Mail had decided to visit the kingdom because there was something she wanted to confirm.

The reversal of time meant living the same dates twice. While the future where the kingdom had been destroyed had been completely altered, for most people, the time before the change had likely repeated itself exactly as before.

This meant that fragments of the lost time were likely lingering in countless people’s minds—perhaps as vague prophetic dreams or inexplicable feelings of déjà vu.

Surely, even among her dearest ones.

To gain certainty, Mail returned to her homeland.

“Mail, I heard the selection ceremony was canceled. What happened?”

The moment she faced her father, her simple intent to confirm things vanished completely.

Mail suddenly realized she couldn’t endure without confessing everything. By the time she became aware, she had already recounted everything she knew, as if making a full confession.

Even after hearing an unbelievable tale that would more likely invite ridicule than trust, the Duke remained composed. He neither expressed astonishment, laughed, nor doubted her. Instead, he calmly asked one question.

“Do you trust him?”

It was a natural question. Mail nodded.

“Yes.”

“How much do you trust him?”

“As much as he trusts me.”

The Duke was silent for a moment after hearing her answer. He simply gazed quietly into his daughter’s eyes, then burst into hearty laughter.

“From what you’ve told me, to him, you’re an irreplaceable savior. If the saved trusts their savior, then your trust in him is beyond measure.”

“I mean it.”

“I know. I can see there’s no falsehood in your story.”

“…Do you not think it’s an absurd delusion?”

“I’ve raised you too long and observed you for too many years to think that.”

His tone and gaze were warm, and because of that warmth, Mail felt an unexpected surge of tears. She barely managed to hold them back, swallowing the lump rising in her throat. With the same warmth, the Duke continued speaking.

“If you trust him, then I think I can trust him too. Even if it’s a future that once existed, it’s already disappeared and won’t return.”

“…Father.”

“And besides, I don’t even remember it. Even if I wanted to resent him, I’d need grounds for it. Oh, I did have a faint vision in a dream once.”

But it was only as trivial as recalling what kind of jam had been spread on the morning bread. With a joking tone, the Duke remarked how pathetic it was that his first-ever vision at his age was of such a mundane level. Mail, who had nearly cried, ended up laughing instead.

“In any case, I give my permission. Be with him as much as you like. In truth, as long as you’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

“…When I read those words in books, I never imagined they’d be so moving.”

“Nor did I imagine I’d ever say them for real.”

“Your Grace, young miss. May I briefly interrupt this touching moment?”

At that moment, the nanny, who had been present all along, asked for permission to speak. When the Duke allowed it, she eagerly spoke up.

“I only need to know one thing.”

Then she asked.

“Does he think the young miss is the most beautiful woman on the continent?”

“…”

Mail blinked. Did he ever say such a thing? Well, she had a feeling—just a guess—that he might think along those lines. After some hesitation, she shyly replied.

“…He does.”

“Great! His eyes are working fine, then. That settles it!”

The nanny’s voice boomed, loud and clear. She was undeniably sincere. The Duke widened his eyes in surprise before breaking into loud laughter, commenting that his wife would have started by evaluating that very point.

Mail awkwardly joined in the laughter, harboring one small concern in her heart.

‘…Should I ask him that ‘when I return?’

‘How beautiful am I?

It was the birth of a question that, in the future, Lohayden would end up answering for three days and nights straight until Mail finally relented.