84.

“My happiness isn’t like that. Don’t speak carelessly.”

Ophelia replied, her lips moving while her arm still covered her eyes.

“If that’s not happiness, then what is? You’ve gained wealth, honor, and love after hardship. If that isn’t happiness, what is?”

Ophelia had a strong feeling that she wouldn’t be able to reason with the voice, whose thunderous tone reverberated in her mind. She didn’t feel the need to explain herself, so she chose to remain silent.

“Hmm… That’s troubling. So, you’re saying you’re not happy?”

When Ophelia stayed quiet, the voice muttered, sounding puzzled.

“Hm—. That won’t do. What should I do?”

The voice, which echoed through her entire body, continued to grumble annoyingly. Ophelia furrowed her brows beneath her hand, thinking it was just a strange dream.

“Where did things go wrong? This story was supposed to end with you being happy… What went wrong? I gave you wealth, honor, love, everything.”

As the nonsensical words continued, Ophelia lowered her arm slightly. But all she could see was an expanse of pure white.

“I’ll grant you one wish. Wish for something that will make you happy.”

As she searched for the source of the voice, she heard it speak again.

“I came to you today to grant you one last wish, so go ahead.”

“Who do you think you are, granting wishes for others?”

Ophelia retorted sharply at the invisible owner of the voice.

In response, the voice let out a loud laugh, so booming it seemed as if it could split the world in two. Reflexively, Ophelia covered her ears.

“Because you drove away Alpho’s power from my land, I must grant you one wish. Consider it a gift.”

At those words, Ophelia shot up to her feet. She looked around wildly, but still saw nothing. The vast, empty white space stretched endlessly, leaving her standing alone.

‘A goddess.’

Ophelia instinctively knew that the strange voice belonged to Mehra, the goddess.

‘A goddess. A wish. My desires. My happiness. If it’s a goddess—’

For the first time in a long while, Ophelia felt her heart race. She didn’t have time to think about how specific her wish needed to be. Overwhelmed by the sudden opportunity, she opened her mouth, speaking with the desperation of a madwoman.

“I wish for Aisa—Aisa McFoy—to live a long and happy life.”

The words tumbled out of her mouth hastily and frantically. Her eyes darted around anxiously, waiting for a response, but the voice that had been so loud and insistent was now silent.

As the silence stretched on, Ophelia’s face twisted with anxiety.

“…That’s not… That’s not what this was supposed to be for,” the voice finally replied, sounding uncertain.

Just as Ophelia was about to collapse in despair, she finally heard the voice of the goddess, sounding almost like a sigh.

“But if that’s your wish, I have no choice. I don’t like it, but this story’s conclusion is to grant your wish.”

Ophelia, who had been holding her breath, began to gasp as if she could breathe again for the first time in ages.

“However, remember this. Even I can only twist the ‘story’ just a little. The rest is up to her.”

The goddess spoke cryptically, as though delivering an oracle.

Ophelia couldn’t quite grasp what the goddess meant by “story” or “conclusion.” But one thing was clear: the goddess would grant her wish.

Ophelia’s heart pounded with a mixture of hope and anticipation. Then she suddenly remembered that she was lying in bed, asleep.

‘Is this a dream? If this is all just a dream, or my delusion… I might truly go mad this time.’

Fear gripped Ophelia. She wanted the goddess to confirm that what was happening was real, not a mere dream.

But before she could open her mouth, the white space around her began to crumble. Everything dissolved into fine powder, and without anything to hold onto, Ophelia began to fall, endlessly and swiftly.

“But remember, what is meant to happen will happen.”

The goddess’s voice followed her as she fell. The last words were still vague, but this time, they carried an ominous weight.

“Gasp!”

Ophelia awoke in the darkness, sitting up abruptly. Breathing heavily, she looked around frantically. Everything around her was familiar—their bedroom was unchanged.

“Ophelia? Did you have a nightmare?”

Nicholas, now awake, gently stroked her back, his voice filled with concern. At the mention of a nightmare, Ophelia’s face twisted. The encounter with the goddess couldn’t just be a dream.

Though the goddess’s words had been cryptic and unsettling—talking about twisting the “story” and a “happy ending”—Ophelia couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been real.

Especially the last part, “What is meant to happen will happen,” filled her with instinctive dread.

Still, from that day on, Ophelia believed that meeting the goddess had not been a mere dream and waited for her wish to be granted. She hoped for a miraculous event—Aisa McFoy living a long and happy life.

For the first few days, Ophelia was as hopeful and radiant as she had been during the times she was called “everyone’s sun.”

During that time, there was a renewed energy in Ophelia, which caused Nicholas to let his guard down. He thought she was finally healing from the trauma of losing Aisa McFoy.

