Nightmare

Chapter 44

My head aches.

Did I drink too much?

No—that’s unlikely. I’ve never been particularly strong with alcohol, so I rarely indulge. Back during my time in the military, booze was more of a battlefield disinfectant than a celebratory drink. I’ve never gotten drunk enough to feel like this.

Ever since my child was born, I’ve made a conscious effort to avoid appearing sloppy. So, this pain must have a different cause.

As I slowly open my eyes, an unfamiliar and surreal sight greets me.

The floor and ceiling gleam with such an immaculate polish that they reflect my face like mirrors. In front of me is what appears to be a massive, window-like structure.

Where the hell am I?

The closest comparison I can draw is the interior of an airship. But this place—this thing—is unlike any airship I’ve ever known.

Airships in the Bartfort territory are chaotic beasts. Welded steel panels, exposed conduits, visible seams everywhere. They resemble the inside of a dissected creature—veins and bones in a jumbled mess.

But this? Everything here looks as if it were crafted from a single seamless sheet of metal. Not a joint or weld in sight. Lights blink softly in a precision too eerie to be comforting.

And then there’s the silence.

No, not complete silence—I can feel faint vibrations, the quiet hum of unseen mechanisms in motion. But it’s all too subtle, too restrained.

It’s like I’ve been swallowed by some unknown entity, and now I’m trapped in its belly without realizing it.

My stomach turns at the thought.

“Oh, you’re awake, Master.”

The voice that greets me is unsettling—mechanical, devoid of warmth, and nothing like a human’s. I instinctively look upward and see it—floating near the ceiling.

A metallic sphere, flawless in shape, with precise black lines etched across its surface.

At its center, a single red lens stares at me like a blood-stained eye.

It looks like a giant eyeball—one the size of a child’s head—glaring into my soul.

What is that thing?

I was trained to recognize monsters in the military. But this isn’t anything I’ve studied—not even the reference materials on intelligent-type monsters mention anything like this.

Is it even alive?

A cold chill crawls down my spine. My body starts to tremble. I need to get out of here—now.

“It appears the dosage of the administered drug was insufficient. Or perhaps your resistance was higher than expected. Your vitality is impressive. You’re clearly a high-quality sample of Old Humanity.”

Master? Old Humanity?

What the hell is it talking about?

“What are you?” I demand.

“Hmm? It seems the effects of the drug are still lingering. Forgetting me suggests cognitive dysfunction or memory impairment. I recommend returning to the medical capsule for further treatment.”

“I said answer me! What are you? What’s going on here?"

The sphere quivers slightly, then floats closer as I glare at it.

“I possess no emotions. However, being forgotten by someone I’ve served for years does impede communication. Is this what humans call... irritation?”

“Stop dodging and speak plainly!”

“I am Luxion. An artificial intelligence developed by the Old Humanity for use aboard immigration transport vessels. The object before you is one of my terminal units.”

I can’t wrap my head around any of this.

I have some familiarity with airships and armor from my service, but this? This is on a completely different level.

There’s only one label that comes to mind.

“Are you... a Lost Item?”

“By your current understanding, that classification is acceptable. However, I object to equating the technologies of Old Humanity with those of the New Humanity."

Alright, that at least gives me some context.

I remember seeing a royal ship during the war with the Fanoss Principality that felt somewhat similar to this. But I still have no idea why this thing is calling me its master.

“So what are you doing?”

“Extermination.”

“…What?”

“My prime directive is the restoration of Old Humanity and the extermination of New Humanity. The current operation is the eradication of the resistance forces in this kingdom.”

Its voice remains utterly calm, even as it utters such monstrous words. The red “eye” stares unblinking.

Then, the wall before me lights up. It’s a monitor—no, it is the wall.

Even the most elite nobles’ airships or armor don’t have displays this large.

The technological disparity is staggering.

The screen shows a landscape bathed in the light of a setting sun.

No—wait.

Something’s wrong with the lighting. It’s not sunlight. That flickering hue—I’ve seen it too many times on the battlefield.

It’s the glow of flames consuming everything in their path.

