Chapter 13
“Haa.”
Charlotte let out a heavy sigh as she left Noctem behind and arrived at the field. Her clenched fist trembled uncontrollably.
It felt as though fragments of the unpleasant emotions that had emanated from him were still pressing down on her, suffocating her.
But what hurt more was her heart.
The Noctem Aphros she knew no longer existed.
The love he had given her had vanished, like a midsummer night’s dream.
Despair surged over her once again, like a tidal wave threatening to engulf her completely.
“If he really was the Noctem I knew…”
Charlotte muttered absently but quickly closed her mouth. Such a fortunate thing could never happen to her.
God had always been cruel to her, never granting her happiness.
It had been this way since childhood.
God had consistently made her life miserable, cutting off any hope she managed to hold onto.
And then, He cruelly took away even the one person who had made her dare to hope.
It was as if the world would end if she were ever to find happiness.
‘I don’t need a world without you…’
She wanted to disappear.
God was cruel only to Charlotte.
Such good fortune never came her way.
“Damn it.”
Noctem returned to his estate, trudging heavily before heading to the training grounds to immerse himself in practice.
If he didn’t distract himself with something, his restless mind would keep him awake for days and nights on end.
But even that training abruptly stopped as Charlotte’s image surged into his mind again.
‘Why does that woman keep doing this to me?’
From the beginning, she had approached him, calling him “dear” and speaking about death and other nonsensical things. Today, she had said similar things and shaken him to his core once again.
‘Is there something I don’t know?’
To be honest, seeing Charlotte’s desperate expression had, for a brief moment, led Noctem to indulge in a wild flight of imagination.
He had wondered if he might have some long-lost twin relative he didn’t know about.
‘That’s ridiculous.’
Even if he did, how could that man have the exact same name, “Noctem”?
‘Is this another ploy from that wicked woman?’
He should’ve realized this when she had made a fuss, declaring she wouldn’t marry anyone but him.
Noctem nodded, convinced this was another crazy scheme by the deranged villainess.
…No, he stopped himself.
“It doesn’t add up. Her words were oddly specific.”
The idea of someone identical to him still sounded absurd, but her behavior made it oddly believable.
“Who on earth is this ‘Noctem’?”
The thought nagged at him.
After pacing around the training grounds with Charlotte on his mind for quite some time, he finally made a decision. Approaching his aide, Tey, who had been observing him from a distance, Noctem gave him an order.
“Charlotte Daphsine of House Daphsine. Investigate everything about that woman.”
Her family background, what she ate, what she wore, what she learned and how she grew up—everything.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And find out if there’s anyone named Noctem. Check the graves too, since he’s supposedly dead.”
“…Pardon?”
Tey, startled by the unusual request, raised his voice in disbelief. Well, anyone would find it ridiculous.
Even Noctem himself found it absurd, but he was resolute.
“There’s someone who looks exactly like me. She described him that way the first time we met. Long hair and skilled in magic, she said. He’s already dead, so identify him thoroughly.”
Noctem explained the man’s appearance, recalling the description Charlotte had murmured in the clearing.
For a fleeting moment, he felt a wave of doubt about why he was bothering with such a troublesome task. But the feeling quickly faded.
Rather than waste time on such trivial thoughts, it seemed more important to thoroughly analyze Charlotte’s intentions.
What Noctem Aphros didn’t know at the time was this:
He had thought about her so much that he would soon begin to see her in his dreams.
The night sky was filled with stars, leaving no space untouched.
In his dream, he found himself wearing the white robes typically associated with frail magicians. He was standing in a rainy field, staring intently at a blonde-haired girl.
The girl was six-year-old Charlotte.
Noctem felt an unusual discomfort in his body. His gaze lowered, and the ground seemed much closer than it should have been.
His arms and legs were stubby and short. But what was even more baffling was the type of clothes he wore and the weight of his long hair.
Even as a crown prince, he had always preferred wearing knightly uniforms from a young age.
