episode_0005

“I’m full…”

The food had gone cold, devoid of any warmth, but food was food nonetheless.

Now that my stomach was full and I had a moment to spare, I took a closer look at the main quest. After all, this was practically my lifeline now.

“Trials, huh…”

The counter still read 0/4. Most likely, each trial corresponded to one of the main heroines.

I wanted to know exactly what kind of trials they were, but I didn’t have the courage to find out. The only thing I knew for sure was that the moment all four of them either confessed to me or apologized, I’d die.

In other stories, girls would flock to the protagonist at the slightest provocation, but in my case, if girls flock to me, I die.

“Haah…”

Complaining wouldn’t change anything. Since things had come to this, I had to adapt.

Thinking of it as earning 40 billion in three years suddenly made me feel better again.

A salary of 13 billion a year? Of course I’d take it. Hmm.

I pulled out an elegant sheet of paper from the desk, intending to jot down my plans… only to realize there was no pen.

You went through the trouble of neatly storing paper, but no pen?! Just as I was about to grumble, I remembered—during my first run, I had secretly drawn magic circles all over the mansion with a pen.

I’d been trying to reinforce the mansion’s barriers, but to anyone else, it must’ve looked like some lunatic scribbling on the floors.

Damn it. Again, past me?

With no other choice, I channeled mana from my body and began writing with my fingertip.

Easy to erase, and convenient too. I’d have to lie down for a while afterward, but it didn’t matter since no one would come into this room anyway.

As I moved my finger, I mused about how nice it’d be if today’s meal had meat as the main dish.

1. Receiving an apology from a heroine incurs a penalty. 2. If all heroines apologize to me, I die. 3. The heroines don’t know I remember everything. 4. Chris’s favorite food is Cherl pudding. 5. Cecilia likes to pray with the windows wide open, listening to people’s voices. 6. Elina hates cute things (don’t be fooled by her pretending to like them). 7. Rue arrives an hour before the scheduled time. 8. 9.

The more I wrote, the faster my finger moved.

The memories from my first run—the pain—had now become invaluable, irreplaceable information.

Instead of details about myself, the pages filled with information about them.

“This event was mid-semester… so Elia’s attack sequence would be…”

“Was it around this time? Did I have to eat this there?”

I kept writing and writing.

Until that nightmare was reduced to mere information.

——

Tap—

Tap—

Tap—

Late into the night, Christine tapped her pen against the desk. Not that there was any particular reason for it.

She was just restless, unable to see a way out of her current predicament.

“Oppa…”

Now that she’d started calling him that, not doing so felt awkward instead.

People change so easily, she mocked herself.

She should’ve called him that from the start.

In her current state, even holding a proper conversation with him was impossible, let alone apologizing.

Every time she visited, Eric pretended to be asleep, avoiding her. She was sure some of those times were just an act.

He must be just as confused. It was as if memories he’d never experienced kept surfacing out of nowhere.

“Should I force him to remember…? No. But…”

She quickly dismissed the thought. After controlling him for years, was she really about to do the same thing again, even after the regression?

“Is there really no other way…?”

No matter how many times she pondered, the only conclusion she reached was one:

Maintain the status quo.

Cowardly as it was, this was the best she could manage.

If there was anything she could change, it was delaying unavoidable obligations—like attending regular political gatherings—for as long as possible.

Back when she needed to solidify her position in the Grave household, she’d dragged him along to compare herself to him. But now, there was no reason to do so. In fact, she dreaded the thought of seeing him mocked at those parties.

Wherever he went, Eric Grave, the legitimate heir, was met with scorn and ridicule. People claimed he’d gone mad, unable to accept that a commoner was superior to him.

It had all been a coincidence—Christine’s arrival at the Grave household and Eric’s sudden foresight overlapping. But back then, she’d mistaken it for divine providence, for fate.

And the result was the Christine Grave of today.

She felt the old adage deeply: Ending something is always harder than starting it.

Since there was no telling when or where his memories might resurface, it was better to limit his outings. Or better yet, maybe he should just stay inside the manor altogether.

His memories would return in time, wouldn’t they?

“That’s it! I should’ve thought of this sooner!”

Christine praised herself for the solution and stretched. The tension in her body eased now that her dilemma was resolved.

Whoosh—

Perhaps because of her sudden movement, a precariously placed sheet of paper slid off the desk and fluttered to the floor.