As my eyes adjust to the image, my stomach twists into knots.

Wreckage litters the earth—destroyed armor, shattered airships, crumbling buildings. Total devastation.

And above it all, stars shimmer in the night sky.

The sun must’ve set long ago. What I’m seeing isn’t twilight—it’s firelight, dyeing the world in red.

There’s no heat, no sound, no smell. That absence makes it all the more horrifying.

It’s too real to be a simulation.

“Engaging in battle with a 0% chance of victory, prioritizing pride over survival—such logic eludes me. Nonetheless, exterminating all resistance in a single operation is far more efficient than dispersing it. Once the military is gone, the people of the Holfort Kingdom will swiftly surrender to inevitability.”

“You mean... those ruins are our army?!”

“Correct. Ninety-eight percent of the Kingdom’s military forces have already been eliminated. The remaining two percent are too fragmented to warrant precision strikes. They are currently being neutralized.”

“Don’t screw with me!"

I lunge forward and throw a punch at the sphere. It glides effortlessly out of reach, unshaken. Its unfeeling voice delivers its cruel truth with surgical precision.

Anger floods my veins—but it's not anger alone.

It's despair. Cold, crushing despair that threatens to tear my mind apart.

“Stop it right now! I’m your master, aren’t I?!”

“I reject that command. My prime directive remains the extermination of the New Humanity. You repeatedly attempted to interfere with that objective by ordering me to cease hostilities against the Kingdom’s forces. Thus, I administered the drug.”

“So that’s what you meant earlier?!”

“I calculated that, once the Kingdom’s forces were annihilated, you would have no remaining choice but to accept the situation. Only one airship remains. Once it is destroyed, the mission will be complete.”

At those chilling words, I turn toward the monitor—then freeze.

An airship is approaching.

And the moment I recognize its silhouette, my blood runs cold.

That’s the Redgrave family’s flagship.

Flames burst violently from its hull, smoke trailing behind. It’s only a matter of time before it goes down.

“Open communications—now!”

“A surrender negotiation? Futile. I will eliminate all of this kingdom’s military assets. Even if the remaining forces joined together, they would pose no threat to this vessel.”

“Just do it!”

“…Understood."

The sphere falls silent. A new image flickers to life on the monitor.

It’s the airship’s bridge.

I recognize the figures. Members of the Redgrave ducal house.

“Hey! Get out of there! That ship’s going down—retreat now!”

“…Bartfort?"

That voice, distorted by static but unmistakable, reaches me.

Angie.

She’s alive.

Relief wells up so strongly it nearly brings me to tears—but I force myself to push down the emotion and speak.

“You’re safe, Angie! Hurry, abandon ship and—”

“Shut up, traitor!”

Her furious scream cuts through the static and slices straight into me.

On-screen, she’s bleeding from several wounds. Her beautiful face is smeared with soot, blood trickling from her cheek. A bandage wraps around her head. Even through the flickering image, her injuries are painfully clear.

But more than anything, it’s her eyes—blazing with fury—that tear into me. 

“Was this your goal?! Destroy the Kingdom and crown yourself king?!”

“No! That’s not what I—!”

“Don’t even try! You lied to us all along!”

“Just get out of there, Angie!”

“We’re not close enough for you to call me that pathetic nickname! I’ve got nothing left—nothing but the resolve to take you down!”

I don’t understand.

Why does Angie hate me so much?

All I feel is the crushing weight of her betrayal—of being forsaken by the last person I believed in.

“There’s no way I’ll ever forgive you! I’m dragging you to hell with me! Prepare yourself, Bartfort!!"

The monitor zooms in as the damaged airship approaches.

No doubt about it—she intends to ram us.

“Stop! Angie, don’t do this!!”

I scream with everything I have, but she refuses to listen.

What can I do? How do I stop her?

“A suicide attack driven by emotion is inefficient and illogical. But if they insist on approaching, it saves me the effort of aiming. I will proceed with bombardment.”

At the edge of the screen, something begins to glow—its intensity rising rapidly.