Since he had turned ten, it had been his custom. But the clothes he was wearing now were indeed imperial uniforms, albeit not those of a knight.
‘Why am I wearing these flimsy magician’s robes?’
Unlike the black of knightly uniforms, magician’s robes were white.
And his hair… Feeling it with his hands, he realized it was tied up in a short ponytail.
He had never grown his hair long, nor had he ever studied magic.
Before he could grasp the situation, his body moved on its own.
The surroundings were familiar.
It was the same field he had visited just a while ago. This realization allowed him to focus on the girl in front of him.
Her golden curls cascaded down her back. She looked so frail that the slightest mistake could leave her with broken bones.
Noctem instinctively recognized her as a young Charlotte.
‘What in the world…’
Before he could finish the thought, his eyes locked on her against his will.
Even in the pouring rain, she didn’t seem to care about protecting herself. Instead, she was preoccupied with tending to the small life cradled in her arms.
It was a tiny fox pup. She hugged it tightly to share her warmth, even as she trembled with cold.
“Hang in there, little fox.”
Her soft voice carried through the sound of the rain. It was desperate.
While Noctem stood there blankly, the body he was trapped in began to cast magic.
A thin barrier formed around her, shielding her from the heavy rain.
Charlotte let out a sigh of relief, a faint smile spreading across her lips. His own lips involuntarily mirrored her smile.
Noctem didn’t have the chance to question why he was using magic; he couldn’t stop himself from watching her.
If it were truly him, he might have dismissed her actions as foolish, but the body he inhabited refused to think that way.
She was admirable, courageous, and beautiful. His cheeks flushed red.
‘Wait…!’
Why was he blushing? He wanted to question the body, but he had no choice in the matter.
The scene shifted abruptly.
It was the same field, but now it was daytime.
No longer hidden in the shadows of a tree, he was openly there with her.
As if they were close acquaintances, Noctem leaned against a large oak tree, smiling as he watched Charlotte play with the fox.
The once-fragile fox, now healthy thanks to her care, jumped into her arms.
A breeze blew, and Charlotte tucked her fluttering hair behind her ears with a radiant smile.
At that moment, Noctem’s heart pounded wildly.
‘She’s beautiful.’
He couldn’t tell if it was his thought or the body’s thought. The only thing he was certain of was that he wanted to keep looking at her.
The scene shifted again.
This time, he was back in control of his body, wearing his knight’s uniform, with short hair.
He recognized the place—it was his own estate.
Guided by an inexplicable impulse, his feet carried him to the annex. It was a part of the estate he had never visited before.
When he opened the door, what he saw was so shocking it made him freeze in place.
‘Why… is there someone who looks like me?’
There stood another Noctem Aphros. Or rather, could he even call that man “himself”?
The man wore robes reserved for the highest-ranking imperial magicians. His long hair reached down his back, brushing against his chest.
A sense of familiarity struck Noctem. That man’s appearance… someone had described it before.
“Charlotte. If only you’d smile at me like that…”
Before Noctem could dwell on his thoughts, the man spoke. His voice was the same, yet it carried a warmth and kindness foreign to him.
The long-haired man gazed at a wall with a faint smile.
Instinctively, Noctem followed his gaze. There, he saw a portrait of Charlotte, smiling brightly. She looked young, perhaps ten years old—a more grown-up version of the girl he had seen in the field.
“I wanted to suggest we visit the field together for your birthday, but I suppose that’s too much to hope for.”
The man’s voice was filled with longing.
“For you, I would do anything. So please, just smile at me like you used to, even if only once.”
No, it wasn’t just longing.
It was desperate. Pathetic, even.
Noctem frowned as he watched the man.
‘What is so special about her?’
Exactly what was it about that woman that drove this version of him to such lengths?
Then,
“You are more sacred to me than even the gods, Charlotte.”
The long-haired man reached out to touch the portrait. At the same time, Noctum felt his own arm move.
The coarse texture of paper spread across his fingertips.
Knock, knock.
A sound, impossible within the dream, shook Noctum awake.
It was time to wake up.
Note
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