But that brief period of hope quickly passed. As days went by without any change in the world, Ophelia fell into an even deeper despair. Already fragile, she couldn’t withstand the slow torture of false hope for long.

Thus, when Ophelia died suddenly one day in what seemed like a senseless accident, it felt to her like an inevitable fate.

To those around her, however, it came as a complete shock. That morning at breakfast, she had been the Ophelia everyone knew—smiling, kind, and cheerful.

When Ophelia, who usually loved freedom and liveliness, expressed a rare desire to take a solo walk, no one stopped her. In fact, seeing her smile as bright as the sun, everyone felt relieved.

If anyone had known that she would fall into the pond, which was deeper than her height, and never resurface, they would never have let her go alone.

It was clear that Ophelia hadn’t intended to die.

It was an accident. The problem was that in that moment, she had no will to live. More accurately, whether she sank to the bottom or was rescued by someone, it didn’t matter to her anymore.

Like someone who had given up on everything, Ophelia let herself sink deeper into the depths of the pond.

For the first time since Aisa’s death, Ophelia felt at peace while submerged in the water. She instinctively knew that if she closed her eyes now, she would never open them again.

And yet, she felt peaceful. Ophelia wanted to rest. She wanted to stop. The only reason she had fought so hard to stay alive was because she feared Aisa’s life would be lost if she died. But now, there was nothing holding her back.

‘Ah—Nicholas.’

At the very end of her spiral into apathy, Nicholas Diazi suddenly crossed her mind. She loved him dearly. She wanted to climb out of the water and see him again.

But she was too exhausted. The thought that her meeting with the goddess had been nothing more than her delusion left her so drained that even opening her eyes felt impossible.

Ophelia felt as though she was drifting into an eternal sleep, sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss.

But she didn’t die.

“Ophelia.”

“Ophelia.”

Through the hazy veil of sleep or dream, Ophelia heard Nicholas’s worried voice. At first, she thought, ‘I must have survived somehow.’

But when she opened her eyes again, Ophelia realized something far more significant—she had awakened in the past.

* * *

Jack Bains stood in front of Ophelia, his expression stern as they faced off. After a tense silence, it was Jack who broke first.

“Go to Baghdad,” he said.

Ophelia remained silent.

“…Why are you two always like this? You’re both so stubborn, ugh!”

Jack, who had maintained his composure up until now, finally gave in. Scratching the back of his head in frustration, he sat down with a short, defeated scream of “Agh!”

The “you two” Jack referred to were Ophelia and his lord, Nicholas.

Having traveled with the pair for over ten years, Jack was at his wit’s end dealing with their ironclad stubbornness and inability to compromise. Their unyielding nature had turned him gray-haired before his time.

Once again, since his opponent was Ophelia, the defeat was Jack’s to bear.

“…It’s an opportunity I couldn’t let slip.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jack narrowed his eyes, glaring at Ophelia, who had been speaking in riddles. But even so, he followed her as she walked ahead, not stopping his grumbling and complaints.

‘Thank you. And I’m sorry.’

Ophelia thought about the people around her, people she had easily let go of in the past—or perhaps in a previous life. They wouldn’t remember, but she felt sorry for them.

With a determined glint in her eyes, she strengthened her resolve. This was an opportunity gained through the terrible scars left on those she loved.

Ophelia still didn’t know why she had returned to the day of the Founding Festival.

However, the goddess had mentioned she could only “twist things a little.” That likely meant even the goddess had limits, and perhaps Ophelia waking up on Founding Festival day was part of those constraints.

‘What must happen will happen.’

Ophelia couldn’t be sure what the goddess meant by “what must happen.”

But if that meant Nyx’s resurrection and his murder of Aisa…

‘No. I won’t let that bastard rise again. Even if people die in the process, it doesn’t matter. If necessary, I’ll kill the emperor. If necessary, I’ll let the country fall.’

She clenched her teeth, determined never to witness that hell again.

—

“Lady Seymour, Sir Fallen.”

Archie McFoy, toying with his fork without much interest, quietly called to the two standing attentively beside him. Instinctively, they both turned to look at the young master.

“Am I being left out?”

At his downcast tone and words, Lady Seymour and Harry quickly exchanged uneasy glances.

“Young master? Why would you think such a thing―”

Lady Seymour began to ask why he would say something like that, but then she paused, realizing just how alone the young boy was at the massive dining table. The long table, which could easily seat a dozen or more, had two conspicuously empty chairs.

“It started feeling strange when I began having breakfast alone more and more. I didn’t think I’d be eating by myself for five days in a row…”

The young master’s face drooped in sadness as he finally put down his utensils.

“That’s not the case, young master. The lord has always been busy with his duties and often skips breakfast―”

“But ever since they got married, he’s been having breakfast. Because my uncle does.”

Unfortunately for them, quick-witted children weren’t so easily convinced by weak excuses.