Episode 1
“She must be dead by now.”
In a dream she never wished to wake from, it had not been the voice of the person who had held her until just moments ago. Had a strange voice not alighted upon her ear, she would have continued basking in happiness without waking.
Helen barely opened her eyes and secured her vision, but the space was strange yet not strange, so she looked around for a moment.
Ah, so it wasn’t a dream. She barely managed to part her parched lips.
“Who?”
An answer returned immediately to the cautious question.
“The person you stayed in for a while.”
The person I stayed in? Ah, Violet.
Violet Drifon. A bastard child born from the Emperor’s greatest stain, a one-night mistake. She had grown up essentially imprisoned in a tower; though her body was weak, from the moment she was taken out from within it, she became the most beloved person in the world. If the current era were compiled into a book, the female protagonist would naturally be her.
Unlike her, Helen Platini—that is, herself who had just awoken—was a half-noble abandoned by her family and living alone. Unlike Violet, she was merely an extra whose name would barely make it into a single line in the book.
If she had to name the happiest moment for someone like her, it was all the times she had possessed Violet. She had always been happy. She had thought she would continue to be happy in the future.
But Violet was probably dead? And they were telling *her* that…….
Helen lowered her head with an anxious expression and examined her left hand. The ring finger that should have held a vivid blue ring was empty.
“But who are you? Do you know me?”
Helen looked at the cup held out to her, felt an oncoming thirst, and emptied the glass. As the dryness subsided, her vision grew clearer. And when she finally realized where this place was, a shiver ran through her entire body and she instinctively covered her mouth. At the same time, the empty cup slipped from her hand and fell beneath the bed, but she had no time to check if it had broken.
This was where she had lived before becoming Violet. Hexilov, the northernmost point of the Empire where it was coldest. When Helen faced the returned reality, the man answered her earlier question.
“I was the one who woke you. By the power of magic, that is.”
The power of magic? Then a mage?
The man placed the unbroken, intact empty cup on the table and donned a black robe with a hood. Helen had seen the robe the man wore before. It was similar to what the people she had encountered in the Imperial Palace several times when she was Violet had worn.
“Is Violet really dead?”
“Is that what you’re curious about?”
“It’s the most important matter at this very moment.”
“Aren’t you curious about my name?”
“I’ll be curious about that after I hear the answer to my question.”
She would have a hundred chances to learn the name of the unidentified mage whose very hair was white, so she wished he would tell her just one thing.
That Violet was alive, not dead. That she could enter her body again. Because only then could she keep the promise she had made to Carlyle.
“Today, hold me so tightly in your arms that I crumble.”
She regretted the words she had spoken so boldly, not knowing she was going to die. She regretted the desire to take his hand, burrow into his embrace, press her lips to his, and delve deeply into each other without realizing the night was passing.
So please…… just don’t say she’s dead.
“She’s dead.”
She had wished for just that one word not to be uttered. The mage’s answer became a dagger and pierced her heart.
It would have been better not to wake at all. Bidding farewell forever to the dead Violet would have been a fine choice. But unfortunately, Violet was dead, and only Helen’s soul had returned to its original place.
Now she had no choice but to live as Helen Platini.
If that was the case, she would close her eyes forever. Having returned as one abandoned even by her family, there was no point in opening her eyes—this was not a world that would be kind to her.
But the man kept talking to her, making her realize ever more deeply that she had returned alive to this world.
“Liandre. That’s my name.”
Only then did Helen remember that she had decided to be curious after hearing the answer she wanted.
“You don’t have a surname?”
“A family is unnecessary for an outstanding mage.”
“If you’re such an outstanding mage, please grant me a request. Will you put me back to sleep? For a very long time.”
Deep green eyes sparkled. It was a color that suited Helen’s red hair quite well. A question entirely opposite to that sparkle made Liandre feel awkward, but she failed to notice.
“Are you asking to be killed? From the person who saved you?”
“I never asked to be saved in the first place.”
Life here had always been unhappy and lonely. It would be so now, and it would be so in the future. Then was there really any reason to remain here and struggle desperately to survive? To love and to be loved were only possible there.
“Please let me return to being Violet.”
Liandre slowly closed both eyes. Even his eyelashes were as white as his hair. Like snow falling outside the window.
“I told you, she’s already dead.”
“You said you’re a mage.”
