Chapter 116: Sophien (1)

Chapter 116: Sophien (1)

Yulie had awoken in the Imperial Palace infirmary to find Empress Sophien seated by her side. As usual, Keiron stood silently behind the Empress. Yulie blinked in confusion, her eyes fluttering instinctively at the unexpected sight.

“... This isn’t a mere wound. It’s a curse. A particularly vile one,” Sophien remarked, her tone as dry as desert sand.

Yulie attempted to sit up, but pain forced her back down, gasping, “Ah...!”

“It’s fine. Stay down,” Sophien said.

“No, Your Majesty, I—”

“This curse— I was told you got it while protecting Deculein.”

Yulie stayed quiet, offering no response.

Sophien’s gaze swept over Yulie as she continued, “I, too, once suffered from a cruel illness. Life was so agonizing that even the pain lost its edge. Knight, look into my eyes.”

Yulie hesitated before meeting the Empress's gaze. In Sophien's eyes, there had been no spark, no sign of life—only a hollow emptiness.

Sophien let out a soft chuckle and said, “You can see it, can’t you? The illness still gnaws at me. They call it ennui, or maybe even lethargy.”

With that, she rested her hand on Yulie’s forehead. Immediately, a wave of cool relief flowed through Yulie’s body.

“Your Majesty, this is...”

“I learned the runic language from Deculein. It’s a healing letter, but curses like yours aren’t something that can be cured. This will only ease the symptoms temporarily.”

“Ah!” Yulie gasped, quickly sitting up.

As Yulie attempted to rise in formal greeting, Sophien shook her head and said, “Standing any higher would be rather rude, not respectful. Remain where you are and lie still.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Furthermore, I couldn’t completely cure you. This curse will claim your life one day.”

"... Yes, I am aware."

The curse had worsened over time, and the pain that clenched her heart like a vice had already become a part of her daily routine.

Understanding the torment, Sophien gazed at the moon through the window and muttered, “... Sometimes, I think about starting over. Forgetting everything. Living as if none of this ever happened. This life is a failure.”

Yulie flinched at the sudden confession, her voice trembling and replied, “Please don’t say such things, Your Majesty. You have not failed.”

Sophien’s gaze returned to Yulie as she continued, “Your curse is irreversible. In a way, you're not so different from me. Haven’t you ever wished to start again? Or wondered what might have happened if you hadn’t chosen to protect Deculein?”

Yulie shook her head quietly.

“Why is that?” Sophien inquired, her tone serious.

“Because that decision was mine to make, and this is the path I’ve chosen for my life.”

It was a response worthy of a knight. Silence filled the room, settling in like a quiet acknowledgment.

“... I see,” Sophien said with a slight nod, allowing a faint smile to play on her lips. “You are not like Deculein.”

“... Am I?” Yulie asked softly, her expression clouded with a hint of sorrow at the mention of Deculein.

The hem of Sophien’s cape brushed against Yulie’s hand as she said, “Yes, you are. Deculein moves through life as if he’s never been wrong, convinced that his path is the only truth.”

“... That is true. Professor really is like that.”

“Indeed. But unlike him, you embrace your mistakes as your own, and with each one, the wounds will deepen. Eventually, those scars will be the death of you,” Sophien remarked, her voice laced with biting sarcasm.

But Yulie offered a gentle smile and replied, “Even so, Your Majesty, a knight must endure. And I am a knight.”

Sophien fixed her gaze on Yulie for a long moment, as if begrudgingly acknowledging her truth, and remarked, “You’re right. But knights like you are quite rare.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Take your time to recover and depart when you're able,” Sophien said, flicking her cape as she rose to her feet.

Yulie, despite the pain, forced herself upright to offer a formal bow. Sophien shut the door behind her.

Thud—!

The Empress walked down the corridor without a word, her commanding footsteps echoing.

Keiron’s voice broke the silence from behind her. “... Your Majesty. Is that truly what you desire?”

Sophien halted in her tracks.

“If you truly wish for a fresh start, it is within reach.”

Sophien stayed silent.

“I can help make it happen.”

At last, Sophien had turned to face him.

Keiron, still bowing, went on, “Your Majesty, you are just as deserving of happiness as anyone.”

“... Hmph. Who says I deserve that?”

"Anyone who knows what you’ve been through—endless deaths, relentless suffering, repeated attempts at ending it all—would say the same."

Sophien’s expression faltered, momentarily taken aback. Keiron had always been like a statue, stoic and unshakable. Even his title, the Statue, had been bestowed upon him by the Imperial family. His ability to use statues as a medium to multiply his presence was rooted in that same concept.

“You don’t know me, Keiron,” Sophien said with a frown. “Even if you did, you’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment, speaking of things that are impossible.”

“It isn’t impossible, Your Majesty,” Keiron said, raising his gaze, his eyes burning with a knight’s determination. “The Altar lies beneath the Imperial Palace. They plan to harness Your Majesty’s regression. But if we act first, we can use it to return.”

“Return?”

“Yes. Your Majesty can find happiness. In a new world, you could begin again, unburdened by your past.”

The Demon’s Mirror desired Sophien, and the Altar had been harvesting the vital energy of her regressions from the mirrored world. While the two entities seemed to exist in a symbiotic relationship, Keiron saw things differently.

