gripped the dark hilt and tapped the gleaming blade repeatedly. I struck the patterns etched along the steel, shook it wildly, and finally gathered mana in my palm with the intent to strike it.
"Huh...?"
The mana I had gathered to form a blade dispersed uselessly. Sharp pain lanced through my entire body—a sensation like a sudden cramp. I curled inward with a short gasp and immediately understood the cause.
'My body... was it always this weak?'
Of course it was. I had moved as I once did with a body that had undergone no training whatsoever. I lacked even the mana core that any Master-rank knight possessed, yet I had forcibly drawn upon mana regardless. My mind, which had once reached Master rank and beyond, had naturally committed an impossible act.
After assessing my condition, I exhaled deeply. A body that had never lifted anything heavier than a teacup. From mere movement, my delicate soles already burned, and my muscles screamed in protest. The forced intake of mana sent heat coursing through me. I was, quite literally, a noblewoman raised in pampered luxury.
'I need to build a core first.'
Strength was always preferable to weakness, regardless of circumstance. I resolved to accomplish it immediately and adjusted my posture.
Eyes closed, I focused and guided my mana. It took no time at all. My internal mana quickly converged at a single point, drawing in the surrounding mana. It pooled naturally near my solar plexus, and a mana core formed. Newly created and sparse in accumulated reserves, it was fragile—but unmistakably a core.
A mana reservoir within the body, forged by knights who reached Master rank. Most would never achieve it in a lifetime of effort. Mine took less than ten minutes. For me, it was a simple matter. In fact, I was thinking of something else entirely as I created it.
'The youngest Master on record was Yurien de Harden Kirie, wasn't it? At twenty-three? Even that caused quite the stir. If today is the 17th of March, 1629... I'm twenty years old. I'll need to keep the Master rank hidden.'
Then, suddenly, a realization struck me.
"The 17th of March, 1629..."
The date Lancel had told me. The date I now remembered. I exhaled sharply and buried my face in my hands.
I had obtained the Demon Blade fifteen years ago on the dawn of March 17th. Which meant—by the timeline of my regression—this very morning. The most horrific dawn of my life.
In the early hours of March 17th, 1629, before my regression, well past midnight, I had risen from my bed. Sleep eluded me, and I thought to have some warm milk.
It seems absurd now, but the Echinacea Loaz of that time was a young lady who couldn't even heat milk with her own hands. I pulled the bell cord beside my bed and woke my personal attendant, Nora, summoning her to warm the milk.
Nora never returned. Unable to wait, I threw a shawl over my nightgown and descended to the Kitchen myself. I called out her name irritably as I opened the door. What greeted me was Nora—wielding the Demon Blade.
I don't clearly remember how I avoided her attack. The dark Kitchen without lanterns, the faint moonlight seeping through the windows, the blurred vision, the screams, the blade gleaming with transparent light—only these fragments remained in my memory.
The outcome, I remember clearly. Nora stumbled as she tried to pierce me, and I seized the blade she dropped to survive. The black, cold, smooth hilt is vivid in my recollection. The moment I grasped it, I felt a serpentine sensation surge through my entire body. Following that sensation, I drove the blade into the lunging Nora. That was my first murder.
What came after, I preferred not to recall.
After that horrific dawn, by morning, no one remained alive in the Loaz Mansion except me. Yet unlike then, on this March 17th morning, the gardener was tending the Garden as usual, and Lancel was receiving training from the family's Knight Instructor.
'It's changed... How did it change?'
I pressed my forehead. The morning was completely different from before my regression. Yet the Demon Blade still rests in my hand. What happened at dawn?
'Nora. I need to check on Nora.'
The first person she had ever killed. Urgency seized her heart. I leaped down from the tree. The pain scattered throughout my body dissipated the moment mana began flowing from the newly formed core.
I made my way directly to the Kitchen. The Kitchen, situated on the outer edge of the first floor of the Loaz Mansion, received fresh provisions daily and thus had a door opening toward the Backyard. It was morning, and it seemed a delivery had just arrived—the Delivery Person and a maid were conversing at the doorway. Upon spotting me, the maid's eyes widened.