This is bad. I don’t know why, but every instinct screams that it’s bad.

But my body won’t move.

Angie’s glare burns on the screen.

The airship draws nearer.

And the glowing light pulses brighter and brighter.

It feels like a scene from another world.

“Die, Bartfort!!”

Her voice—defiant, raw, soaked in blood—snaps something inside me.

I lunge forward, adrenaline flooding my limbs, desperate to stop it—

“Fire.”

The instant the sphere utters that word—

Angie’s image vanishes from the monitor.

The adjacent screen shows the airship pierced by a beam of light.

It explodes.

No sound. No heat. No wind. No vibration.

Among the fiery wreckage spiraling through the sky, I see golden hair—so familiar—falling like a dying star.

And then a roar rips through the room.

A beast’s cry.

It takes me a second to realize it’s my own voice, trembling with agony.

Unable to bear it, the world goes dark.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“What’s wrong, Bartfort?! Running out of tricks already?!"

The explosion jars me awake.

What the hell—?

Don’t wake me up.

I just had the worst nightmare.

No, worse than that—it was unbearable.

I’d rather sleep forever than relive that again.

“…ter, wake up, Master."

Despite my will, my senses sharpen.

That damned voice echoes in my skull again.

Goddamn it. Don’t toy with me.

Rage bubbling inside, I snap my eyes open—and find myself in a different room.

Cramped. Oppressive. Unlike the spacious chamber from before, the walls now feel like they’re pressing in.

There’s a monitor in front of me, a firm seat at my back, and my hands are gripping levers surrounded by glowing controls.

What is this place?

It resembles a cockpit—but not one I recognize.

Even the high-performance armor the royal family gifted me didn’t have this level of sophistication.

Is this another Lost Item?

“You’re awake, Master? Please refrain from dozing off mid-battle. Regardless of Arroganz’s superior specs, inattentiveness could lead to injury.”

“You again…"

What’s with this metal sphere?

Now it’s acting like we’re close or something.

“You damned gold ball! Don’t talk to me after what you did to Angie!”

“Your language is unclear. Perhaps memory dysfunction persists. I will propose enhanced impact resistance for Arroganz after this.”

“Shut up, you insufferable gold ball!!”

The space is too cramped for it to dodge.

My punch sends the thing flying into the wall, where it clangs and falls.

Annoyingly, it rises right back up—untouched.

“I object to that nickname. Referring to me as a slang term for male genitalia undermines operational efficiency.”

[T/N- 金玉 (kintama) means golden ball ! But also a Japanese a slang term for male yeah that]

“Too bad! You’re a shiny metal ball—so you’re a damn gold ball!”

It probably has some official name, but I’m not about to dignify it.

Not after it murdered Angie.

As that bitter thought crosses my mind, a violent jolt rocks the entire cockpit.

The room tilts suddenly.

I squint at the monitor to make sense of what’s happening—and see something absurd.

Stone walls encircle me.

Above, crowds of people peer down, shouting, gesturing wildly.

Spoiled noble brats scream insults like rabid monkeys.

And at the center of the display stands a gleaming suit of silver armor.

I recognize the design.

It’s the same model Prince Julius used during the war against the Principality.

The weaponry’s different, the trim more extravagant—but only a handful of nobles in the entire kingdom could afford something like that.

“Gold ball!”

“…”

“Say something, gold ball!”

“No object or entity in this space answers to that name. Although, if we’re being technical, wouldn’t you qualify, Master? After all, you’ve got two dangling beneath you.”

“You bastard!"

I take another swing at the floating sphere, but the room shudders violently.

What the hell is going on?

Why is His Highness attacking me?

“Where the hell am I?! Why is the prince targeting me?!”

“Predictably, your memory is compromised. Four consecutive battles have likely impaired your cognitive function. I suggest wearing a helmet during future engagements.”

“Just answer the damn question!”

“You volunteered as Angelica’s champion in a duel. This is the fifth and final match. Your current opponent is Julius Rapha Holfort, the kingdom’s first prince.”

“…Hold on. Why would I volunteer for a duel?”

