Chapter 82

Chapter 82

I found myself thinking that even with tears streaming down her face, Vivian was still beautiful.

In this moment of heightened emotions, I wondered, if I chanted a small spell, could I crush that little head of hers?

No, of course not. Even if Vivian let her guard down, there was no way I could kill her.

As I recounted why Evan had become such a significant figure to me, I unconsciously felt my face heat up. Touching my cheek, I realized it was burning.

I mean, how could I not be moved?

Death wasn’t the end. He painstakingly traced back my words, reached the conclusion that I was rewinding time, and committed acts of madness.

Even if it had been Ivan lying next to me instead of Evan, I think I would have been touched all the same.

No, maybe that’s going too far.

Perhaps it was just Evan’s own form of escapism, but that wasn’t such a bad thing.

In the end, he fled to find me, someone he believed was already dead.

“Vivian, I can’t kill you. Evan’s the same.

Even if I came back to kill you, some cruel twist of fate or whatnot would get in the way.

So, whether you end up with some damn black-blooded bastard or some ice-chewing beggar, I couldn’t care less.”

You’re simply absurd.

Your very existence is a contradiction.

You’ve killed tens of thousands, and yet their lives are worth less than yours.

You preach fairness and justice, but you don’t realize that you stand atop the greatest absurdity of all.

“Well, talking about old, emotional stories is boring.”

I pulled a raw sweet potato from my pocket and bit into it.

It had ripened slightly, enough to bring out a faint sweetness.

“So let’s stop sitting here, facing each other, and spewing nonsense.”

“…Nonsense?”

Vivian didn’t seem to think what she had said was nonsense.

But I was just venting my emotions without filter, while Vivian wasn’t even saying her own words.

She was just parroting the moral rhetoric of others, the things people think should be said.

She’s like a patchwork doll. Nothing of her own, just bits and pieces borrowed and glued together—obviously not hers.

Not that it matters to me.

“Just let Evan and me go. At least then, I’ll stop wandering around, cutting people’s throats like some rabid animal.”

“…How can I trust you?”

“Why not? It’s hard enough for you to believe that I’m rewinding time.

Even after seeing it with your own eyes, even confirming there’s no magical manipulation involved.”

Beside me, Ivan wagged his tail before playfully biting my hand.

Not hard, just enough to tickle.

He must be bored or a bit hungry.

“Trust me, and good fortune will follow. Ha! Isn’t that hilarious?”

Vivian pressed her fingers to her brow as if trying to smooth out her grimace.

Seeing her already throbbing headache, I teased her with a grin and spoke playfully.

“Otherwise, I’ll just run away again.

Sure, I might lose a leg, an arm, or, if I’m unlucky, my head. But as long as I survive, I’ll burn everything down again.”

As I spoke with a sly smile, Vivian broke into a cold sweat.

“Vivian, how many will die? You can’t even catch me.

It might not just be tens of thousands—I could kill as many as Evan did.

In the end, there won’t be a single blade of grass left in this empire.”

“That’s not something you should…”

“If my family estate still existed, I might hesitate. But it already belongs to the imperial family.

These aren’t my vassals—they’re imperial subjects. There’s nothing stopping me from killing them.”

After all, Evan himself buried the knights sent by his family.

Hearing that, Vivian bit her lip.

After a long sigh, she said nothing.

Honestly, this conversation didn’t even matter.

If I had the upper hand, she wouldn’t have come to me in the first place.

The fact that Vivian sought me out means she’s already admitted her defeat.

As Evan once told me, Vivian values saving ten nameless people over cherishing one.

What’s the point of being strong?

In the end, there’s no way to hold me down.

Even Evan could escape the imperial capital if he wanted to.

He’s probably staying because there’s still something there worth holding on to.

Someday, sure, they might kill Evan and me.

But how many will die before then?

I extended a hand to Vivian and spoke.

“Vivian, like I said earlier, let’s compromise.

You can’t do anything to someone who can rewind time indefinitely.

Even if you survive, those around you won’t. They’re not all as exceptional as you.”

Vivian took my hand, held it for a long time, and finally spoke just as the cigarette I was holding burned down to its end.

“So, what you’re saying is… I should stop killing anyone else, and just disappear somewhere?

Stop targeting the weak, stop running away when knights or mages come after you. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And I should let a vile, wretched mass murderer walk free, just like that?”

