83

When recalling the day “it” went on a rampage, the regrets were countless, and the “what ifs” numbered in the hundreds. Even though much of that day’s memory had faded due to the sheer shock, Ophelia couldn’t forget.

Among the few memories she had, one stood out: holding the infant Archie with Roxy’s permission while Aisa and she toured the city walls.

Then, naturally, the memories began to replay.

Nyx, unusually impatient that day, chased Ophelia all the way up to the city walls. Aisa blocked his path, standing firm as Nyx trembled anxiously while approaching Ophelia. Aisa shouted at him to back off.

What followed happened in an instant.

Ophelia, holding Archie, couldn’t react swiftly, and a hole was pierced through Aisa’s abdomen. Soon after, grotesque black hands emerged in thousands from Nyx’s body, impaling McFoy.

Even though Ophelia knew it was a dream, and even though she knew these were long-buried memories, she tore at her hair and sobbed.

Had I calmed it down back then, could it have avoided going berserk?

What if I had followed it, abandoning McFoy as it wished?

Yet, even so, Ophelia’s worst memory wasn’t that moment. True hell began the day Aisa truly died.

It started with Aisa’s finger.

Ophelia instantly recognized whose finger it was. Aisa always wore the McFoy family ring on her left index finger.

When she received the bloodstained finger, the McFoy family ring still attached, Ophelia experienced the greatest fear of her life.

Next, she found black hair. Then, it was the right hand. Then, the left ear. Then, the left leg.

Tracking down Tartaros by following the pieces of Aisa’s body was an agony beyond words. Without Nicholas, Ophelia would’ve been paralyzed by panic and never found Tartaros.

When she finally found a single purple eyeball, Ophelia and her group arrived at Tartaros.

Ophelia sprinted up the tallest tower of Tartaros without stopping. When only five steps remained to the top, she began to see two figures in a dark, windowless space.

She immediately recognized Aisa, even though she was missing an eye. Before she could scream at the sight of Aisa’s battered appearance, Nyx slashed Aisa’s throat, giving no chance to intervene. Ophelia hadn’t even fully ascended the stairs yet.

The reunion lasted just a moment—so brief that Ophelia couldn’t even scream or blink. Watching Aisa’s head roll across the filthy stone floor was a sight too unreal to believe.

Aisa’s head rolled a few more times before it came to a stop.

Ophelia’s legs gave out, and she collapsed forward. She couldn’t decide whether to crawl towards Aisa’s severed head or her body, which still lay at Nyx’s feet.

At the same time, divine power surged up from her navel, expanding endlessly. It was grotesquely foreign, as vivid now as it had been then.

“Aah…”

Ophelia cradled Aisa’s head and sobbed like a broken person. She thought she heard Nicholas calling out to her as he reached the top a moment later, but she couldn’t respond.

Aisa McFoy had died before her eyes once again, just as she had on the city walls—helplessly.

The only difference was that this time, Aisa was ‘truly’ dead. No matter how powerful Ophelia was, she couldn’t reattach a severed head.

Ophelia barely remembered how she killed Nyx after that. Despair gave way to fury, and fury gave way to a rampage. It was Nicholas who stopped her madness.

At the end of that rampage, Ophelia thought:

If I’d known Aisa would die like this, if I’d known she’d suffer and then be beheaded after all that torment…

‘Should I have never brought you back to life on that day at the city walls?’

But Ophelia quickly shook her head. Even if she were to go back 100 times, she knew she would still revive Aisa McFoy 100 times.

Ophelia couldn’t just stand by and let Aisa die.

‘And yet, you died.’

She felt herself sinking deeper into an abyss.

Ophelia found herself wandering through a memory of Aisa McFoy when she was seven years old, the day they first met.

Back then, Aisa was slightly taller than her peers, likely because she was well-nourished, being the daughter of a great noble family. Naturally, the orphan girl of unknown origins, whose age was estimated by her size, gravitated toward the youngest McFoy daughter.

At that time, Aisa’s father, the previous head of the McFoy family, had no intention of treating the orphan girl with such care. However, Aisa, the youngest of the McFoy children, had a weakness for beautiful things. From the moment she laid eyes on Ophelia, she couldn’t look away.

Ophelia vividly remembered the first words Aisa had spoken to her.

“Wow… You’re really…”

With cheeks flushed pink and a frown of concentration, Aisa had muttered, almost unconsciously,

“…pretty.”

It was barely audible, but the words reached Ophelia’s ears.

Ophelia, too, was fond of the girl who peeked shyly around her, blushing whenever their eyes met. Despite her blunt and aloof way of speaking, young Aisa had a generous spirit, often offering her hand in friendship.

It was no surprise that the two girls became inseparable, like twins. The orphaned girl with immense holy power, cherished by the youngest McFoy daughter, soon found a place in the McFoy estate.