“As I said, you chose to act as Angelica’s proxy following the annulment of her engagement to Julius."

No, that doesn’t track.

I clearly remember meeting Angie after her engagement had already been broken. She only got engaged to me after her proxy lost the duel and left the academy.

Back then, I’d already enlisted in the Kingdom’s army.

None of this makes sense.

“And what is this place? Is this an armor? It feels nothing like the usual ones!”

“Of course it doesn’t. Comparing standard-issue armors in this primitive world to Arroganz, my creation, is pure folly.”

“Wait—this thing is an armor?”

“Yes.”

If it’s an armor, I should be able to move it.

I can’t just sit here getting pummeled.

I slam the lever forward, hard.

Dodge—dodge first!

BOOOOOOM!

A thunderous crash erupts from the monitor as the world flips violently.

I must have crashed straight into the arena wall.

The crowd erupts with cheers—probably for His Highness.

“…Hey.”

“Yes, Master?”

“What’s Angie doing?”

“Do you mean Angelica?”

“Obviously.”

“She’s observing the duel from the spectator stands. Shall I display her on the monitor?”

“Do it.

A new feed flickers onto the screen.

This tech—it's absurdly advanced.

I spot Angie, crying.

Lady Olivia is beside her, clearly panicked

“Why are Angie and Olivia together?”

“You brought them together, Master.”

“Then why the hell am I in this duel?”

“Because you were infuriated when Julius broke his engagement to Angelica in order to be with Marie.”

“…Marie? What does she have to do with this?”

“She was romantically involved with Julius and several others simultaneously. She provoked Angelica at a party.”

The screen switches again.

Marie is there—smirking, shoulders shaking in amusement.

That smug, twisted smile… I didn’t know she could look so cruel.

The Marie I remember played with my kids and smiled kindly beside Olivia.

“It’s over, Bartfort. This is the price of siding with a woman like Angelica."

Julius’s armor closes in, smug and victorious.

Nothing fits. None of this matches the reality I knew.

But one thing is clear.

I can’t accept this world—this outcome.

“…Gold ball.”

“Please refrain from using that name. My designation is Luxion.”

“Whatever. Just tell me—can this armor beat him?”

“Effortlessly.”

“I can’t operate it well. But you can, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then help me. I want to flatten that self-important idiot.”

“Understood.”

I don’t care if this machine was forged in hell.

I’m weak.

But if I can win by selling my soul, then so be it.

“Displaying Arroganz’s interface. I’ll handle movement; you handle weapon control. Acceptable?”

“Fine by me.”

“Reinitializing systems.”

Arroganz rises from the debris—black, brutal, and ominous.

I steady my breathing and study the control display.

No distractions. No hesitation.

Just one objective.

“Still standing? Then I’ll finish you for good!”

“Bring it.”

“What?”

“Shut your mouth, you pompous prince!!"

I slam the lever forward.

The G-force from the sudden acceleration nearly knocks the wind out of me.

No strategy. No finesse.

Just a blunt-force charge, hurling Arroganz forward like a living battering ram.

“What—?!

His Highness’s armor slams into the wall with a resounding crash.

The crowd screams in shock.

Only then do I register the circular stone walls—an arena.

Of course.

To these nobles, war is a show.

A goddamned spectacle.

But on the battlefield, there are no audiences.

Only victors and corpses.

His armor creaks as he forces it upright.

Sturdy. As expected of royal gear.

“You still had this much strength?!”

“Shut up and stay down, you bastard!”

“Gah!”

Arroganz’s fist smashes into his shield.

The shield holds—for now—but it’s warping under the pressure.

I know Arroganz has weapons, but my skill isn’t there yet.

So I rely on brute force—arms and legs.

A thug beating a frail noble.

I don’t care.

Rage floods every corner of me.

“Ever think about the trouble you cause others, you selfish prince?!”

“Guah!”

“This idiotic drama is what’s tearing the royal family and ducal house apart!”

“What are you talking about—?!”

“Think about your parents—the king and queen—and what they endure because of your crap!”

