Chapter 62

A merchant was simply doing a merchant’s work.

And Reyes was the one who had been lured into it.

Reyes felt endlessly humiliated and wretched.

“How dare you……. Me……. Like this…….”

Reyes rambled out words laced with rage, but the momentum from earlier was gone. Like an eagle without a beak, he only muttered without confidence. Ashton did not even need to touch Reyes to know what delusion was now ruling his mind.

It was, quite literally, a delusion. He sneered coldly.

Reyes stormed out of the recital. The moment he left the hall, people began to speak as if a spell had been lifted. 

Why was His Highness like that? 

Well, that pair of lovers did act a bit insolent. 

Still, did he really need to go that far?

People’s opinions converged on one point: even if the lovers opposing Reyes had been somewhat ill-mannered, the King’s brother should have ground them down with a more elegant method. Some even began to lend weight to the irreverent view that, considering Reyes had picked the fight first, Ashton and Sabina had not really behaved rudely at all.

The Duchess Rebella approached and sighed.

“Are you all right?”

As the hostess of the recital, she needed to apologize for the unpleasant incident. Apologizing in place of her cousin’s wrongdoing—and doing so to some foreign peddler—wounded her pride deeply, but she was a woman who knew aristocratic etiquette.

“I’m sorry. Today, His Highness—how should I put it—he must have been in a very poor mood……. Still, you should have that wound treated, Ashton.”

“I’m fine.”

Ashton answered firmly in a gentle, smooth tone.

“First aid has been done, so I’ll take care of treatment myself. Calling a healer would feel like a burden to His Grace the Duke Rebella and to you, Madame.”

“A burden, you say.”

Though she said that, the Duchess Rebella felt relieved. She did not want rumors spreading that a healer had been coming and going in the mansion during the recital.

“Then, I should go inside now. I have no shame, speaking as someone who caused a disturbance, but I do hope you will continue the recital. Truly, I’m sorry.”

“Please give me the handkerchief. I’ll have it laundered. I’ll also have a change of clothes prepared for you.”

“Ah, I’m honored. Then.”

Following the Duchess’s guidance, Ashton disappeared to change, and Sabina remained behind like a lone pillar of salt.

With trembling hands, she covered her face.

Once the situation ended, nausea suddenly surged up.

‘Should I have used magic?’

If she had stopped time at the very moment Reyes threw the glass, Ashton would not have been hurt.

But she had not used time magic at all in a long while, so casting such a quick, reflexive attribute spell was nearly impossible.

Then should she have turned back time after it happened?

To before Reyes threw the glass? And then suddenly snatched it away? And after that—what, exactly—did she expect would happen?

Should she have acted more servile so he would not get angry?

No. Reyes had been angry because she had come here bringing Ashton along. From that moment, it was already ruined. She did not know why, exactly, he had been angry “to that extent,” but…….

Then even earlier? Should she have rewound to before she accepted the invitation?

So she could refuse, and let Ashton be tormented by the Duchess Rebella?

At that thought, Sabina jolted in shock. Normally, no matter what happened, she would not think, ‘Should I have turned back time?’ and the like.

Time magic must not be taken lightly. It was dangerous on an entirely different level from teleportation magic or weight-reduction magic. If turning back time became an everyday matter and dulled her mind, even she did not know what she might do.

And…….

Even if she turned back time, it was not as though she would necessarily obtain the outcome she wanted.

But Ashton had been hurt.

Sabina felt as though it was her fault for not using time magic.

Questions bred more questions. If Ashton had truly lost an eye, would she have turned back time then? Or would she still not have? If that shard of glass had struck a vital point—would she have rewound then?

As Sabina sat in the chair where Ashton had bled, face covered, burrowing deeper and deeper into self-destructive thoughts, Ashton—who had returned in changed clothes—lifted her up.

“Let’s go home.”

When Ashton saw her face, his expression hardened at once. Sabina’s face was stained with deep guilt. After hesitating, he slowly brushed her cheek. Sabina thought the spot he touched went numb in an instant. Ashton, who had been secretly reading her mind, felt as though her anguish was infecting him, and he quickly withdrew his hand.

“This isn’t your fault.”

That was what he said. Sabina turned her head and whispered.

“Okay.”

“Sabina?”

She fell silent. Ashton hesitated, then pulled her in. She was drawn into a soft embrace.

Ashton was warm, and unmistakably alive. Sabina closed her eyes.

Yes—if she had rewound time, an even worse result might have happened. Perhaps because she rewound time, he could have lost his eye. Perhaps…… if that had happened, she would have suffered even more.

Yet she did not feel better. Thinking like this itself felt like proof of her cowardice.

“Let’s go back.”

Sabina said weakly.

Ashton followed her, at a loss. Normally, Ashton would escort Sabina and take her all the way to the front of her home, but today it was the reverse. Sabina stubbornly insisted on that arrangement, saying she could return by teleportation anyway.

Meanwhile, Ashton’s feelings were in turmoil. He had not said she should use magic in order to make her regret something like this. He did not care about being hurt. There was a reason he was leaving the wound as it was, and he planned to call a healer tomorrow evening.

“Sabina. The wound can truly be treated. It’s nothing.”

“But you were hurt.”

“It did. At Berna Harbor, I’ve been hurt much worse. Right now, I’ve even forgotten where I was hurt, you know.”

Sabina only fidgeted with the handle of her staff, then looked up at Ashton.

“Pain must be familiar to you.”

Ashton put on an awkward smile. What Sabina was talking about was not the pain of the wound. Abruptly, the subject had jumped to Ashton’s illness.

Had she been keeping it in her heart?

She was more delicate than he expected, so perhaps that was possible.

“That’s just a chronic condition. The pain doesn’t come all that often.”

It was a lie. Recently, the interval had abruptly shortened to about twice a month—how often he needed to drink the black medicine. But he said it anyway, to reassure Sabina.

Sabina was not reassured.

Ashton grew embarrassed.

“I’m really fine. It’s bearable. It’s not your fault either. Understood?”

Speaking firmly, Ashton placed both hands on Sabina’s shoulders and met her eyes. Sabina looked like she might cry.

“Understood.”

She whispered that—and vanished in an instant.

Ashton raked a hand back through his hair. This was not how he had wanted things to turn out.

If Ashton himself had been a time mage, he would have immediately rewound time to earlier today and would not have said a single word to Sabina about the recital invitation.