Not only that, but the birth of the name “Ophelia” was also the creation of this little lady.

“This is a secret, but I wish I weren’t named Aisa. I’d rather be called Ophelia.”

On the third day of their acquaintance, the McFoy girl, utterly smitten by the pretty blonde girl, shared her deepest secret.

“Don’t you think it sounds grand? Besides, I don’t like ‘Aisa’ because it reminds me of that idiot Ayno.”

As the youngest of three siblings, Aisa often fought with her brother, Ayno, and her sister, Syph, but she particularly disliked Ayno, whose personality was similar to hers.

“Still, I’m the McFoy daughter, so I can’t just change my name.”

She complained about the duties of being a noblewoman, but then, as if struck by a brilliant idea, she clasped her small fist and her eyes sparkled.

“Oh! You should be Ophelia! You’re so pretty, it suits you.”

It was a name given without any delicacy or care, an impulsive decision befitting a young lady from a great noble family.

But Ophelia had never imagined how excited she’d be to receive a name. She couldn’t put into words the emotions she felt at that moment.

To Ophelia, who had been alone since birth, being given a name was a monumental, life-changing event. Naturally, Aisa, the person who gave her that name, held an extraordinary place in her heart. Even if the name had been given simply because it sounded pretty, it didn’t matter.

From the very beginning, Ophelia had received so much from the small lady. She was the first living friend she made, the first family she ever had.

Sharing her childhood with Aisa was undoubtedly the greatest fortune of Ophelia’s life.

Just as Aisa had been a blessing to her, Ophelia wished she could have been a blessing to Aisa in return.

*“I was born with the strongest holy power, so someday I’ll become a Holy Knight and dedicate my sword to Aisa.”*

At one point, Ophelia dreamed such dreams, often boasting to Aisa, “I’ll protect you.”

But Ophelia couldn’t become Aisa McFoy’s good fortune. If anything, she might have been the beginning of all her misfortune.

“…Ah.”

Ophelia, floundering in her dream, suddenly opened her eyes. She slowly rolled her gaze around. The room was already bright, the sun high in the sky. Nicholas’s side of the bed was empty, likely because he had already left for his duties.

Staggering, Ophelia sat up. She sat there for a long while, staring blankly, before her lips moved.

“I never… apologized.”

Regrets grew each time she woke, with every breath she took.

This morning was not so different from any other, but the realization that she had never apologized unexpectedly caused a huge ripple in her heart.

“…So, Ophelia?”

“Ah, sorry. I was lost in thought again.”

Nicholas gazed at Ophelia with concern, noticing how she wasn’t paying attention to either their meal or conversation. Seeing the worry in his beautiful golden eyes, Ophelia forced a smile.

But Nicholas grew more anxious at her awkward attempt to smile. His delicate brow furrowed slightly. Ophelia was aware of his worry, but even she didn’t know how to fix the turmoil inside herself.

“Maybe time will help,” Nicholas had said once, back when Ophelia would often stare blankly into space after Aisa’s death in Tartaros. She had smiled weakly at him then, though the words offered her no comfort.

*How could time possibly fix anything when Aisa is already dead?*

The more she thought about it, the more her regret over not even offering an apology grew from a small ripple into a massive wave, a dark tidal wave that eventually swallowed her whole.

Everyone around Ophelia knew how deeply Aisa McFoy’s death had shaken her. But they all believed that she would overcome it, just as she had overcome everything else.

From an outsider’s perspective, though Ophelia had lost a beloved friend and family member, she had gained so much in return. She had the support, encouragement, and blessings of countless people and now stood proudly beside the man she loved.

Ophelia had acquired wealth, honor, and love. To others, it seemed like the perfect ending to a long, arduous journey.

So no one doubted that Ophelia would soon recover from her grief. No one realized she was being swept away by a tidal wave, sinking to the ocean floor.

The happiness everyone spoke of… Ophelia stood in the middle of that happiness, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she alone didn’t belong.

Aisa’s death had made it impossible for Ophelia to reach a truly happy ending. She finally realized that her happiness had always been contingent on Aisa being alive.

That day, Ophelia once again couldn’t finish her meal. She left the table early and went to bed.

And that night, Ophelia met the goddess.

In a space that felt neither dreamlike nor real, Ophelia lay as though dead, covering her eyes with the back of her hand. She assumed it was just a slightly different dream than usual.

“You’ve finally reached your ‘happy ending.’”

As she lay there for what felt like a long time, a thunderous voice echoed in her head.

“Nonsense. What do you know?”

The voice was gentle, yet to her, it spoke the same tiresome nonsense she’d heard from others. The happiness the voice spoke of was surely the one people had always insisted she had found.