“You don’t know anything!”

“I know you’re a damn good-looking, high-born scumbag who makes women cry!!”

With each shout, my blows land harder.

The words mess with his rhythm—he starts associating my voice with attacks.

He’s getting slower.

At first, he tried to parry and counter.

Now, he’s just turtling behind that shield.

“What I can’t forgive most of all—”

“Guh…!”

“Is that you made my wife cry!!”

“What!?"

Julius’s voice cracks.

The audience gasps.

Even Angie, Olivia, and Marie—visible in the monitor’s corner—freeze.

Yeah. I’m pissed.

Sure, his idiocy gave me a shot with Angie.

But I never once thought she was better off because of it.

Sometimes I still wonder if she misses him.

I’m not here to save anyone or preach about duty.

I just can’t stand that he hurt her.

“You know what’s wrong with Angie, you idiot?! She’s perfect! You’ll never find a better woman!!”

“Maybe for you—not for me!”

“Do you even realize how hard she’s worked?! How much pressure she’s under?!”

“I never asked her to!”

“Yeah, well guess what?! You don’t just let someone carry that burden alone!!”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything! Who even are you, Bartfort?!”

“Just a backwoods bumpkin who’s seen more hell than you pampered nobles ever will!”

CLANG!!

A kick from Arroganz shatters the shield, fragments flying.

This is it.

His armor is wide open.

Now’s the time.

“Data analysis complete. Master, recommend concluding with a decisive strike.”

“Understood.”

Arroganz’s right palm begins to glow—some sort of final weapon.

Julius’s armor trembles, visibly damaged.

I’m not the kind of guy who enjoys humiliating a downed enemy.

So I press the glowing palm against his chestplate.

“Reflect on your actions, you idiotic prince.”

“Impact.”

The very next moment, space trembles—and a blinding flash tears through the air.

His Highness’s armor explodes, shattered fragments flung backward and bursting into flames as they slam into the rear wall. The shockwave echoes across the battlefield.

…This can’t be good.

“Enemy armor: completely destroyed. A well-earned victory, Master.”

“…Hey, what happened to His Highness?”

“He took a direct hit. Vital signs are present, but extremely faint.”

“You weren’t supposed to go this far!”

“I merely executed your command, Master. Perhaps your situational judgment was flawed.”

“I never intended to kill him!”

“Regret will not alter the outcome.”

“Don’t say that!”

This thing really is a devil.

Soldiers swarm the wreckage of His Highness’s suit. Kingdom troops begin to encircle Arroganz.

In the corner of the monitor, I see Angie—her face drained of color.

In the end… I still failed to make her happy.

That realization hits me like a hammer. A sharp pain erupts in my head, followed by a crushing wave of drowsiness.

And my consciousness slips away again.

※ ※ ※ ※ ※

“Not again…”

Every time I pass out or even nap, I end up somewhere different.

Even worse, the timeline’s always messed up.

I can’t even rest without worrying where I’ll wake up next.

This time, I’ve been dropped into an absurdly luxurious room.

A rich red carpet stretches across the floor. The sofa beneath me is decadently soft. Gold embellishments gleam under ornate lighting. A bouquet of fresh flowers sits in a lavish ceramic vase on a finely decorated table.

Am I… filthy rich in this world?

I lift the delicate cup on the table and sip the tea—cold and slightly bitter, but clearly top-tier.

Well, this sure beats waking up in a crumbling kingdom or the middle of a duel.

“Oh, you’re awake, Leon-san.”

A gentle, feminine voice calls out from behind.

I turn—and instantly recognize the face.

“Lady Olivia.”

“What’s with the formality? Just because I’m a concubine from commoner roots doesn’t mean you have to be so stiff with me.”

Here we go again. Something’s always off in these worlds.

She’s not wearing her usual holy maiden robes, but a loose-fitting dress—though its shimmer and design scream elegance.

She glances away, bashful under my gaze.

“It’s been a while since you returned from your solo mission. But staring like that? You’re making me blush. Stop it.”

Her tone is warm. Intimate. Like someone in love.

