2.
“Is there… a reason you called me?”
Marigold’s eyes lit up as she moved to sit beside him, but Lancel promptly directed her to the opposite side of the table.
“It’s nothing major. You’ve been here two months already, so I was wondering how you’re finding the work. It’s actually something Baron Ibil should do, but he’s a bit busy right now.”
“Oh, haha…”
‘Why does she look disappointed?’
Lancel shot a glance at Marigold, whose enthusiasm visibly waned.
He had summoned her here for one reason only, even if it meant playing the part of a strange noble consulting with a maid.
‘I need to confirm if Marigold really has memories from the previous life.’
Fixing his gaze on a nearby potted plant, Lancel spoke casually.
“Miss Mary, how old are you this year?”
“Twenty…”
“Twenty?”
“S-seventeen! I meant seventeen!”
“Not sixteen?”
“Sixteen! I was sixteen! Yes!”
She was confessing without even being interrogated.
“Right. Being a maid is tough work isn’t it—how’s it going?”
“…Are you planning to dismiss me?”
“It’s not like that, so don’t overthink it. I’m just curious.”
“If this is about me taking the Young Master’s coat before…”
“…Put it back where it belongs while I’m asking nicely.”
“Oh, uh, yes.”
Lancel briefly pressed his throbbing temples.
“Hesti said you’re a bit slippery but good at your job, so I was curious.”
“Did you call me here to praise me?”
“Sure, let’s go with that.”
“No way…! Are you going to reward me…!”
“I take back what I just said. I didn’t call you here to praise you. I’m just asking out of curiosity, so answer properly.”
Marigold shrank back, cautiously watching Lancel to gauge his reaction.
“Well, I’ve worked briefly before.”
“How long ago?”
“I don’t quite remember… maybe eight years ago?”
Eight years ago would be when Marigold was still a noble lady.
“I see.”
After that, Lancel continued with trivial conversation, his mind elsewhere.
A few questions alone were enough for him to confirm it without needing to ask more.
‘Marigold inherited memories from the previous lifetime—that much is clear.’
How much she remembered, how it happened, where it came from, and to what point she inherited those memories was still unclear. What was certain was that she remembered the past.
‘I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing.’
Lancel’s goal was to ensure Marigold ended up with a prince. He had to somehow achieve the game’s canonical route, the “Empress Ending.”
But what if she remembered the past? Would it help or hinder her path to becoming an imperial consort?
Lancel couldn’t quite figure it out.
‘Should I just reveal what I know and ask for Marigold’s cooperation?’
He thought of the things he could say to her.
‘Let’s team up as regressors and make you an empress, Marigold!’ What if he said that?
Would it help or get in the way?
It was a moment of deep deliberation for Lancel.
“Alright, good work. You can go now.”
“Oh… is that it already?”
“What more did you want?”
“Yes…”
Marigold left, her shoulders slumped and looking visibly deflated.
‘What should I do? Spill everything or keep it quiet?’
That night, Lancel’s agonizing dilemma was resolved, just before he fell asleep.
.
.
.
============
—Congratulations! Marigold has mastered beginner level dark magic! From the next “Succession Cycle,” intermediate level dark magic can be purchased.
※ Memories from each “Succession Cycle” are shared. However, abilities are reset after the ending. Please purchase and use them again.
============
“…?”
Lancel, who had been lying down, bolted upright.
He instinctively grabbed the quill pen on the table beside him.
Fearing it might slip from memory, he hurriedly scribbled the message down, repeating the words that had just appeared before his eyes.
The sudden news of mastering dark magic barely even registered to him.
What mattered were the last two lines:
“Memories from each Succession Cycle… are shared?”
Lancel mentally listed Marigold’s most recent endings.
Warrior.
Beggar.
Parasite.
Saintess.
Merchant.
Memory Succession Cycle 1. (Current cycle)
‘Memories from each Succession Cycle are shared. That means…’
Lancel picked up his quill and scribbled again.
–Memory Succession Cycle 1. (Current cycle)
–??? (No Succession)
–??? (No Succession)
.
.
.
–Memory Succession Cycle 2. (Second cycle from current timeline)
‘Is that how it works?’
Succession.
As Lancel recalled, triggering this “Succession” required a specific condition: accumulating enough achievement points.
Once 1500 points were achieved, a “Regressor Marigold” who inherited past memories appeared, just like now… or so Lancel speculated.
What’s more, the memories from the first cycle of “Regressor Marigold” would carry over to the future second cycle of “Regressor Marigold.”
“Then Cycle 1 and Cycle 2 are essentially the same person.”
Linked.
The memories would be linked. If he had to guess what that meant, it would probably be something like this. Literally, a regressor.
‘…Is that right?’
Lancel frowned, staring at the paper now covered in dense scribbles.
‘If I tell this cycle’s Marigold that I’m a regressor… the next cycle’s Marigold will remember it too.’
Lancel made up his mind then.
He set down the quill.
‘I won’t tell her.’
Yes.
The variables were too great, and the consequences irreversible.
Once he told “Regressor Marigold,” she would remember his words forever. It couldn’t be undone.
If the moment ever came when he had to reveal this, it would truly be his last resort.
