The Man’s 101st Bad Ending

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Several days after the regression, I thought quite a lot had happened.

I met the saint, sent off Theresa, and encountered Adele.

Meeting Saint Adriana, whom I would not have met under normal circumstances, was encouraging, but I felt a bit anxious about the future I was experiencing for the first time.

However, the reason I still thought it would be alright was because I still had countless memories remaining.

I could handle it.

Even if it was something beyond my imagination, I had already experienced it beforehand.

The only reason for regret was that I had harbored lingering attachments for far too long.

“Young Master, a letter has arrived.”

Renold, whose attitude had become much more polite now, held out a single letter to me.

Come to think of it, it had already been about two weeks since I returned to this summer day at age twenty.

A letter that would come to me at this time…

Accepting the letter with a puzzled feeling, my eyes narrowed upon seeing the emblem engraved on it.

I had forgotten. That I had cast out Theresa.

Was this all the significance Theresa held for me?

How meaningless must it have been for me to forget her after not seeing her for a mere few days?

This was why I couldn’t help but think my past runs were pathetic.

If I had given up on everything and made up my mind like now, I sometimes imagined that I could have concluded everything with just about ten regressions.

Of course, I knew well that such imaginings were meaningless now.

It was foolish to dwell on the past that had already passed.

However, the scars that remained from that time still tormented my soul.

Though my intact body bore no scars, the traces of torture, once engraved, showed no signs of fading even with the passage of time.

Rustle – Suddenly, the letter crumpled in my hand.

Cold sweat trickled down and gathered on my forehead, my vision blurred and my head began to spin.

The sensation of past memories flooding in like a deluge, shattering the dam and pouring out, the breath caught in my throat as I clutched my chest and dropped the letter in my hand.

Such reactions often came when I thought deeply about the past.

The illness that soldiers who returned from war were said to experience, but… what I had was even more cruel than that.

The poison I had drunk, the arms that had been severed, the legs that had been shattered overlapped on my body.

The eyes that had disappeared without a trace sometimes lost their sight.

The vocal cords ruined from screaming occasionally forgot how to produce a voice, and very rarely… I would forget my own name.

I saw my trembling hands.

Would these hands crumble to dust at any moment?

No, there was a time when all my fingernails had been torn out. A minor torture.

I had received that level of torture so many times that I could now accept it with a smile.

There was a time when I had cut off my own arm, and a time when my arm had fallen off while swinging a sword.

My vision turned bright red.

Blue, green, yellow – colors that should not be visible swirled all around.

Countless memories entangled, and at the same time, the sound of rain piercing my ears made me grit my teeth.

What I needed to remember now, I desperately moved my lips to calm my wildly pounding heart.

My name, what was my name?

“…Robert Taylor.”

Within my gradually returning consciousness, I slowly wiped the sweat from my forehead. The breath I had been holding returned, and my shrunken lungs regained their elasticity.

It was still alright for now. I thought, pressing my temples.

I calmed the expanded blood vessels throbbing in my head, as if they would burst at any moment.

Though there was a metallic taste in my tightly closed mouth… it was fine.

Such things happened often. Rather, I had been waiting for when such a reaction would come.

The specters of the past that tormented me.

I wondered when they would let me go, but their intensity had been weakening recently.

It was evident from the fact that the frequency of my nightmares had decreased.

That I… no longer thought so seriously about the past.

Actually, out of the 100 times, I had not diligently lived through all of them.

Perhaps about 30% of those times, I had taken my own life.

It was when I was gripped by the delusion that if I died countless times, this regression would end, so I clearly remembered stabbing my own throat at least 3 times.

‘…Pathetic.’

The relic was not for nothing.

Regardless of my will, life would repeat endlessly until the wish I desired was fulfilled.

Now, didn’t that wish itself long for eternal death?

After completely wiping away the sweat, I picked up the letter that had fallen to the floor.

[To my dear Lord Robert Taylor.]

“Dear, huh.”

What an absurd word.

It was quite rare for her to add the modifier ‘dear’ when addressing me.

Either she was truly in urgent need of something, or she wanted something from me.

When I tore open the letter with a smirking face, inside was a single letter filled with quite earnestly written sentences.

[Lord Taylor, have you been well? I would like to call you by name, but I am well aware of how hurt you must have been by my mistake last time.]

…At this point, I stopped reading the letter.

If I read any further, I might become so enraged that I would vomit.

If she knew well how hurt I was by her mistake, she would not have contacted me with this kind of letter.

So it wasn’t that urgent of a situation? What an arrogant woman.

“Renold, burn this letter.”

As I said that, Renold, who had slipped through the door and entered, approached and placed the letter in his pocket.

Normally, I would have suspected him of having other thoughts even in this situation, but the current Renold was performing quite well as a faithful butler.

At least based on my evaluation of him over the past two weeks… he was trustworthy.

It was enough to say he was the only one in this ducal estate.

If I appropriately employed the carrot and stick approach, he would not betray me.

It was not that I completely ruled out the possibility, but I was confident that a mere betrayal from the likes of Renold would not hinder me.

“What is Father doing?”

“His Grace the Duke went up to the capital this morning, saying he had business there.”

“It was about time for that. So only Yuria remains here?”