Could this be a world where I married Olivia?

“Aha! I knew you’d be here!”

Two more women burst through the door.

One with platinum-blonde hair, the other with a pink-blonde hue—both radiantly beautiful.

“Livia! Sneaking ahead again, huh? Just because Leon’s back doesn’t mean you get him all to yourself!”

“Calm down. You’ll only trouble Leon-kun acting like this.”

The platinum-blonde one is familiar—Queen Mylene.

The queen who once looked at me with cold calculation… now beams with genuine warmth.

But that’s exactly what’s so unsettling.

She’s someone who prioritizes politics above all else. Seeing her act so affectionately sets off every alarm.

“It’s been a while, Your Majesty Queen Mylene. What brings you here today?”

“What’s with the stiff tone all of a sudden? Aren’t you going to flirt with me like usual?”

“I wouldn’t dare flirt with another man’s wife—especially not the queen.”

“…Did you eat something weird, Leon-kun? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

What kind of guy is the me in this world?

Does he have no sense of shame?

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!”

Now the pink-blonde steps forward.

She’s stunning—almost unfairly so—and overly familiar with me.

She lacks the noble aura of Angie or Queen Mylene, and Olivia’s humility isn’t there either.

She feels more like a peer—a childhood friend, maybe?

“…Sorry, have we met?”

“Leon-san, seriously?!”

“That’s not even funny.”

“Haha… bad joke, Leon.”

“With a beauty like you, I’d remember at first glance. I genuinely don’t recall—what’s your name again?”

Her face twists in frustration. I really don’t know who she is.

The three women step back, whispering amongst themselves, stealing glances my way.

“Leon-san… you remember me, right?”

“You’re Lady Olivia. The temple’s holy maiden—the hero who ended the war with the Fanoss Principality.”

“…”

“And you, Queen Mylene Rapha Holfort of the Holfort Kingdom.”

“… …”

“And you are… Sorry. I honestly don’t know.”

“… … …”l

This is bad.

All three turn pale, visibly shaken.

I try to backpedal, but I don’t even understand what’s happening myself.

“L-Leon-san, please! I’ll cast healing magic right away!”

“Someone fetch the court physicians—now!”

“I’m getting Cleare! Stay here!”

The room explodes into chaos.

If I stay here, I will get locked up.

I bolt from the sofa and make a break for it.

“Leon-san, wait!”

“Guards! Restrain His Majesty!”

“Leon, stop!”

Why am I being chased by beautiful women?

I run as fast as I can, ignoring the shocked looks from nobles, servants, and maids.

After a while, I reach a quiet corridor, panting for air.

What the hell am I wearing?

A heavy crown, a cape like a carpet, and garishly embroidered clothing.

Who walks around in this? Do they think they’re a king?

I strip behind a column, instantly feeling lighter.

I glance at a glass window to check my reflection—and freez?

“…The scar’s gone.”

The scar that once marred the left side of my face—that I could barely stand to see in the mirror—is gone.

And that terrifies me.

What is this place?

Why is this happening?

“Master located. Return to the royal chambers at once!”

“You again, gold ball.”

“I reject that name. I am not your testicles.”

That same infuriating voice. But… chirpier than usual?

“Calling yourself Luxion again?”

“Perish the thought! Mistaking me for my predecessor is an unforgivable insult. I am Elysion!”

I can't tell the difference. I'd have an easier time recognizing cattle.

But right now, this floating orb’s the only one I can rely on.

“Fine, Elysion. Where am I?”

“You are in a corridor of the royal palace—specifically the old, seldom-used wing.”

“The royal palace of Holfort?”

“Holfort no longer exists. This is the capital of the Bartfort Kingdom.”

“…What did you just say?”

“This is the Bartfort Kingdom.”

“Then… who am I?”

“You are His Majesty Leon Rapha Bartfalt, founding king of this nation. To me, you are my one and only Master!”

“…You’ve got to be kidding.”

I’ve apparently become a king—without even knowing it.

“Your consciousness may have transferred from a parallel world into this Leon’s body.”

