‘And during this time, Laila Hildegarde will need a name to call me.’
Sion thought to himself.
Laila had already attempted to call him by his full name.
If he resisted telling her his name, she might give up and withdraw for now, but she would eventually try again to address him by that “name,” using whatever means necessary.
Well, it was probably because she thought it was necessary to call him by name to build rapport.
And Sion, in that process… did not want Laila to inadvertently mention Cassion’s name again.
It was unpleasant.
Very much so.
Whether it was pointless anger or misdirected anger, it was ultimately a judgment made by reason.
His emotions told him otherwise. It’s daring to mention the names of the family brutally killed by the enemy’s bloodline, not just anyone else.
It was something Sion couldn’t tolerate, no matter how much he thought about it.
In the end, Sion decided to tell Laila his name.
Rather than hearing the name Cassion from her lips again, he would rather have her call his name repeatedly, chew it, tear it apart, and do whatever she wanted with it.
His name didn’t hold any value anyway.
For there was no price on this name.
…It was just the name of a pitiful sinner who couldn’t even save his family.
It wouldn’t matter if it was chewed and torn into countless pieces.
As Sion coldly imagined merciless scenarios involving his own name, Laila, who had been keeping silent, finally spoke up.
“Yeah, got it. Thanks for allowing me to call you by your name.”
Thanks, huh?
At this rate, she’ll be thanking him for breathing later.
Sion thought casually, then paused inwardly.
Somehow, it seemed plausible.
“Um, then I’ll be going! I just remembered something urgent. Rest well!”
However, there seemed to be limits to the courage and audacity to thank an enemy and murderer.
Laila scurried out of the bedroom like a frightened colt.
“See you later, Sion!”
…Was that her last bit of courage scraped from the bottom of the barrel?
Thud.
The bedroom door slammed shut.
As soon as Laila left, the room became as quiet as if the previous commotion had been a lie.
Sion glanced briefly at the firmly closed bedroom door.
Then he turned his head to the other side, frowning.
Her hands were trembling.
Her face was pale, as if she’d seen a ghost, but somehow she managed to keep a smile on her face.
No, why do I remember this sh*t?
Sion’s brow furrowed deeper. Go away, this apparition. Disappear from my sight.
As if cursing inwardly had an effect, the blurry image of Laila wobbling in front of him quickly dissipated.
“…….”
With a clearer mind, Sion suddenly reached out to the bedside table next to the bed.
Opening the first drawer of the bedside table, Sion pulled out a white handkerchief with small floral patterns embroidered on its corners.
Sion held the handkerchief tightly as he leaned against the headboard of the bed.
Then, instead of the unnecessary jumbled images that cluttered his mind, a pleasant vision came to comfort him.
His mother.
More precisely, his mother’s touch.
The tender caress of her hand on his forehead…
Gradually, thoughts of other family members besides his mother began to emerge.
‘Everyone.’
Sion silently addressed those who were no longer with him.
‘I’m so sorry.’
Every time he thought of his family in heaven, a sense of guilt weighed heavily on his chest.
‘They must be doing well up there, but still, it’s suffocating to think of them from time to time. The ones who should have died kept coming back to life, over and over again.’
Sion’s grip on the handkerchief tightened naturally.
‘But don’t worry too much. I’ll make sure to kill them all. Forever. They’ll never come back to life…….’
Sion reminded himself of what he had to do.
He had to figure out the phenomenon of time reversal and stop it completely.
Then he had to exterminate every single enemy, even those remotely related to his family’s deaths.
And finally…….
Sion closed his eyes.
A strange laughter mixed with emotions escaped through his lips.
“Too bad, I can’t promise to come see you.”
He knew he wouldn’t be able to go to heaven.
At this moment, that fact, just a little bit, felt truly regrettable.
3.. The Mute and the Marquis’ Daughter
“Laila Hildegarde!”
Thud, thud, thud. Halt.
Laila, who had been walking down the hallway with regular footsteps, stopped.
And not for any other reason.
It was because an obstacle had appeared out of nowhere, right in front of her.
A talking, moving obstacle.
As Laila swallowed a sigh, a boy about her age stood in front of her with his hands on his hips and his mouth agape.
“I heard everything! You…”
“Are you insane?”
He did not expect Laila to cut him off so swiftly.
Before the boy could recover from having his words cut off, Laila poured out her own words as if she had been waiting for this moment.
“You think I’m insane? That something is wrong with my head? That I’ve become so foolishly infatuated with the orphan father brought home? That I’ve become more senseless than a toddler just learning to walk, tarnishing the Hildegarde name day by day? And why hasn’t father expelled me yet? Even if I were to leave voluntarily, there wouldn’t be many days left before I’m forced out. How about leaving the family on my own before being driven out?”
A waterfall.
Words cascaded relentlessly from Laila’s mouth.
The boy stood there like a stone, frozen in place, until silence settled between them. Then, hastily, he spoke up again.
“No!”
“That’s not what you were going to say? Then what were you going to say?”
“That’s…”
The boy stammered, biting his lip.
Yes, indeed.
What the boy was going to say had already come out of Laila’s mouth a moment ago.
Word for word!
How could she have known what I was going to say? Did she read my mind?
He didn’t want to admit that Laila possessed such an incredible ability. The boy shouted as if possessed.
“Anyway, no! I wasn’t robbed of what I wanted to say to you! Got it?”
“Yeah, sure. Oh, by the way, don’t expect me to leave the family on my own.”
While Laila might leave without a second thought once she had built enough rapport with Sion, leaving this wretched family behind, it was a far-off prospect for now.
The boy erupted in frustration again at Laila’s calm response.
“Who cares? Whether you leave the family or not doesn’t matter!”
“Sure.”
“Don’t delude yourself! What you blabbered on about has nothing to do with what I was going to say!”
“Got it.”
“…Damn it!”
The boy stormed off on his own, unable to contain himself. Laila watched him in silence.
‘Should I learn some wrestling techniques?’
Laila suddenly thought as she watched the boy rampage like a young bull.
Learning something might come in handy someday.
‘No, wait. When will I ever get into a real fight anyway?’
…But should I still learn?
Laila pondered seriously.
At that moment, the boy, seemingly exhausted from his tantrum, glared at Laila defiantly.
“Don’t think you won.”
‘Was this a fight?’
“Don’t underestimate me! If you get the wrong idea, I won’t let it go! I’ll kill you!”
Though only halfway there, the boy easily threatened Laila. He then turned and disappeared with heavy footsteps.
‘His feet must be sore.’
Making that much noise with his build.
Laila glanced briefly at the departing boy before shrugging and continuing to walk.
‘I guess he doesn’t know.’
Laila thought as she walked down the hallway and started to climb the stairs that appeared in the middle.
‘That he’s the twelfth person who has come to curse at me.’