“Oops.”

The moment she picked it up, she couldn’t help but frown.

“Right…”

It was an official academy notice inquiring about Eric’s leave of absence.

The academy.

The place where she’d met everyone except Eric—and the place that held nothing but the worst memories for him.

At first, it had been one of the candidates she’d considered as a safe haven for Eric, but at some point, it had slipped her mind entirely.

Even though she could easily handle any interference from the other party members.

Not that the academy was a bad place. In fact, if the sole condition was keeping Eric safe from danger, it might’ve been the ideal location. After all, the federation had rapidly fractured after the academy fell in the previous timeline.

But the academy… the academy was…

“Huh?”

Christine tilted her head, suddenly aware of her own thoughts. Why had she dismissed the academy as an option?

Given Eric’s current situation, the academy was a viable choice. Its security and safety were guaranteed, considering it housed the heirs of numerous noble families and other races, all competing against one another.

Plus, the knowledge gained there would be invaluable when the Demon King’s army invaded.

“And… aha.”

She recalled her and Eric’s “school days” during the first timeline.

She hadn’t forgotten about the academy as an option.

She’d chosen to forget.

“It’s fine. It’s fine… From now on, I’ll be on Oppa’s side too… Ugh.”

The words tasted bitter in her mouth. The biggest reason for his suffering at the academy had been them.

Calling it the “mistakes of youth” was a flimsy excuse, even to herself.

In the first timeline, Chris had forced Eric into a leave of absence under the pretext of “heir training” after he began acting out at the start of the school year.

And in his absence, she’d taken everything that should’ve been his. She’d done it because she thought it was the only way to secure her own place. Of course, she’d long since abandoned such foolish notions, but regression didn’t undo her past actions.

Though she was endlessly grateful for the miracle of regression, she couldn’t help but resent that she hadn’t been sent back to a time before their relationship was ruined.

“Annoying…”

Christine pursed her lips, then shook her head vigorously to dispel the thoughts.

First, the academy. If there was any silver lining, it was that she hadn’t yet fully meddled with the academy’s affairs.

She could still repair his ruined reputation and protect him from those who mocked him as a madman.

And maybe, just maybe, meeting the other party members at the academy would help restore his memories? A small, selfish worry lingered in her mind. But the bigger concern was…

Only now did she realize it.

“Selfish bitch.”

She hated it.

The thought of this fragile peace breaking—of her Oppa remembering the others.

What if, by some chance, Eric regained all his memories and forgave everyone except her? She couldn’t bear that pain.

Especially since, unlike the others, she’d been the first—and the most relentless—in tormenting him. She deserved every curse hurled at her, even the ones wishing for her death.

And now? Days had passed, yet her Oppa remained quiet. No outbursts, no struggles haunted by the past.

Christine herself had the skills to handle the household’s affairs with ease. Though not as flawlessly as Eric, predicting future events based on her past experiences was child’s play.

She could support him without issue.

So why take the risk of reuniting him with the others?

There was no guarantee the other party members felt remorse toward Eric. He might face danger at the academy. He might recall painful memories.

“Pfft.”

Christine burst out laughing.

How pathetic. Acting as if she had any right to such thoughts. What makes me different from the others?

No matter how many times she regretted and apologized, her essence remained that of the worst villainess.

It was a blessing Eric didn’t remember her as she truly was.

“Get a grip, Christine. You don’t deserve to think like this.”

She chastised herself. It was simple for a perpetrator to seek forgiveness from their victim—just strip away pride, context, and all other complications, and what remained was a straightforward conversation.

But what if the victim didn’t even remember the perpetrator? Where did that atonement go?

Tap—

For now, ensuring Eric lived comfortably in the manor was the priority. She’d already instructed the servants, though their skeptical glances were unmistakable.

A few of the maids had even asked her with grave concern if anything was wrong. They’d be shocked if she admitted she wished something were wrong.

She had to do better.

The servants obeyed her because she’d built trust with them and acted as the interim family head—not because they truly believed Eric had improved.

Their warm concern, their unwavering trust—none of it was hers to begin with.

It all should’ve been Eric’s.

“Work. I need to work!”

She lightly slapped her cheeks and returned to the pile of neglected documents. The harder she worked, the more they’d trust her—and by extension, Eric.