episode_0122

“You’re blunt, and I like that.”

Watching Chris speak with such unshakable confidence, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You never had any intention of doing this properly from the start. I was the only one agonizing over it for no reason.”

“There’s no way we could win against something like that.”

“Then why are you talking to me like this right now?”

“Because this moment itself is enjoyable. If possible, I’d want this mundane routine to last forever.”

Listening to my words, it dawned on me that his determination to grow stronger according to my prophecy wasn’t driven by some grand sense of duty to defeat the Demon King.

Just the trivial wish to spend even a little more time with me.

“So, the other three feel the same way?”

“Well. I’m not sure. At the very least, Sister Luciael probably isn’t taking it seriously, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be acting so indifferent either.”

“Don’t be too hard on the ones who are actually trying.”

I flopped down onto a chair.

“Are you okay? Did I grab you too hard? If it hurts, even now—”

“Ah, it’s fine. I just feel drained from the conversation earlier.”

A regressor who’s afraid of capturing the Demon King? I never imagined something like this.

Every regressor I’ve seen so far has charged forward without a single thought of failure, dominating everything in their path.

It’s my fault for not realizing that someone could be afraid of that—a perfectly reasonable judgment I failed to make.

“Sorry, Chris. I was too careless.”

“Why are you apologizing? This is my fault for being a coward…”

“No. It’s my fault for not giving you all the confidence that you could defeat the Demon King.”

If I was going to drag them around with prophecies, I should have at least given them certainty about the path ahead.

“Even now, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you complete confidence.”

“…!”

“But despite that, I still want to ask you—to keep believing in me.”

Truthfully, it’s all I have to say. No matter how much I resent it, the only proof they have to judge my words is their past experiences with me.

“You’re right—fighting the Demon King won’t be easy. Even if you gain all the power I mentioned and push yourselves to the point of vomiting blood, it might still not be enough. But even so, I don’t want to give up before trying.”

“That’s a terrifying thing to say.”

“I want to live a little longer. As things stand, five years at most? Within that time, it’ll all end one way or another. And if that ‘way’ means waiting meekly for annihilation without even trying, then all the more reason.”

“Pfft… That may be true, but it’s still scary. Even me chatting with you like this, or trying my best to treat you well—everything’s for that reason.”

I clapped my hands loudly.

“Alright, let’s wrap this up here.”

“Huh? Already?”

“No point going in circles repeating the same thing. Right now, I lack credibility, and you all lack courage. What good would it do to keep talking?”

“Well… I guess you’re right. Fine, okay.”

“Did it calm you down?”

“Yeah. I made a fool of myself. I shouldn’t have hidden things from you.”

“No, you did well. If something’s bothering you from now on, tell me anytime. You know how things turned out when we kept everything to ourselves last time.”

“Got it.”

“It’s hard for me to say I’m a proper human either… But let’s do better, fellow cowards.”

Chris nodded lightly in response.

“Then, brother, going back to the original topic—what’s the plan from now on?”

“First, I’ll return to my original position.”

“Original position? You mean the heir to House Grave? Taking over the family?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Just looking at what you’re doing now, it’s clear that being head is way beyond me. Helping out occasionally is one thing, but taking full responsibility, diving into endless deals and political schemes? I’d rather die.”

“So, you’re saying you’d entrust that to me?”

“There’s a thing called the right person for the right job. You’ve been trained for years, while I’ve effectively abandoned my duties. Of course there’d be a difference. And even if I stepped up as heir now, no one would take me seriously.”

It’s already common knowledge that Chris has been handling some of the family’s affairs in place of our parents for years. Normally, entrusting duties to a child who isn’t even of age yet isn’t something to boast about, but Chris was just too exceptional.

And when a child excels, parents inevitably want to show them off.

Even our stern, dignified, and emotionally reserved parents couldn’t help but let their pride slip—rumors spread quietly about how remarkable Chris was.

Moreover, the fact that I, the legitimate heir to House Grave, had turned out the way I did only accelerated the gossip.

“You saw the way people looked at us while walking earlier. I’m still not welcome. Compared to that, your position as acting head is already solid. If I tried to interfere now, I’d be treated like an outright traitor.”

“So what are you planning to do? You want to be seen as sane, but you say people can’t be trusted?”

What I need isn’t to be the leader, nor a hidden puppet master pulling strings from the shadows, but the second-in-command.

“People are quick to celebrate when someone they hated turns good.”

As I said that, I set down the teacup I’d been drinking from and pushed it toward Chris.

“So instead, I’ll openly support you. Say I deeply regret all the foolish things I’ve done until now.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound easy. People will definitely ask why you suddenly made that choice.”

“Just say you inspired me. Seeing how hard you worked made me ashamed, or that I’d been trying to change since the Academy days. There’s plenty of evidence lying around to make people think, ‘Huh, he really is different now.’”

“I see.”

“Either way, the most important thing is that people don’t find it strange when I speak. The moment they recognize Eric Grave as someone living a normal life, anything I say won’t be dismissed out of hand. That alone is a success.”

“And what exactly are you planning to say once you have that? Just so you know, even if it’s you, I won’t let you—”

“There’s a lot, but the most urgent is the weird rumors about Cecillia. We need to shut them down as soon as possible. Right now, they’re just baseless gossip, and few take them seriously, but staying silent will only make things more suspicious.”

“Sister Cecillia’s feelings for you—”

“I have a rough idea of how she feels about me, and why. But it’s none of my business.”

Anyone with half a brain would’ve noticed by now.

The girl named Cecillia Rastall has romantic feelings for me.

Whether it’s the suspension bridge effect or a sense of obligation from past loops doesn’t matter.

“But that can’t happen.”

“Why? Is it because of what happened in the past loops?”

“Even if I didn’t remember the past loops—or if I only had good memories—I’d still refuse. Relationships aren’t something to be taken lightly.”

“Why not?”

“Looking at both the prophecies and the past, any of you developing feelings for me is nothing short of suicide.”

I hastily began explaining to Chris.

“Both Cecillia and I are public figures in the Empire. If people like us start dating? We’d be the talk of the town endlessly. It could interfere during battles or critical moments when emotions cloud judgment.”

Honestly, just confessing to me is practically suicide.

It’s not just Cecillia—all four of them.

Chris mentioning Cecillia now was probably to gauge my true feelings while guiding the conversation.

If my feelings and Cecillia’s were mutual, she’d gladly step back.

Even if residual guilt from past loops remained, Cecillia’s aggressive approach was unusual.

“So, you’re saying you don’t feel anything for her?”

“Obviously.”

I dressed it up with plausible reasons, but the truth was simple: If I got confessed to, I’d die.

Even if I said it outright, the situation would only turn horrific.

If everyone became painfully aware of their feelings—apologies, confessions, or forced silence as they buried their emotions—how could any team function like that?

“It’s unexpected that Cecillia would go this far, but… she was on the verge of death back then. Her emotions must’ve spiraled. I get it.”

“Sister Cecillia wouldn’t lose control so easily—”

“She did.”

I cut her off.

That action of hers must’ve been a momentary impulse.

It had to be.