“That is the domain of God.”
Helen recalled the fact that Violet had been terminally ill. Having been confined for a long time in a tower where not a single ray of light was visible unless the sun was at its zenith, she had fallen ill. After being rescued from Lucas and examined by countless doctors, the only answer had been that she would find it difficult to live long.
Even if she went back, she would die anyway. No, perhaps she was already dead, as the mage said.
Now she truly couldn’t live as Violet anymore. She couldn’t see Carlyle anymore. That person’s touch, his gentle voice, even his breath—none of it could reach her fingertips anymore.
A corner of her heart ached.
* Sibello
Carlyle Everett had lost sleep again last night.
He had dreamed of facing someone who, though indistinct, made his heart ache just by the sight of them. Carlyle knew who that person was. Because the same dream had repeated for the past year.
He rubbed his lips with his fingertips. The surface of his dry, moistureless lips was cracked and felt rough. When she was around, there had been no chance for his lips to crack.
He had thought of her again, helplessly. Once before sleeping, once when he woke in the night. No—every moment he breathed, he resolved to forget, but her image would not erase from his memory no matter what.
If he couldn’t erase all of it, was it greed to want to forget even her last moments? Was it wrong to want to keep only the happy times?
“Today, hold me so tightly in your arms that I crumble.”
To Violet, who spoke more brightly than usual, he had promised to keep that vow and put a ring on her outstretched finger. He remembered the blood that had dripped onto the ring at that moment.
“Carlyle…….”
It had been a trembling voice. Blood had poured from the mouth of the woman calling the name of the man who had stopped moving for an instant. Watching her snow-white dress turn red, his mind had been in a daze for a very brief moment.
The screams of so many people that it was impossible to tell whose they were. Their panicked movements. And her calm smile, as if she had known death was coming, which she showed until the very end.
She had died on a sunny day when everything had seemed perfect.
And it had already been nearly a year.
Carlyle stared into empty space, neither ignoring nor acknowledging the Emperor who kept speaking to him. It was time he should have forgotten by now, yet the memories of that day unfurled without fail, painted over his eyes.
His lord and the Emperor of the Empire, Lucas, called out with a displeased expression.
“Carlyle Everett.”
He finally erased the memories that surfaced whenever he was on the verge of forgetting. Though not cleanly, he was at least in a state to converse with the person showing displeasure.
But Carlyle could not look directly at the Emperor, who resembled her by half. He felt as though he would recall that day, and her of that day, once again.
“You know there are many rumors circulating about the Duke these days, don’t you?”
“I am well aware.”
The Bloody Duke. It was a nickname given to him by his comrades who had seen him covered in the blood of nameless enemies on the battlefield. The nickname that had once driven enemies to fear was now driving him into a corner.
Rumors had begun to circulate that the cursed Duke, covered in his bride’s blood on his wedding day, was confined to his mansion, or that he had chosen death to follow his bride who had gone first.
The whispers that it was no different from killing the beloved Imperial Princess had lessened considerably, but Carlyle didn’t think they were entirely untrue.
Lucas quenched his thirst with strongly brewed black tea. The sweetness was strong, and he wished a little more milk had been added.
“It’s already been a year. It’s about time the sorrow of losing your wife lessened somewhat.”
At those earnest words, murderous intent flared in Carlyle’s eyes. He looked straight into the blue eyes that particularly resembled Violet’s.
Lessened? Since when was that something controlled by human will? If it were possible, he would even give up his heart.
“Have you forgotten Violet, Your Majesty?”
“Of course not. How could I forget my only sister?”
“I am the same.”
If she had been someone easily forgotten, there would have been no reason to lose sleep every night, no reason for dark circles to form under his eyes, no reason for his lips to crack.
“But the feelings you and I have for Violet are different.”
Carlyle no longer wished to exchange words with Lucas. The more he spoke with him, the deeper his thoughts of her became. So he decided to listen quietly to the reason he had been commanded to enter the palace from early in the morning.
Lucas cautiously spoke up when Carlyle, whom he had expected to explode in anger at any moment, remained silent.
“They say monsters are rampaging in the north these days. So I would like you to participate in this expedition.”
Lucas gauged the mood of Carlyle sitting across from him. However, before he could even exhale the breath he had held to speak two sentences, an unexpected answer came.
“I understand. I will follow Your Majesty’s command.”