"Miss? At such an early hour... My goodness, you're still in your nightclothes."
"Where is Nora? Where is Nora?"
"Nora?"
The time it took for the maid to tilt her head and open her mouth felt agonizingly long to me.
"Oh, Nora's right there. Nora! The young miss is calling for you!"
The maid who had been conversing with the Cook came rushing over. Her freckled face was painted with astonishment.
"Miss! You're already awake?"
"...Nora."
"Heavens, your attire... and barefoot! Come here! You, avert your eyes!"
Nora seized me by the arm and glared fiercely at the Delivery Person. His face flushed crimson as he pressed his hat down upon his head. I was drawn indoors by Nora. She dragged me toward the Bathroom while launching into a torrent of scolding.
"If you'd woken early, you should have called for me. Why were you wandering about like that? It's most unbecoming! What if your delicate feet were injured? And are you feeling unwell? Rising at such an hour is most unusual. You said you couldn't sleep even at dawn, didn't you? If anything aches, you must tell me. I'll summon Professor Smith..."
It had been so long since I'd heard the scolding of my devoted maid. The image of her collapsing, pierced by a transparent blade and bleeding, remained vivid in my memory—yet here Nora was now, breathing and chattering away, alive. I listened to her reproaches as though entranced, until one particular detail jolted me back to awareness.
"Nora, wait. Did I call for you at dawn?"
"Don't you remember? You said you couldn't sleep, so you asked me to bring you some warmed milk."
The exact same circumstances as before. My heart seemed to stop. I swallowed hard and asked again.
"And then?"
"Yes?"
"What happened after that?"
"I brought it to you... Didn't you drink it and then fall asleep? Surely you slept? Sleep deprivation is the enemy of beautiful skin!"
Nora furrowed her brow and examined my face. Only after confirming that my complexion remained as smooth and luminous as she had so carefully maintained it did she seem to relax, exhaling with relief. I stood there bewildered, murmuring.
"You brought me milk? I drank it and fell asleep?"
"Yes. Don't you remember?"
"...Then, Nora, did you notice anything strange at that time?"
"Something strange? Well, there was..."
Nora, who had been responding with puzzlement, seemed to recall something and nodded.
"There was a long bundle in the Kitchen that I'd never seen before, so I was curious and opened it. Nothing was written on it. But it turned out to be empty."
"An empty bundle? Why would something like that be in the Kitchen?"
"That's what I wondered. I thought perhaps it was left over from a food or bread delivery that hadn't been cleaned up, but when I asked the Cook just now, they said they'd never seen or ordered anything like that. So I was planning to bring it to the Butler."
The Demon Blade had originally been inside that bundle. I grasped this instinctively. This time, because the Demon Blade was already with me, perhaps Nora hadn't discovered anything. That might be why this morning had unfolded differently than before.
'I distinctly asked to be sent back to a past where I hadn't killed anyone. So shouldn't this be the dawn before I killed Nora? Why is it already morning, and why do I have this accursed Demon Blade with me instead of it being in the original bundle?'
"Do you still have that bundle?"
"Yes. It's this."
Nora rustled as she produced a folded mass of paper. I quickly extended my hand.
"Give that to me."
"Yes?"
"I'll dispose of it."
"Yes, of course..."
Nora tilted her head in confusion but obediently handed over the package. Echinacea examined the paper as she walked. It was the most ordinary wrapping paper and twine used in shops—the kind employed for parceling goods. The length suggested something quite elongated had been wrapped inside. She unfolded it to gauge the dimensions. There was no doubt: the Demon Blade had been contained within.
Who on earth had brought the Demon Blade into the Loaz Count Family's Kitchen? Why? What was their objective?
It couldn't have been meant for her. Echinacea's genius with the blade was unknown even to herself. It would be impossible for someone to know of her talent—a talent she had never exercised, not even in casual swordplay—and deliberately place a Demon Blade in her path.
Then what was the true purpose? She had to uncover this.
'Whoever they are... I will not forgive them.'
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org