“If that is truly your will, then there is nothing to be done.”

A breeze drifted in from somewhere. As if to comfort me, it gently brushed through my disheveled hair—soft and endlessly warm.

“Still… it seems there were times when D’hiver Keith spoke the truth. As that child said, perhaps you should think it over. Decide what is truly right.”

“No matter how much I think about it, nothing will change. I… as well.”

Dragging my aching body along, I pulled my knees close and held them tight. A lonely, fragile sentence slipped out.

“More than anything… I hate being left alone.”

“…Alone.”

Teslai repeated my words under their breath. I couldn’t tell whether the tone was mocking or understanding as they continued.

“Yes… abandoned by your family, betrayed by your husband. With no one left by your side, it’s only natural you would feel as though you’ve been left alone in this world.”

Something surged up in my chest.

As I clutched at my heart, the sword spoke again.

“Then let us do this.”

“…What?”

“Why not find out for yourself whether your family truly abandoned you?”

“……Is there really a need for that?”

Even now, whenever I closed my eyes, my father’s voice—my sister’s voice—rang vividly in my ears. It was a relationship that had already crossed a river with no return. There was no restoring it.

As if it understood exactly what my hesitation meant, the sword asked:

“And your mother?”

“My mother is dead. She died giving birth to me.”

“You can control time, can’t you?”

In that instant, I forgot even the pain and snapped my head up. Perhaps the devil who tempted Faust had sounded just as sweet.

“Then take a brief journey into the past.”

“……”

My lips parted slightly. It wasn’t that I wasn’t curious.

What kind of person had my mother been?

Everything I knew about her was incomplete; just fragments. She had been an exceptional mage, even more so than my father. And that she had resembled my sister.

As if drawn in by Teslai’s words, I gathered my strength.

Just once, I thought, I want to see the person who brought me into this hell.

Tick.

The clock began to turn backwards, reaching far back into the distant past, to a time before I was born.

***

Stepping back in time, I slowly lifted my head.

The Silcania estate came into view, looking both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

The garden, which I remembered as barren, was now alive with pink blooms.

On the edge of the garden, a woman sat in a rocking chair, gently stroking her swollen belly. Her face glowed with quiet happiness.

Beside her stood a man looking at her with unmistakable affection.

It was a picture-perfect scene.

Then, suddenly, the woman clutched her lower abdomen and let out a soft gasp.

“Ah!”

“Ripe? What’s wrong?”

“The baby… the baby just moved.”

“Really?”

The man’s eyes widened in delight. Then, placing his hand—so unbearably repulsive—on her swollen belly, he whispered.

“My child… don’t trouble your mother. Just be born healthy.”

The hypocrisy made me want to retch.

Was it because I was wounded—because of who I had become—that I wanted to tear apart those deceitful lips, those hands?

The man rested his forehead against the woman’s and smiled brightly.

“Isn’t it strange?”

“Hmm? What is?”

“When we had Eri, when she was born… I didn’t really understand anything. But now, I’m just so happy, so excited. I want to see our child as soon as possible.”

Unlike the man’s excitement, the woman’s eyes flickered with unease.

After a moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips close to his ear.

“Roland.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll love this child too… won’t you?”

Her voice trembled with moisture. I could tell she was crying inside.

“You’ll give them a name, kiss their forehead, and tell them you love them, right? No matter what happens. Just like you cherish Eri.”

“Of course.”

…A lie.

“I can even swear an oath. So don’t worry about anything. I’ll treasure this child just as I treasure you.”

Their sickeningly tender conversation continued.

A hollow laugh escaped my lips.

“What did you just say?”

Do you have any idea how you treated me?

Do you have any idea what I’ve become because of you?

I would never forget.

The stench of blood has been with me since the day I was born.

I can still hear that man’s voice echoing in my ears. I can still see the cruelty in his eyes when he slapped away my outstretched hand, desperate for even a shred of affection.

And the bruises that have quietly piled up inside me ever since.

“Thank you.”

Murmuring in a trembling voice, the woman pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek. Then, in a soft, affectionate tone, she said.

“Could you go check on Eri? I’d like to take a nap.”

“Alright.”

The man nodded and left.

Once he had completely disappeared, the woman turned toward where I was hiding.

“Come out.”

At the natural summons, I revealed myself and stared straight at her.

A breeze passed through. Her golden hair—so perfectly inherited by my sister—fluttered softly. Without realizing it, a thought slipped through my mind.

‘…She really does resemble my sister.’

Her calm eyes, striking beauty and low, gentle, captivating voice were all strikingly similar to my memory of her sister.