Inspired by Deculein but envisioning something beyond his reach, Keiron had imagined a new world—a world born from the mirror, where Sophien could start anew, forgetting this life completely. If this one had failed her, perhaps the next could offer her redemption.

“And what if the same history simply repeats itself?” Sophien asked, meeting his gaze directly.

“I will ensure it does not happen.”

The conversation had come to a halt, the atmosphere thick and oppressive. In that lingering silence, Sophien turned away once more.

Without a word, I headed toward the library. Epherene followed closely, her hurried footsteps echoing behind me. I neither stopped her nor acknowledged the sidelong glances she cast in my direction.

... Three hours later.

“I wonder if this is what the professor meant,” Epherene murmured, as if to herself.

Epherene had proven to be somewhat helpful. With thousands of books scattered throughout the Mage Tower’s library, few tasks were more tedious than searching through them.

“Yes,” I replied.

I had instructed her to gather everything related to Mirror Magic. After all, the Demon’s Mirror was still a mirror, and understanding its properties would undoubtedly prove useful.

“Do you need me to bring anything else?”

“This time, glass. Bring me everything there is on the matter.”

“Got it, got it... glass, glass, glass,” Epherene muttered under her breath as she went off to search for more books.

I turned my attention back to the ones in front of me.

... Three more hours slipped by in the same manner.

By the time morning arrived, an imperial knight entered the library and called my name in a solemn voice, “Professor Deculein.”

I didn’t bother looking up, keeping my focus on the grimoire in front of me.

“Professor Deculein.”

“—Huh?!”

At the second, louder call, Epherene jolted awake, wiping drool from her mouth. Only then did I turn to acknowledge them.

“The Empress commands your presence,” the knight declared.

***

Sophien adapted to everything with remarkable ease. She was quick to learn and grasped concepts effortlessly. The world and its workings presented little challenge to her; a simple glance was often enough to understand most of it.

As a result, she seldom spent much time in deep thought. The longer she reflected on something, the more tedious it became in its simplicity.

But today, for the first time in a long while, she lingered on a thought, tapping her hand mirror absentmindedly. Morning had already broken, and she sat waiting for the person who would soon arrive.

Knock, knock—

A knock echoed through the Empress’s bedchamber. The moment it sounded, Sophien used Telekinesis to open the door. As expected, Deculein stood outside.

“You are here. Come in,” Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied, stepping into the room as the vassals closed the door behind him.

“Sit,” Sophien ordered, motioning to the chair in front of her.

Without a word, Deculein approached and took his seat. Sophien quietly poured herself some coffee as Deculein sat upright, his posture the very image of perfect etiquette.

Sophien was the first to speak, saying, “Deculein.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Today, for the first time in ages, I actually spent some time thinking.”

It was because of Keiron. That wretched man had forced her to dwell on something as bothersome as concern.

“As I reflected, I came across a memory hidden within the mirror,” Sophien continued, her eyes on Deculein as she sipped her coffee. “There was once an arrogant man who called himself a professor.”

Deculein’s gaze remained as steady as ever, and that pleased her. He neither bowed his head nor showed any sign of fear. He wasn’t bound by anything, revealing only his true self.

“That man swore to stay by my side until the end, but he never came back,” Sophien said with a small sigh. “If he had returned as promised, it might have been bearable.”

Deculein closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. For her, that was enough response.

“Keiron suggested we remake this world,” Sophien said.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. He said I could return to a time when I knew nothing, become someone new, and forget all the pain I’ve been through. It was a tempting offer.”

Deculein remained silent as he listened.

“... Keiron’s intentions are commendable. His concern for me is touching. But if I were to go along with that offer...”

Somehow, Deculein had already known what she would say next.

“That would be no different from surrendering to the demon,” Sophien said, her lips twisting into a smirk. “I don’t like losing. To anyone.”

She then looked down at her cup, her eyes resting on her reflection in the still surface of the coffee.

“Your fiancée, Yulie, claims that even her mistakes are part of her life’s choices, and you act as if you are always right. There are countless others in this world who carve their own answers into it, but none have ever tried to rewrite what’s already been set.”

“That is correct.”

“Yes, indeed... Deculein, I’m starting to feel quite weary,” Sophien said as her eyelids grew heavy. The strain of thinking for the first time in ages was catching up to her. “Soon, the doors to the underground chamber will open...”

With her eyes half-closed, she caught a glimpse of Deculein’s face—calm and cold, as though sleep were something foreign to him.

“Could I ask a favor of you? I’ve suffered from having no one to watch over me,” Sophien said, her voice unusually sincere. “In that underground chamber, through all the deaths I will endure... Will you watch over me? Will you remain in my memory?”

“Yes,” Deculein replied without hesitation, assuring her of his promise.

But Sophien’s awareness of his voice had already begun to fade. Her consciousness gradually drifted away.

“It could be decades, or even a century. I don’t even know what kind of life I’ve lived. Will you be able to accept that?”

Deculein’s voice reached her, distant and fading, as he said, “Yes, as I promised before, I will watch over you, Your Majesty.”

His words rippled through her mind, spreading like sound through water.

“And when that journey comes to an end...”

His final words, spoken with certainty, echoed clearly in the stillness.

“I will return and stand before you once more, Your Majesty.”

Sophien responded with a yawn. Deculein quietly watched over her as she drifted into a deep sleep, then rose to his feet. It was time to fulfill the promise he had made.