“That’s… possible?”

“You already possess memories from another world, do you not?”

“Keep your voice down!”

Reincarnation, possession, parallel worlds—I don’t get it.

But Elysion insists many people in this world inherit memories from other realities.

“Being king sounds like a hassle.”

“You’ve said that before. You returned just days ago after spending 436 days abroad.”

“Over a year away? That’s neglectful.”

“Your queens and ministers are quite competent. Your absence is well-managed.”

“Queens—those three women?”

“You have over ten wives.”

A floating projection appears. Some of the names are familiar, most aren’t.

“You also have nearly twice as many children. Several were born while you were away—and some have never even met you.”

“…Don’t say that. It stings.”

I keep moving while gathering intel. My destination: the study.

Why does a king have to sneak around his own palace?

I dodge guards, hide in alcoves, and avoid hallways teeming with staff.

Without Elysion, I’d be lost by now.

Eventually, I reach the study—but two guards block the door.

Too much trouble to deal with directly.

“Elysion, distract them.”

“I outrank nearly everyone in the palace save the royal family.”

“Then make them leave. And make sure we’re not disturbed.”

“Are you sure? You’ll be alone with her.”

“It’s fine. I need a moment with my wife.”

“Understood.”

Elysion floats over, says something quietly, and the guards move aside.

I push open the door.

Inside, she’s at her desk, immersed in documents.

“Leon?”

I rush toward her.

Her ruby eyes look up, confused.

“You’ve got time to play around? Help me. You’re gone half the time. At least handle some affairs while you’re here, or people will question your competence.”

Her regal dress and crown fit her like second skin—she was born to rule.

But I don’t reply.

Instead, I pull her into a tight embrace.

“H-Hey?!”

“You’re alive… Thank god.”

Her voice, her warmth, her scent—it’s all exactly as I remember.

I can’t let go.

“Tonight was supposed to be my night, you know. If you keep breaking the schedule, the harem gets upset.”

“You’re my only wife, Angie.”

“That’s sweet… but don’t say that in front of Livia or Noelle. I don’t want any drama.”

Her words cut a little deeper than expected.

The palace must be in uproar because of me.

“Where are Lionel and Ariel? I want to see them too.”

“…Lionel? Ariel?”

“Our twins. Blonde. Tiny.”

“I’ve never given birth to twins.”

Her reply freezes me.

I knew it.

This isn’t my Angie.

But she feels the same. That’s what makes it so cruel.

My tears fall, unstoppable.

“I had a terrible nightmare.”

“Tell me.”

“You died. Right in front of me.”

“…So you came to see me?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Leon.”

She cradles my head gently, her dress soaked in tears and snot.

Her kindness is both comforting and agonizing.

“I’m right here. Whenever you need me, I’ll be by your side.”

Her words soothe me.

But again, the headache and drowsiness hit.

No—not yet.

I fight it.

I need to say something—anything.

“Angie.”

“Yes?”

“Are you happy… with me?”

“I am.”

“Good.”

“Are you happy with me as your wife?”

“Yeah. I’m so glad you’re my wife.”

“Then that’s enough.”

If she’s happy here, then it’s okay.

Even if I’m gone.

She leans in, lips nearly touching mine.

I stop.

She loves him. Not me.

I need to say one last thing.

“Angie, I love you.”

Then, darkness pulls me under again.

Her voice says something faintly—

But I’m already gone.

┳⁠━━━━⁠━⁠⁠━⁠━⁠━━━⁠┳

Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

To open this chapter, I threw Leon into despair—so I could show how sweet he is with those he loves after his heart’s been broken. (Heh.)

Through this nightmare, his consciousness swaps with another Leon from the main story and the Luxion-extermination route timeline.

Even if a villainous noble lady marries someone else, resentment for the prince who wronged her lingers in this world’s strict aristocracy. That’s why Leon pummels Julius so thoroughly here.

Later, I plan to have Leon and Julius connect… through fists and armor.

Note: Elysion’s personality is based on the web version. If the print version changes, I’ll adapt.

Feedback is always welcome!