‘If I died and went back in time, things would be easier…….’
If she went back to the past, the incident where the child was punished would cleanly cease to exist.
However, Laila couldn’t casually attempt to regress.
She didn’t know how many more times the stone could send her back in time.
What if, by chance, the regression stone had completely been used up—swallowed up—and lost its effect?
What if she dies and can’t go back to the past?
Laila tightly gripped the lamp handle. Death was never an option.
‘It’s okay; I can fix this. They say a crisis is an opportunity, right?’
If she showed sincere efforts to rectify the situation, maybe she could gain a bit of favor?
Laila tried her best to think positively.
Eventually, the stone staircase came to an end.
The entrance to the underground prison came into Laila’s view.
“Who’s there…… Miss Laila?”
The rugged-looking soldier guarding the entrance recognized her.
“Hello, Hans.”
Laila approached, addressing the soldier by name.
‘Lucky me.’
There’s a saying that goes, “In misfortune, there is fortune.”
It might be a very small fortune amid a great misfortune, but anyway, it was a phrase that perfectly suited the situation.
“What brings you here, Miss…”
“Well, I came to apply medicine to the one inside.”
“Did you receive permission from the Marquis?”
“No.”
“In that case, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in.”
Laila tilted her head and blinked at Hans, with eyes too big for her age.
“Hans, you know what? I like you.”
“What?”
“That’s why I don’t want Hans to be a murderer.”
“Miss, what does that…….”
“I don’t want you to become a murderer who kills a child, like me.”
“Miss!”
Hans involuntarily raised his voice at the provocative statement, but Laila showed no sign of backing down.
“That child in there, Hans hit him, didn’t he?”
“…….”
“So if that child doesn’t make it through today, won’t Hans be the one to kill him?”
“That’s…….”
Hans’s face turned incredibly pale in an instant. His pupils shook restlessly.
Laila secretly thought to herself.
This is why they say luck is on my side.
Perhaps due to his appearance, he often got assigned to such tasks as punishing a child, but, in reality, Hans had a gentle nature contrary to his outward appearance.
And…….
“I know. Hans is a good father, unlike my own father…”
He was a father of two young children.
“You had to hit him because you were ordered to, but you want to save him, don’t you?”
“…….”
“Do you want to kill him?”
“No!”
Hans denied it almost reflexively. Laila smiled slightly, as if reassured.
“Is that so?”
“…”
“I’ll just apply the medicine and be out soon. It won’t take long.”
“…….”
“Since it’s a transparent medicine, there won’t be much trace left. Please, Hans.”
Hans hesitated, then squeezed his eyes shut.
Then he stepped aside from the entrance of the prison where he was standing.
“You really have to just apply the medicine and leave.”
“Yes, I will!”
“The shift change is in two hours, so you have to be out before then.”
“Don’t worry.”
Nodding, Laila, who deliberately waited for the time when Hans was guarding the entrance, accepted the key.
“…Here’s the key. You can use the fifth one from the left.”
“Thanks.”
Laila bowed obediently, accepting the key and stepping through the prison’s entrance.
Inside the entrance, a long corridor stretched with torches sporadically attached to the walls, almost reaching the ceiling, and on both sides of the corridor were individual cells with iron bars.
Most of the cells were empty.
In fact, the underground prison was rarely used. Laila understood the reason.
The Marquis was a man who would rather kill anyone who caught his eye than imprison them.
Soon, the space where the child was currently held would also be empty.
Laila had to achieve her goal before anything else. She must.
‘It was the fifth key, so is it the fifth cell? …Yes.’
Laila easily found the prison cell where the child was trapped.
While the corridor was somewhat dimly lit, it was not so dark that she couldn’t peer into the individual cells.
The child was lying curled up in a corner of the cell. There was no movement.
Laila opened the iron bars with the key and cautiously stepped inside.
“Hey.”
“…….”
“Hey?”
Unconscious, perhaps? Or could it be that he’s already…
Paralyzed with anxiety, Laila hurried toward the child, holding a lamp.
Laila’s unease soon gripped her as she stood next to the child, frozen in place.
The child’s eyes were closed, but he was breathing.
Breathing, but…
‘His wounds…….’
Laila’s gaze locked on the shirtless child’s back.
The small, skinny back, illuminated by the lamp’s light, was covered with marks from numerous beatings. Each one looked deep and severe.
Laila was momentarily at a loss for words at the truly gruesome sight.
‘Was it necessary for a child to endure this level of brutality?’
And…….
‘Did this child endure all this without uttering a word?’
He was sentenced to death.
The Marquis instructed them to beat the child until he admitted his crime.
In reverse interpretation, it meant to stop beating the child the moment those words came out of his mouth.
However, even when the day had completely darkened, not even the word “death” came out of the child’s mouth.
Eventually, the Marquis issued a new order to stop beating the child when it was completely dark. Perhaps he didn’t truly want to ruthlessly kill the child this way.
So, the child’s alive, but…
Whether one could really consider this alive was questionable.
Laila knelt beside the child, who was barely holding onto life.
She had come all this way, expecting this.
All the way down the stone stairs, she had assumed that the child’s breathing would be labored.
However, envisioning the situation roughly in her mind was entirely different from seeing the scene with her own eyes.
Laila carefully placed the lamp a bit away to avoid interference and hastily took out the medicine bottle from her pocket.
“You’re really resilient too.”
Laila muttered under her breath.
So, is this what it means to become a hero fighting against evil in the future?
“…If you hadn’t just killed me, I might have been one of the people praising you.”
A truly meaningless assumption.
Laila worked diligently, opening the lid of the medicine bottle and generously applying the medicine to the child’s back.
It didn’t matter where she applied it; all the places her hands touched were wounds.
When the medicine bottle, only the size of a child’s fist, revealed its bottom, Laila sighed.
Next, she took out some herbs she had secretly brought.
‘This needs to be chewed and swallowed, but…’
Laila stared at the motionless child.
‘… you can’t swallow it?’
She briefly imagined a method of forcibly making the child swallow using water, but immediately dismissed the idea.
Laila had never learned any medical procedures. She was aware that recklessly attempting such things could lead to a disaster.
It might accidentally block the child’s airway…
Laila wondered what to do with the herbs in her hands, so she placed them between her hands and rubbed them together to crush them.
Then she gently pushed it into the child’s mouth.
‘When he wakes up, he’ll probably swallow it on his own.’
Now, it is done.
She had done everything she could.
After using all the items she brought, Laila glanced down at the child.
He was small.
Really small.
Judging by his face, he looked to be about her age, but his height was a bit shorter than hers.
‘…so small, yet he’ll grow so much in ten years.’
No one would believe her if she told them how much he’s going to grow in height and body.
Well, aside from not believing it, no one would show any interest.
Not her father nor her siblings.
What kind of people were they?
To them, is this child even considered human?
Laila bit her lip slightly, then stood up.
Perhaps she had been too tense while dealing with the child. A slight dizziness and overwhelming fatigue washed over her.
‘Let’s go back and get some rest.’
With that thought in mind, Laila turned around.
However, the moment she took a step towards where the lamp was, she immediately collapsed to the ground.
“……!”
Laila barely suppressed a scream in her mouth and turned to look back.
When did he wake up?
The child, now awake, was grabbing Laila’s ankle.