“Yes.”

“A dark sorcerer who can’t even be bound by an oath?”

Vivian gave a faintly bitter smile.

A thin trickle of blood flowed from the corner of her mouth as if she had made up her mind.

“But what choice do I have?

To farm, you have to settle on land.

You have to plow the soil, plant seeds, and harvest.

You collect taxes in the name of protecting those people and send soldiers to guard them.

Unless you’re going to live nomadically, you’re bound to the land.

But we’re not like that.”

To emphasize her point, she picked up a clattering skull, placed it on the ground, and crushed it underfoot.

As the conversation ended, the sound of the skull shattering echoed.

“So, what’s your decision?”

I was still holding out my hand. Vivian closed her eyes briefly, then accepted it and shook it.

“…And what exactly does ‘letting you go’ entail?”

Finally, she asked the most important question.

“Well, how kind of you.

Just let Evan be presumed dead. Say the limping witch died from grief after the dark sorcerer was killed.

Oh, and make sure Evan gets this—it’ll resolve everything.”

I handed Vivian a letter I had written for Evan, just in case she agreed.

There wasn’t much written in it.

The plan was to put on a show of fighting, then take a hit from Vivian’s magic and escape through the underground waterways.

On the night of the full moon.

A few days had passed since I shook hands with Vivian.

I wasn’t sure if she’d made her decision out of emotional bias or because she’d been convinced by my claim that she was just as responsible for my state as if she had killed me herself. Either way, being let go felt like an unexpected stroke of luck.

Then again, thinking about it calmly, it might just be a trap.

Vivian isn’t stupid enough to genuinely let Evan and me go free, is she?

We probably both knew it.

As I said from the start, the time to resolve things through conversation had already passed.

Yes, it’s a trap.

That faintly bitter smile of hers is the trademark of those dreamers fantasizing about saving the world.

Oh well, what does it matter? At the very least, I have to ensure Evan gets out alive.

Who knows, maybe Evan has a plan of his own.

Even if I have to give up half my body and end up being called a “torso spirit” instead of a “limping witch,” I’ll still try to escape. And since Vivian let me go so easily, I’ll meet Evan, and everything should work out somehow.

When we’re together, I know we’ll find a way to escape.

From time to time, the curses of those I killed with my own hands—not through my skeletons, but with my bare hands or by smashing their skulls with weapons—echo in my ears.

But I’m used to it by now.

After all, even reading Vivian’s story in that little room back then was just my way of running away from those voices.

Adding one or two more to the mix doesn’t mean much anymore.

With Ivan, I made my way to a cliff that overlooked the tedious siege of the imperial capital.

The soldiers surrounding the castle walls were still dying, killing, and dying again. Not that skeletons can truly die in the first place.

I think I might finally understand a little why Vivian is ready to give up.

“Looks like it’s time.”

Compared to what Evan handles, my army was smaller, but I still led a group of rattling skeletons as I entered the underground waterways.

Normally, soldiers would have been guarding this area, but they had long since been driven off—forced out, no doubt, under Vivian’s orders.

If Vivian herself or some self-righteous humans armed with weapons showed up now, I’d probably die.

As I entered the sewers, I saw a figure cloaked in rags.

“Evan.”

“Erica, we need to get out of here.”

“I know. There’s no way Vivian would let us go so easily.”

“I figured I was being deceived when I showed up, but it turns out it really was your plan.”

“Yeah.”

In the thrill of meeting Evan after so long, I almost went to hug him but stopped, remembering the blood and grime covering us both.

Instead, I pulled a cigarette from my coat, lit it, and handed it to Evan. He took it without a word, smiling faintly.

“Don’t worry. Vivian will let us go.”

“Before that, Evan, stick out your right leg for a second.”

I limped away from Ivan, stood up, and kicked Evan square in the shin, sending myself falling backward.

“There. That’s for not coming back for a whole year.”

“Goodness.”

Evan sighed and helped me back to my feet as I sat on the ground.

“Erica, what do you think Vivian will choose: the two of us or the 300,000 starving prisoners held hostage inside the capital?”

“No idea, and I don’t care to find out.”

We clasped hands and started making our way out of the sewer.

As expected, Vivian wasn’t there, but a group of men stood blocking the path ahead.