140.

Knock, knock, knock.

A soft knock echoed through the room.

But Lucian, slouched deeply in his chair, didn’t stir.

He simply continued staring blankly at the large, cracked sapphire ring clutched in his hand.

Click.

The door opened, and Marguerite stepped lightly into the study.

“Lucian.”

“…”

There was no reply.

Marguerite approached him, gently cupping his face with both hands. She lifted his head, revealing his gaunt features under the light.

“…Oh dear.”

Marguerite clicked her tongue softly.

Dark shadows hung under Lucian’s eyes, and his once-sharp, sapphire gaze was now empty and dull.

‘This is not good.’

Her emerald-green eyes narrowed.

Lucian was a vital piece in her plan for regression. He was the culmination of her meticulous efforts—a being born imbued with the essence of Kalleid’s magic. His significance was so immense that even his health could slightly impact the success rate of the regression spell.

“I hear you haven’t been sleeping well lately?”

Marguerite’s gaze softened as she looked down at him with concern.

“The magic circle will be complete soon. Don’t you think you should take better care of yourself until then?”

“…”

But Lucian only closed his eyes, as if even responding was too bothersome.

“Lucian, my precious child.”

Marguerite’s tone turned tender, almost affectionate.

“You know, don’t you? You’re the only one who can help me escape this false world.”

Her sweet whispers caressed Lucian’s ears.

“I chose you, and you were born into this world to help me. Isn’t that right?”

At that moment, Lucian’s eyelids fluttered open.

A strange glint flickered in his sapphire-blue eyes.

“Yes, you chose me, Marguerite. But…”

For the first time, Lucian spoke, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper.

“Why didn’t Lady Lepherian choose me?”

Marguerite’s expression stiffened, almost imperceptibly.

Elze.

That name had a way of throwing her chess pieces off course, defying her expectations.

Her carefully laid plans, her controlled pawns—they rebelled and fled, one by one.

…It was infuriating.

Lucian gritted his teeth.

“I thought… we could be happy together.”

“Lucian.”

“But Lady Lepherian abandoned me.”

He knew, logically, why the Kalleid Duchy existed.

He knew the duty he was born to fulfill.

Lucian had been brought into this world to return Marguerite to Sevrang, the magical kingdom.

It was a noble duty, one that must be fulfilled at all costs.

But.

“Why was I the one cast aside?”

The emotions weighing down Lucian now were not responsibility toward Marguerite.

It was his bitterness toward Elze.

He couldn’t accept that she had turned her back on him.

Despite his occasional clumsiness, Lucian had always been sincere toward her.

He had rescued her when Dante tormented her.

He had tried to mend her relationship with the Lepherian viscount and his wife.

Even when pressured by Benedict, he had reluctantly let Elze go.

But the pain of sending her away… had torn his heart apart.

‘Yet she never understood my feelings.’

How much he had suffered.

How much he had sacrificed for her.

She had never even tried to understand.

But the most unbearable part…

‘I still want to see her.’

Even now, he couldn’t let go of his feelings for Elze.

And he hated himself for it.

At that moment.

“Don’t dwell on it too much, Lucian.”

Marguerite spread her arms and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“It was nothing more than a fleeting dream.”

A dream.

Lucian silently mouthed the word.

“I’ve told you before, haven’t I? This world is false.”

Marguerite patted his back gently.

“When I return to Sevrang, you’ll finally be freed from this fake world.”

Her voice was earnest, unshakably convinced.

Because Marguerite truly believed it.

The current reality, in which the magical kingdom of Sevrang had fallen, was a lie.

No matter how terrifying a nightmare might be, it couldn’t intrude on the waking world.

This world carried no more weight than that.

Benedict, Dante, and even Lucian, standing before her.

They were all just stepping stones to Sevrang.

So.

“Elze is nothing but a temptress in this false world, deceiving your eyes.”

Marguerite’s tone turned firm as she concluded.

“You don’t need to feel hurt over her.”

At the same time, Lucian was struck by a powerful doubt.

Was it really just a dream?

This sharp pain carving into his heart.

The parched dryness in his mouth, as if he were burning.

The restless yearning to see her, which made him feel like he was losing his mind.

It all felt so vivid.

“So don’t worry, okay?”

Marguerite smiled gently, meeting Lucian’s gaze.

Her radiant smile brought him a fleeting sense of relief.

“Yes, Lady Marguerite.”

Lucian forced a smile to mirror hers.

But deep within, a faint unease lingered.

…And it refused to fade.

* * *

At that moment.

Benedict stood alone, staring at the box in front of him with a conflicted gaze.

[I guess you’d have to be that much of a bastard to stand by and watch Elze die hundreds, no, thousands of times.]

[Just because you don’t remember doesn’t mean it never happened.]

Dante’s sharp voice echoed relentlessly in his ears.

‘Damn it.’

Benedict bit his lip and reached out for the box.

Clatter.

The lid opened.

Inside the box, nestled in protective padding, were a syringe and a vial.

[Nyx.]

Benedict was vaguely familiar with the substance.

It was the infamous drug that had greatly contributed to Dante’s dominance over the underworld.

It heightened the senses, making victims more vulnerable to torture, and was notorious as a truth serum.

However, due to its terrifying side effects, even criminal organizations used it with extreme caution.

[Nyx will reveal the truth…]

Confusion clouded his mind.

[What truth could he mean?]

Unbidden, he recalled the moment Marguerite had brought him here.

[Benedict.]

Her verdant green eyes, as fresh as summer foliage, gazed up at him.

[You are the most precious child I have chosen.]

Marguerite had told him he was born to help her return to Sevrang.

She said it was their destiny.

At first, he had been skeptical…

[I’ll show you proof.]

The moment Marguerite brushed his forehead with her hand, a flood of knowledge surged into his mind.

The formulas for the magic circle that had enabled dozens, hundreds of regressions.

Marguerite had laid the foundation, and Benedict had revised and reconstructed the spell countless times.

He had been captivated by the sheer depth of that knowledge.

At the same time, an inexplicable anxiety gripped him.

‘I must complete that spell at all costs.’

‘I must help Lady Marguerite, no matter what.’

‘I was born solely for Lady Marguerite.’

Since witnessing the enormous underground magic circle and regaining his memory of its formulas under Marguerite’s guidance…

Benedict had never once questioned that anxiety.

But then.

[Why are you so intent on obeying that crazy woman, Marguerite?!]

When Dante’s anguished words struck like a blow.

Crack.

Like thin glass fracturing, a faint crack appeared within Benedict.

‘I must cooperate with Lady Marguerite.’

That overwhelming pressure.

A blind loyalty that blocked even the possibility of doubt.

Dante, however, hurled another stone.

[Then what about Elze?]

Crack, crack.

The fissures deepened.

Through the growing cracks, forbidden questions cascaded like a waterfall.

‘Why did I accept these endless regressions so easily?’

If the world regressed to the past, Benedict’s very existence would be erased completely.

It was true he had been consumed by destructive impulses.

‘If Elze won’t choose me, I’ll make sure no one else can have her.’

But now, in hindsight, even that impulse seemed incomprehensible.

After all…

‘Even if Lady Lepherian doesn’t choose me, I am still myself, am I not?’

Benedict’s strong sense of self kept posing questions.

‘So why, just because I couldn’t be with her…’

His violet eyes trembled violently, like a small boat caught in a raging storm.

‘…was I willing to abandon even myself?’