Moreover, there was the risk of making Marigold feel a false sense of fate or connection.
She might think, “No way! You’re a regressor too? Let’s forget everything and just live together!”
What if she reacted like that? What if she clung to him?
It would be quite a headache.
If the future imperial consort clung to a mere frontier noble’s son, the game would never end.
Lancel didn’t want to waste time ruining every cycle where “Regressor Marigold” appeared.
That’s right.
He was merely Marigold’s empress maker, not a romantic interest. He could never be a capture target—just an extra, perfectly suited for a normal ending.
After all, even when they did get married, it hadn’t ended well, did it?
‘…’
Staring at the paper covered in scribbles, Lancel tore it to shreds and threw it away.
3.
Whoosh.
The execution platform erected in the plaza square was engulfed in flames, burning fiercely.
“Add more fire!”
“It’s burning so fiercely!”
It was unclear what they were burning. The smoke and flames obscured it. Only the faint black shape amidst the fire suggested that it was a human-like figure being consumed by flames.
Burnings were rare, reserved for the most heinous criminals—those who insulted the Imperial Family or blasphemed against divinity. Even the usually bustling maid, Marigold, paused in her work, her gaze riveted by the spectacle.
“Everyone! Behold the sinner’s fate!”
Marigold narrowed her eyes, focusing intently on the flames. The dark, burning figure seemed to flicker in her vision.
“Behold the final moments of the criminal who dared raise his sword against the Empire’s prince!”
Thump.
Her heart clenched.
“Witness the final moments of this demon, burning here for his crime of blaspheming the divine!”
A light gust of wind swept through.
The flames parted for a moment.
In that fleeting instant, the criminal’s face became visible.
Like an illusion, her eyes seemed to meet those of the charred corpse.
“Witness the final moments of this historic criminal who committed the Empire’s greatest crime!”
Her heart began to pound wildly.
Thump.
“Traitor…!”
Thump.
“…Lancel Dante!”
.
.
.
“No!”
“Eek!”
Marigold awoke from her nap.
“Ugh, why do you keep doing that, Miss?! Are you trying to scare me on purpose? Be honest, I won’t get mad—just say it. It’s on purpose, right?”
Pina, startled awake, raised her eyebrows. Marigold quickly wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth.
“We can’t keep doing this, Pina.”
“What? Skipping work?”
“What do you mean…no, I mean, I’m not skipping work. I finished my tasks and I’m just resting, Pina.”
“Sure, sure. So what’s the problem?”
Marigold clutched her head, trying to shake off the dream she’d had during her nap, but it wouldn’t leave her.
Her body trembled violently. It felt as if the memory had been seared into her mind.
“…Sir Lancel…!”
When Marigold first saw that scene, back when she lived as a maid, she’d briefly thought, ‘A bad person is simply being punished.’ But that was no longer the case.
Recalling what kind of people the Empire consisted of and the kind of person Lancel was, she knew the situation was far more complex.
“Pina, it feels like I’m the only one in this world who can protect Sir Lancel. No, maybe that’s why I’m here.”
“What are you talking about all of a sudden? Are you still half-asleep?”
“This won’t do.”
“…?”
Marigold sprang to her feet.
“Pina, no matter how much the continent tears itself apart like before, no matter how many false accusations or unjust charges come, there’s only one way to survive unscathed and live without losing anything.”
“That story again?”
“Become a big shot. Someone so great that even if you wanted to die, you couldn’t…”
Pina yawned wearily, half-listening, but Marigold’s eyes gleamed with fervor.
“A big shot…someone so great that they could survive anything and live out their days with me… someone even the Emperor and the Imperial Family would fear…”
“Yes, yes, I get it. Now let’s go see Miss Hesti before we get scolded. Do you know what time it is?”
“Huh?”
“It’s well past lunchtime.”
“……!”
Marigold was punished with the task of spending the rest of the cleaning.
4.
Later that evening.
“What’s this?”
Lancel was woken by the sound of something intermittently tapping at his window.
‘A bird?’
A lone crow perched on the windowsill.
When he gently stroked it, the bird tilted its head and kept pointing to its ankle.
He noticed something resembling a letter tied to the bird’s leg.
Lancel narrowed his eyes.
‘This isn’t a bird.’
He could sense the magical energy enveloping its entire body.
It was a creature known as a familiar—a type of summoned entity used by mages as an extension of themselves.
Lancel already had a good guess as to the mage who was behind this was familiar. He’d only encountered one mage in this cycle.
‘A familiar’s senses are linked to its master.’
He flicked the crow’s eye with his finger.
“Hyaaaak!”
A scream echoed from somewhere beyond the mansion’s corridor.
“Mary! It’s late—don’t make loud noises!”
“S-sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Quiet!”
“…”
The flustered crow dropped the letter tied to its ankle at Lancel’s feet before flapping its wings and flying off into the distance.
Lancel scratched his head.
‘Something feels off about this.’
Lancel wondered at what the letter could possibly say. He held the letter up to a lamplight and opened it.
The words that greeted him were utterly unexpected.
—From the secret organization “Darkhood,” devoted to the great Sir Lancel Dante.
“…?”
From the very first line, Lancel sensed that something was deeply wrong.
So the maid marigold is from the first chapter.