25.
“Is that all it took to end this? Does this even make sense?”
“Huh?”
“Does this make sense to you?”
“What… what are you talking about?”
In a quiet cafe within the district of the capital, Lancel began to argue with Baron Ibil Shen, who had come to collect a debt due after ten years only to leave empty-handed.
“If it was going to end this easily, what was the point of my last three hundred years? There’s a limit to pointless suffering, and this is just absurd! It’s good, but isn’t it strange? Isn’t it?”
“You’re definitely acting strangely. I’ll give you a generous three-year extension, so calm down for now. You’re a married man now; you need to be more mindful of how you’re seen. Honestly…”
“I am surprisingly calm. And I will repay the debt someday.”
“Three years…”
“Someday.”
“F-four years?”
“Someday.”
Lancel gazed at the peaceful streets of the capital.
Three hundred years.
Nearly three centuries had passed.
A period of ceaseless, agonizing regressions.
More than once, he had despaired, wondering if it would ever end.
More than once, he had worried: ‘What if my mind melts away completely, until I can no longer maintain my humanity?’
But then it was over. In an instant. It was all so ridiculously simple, as if nothing had ever happened.
For a while, chaotic days followed.
‘I don’t really understand… but is this a good thing?’
After much deliberation, Lancel reached that conclusion.
‘After all, if it’s over, it must be good, right?’
26.
The most bewildering thing for Lancel, now that his regression had abruptly ended, wasn’t the ten-year debt he’d wrung from Baron Ibil Shen.
‘Wait, I ended up marrying Marigold?’
Now that the regression had stopped, there was no going back. He’d inadvertently acquired a wife—and not just any wife, but Marigold.
“Sir Lancel! Sir Lancel, Sir Lancel!”
Marigold’s hands, trembling with excitement, clutched an expensive bottle of wine.
“Tomorrow’s a holiday! A festival! Today’s freedom! Let’s celebrate with just one drink! Just one drink, and then we’ll get up early tomorrow to snag the best spot for the parade!”
“Drinking late at night isn’t good for you.”
“Just one drink, Sir Lancel! Come on, hurry!”
‘Marigold, you’ve become so jaded since becoming a Court Wizard.’
“Hahahaha!”
“….”
She began chugging the wine, alternating between sips and bites of ham and cheese.
“Mary.”
“Yes, Sir Lancel?”
Lancel gently pushed Marigold away as she pressed a little too closely to his side.
“I think it’s time we make some life plans together.”
His voice was serious.
“Life plans? Why suddenly…?! Hah?!”
Marigold’s face flushed crimson instantly.
She silently set down her wine glass, her expression suddenly becoming demure.
“I-I’ve been mentally preparing myself, but if Sir Lancel feels that way… then one daughter and one son would be fine… Actually, I’ve been waiting for my work as Court Wizard to ease up a bit, but if Sir Lancel insists on urgency, then I have no choice…”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Ugh.”
Lancel pinched Marigold’s cheek lightly, pulling her back from her reverie.
“Life is unpredictable, so we should prepare for any eventuality.”
“A hypothetical situation?”
“Why not? War could break out suddenly.”
Marigold blinked. “War? When everything’s so peaceful?”
“Just hypothetically. If it were to happen.”
“Even hypothetically, could a war large enough to threaten the capital really occur? It would have to be an extraordinary conflict, wouldn’t it?”
Marigold was right. The Empire was currently enjoying an astonishing era of peace.
A world without war, rebellion, or tragedy. It was hard to recall a time when the system had ever been this stable.
‘It truly is a golden age.’
Laughter filled the Imperial Palace, and the streets never lacked vitality.
Perhaps Lancel’s worries were just unfounded anxieties.
‘Still, I should do what needs to be done.’
Lancel met Marigold’s gaze directly.
“I’m not suggesting anything extravagant. Just a decent villa in a suitable location, some savings set aside, and preparations for any eventuality. There’s no downside to that, right?”
But his true intentions lay elsewhere.
‘Now we only have one life left, Marigold!’
Yes, the days of living carelessly and dying without consequence were long gone.
From now on, they had to pursue only a safe and secure future.
“There’s a good spot in the archipelago. I’ll handle all the arrangements. You just have to be aware of it.”
“The archipelago? Understood! If Sir Lancel is doing it, I’m all for it! Yes!”
“Take your hand off my thigh.”
Lancel gently removed Marigold’s hand as it crept up his leg.
“Hehehe.”
“……”
Marigold crept closer towards Lancel with a sly grin.
A faint magical aura began to emanate from her body.
The wine glasses and plates on the table floated into the air, drifting across the room to land silently on a distant shelf.
“Sir Lancel.”
With the obstacles cleared, Marigold approached more aggressively.
“Haaah.”
A faint aroma of fruit wine drifted from her lips, as if she were already tipsy.
“Tomorrow’s the festival, and I’ve taken the day off. I’m completely free tonight. What do you think, Sir Lancel? Hehehehe… Eeheehee…”
“…Weren’t we supposed to wake up early to get good seats?”
“As a knight, you should be able to endure that with your stamina.”
Kiss.
Kiss.
Lancel seemed to finally realize the full force of Marigold’s advances as she pressed kisses all over his face.
‘Ah! I’ve been caught, Marigold.’
Marriage.
The abruptly ended regression had bound him and Marigold together as lifelong partners.
Still, it was a relief.
It wasn’t a bitter, unsatisfying ending like before. This was a literal marriage—husband and wife, nothing more, nothing less.
‘Like this, perhaps life is worth living?’
“Sir Lancel.”
Marigold’s face showed no trace of worldly worries or unhappiness. Even across all their previous regressions, she had never looked so genuinely happy.
