Philip awoke with a splitting headache and remembered.

‘Bring me a blanket, some water, and a bit of jerky, Vivi.’

It was her. That woman. The one who had cracked his skull and abandoned him on an empty snowfield with nothing but jerky and a blanket.

‘I gnashed my teeth vowing to settle the score someday. But I never ran into her again after that and completely forgot about her.’

Once he recognized her, Philip could recall everything. Her voice, her face, the circumstances of that day, all unfolded in his mind, swimming against the current of memory.

The moment when he had slain his former comrades with his own hands to begin his revenge came vividly alive.

Those chilling yet warm droplets of blood, the biting snow storm that instantly stole away that warmth, and the faint sound of horse neighing heard through the swirling snow.

‘…the shawl… I’ll…’

Following that sound, climbing the hill that obscured his view, he spotted a black carriage. Taking a few more steps to reach the hilltop, he saw a large rock behind the black carriage.

Sitting on that rock was a woman drinking something she held in her hand. Philip’s eyes reflected the scene of a woman with long, black hair, starkly contrasting with the pure white world around her, conversing with a man who had the same black hair.

Philip stared blankly at the black carriage and the woman, seemingly entranced. Then—

‘Grrrr—’

Manaha. He witnessed a monster appearing from the opposite hill, charging toward the black carriage. The thought crossed Philip’s mind that ordinary people unfamiliar with manaha couldn’t possibly escape sl*ughter from even a single one.

It was the perfect opportunity for any potential witnesses to be eliminated automatically.

Yet Philip couldn’t just stand by and watch. Even he didn’t know the exact reason. He simply couldn’t resist the momentary impulse and slid down the hill.

‘I don’t ask for much, that’s what you said, isn’t it?’

The woman he ended up conversing with was far more sharp-tongued and wary than he had expected… but regardless, it was definitely her.

No, that couldn’t be possible. No matter how similar they looked, that was just a distant memory from the past. There was no way that woman could still be alive today.

‘But it’s not entirely impossible.’

There remained the possibility that she too had become entangled with Ishmael and his followers and received this cursed fate, just like him.

“You damned fool! If you’re awake, you should wash up and get to work immediately! Why are you still lounging in bed? Do you think your days are longer than everyone else’s? Huh? You have that much time to spare?”

Philip, sitting on the edge of his bed lost in old memories, shook his head to clear his thoughts at Tom’s piercing voice.

Then, seemingly realizing something, he opened his eyes wide and turned to Tom with a grin.

“What’s that look? Why are you smiling? It’s creepy.”

“Just thinking how helpful you can be sometimes.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re right, I should get to work.”

Though Philip had clearly insulted him, Tom hadn’t heard properly since Philip had mumbled so quietly. Annoyed, Tom glared at Philip, stomped his foot once, glared again, and then left the room.

Left alone in the now-quiet room, Philip jumped out of bed and hurriedly changed his clothes to prepare for the day.

Unlike moments before, his face showed no trace of darkness. His concerns had lifted, like someone who had finally found the answer to a long-unsolved problem.

‘Time.’

He had found the clue to his problem in Tom’s sarcastic remark. As Tom had said, Philip had plenty of time. For him, time was like an eternally flowing fountain.

If he was curious about something, he could simply take the time to investigate it, a realization that had just dawned on him from his conversation with Tom.

“Where is the mistress?”

“In the second-floor studio.”

“Second-floor studio? Thanks, Marie.”

“Wait, why do you ask? Philip, you’re going to get yourself in serious trouble.”

From that moment on, Philip began circling around the woman who had become the estate’s new owner. His behavior was so obvious that people around him noticed and tried to stop him, but the woman herself showed not a shred of interest in Philip.

“Marie, have you seen the brush I left here?”

“Here it is, miss.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Even when he volunteered to attend to her, pushing aside other maids—

“Eek! Philip!”

“Sorry! I slipped.”

“Oh my, are you hurt anywhere?”

Even when he deliberately made mistakes in front of her, like spilling water—

“You think I’m a joke, don’t you? But guess what? Looks like you’re not making any progress this time.”

“I didn’t realize my actions would upset you, Tom. I apologize.”

“What’s with that attitude…”

Even when Tom, displeased with Philip’s behavior, dragged him behind the mansion and roughed him up a bit—

“Stop right there. What’s going on?”

“Oh, miss? No, this… this isn’t what you think—”

“No lying in my estate.”

“…I apologize.”