“Yes, the Young Lady is staying here.”

It was likely for the upcoming Full Moon Festival.

As it was a major festival of the empire, Father needed to head to the capital for the festival that would span the entire empire.

Perhaps the ducal estate would soon become noisy. Of course, I also had to move quite busily amidst that.

There was one person I had to save, someone who had been my excellent collaborator in almost every life.

For me, who needed more information than what any decent information guild could provide, there was probably no one better than her.

The alchemist Jay, saving her from death at this festival was the most important of my current concerns.

“How would you like your meal? Shall I have it brought to your room?”

“No, I’ll eat in the dining room. There’s no need to eat in my room anymore.”

Before the regression, I often ate meals in my room, but after regressing, I deliberately went to the dining room to eat.

Even though it was quite uncomfortable to eat with Father or Yuria, if I at least showed my face like this, they would remember me to some extent.

Another reason was because of Yuria’s face, which twisted in a bizarre way every time she saw me.

Wasn’t her reaction strange since last time?

She suddenly said it wasn’t that she had no interest in me, as if she felt guilty for no reason.

It was not even funny.

If what she had done to me was truly just to show interest…

Then I would not have been able to consider her as even the same blood.

Around the time I was thinking that, Yuria happened to be walking towards me from the corridor across.

Perhaps she had been planning to eat, Yuria, who was momentarily startled upon seeing me, soon showed a calm expression.

Then she passed by me and disappeared, but stopped and called out to me.

“…Robert Taylor.”

“Why are you calling me? I haven’t done anything wrong, so is there something I need to apologize for without knowing?”

I retorted sarcastically, but Yuria’s eyes only turned a bit chilly, with no further reaction.

After staring at me for a moment, she parted her lips in a low voice.

“I’m not always telling you to apologize when I call you. Since when have I ever told you to do that?”

“Then tell me for what reason you called me, Young Lady.”

Her pupils shook very slightly at the words ‘Young Lady.’

Such a reaction was amusing. Why would she even react?

Since it was an emotion I could not understand, all I did was stare at the current Yuria as if she were a curiosity.

She could find it strange that I had changed through the regression.

However, I could not understand why she would be shaken by my current reaction.

Because it was Yuria who had disliked it when I called her sister.

So shouldn’t she be happy if I did as she wished?

Her current reaction seemed like nothing more than finding this form of address burdensome.

After keeping her mouth shut for a moment, Yuria opened her mouth with a furrowed brow, as if annoyed.

“I just wanted to ask if you’ll be attending the Full Moon Festival this time. I need to report to Father if you’re attending. Don’t have any strange misunderstandings and just answer.”

“I will attend. Because I have something I need to do.”

“Something you need to do… No, never mind. I’m busy, so I’ll get going. Eat or do whatever you want.”

Yuria, who had turned her head on her own as if to ask about that matter, closed her mouth again.

And as if her business was finished, she spat out all she had to say and disappeared.

Click, click. As Yuria walked away and disappeared down the corridor, I also turned my back with a peculiar expression.

‘She’s probably just acting like that for a bit.’

This wasn’t the first or second time I had seen such eccentricity.

She was probably just acting like that for a moment. I soon erased Yuria from my mind and took a seat in the dining room.

As Renold had the servants bring various dishes, I recalled the letter I had received from Theresa earlier.

There was only one reason for her to send me such a letter now.

It was probably because her brother’s illness was slowly becoming noticeable.

But it wouldn’t be that serious yet.

It would be at the level of a mild cold that he occasionally caught, sometimes coughing.

Sensing something was up, she must have sent me a letter to apologize.

Gauging my reaction and subtly bringing up her brother… probably that level of approach.

So I had absolutely no intention of accepting this meeting.

If she became desperate, she would contact me again. What I had planted in her was the seed of doubt.

I wouldn’t do anything, but her doubts would make her anxious about every situation if she took it to heart.

At first, she would think it was just a coincidence.

People tended to rely on luck when negative things happened.

But if the situation changed even slightly, she would become fixated on what might be the cause.

‘Right now, that would be me, but…’

But what if I didn’t respond?

If I responded with silence without a single answer, how far would that doubt spread?

I didn’t think it would take long.

At most two weeks, I would be able to witness that entire process before the Full Moon Festival began.

“I have brought your meal.”

Around the time I moved my knife as I looked at the plate placed before me, Renold approached and whispered something in my ear.

“…Consecutive letters have arrived from the Violet family. What would you like to do?”

“Burn them.”

“Will you not check them?”

“The contents are obvious. Burn them well so no one sees.”

“Understood.”

Consecutive letters. I let out a small laugh at those words.

Perhaps another symptom had appeared right after she sent me the letter.

But my response did not change.

If she kept sending only letters, all I would have to do was painstakingly burn each letter one by one.

Sss, the sensation of the knife cutting through the steak was transmitted.

I picked up the tender flesh with a fork, put it in my mouth, and savored the delicious flavor and sweetness of the sauce.

Soon, the seed she had harbored would gradually bloom and blossom.

That doubt would eat away at her and soon devour the Violet family.

But it was not my fault. Everything was her fault for starting to doubt, her fault for ruining everything with suspicion.

Let me say it again.

I had no intention of doing anything.

Absolutely nothing.

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