Chapter 1: Repeated Regression

There’s a saying about resilience.

No matter how excruciating the pain, the wounds eventually heal, and if you’re beaten enough times, calluses will inevitably form.

But why couldn’t I do that?

Why did I keep stubbornly enduring?

What was I even struggling for all this time?

Someday, I thought you’d look back at me, that you’d hold the same feelings as I did, that you’d see the one who always waited for you, always just behind you.

I nurtured that hopeless dream.

Trapped in the loop of repeating time, I kept looking at you—over and over again—never able to look away.

At you, who never once turned back.

Leilia’s toes clung precariously to the edge of the cliff, as if she might throw herself over at any moment.

At the same time—crack, thunk—shards of broken rock tumbled down, scraping against the surface as they fell into the churning sea below.

The crashing of the waves sounded just like someone’s cries of anguish.

As if to say, “I was here, and I’ve been hurting for so long,” the ocean shattered into black foam and broke apart again and again.

“I regret ever meeting you.”

Her delicate voice trembled pitifully in the cold wind.

Against the biting air, two shadows faced each other.

Leilia’s face was wet with tears, while the man’s expression was chillingly cold.

How long had it been since we last faced each other?

Do you even know?

Even now, in this moment, I’m still trying to catch your eyes—

how utterly pathetic and miserable I must look, I wonder if you could even imagine.

If I took just one more step back, I’d fall off the endless cliff.

Her slender legs lost their balance and wavered, but the man remained unmoved.

Almost as if he wanted her to fall, Carlisle stroked his sharp jaw and spoke slowly.

“Regret.”

His deep, low voice echoed her words, repeating them.

Then, with a faint scoff, the corner of his otherwise composed mouth curled up.

“What a shame. Every moment was happiness for me.”

Carlisle spoke briefly and took a step forward.

That cruel man would probably never even imagine—

his dry, unfeeling face was tearing her heart to pieces.

Her battered chest wasn’t just broken; it was left in shreds.

“Liar.”

Yes, just as Leilia said, everything about Carlisle was a lie.

They’d spent countless nights together, their bodies tangled time and time again, but now she had no choice but to admit it had all meant nothing to him—just another thing that needed to be done.

‘To Carlisle, you’re nothing more than a tool. Just something to provoke me, to use and throw away.’

Just like that woman had said, she was only ever a tool—

discarded the moment she outlived her usefulness.

“Even if that’s true, it changes nothing. If you’re trying to threaten me, find another way. Don’t lower yourself to bargaining with your own life.”

At his response, Leilia bit her trembling lips and forced down her emotions.

Each word Carlisle spoke pierced her like a blade, and only when she was torn to rags did she finally realize—

He was at the heart of every tragedy.

“…Even now, you’re perfectly calm.”

“Don’t act on emotion. Think about the child you’re carrying.”

With those words, the anger she’d been barely suppressing began to rise from deep within.

Echoing in her mind were all the truths that woman had told her about the past.

‘Do you really think all of that was just a coincidence? Did you really never doubt him, not even once?’

‘Don’t let your guard down just because you survived this long. Carlisle will do anything to achieve his goals.’

‘Are you really trying to protect the child? If it were me, I’d run away right now. Don’t the women of the Charlotte family usually lack maternal instinct?’

That smug voice, that knowing look, as if she held all the answers.

She wondered if he could even imagine her running away with her heavy, aching body, trying not to cry in front of him.

Or did he simply choose not to see it?

“In the end, both me and our child are just tools to you, aren’t we?”

Leilia answered in a cold voice, breaking the silence.

The sharpness in her voice was something Carlisle had never seen before, and his brow arched faintly.

“Leilia.”

“Don’t say my name like that. I won’t fall for it anymore.”

Her pale fingers shook as she wrapped them around her swollen belly.

Her once-clear, honey-colored eyes lost their focus and drifted.

For the first time, the composure on Carlisle’s lips hardened to a thin line.

“I wanted you to suffer because of me. For your whole life—no, even until the moment you die—I wanted you to be tormented by guilt over me. I wished for it.”

“So, your grand conclusion is just to end your own life?”

“Just…?”

At those cruel words, hot tears streamed down her pale cheeks.

What was the point of enduring any more, when he didn’t love her?

Even struggling for revenge would only leave her wounded.

With that painfully clear answer, Leilia’s body went cold and her heartbeat slowed.

Noticing the change, Carlisle’s lips curled at one corner as he locked eyes with her, as if etching his next words into her mind.

“If you can, go ahead and try.”

“……”

“In the end, I’ll always be waiting at the edge of that cliff.”

With those provoking words, her precarious footing shifted back another step.

She knew there was nowhere left to go, yet she couldn’t escape.

All she wanted now was to finally break free of this hell.

“I’m just… so sick of all this.”

With falling tears, Leilia’s body tumbled from the cliff’s edge.

Suicide.

Thus ended Leilia Charlotte’s fourth life.

***

“Marriage, huh…”

A faint crack formed across Leilia’s face as she glanced at the newspaper.

She’d hoped it might be different this time, but nothing had changed.

『Feltro Times』

Imperial Year 1755, February 25th

 [Breaking News] The Sun of Feltro, Emperor Igret Erendel. Lavish wedding with Princess Claudia, a former enemy nation’s princess… The Imperial Family declares, It was a celebration that will go down in the history of the Empire.

Fifth time already.

This was already the fifth time she’d read the news of their wedding.

How much longer would she have to endure this living hell?

Leilia bit down on her lip, crumpling the newspaper in her hands.