“Good. You only get one warning. If you understand, let go of him and get back to work.”

The “new owner” may have saved him, but she didn’t spare him even a passing glance. Strangely, almost deliberately, she ignored him so blatantly that it felt like she was purposely avoiding him.

‘…suspicious.’

So his suspicions only grew stronger.

As Philip’s suspicions deepened with each passing day, an event occurred that transformed those suspicions into certainty.

“Bri…”

“…rien.”

A man with the exact same face as the black-haired man who had stood beside that woman in the distant past, on that white snowfield, visited the estate as a guest of the “new owner.”

While one coincidence might be possible, the probability of two coincidences overlapping approached impossibility, so it was only natural that Philip’s suspicion turned to certainty.

“I don’t know why you’ve come to see me, sir.”

“…I was wrong.”

“I’m a bit confused as to why you’re apologizing to me.”

“Bri, please…”

The man who visited the estate followed the female owner around daily, begging for forgiveness.

The man was so large and his features so striking that he stood out even from a distance.

Philip could spot him circling around the woman, just like himself, whether he was picking grapes in the vineyard, organizing supplies in the kitchen pantry, or pruning in the garden, he just had to look up.

“He must have been caught two-timing. That’s why he’s followed her all the way to this countryside, full of regret.”

“He is handsome, so that could be the case.”

“I think differently. If that were true, would the mistress, with her personality, allow that man to come and go?”

“Hmm… now that you mention it, that’s true. So what do you think?”

“I think…”

While the estate’s maids wrote grand romantic novels about the situation, Philip had a different perspective.

Unlike their theories about serious conflicts stemming from misunderstandings or infidelity, it seemed to him more like a minor disagreement that had grown larger through persistence.

This was because the woman didn’t appear genuinely angry with the man. If she had been truly angry, she wouldn’t have checked on him and watched him whenever he briefly looked away from her.

She wouldn’t have gazed worriedly at various parts of his face with a subtly downcast expression and a slight frown.

So he could only guess.

That now was his chance. A chance to come between those two.

And that opportunity arrived much sooner than Philip had anticipated.

“Marie, two cups of cocoa, please.”

Two cups of cocoa, and the black-haired man entering the new owner’s second-floor studio with them.

“Time to be honest.”

“The moment I’ve been waiting for.”

“Do you understand what you did wrong?”

“…I understand, but I can’t agree.”

“What?”

“You’re more precious to me. I fully understand that you want me to take care of myself… but even if the same situation happened again, I would still choose to protect you. I’m not afraid of getting hurt. So please… next time, don’t leave me without a word.”

Hidden in the still, dark shadows beneath the terrace of the second-floor studio, Philip eavesdropped on their conversation and discovered several new facts.

“…I didn’t buy this estate because of that. I was upset, yes, but I never intended to torment you. Don’t cry.”

“…”

“Though much has changed, this place still holds traces of my mother. Even though the mansion has changed, these grapevines have rooted in this land for 300 years, making it still meaningful to me. It wasn’t because I resented you.”

“…I know. That’s why I wanted to give it to you as a gift.”

“I know. I knew it was you following closely behind me at the auction.”

“…That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? You were the one who was unfair.”

His thoughts were confirmed. Though he couldn’t know where, how, or in what way they had encountered Ishmael and his followers, that wasn’t what mattered.

What mattered was that there existed a commonality between him and that woman that others couldn’t comprehend.

Of course, the black-haired man hovering around her was somewhat concerning.

‘But that might make it even more enjoyable.’

The man’s presence stimulated rather than suppressed Philip’s competitive spirit, which had long been dormant in his tedious immortal life. His heart raced with excitement.

It was enjoyable, like a refreshing rain shower on his monotonous existence.

“By the way, there’s someone who’s been bothering me lately—”

“You mean that servant ‘Philip’ who’s been lurking around you?”

“…Yes. He resembles someone.”

“Resembles who?”

“Esmund.”

Listening to their conversation, Philip sensed that a major change was coming to his life.

“He resembles that man. The name, the face, the voice—all of it.”

“…What a coincidence.”

“What are the chances that someone with the exact same face, voice, and name would appear in the world again?”

“Well… as far as I know, such a case has never occurred…”

“Then, could he be a being like us?”

“That’s possible. If so… Bri, what would you like to do?”

“I’m not sure… For now, let’s just wait and see.”

And this was exactly what he had been hoping for throughout his long years.

Fin.

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