That was enough for him.
What’s more, Lancel’s regression had finally ended. Nothing bound him now. He had escaped the endless cycle of time and was facing his true life.
‘Isn’t this enough?’
Lancel lifted Marigold into his arms.
“Eek!”
Regression complete.
Real life begins.
* * *
“Sir Lancel, look! Sandwiches!”
“It’s been a while since I’ve had these.”
“Hehe, I remembered how much you used to like them.”
Marigold and Lancel headed to the festival as soon as the sun rose, carrying a wooden basket overflowing with sandwiches and fruit.
“You seem to be in a good mood today.”
“Because it’s the festival.”
The capital was bustling with the harvest festival. The clinking of wine glasses echoed from every tavern, children darted through the alleys, and the savory aroma of sizzling meat wafted from the rows of stalls.
“Watch where you’re going.”
“S-sorry!”
“Be careful.”
Marigold patted the head of the child she had bumped into.
“Let’s get going. All the good spots will be taken.”
“Yes, Sir Lancel.”
As she turned back with a radiant smile, time seemed to slow. Her simply tied, side-swept golden hair, blue dress, bright smile, and the capital’s streets and early summer sky behind her—it was a breathtaking sight.
“……”
Marigold hurried over and linked her arm through his.
“Shall we go?”
.
.
.
‘Has the world always been such a wonderful place to live?’
Perhaps it was because he had finally escaped the endless cycle of regression, shedding all his worries.
Lancel watched the long parade procession, fully immersed in the boisterous festive atmosphere.
“I’m so happy, Sir Lancel,” Marigold murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Because you’re here, I can enjoy this festival, feel the warmth of the sun, and experience the arrival of summer.”
A gentle smile bloomed on her face.
“Even if war breaks out in the way that you mentioned last night, it doesn’t matter. Even if the capital is overturned, or we have to flee far away, it won’t matter.”
Marigold’s voice was soft and soothing.
“Just having Sir Lancel by my side is enough for me to keep living, no matter what. I don’t want anything else. I mean it, Sir Lancel.”
“…That’s heavy.”
“My feelings?”
“No, my shoulder.”
“Your shoulder?”
Marigold pouted, glancing at Lancel’s shoulder, where she was leaning.
“How can knights be so emotionally stunted?”
Lancel chuckled silently.
“The Imperial procession—His Majesty the Emperor is coming!”
A loud voice rang out.
From the rooftops of nearby buildings, the signal “Now!” erupted.
As if they had been waiting for this moment, the children raised their flower baskets. Petals began to rain down endlessly, like a floral downpour.
The shadows of the falling petals blanketed the surrounding scenery like pointillist brushstrokes, blurring the world into a vibrant, dreamlike haze. For a moment, it seemed as if the entire world had burst into full, colorful bloom.
“Mary.”
“Yes?”
Just as Lancel was about to speak, a shout rang out:
“His Imperial Majesty’s procession!”
The Imperial procession came into view, moving down the grand avenue.
Lancel’s gaze fixed on the kindly Emperor, his grandfather, seated in the carriage, waving warmly to the crowds.
How long had it been since he’d seen his grandfather so alive and hearty? Could this be the first time since Lancel had awakened in this world?
“Woohoo!”
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
“His Majesty’s the Emperor!”
“Long live His Majesty the Emperor!”
“Long live the Freesia Empire!”
The cheers echoed through the air.
Flower rain.
Festivities.
The Emperor.
Airship.
The end of regression.
And Marigold.
“Sir Lancel?”
Lancel, who had been silently watching the Imperial procession pass down the grand avenue, finally lowered his head.
Something felt off. The suspicion that had been brewing within him had finally reached its conclusion.
“Mary.”
Lancel’s gaze fell upon the basket at his feet.
It was the sandwich basket Marigold had painstakingly prepared early that morning, her bleary eyes blinking through a hangover.
Having spent years scavenging tasteless rations on battlefields, Lancel had long since lost any particular preference for food. But if pressed, he would admit he favored simple flavors above all else.
A dish rich in meat and protein, yet not unhealthy, brimming with fresh vegetables and allowing each ingredient’s distinct flavor to shine through.
Marigold’s sandwich was precisely that.
Layers of vegetables, ham, and cheese neatly stacked between slices of bread—the very embodiment of the flawless form Lancel sought.
Even the corner filled with neatly peeled and cut fruit was unmistakably Marigold’s touch, the perfect picnic basket.
‘Heavy.’
Yes.
It was heavy.
Her heart.
But Lancel knew he had to push it away.
Lancel and Marigold hadn’t endured all this time just to settle for this kind of life. To be content with so little would make the past centuries feel like an unbearable waste.
“Mary.”
“…Sir Lancel?”
A question flickered across Marigold’s face.
“Let me go now.”
There was no response.
Marigold, completely oblivious, merely blinked.
Lancel reached into the basket and lifted the silver knife he had prepared to cut the sandwiches.
“I didn’t want to do this.”
He swiftly plunged the knife toward his neck.
Or rather, he tried to.
Clang!
Something stopped him.
A shield of densely woven magical energy blocked the knife from approaching Lancel’s carotid artery.
Time froze.
The Imperial procession, the showering flower petals, the cheering crowds—all remained frozen in place.
Only one thing moved.
“First. Return to reality.”
Marigold.
“Second. Continue this happy fantasy forever.”
Her deep emerald eyes slowly turned to gaze at Lancel.
“Sir Lancel… which do you think is better?”
Oh, oh fuck.
Holy sh*t
now that’s a twist reeeee
i knew it
Hehehe
Ref do something
The world.