“So sick of it. Seriously.”

With a short sigh, Leilia tossed the mangled newspaper aside.

Her fingers, searching for an escape, flipped through the pages of an old book lying at her bedside.

Just then, a knock sounded on the closed door.

“Miss Leilia! Please, you have to get up, now!”

Her maid, Timo, bustled into the room, her voice full of urgency.

But even at that commotion, her indifferent mistress only burrowed deeper under her covers, continuing to read.

“That book again? I’ll never understand why you insist on clinging to a book written in some language nobody even knows.”

“If you’re just here to nag, you can go. I have nothing to say.”

Timo had turned fifteen that year, the same age as Leilia.

Maybe because they were peers, or perhaps because they’d grown up together, but there was something between them that was hard to find between a master and a servant.

“It’s not nagging, it’s worry! Anyway, this isn’t the time for this. If you knew who’s here—!”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Leilia cut her off, flipping a page of her book with casual indifference.

Under that steady gaze, clear golden eyes rolled up to meet Timo’s.

“Who—who is it?”

“My tutor.”

“Gasp! H-how did you know? The nanny said to keep it a secret no matter what—!”

“There’s no way I wouldn’t know.”

As if bothered, Leilia tapped her sore shoulder and lay back down.

At the same time, Timo started bouncing in place, unable to contain herself.

“Miss, what are you doing? If you know who’s here, you have to get up. You have five lessons today—!”

“I know everything already, even without those.”

At her continued nagging, Leilia replied flatly and looked away, then yanked the heavy comforter over her head to escape the situation.

The fact that news of Igret and Claudia’s wedding had already been reported meant five years remained—

five years until she would have to face that person again.

For once, Leilia hoped her prediction would be wrong as she curled up tight beneath the blankets.

‘Truly sick of this.’

Some people dream of eternal life, but that’s only because they have no idea what it’s really like.

They can’t imagine how boring and empty endless time is, or how repeated wounds sap every ounce of will—

unless they’ve lived through it themselves.

“Miss, please get up. If you keep this up, the Marquis Charlotte is going to punish you again. He just beat you not long ago…”

Perhaps realizing her words, Timo glanced over with a hint of guilt and let her voice trail off.

Honey-colored eyes settled on her own hand, noting the red and purple bruises that mottled her skin like parasites.

Seeing them, a powerless smile curled at Leilia’s lips.

“Today… I just want to rest.”

With a dry voice, she slowly lowered her long lashes.

Heat flushed under her closed eyelids—so sudden, she barely noticed it happen.

“But, miss…!”

“Later.”

Leilia truly just wanted to rest now.

***

Time passed quickly, and soon the long-predicted Imperial Year 1760 arrived.

For those five years, Leilia did nothing but let the days slip by.

She met no one, never stepped outside.

At least, that’s how it appeared.

‘Miss, the garden flowers are in full bloom. Would you like to take a walk?’

‘No.’

‘Miss, the snowy fields are so beautiful! How about going out to see the snowflakes?’

‘I’ve already seen more than enough.’

She just burrowed into her bed, flipping through battered old books, cut off from the world and drifting listlessly through each day.

She always said the same things:

I’m bored. I want this to end. Please, let it all be over.

And, at last—

“I just want to… die.”

“There you go again. I thought you’d finally quieted down, but you’re starting up again,”

Timo muttered, shaking her head as she mopped the floor.

Still, she snuck glances at Leilia, a figure almost too beautiful for a painting—mysterious silver hair, clear golden eyes like cider, skin so pale it looked bloodless.

To the outside world, she was the envied daughter of a marquis, lacking nothing.

But to Timo, Leilia was like a dead flower.

A blossom withering behind bars of her own making—neither crying nor smiling, just slowly dying.

“The item?”

Leilia’s voice broke the silence.

This time, there was a force in her tone not usually there.

“We’re trying, but it’s not easy. They’re asking a fortune—it’d buy you an island. And with all these black market deals, there’s always a risk of being scammed.”

“I don’t care what it costs. Just get it.”

“You can’t just buy it with money, that’s the problem. We’ve been failing for years. Maybe you should just give up. Actually, why do you even need it so badly?”

Leilia bit her lip and avoided answering.

Timo, as if she hadn’t expected a reply, kept scrubbing the window frame and continued.

“They say the item might show up tonight. I’ve sent a proxy, but there’s no guarantee we’ll win the bid.”

At those words, Leilia’s lips curved faintly.

Her thin legs moved her immediately to the dressing table.

She opened a sealed box, and lavishly crafted jewelry shimmered inside.

“That… that’s your late mother’s keepsake. Are you really going to offer that up too?”

“It doesn’t have an owner anymore. I should take responsibility—at least this much.”

“But it’s all you have left from your mother…”

Bang.

Leilia slammed the emerald ring onto the box, ending the conversation.

The golden eyes that had hung so dull now flashed cold and sharp.

Faced with that rare edge, Timo shrank back and clamped her lips shut.

“That’s why I said get it, no matter what. Whatever it takes, bring it to me. I’m even willing to give up my mother’s keepsake for this.”

Leilia bit her trembling lips and averted her eyes.

She hated herself for being so cruel to Timo, but if she didn’t, she felt she might explode.

Once she’d wrangled her feelings into order, her voice grew cold.

“I’m staking everything on this, Timo.”

“Miss…”

“I’ll sell my soul if that’s what it takes. I won’t let this repeat again. So help me—this is the first and last thing I’ll ever ask of you.”