If there was one difference, perhaps it was that she carried herself with far greater elegance.

As the silence stretched on, she spoke again.

“What business does the Archmage have here? With a face covered in bruises, no less.”

“……That child.”

I forced my lips apart.

“Don’t give birth to them.”

“……”

She fell silent for a moment, then asked, a beat too late,

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you trust your husband?”

“Of course.”

She nodded calmly, her voice filled with conviction.

“Roland is a good man. He isn’t someone who would break his word.”

A blind faith.

The kind that would shatter into nothing the moment it faced what I had become.

“Don’t trust him.”

I whispered back with the same certainty.

“You’ll lose your life because of that child… and your husband will come to hate them like madness itself.”

At my words, her expression slowly hardened.

“That child won’t be loved by anyone. And they won’t love anyone either. They’ll live trembling alone in eternal loneliness.”

A faint, mocking smile tugged at my lips.

My life flashed before my eyes, reminding me of the days when I was hated.

The moments when I mistakenly believed I was loved.

And the wounds I carry now.

In an instant, the mockery turned into a bitter smile.

“That child won’t wish to live. They’ll come to hate even the fact that they were born.”

That was the truth.

If I could have embraced death, I would have done so without hesitation.

To me, life had never been worth more than that.

There was nothing more absurd.

He had wished for my death, yet I continued to live because of him.

In the past, and even now.

The woman said nothing. She only stared at me, her crimson eyes scanning me with an unreadable, complex emotion.

Then—

“I don’t understand why I have to listen to such cruel words.”

Her voice turned cold as she held her belly, as though it were something truly precious.

“Don’t you dare decide my child’s happiness on your own. It’s deeply unpleasant.”

Unpleasant?

I was speaking about the life I had endured—about myself.

“This child will be loved more than anyone in this world… and will be happier than anyone.”

She turned her back and walked away.

It felt similar to when my sister had turned away from me.

Perhaps because I was used to watching people leave, it didn’t hurt this time.

But as I quietly watched her retreating figure, I suddenly realized something.

She had spoken about the child’s happiness, yet never mentioned her own death.

The meaning was painfully clear.

So I quietly followed after her.

Unlike before, she seemed unaware that I was nearby.

She arrived at a dark room I hadn’t known was in the house, let out a soft sigh, and entered.

Then, making a simple hand gesture, she gazed into the empty air and began to murmur.

“My child… today, I heard something that pained my heart deeply.”

She was leaving a message.

It felt as if I had been hit hard on the back of the head.

I stood there, frozen to the spot, staring at her.

I couldn’t hear her properly anymore.

You knew.

You knew you were going to die.

Because of me.

And yet, for me — the one who would remain in this world — you left it all behind.

Yet my father never showed it to me.

He never even told me it existed.

Why?

I bit down hard on my nails, unable to contain the anger surging inside me.

Kicking off the ground, I turned back time once more returning to the present where I lived.

In an instant, the garden filled with blooming pink flowers withered into something barren and lifeless.

Just as I remembered it.

I hurried forward and stormed into my father’s room.

Bang!

The door flew open with a deafening crash.

My father, who had been looking at something, flinched and lifted his head.

Unlike the man I had just seen, his face was now lined with deep wrinkles.

For a moment, he looked old, his expression twisting in clear displeasure.

As if forcing something bitter past his lips, he said my name.

“…Violette.”

“At least you haven’t forgotten my face.”

I sneered as coldly as I could.

“I thought you would’ve forgotten me by now.”

At my words, my father blinked.

Unfortunately, I had meant every single one of them.

For years, he had never once come to see me, never even bothered to ask how I was.

And yet, absurdly enough, there had been a time when I desperately longed for his attention, his affection, his love.

But now, what was the point of any of it?

From the very beginning, he had never intended to give me any of those things.

Ah…

I was truly pitiful.

And foolish.

“What brings you here?”

“Am I somewhere I’m not allowed to be? I am Violet Silcania.”

I said it with a bright smile, but my father just looked at me.

Even when he saw the person who had once been described as ‘beyond recognition’, he showed no sign of concern.

His behavior was so predictable that it didn’t even register as disappointing.

My gaze drifted briefly to his hands.

“By the way… what were you looking at?”

As though it were something precious, my father carefully held what he had been viewing close to himself.

“You asked why I remember your face.”

He changed the subject, as if he had no intention of telling me what it was.

“Hatred lasts longer than love.”

Those words would once have caused irreparable damage.

But now, they meant nothing.

Having already been torn apart by deep scars, love and hatred were utterly useless to me.