[Translator – Peptobismol]
Chapter 87 – Visitor
Everything repeats itself once more.
The happy memories, the horrific memories she’d rather forget, and the mistakes of the past.
All of it returned in a fateful cycle, carving into her heart.
In her past life, Rudine had lost everything, but this time, she was determined to set everything right.
Her mistakes, Kyle’s death, all of it had to be reversed.
The method was simple.
The Holy Relic Rosary, which she wore around her neck, had to be given to Kyle.
She wanted to take her time and properly say goodbye to Kyle, but she had no time to indulge in such luxuries.
Rudine often asked herself,
How did she, once so selfish and arrogant, viewing others as insects, come to change so much?
What had transformed her so profoundly?
Was it the shocking truth she witnessed beyond the Black Mist?
Sometimes, very occasionally, she couldn’t understand it herself.
Even if this world was fake, to her, it was real.
No matter how much she struggled, her existence was merely fuel for the ‘game world’.
Why, then, did she fight so fiercely?
Why did she cling so blindly to the man she met in the ‘real world’?
Giving up would make it easier. Forgetting everything except the memories she wanted to keep would spare her from suffering.
But Rudine couldn’t bring herself to do that.
The day Kyle died, and Isabel and Luna followed in shock.
The world couldn’t withstand the storm of causality, and as a result, she was preserved in a frozen world.
Those horrific memories still invaded her unconscious mind, eroding her sanity.
If she hadn’t crossed the Black Mist.
If she hadn’t met that man there.
She wouldn’t have been able to handle all the truths she faced.
Her soul, unable to endure the deep loneliness, would have surely shattered.
Even if everything in this world was fake.
At least the emotions she felt while watching him from beyond the Black Mist were real.
That’s why she could endure.
She could accept and bear everything.
At first, she had been greedy.
She thought that if she was with him, she could live happily even in this fabricated world.
She had planned to place the Empire at his feet and let him enjoy all the riches.
She thought they could be happy.
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But soon, she realized.
— Kyle Winfred has taken his own life.
That it was all a vain illusion.
Kyle couldn’t be happy.
At least not in this damned world.
So she had to let him go.
She had to give up on empty hopes.
If someone had to die, it should be her, not Kyle.
Because she was fake, and even if she died, it wouldn’t matter.
She felt tears well up from frustration and fear.
The world was the same, but so much had changed.
Her tongue burned with bitterness as if she had consumed poison, but it was time to accept it.
She was fundamentally different from him.
Rudine no longer despaired.
She merely bided her time, recalling every memory, waiting for her opportunity.
The chance to face her death.
And the chance to pass the Holy Relic to him.
“Your Highness, we’ve completed the investigation of the man named Derek as you ordered.”
“Good job. Any unusual findings?”
One day, a servant came to the Princess’s palace to report the investigation results.
And he delivered unbelievable news.
“Well... it appears he was killed by someone.”
“...Are you certain?”
“Yes, Your Highness. We confirmed it multiple times to be sure.”
“......”
Derek, the protagonist of the original story.
He had died before the story even began.
Isabel’s attitude was indeed irresponsible.
She refused to do anything she didn’t want to and treated everyone who approached her with cold indifference.
But no one in the Papal See blamed her.
Everyone knew she had lost her memories, so they tolerated her somewhat reckless behavior.
They couldn’t even imagine that she had already regained all her memories.
‘For now, it can’t be helped.’
Isabel hadn’t revealed to anyone but the Pope that her memories had returned.
No, to be precise, she couldn’t reveal it.
She didn’t want Kyle to hear that she had regained her memories.
So she deliberately fabricated everything.
Her expressions, her voice, her mannerisms.
She meticulously acted like her naive past self, who knew nothing.
“This is tiresome. What was Father thinking, putting me in this place?”
“Saintess—!”
“Quiet. And I’m not the Saintess.”
“Honestly, how can you be so self-centered...!”
“You’re the ones who trapped me here. Who’s lecturing who?”
“Trapped? What are you talking about!”
At first, she thought it might be a bit much, but seeing that no one noticed, her acting seemed successful.
It was somewhat shocking to realize how problematic her past self had been.
Had Kyle loved even this side of her?
Her heart ached again.
“Oh, now is not the time for this. Please, follow me.”
“What now?”
“The Pope is looking for you.”
“...He’s looking for me?”
“Not ‘he,’ but ‘His Holiness.’”
“Why is he looking for me?”
“Well, I don’t know the details either.”
Isabel feigned displeasure.
She grumbled in a chilly tone.
“Lead the way.”
The priestess, seemingly expecting another outburst, sighed in relief.
Then she led Isabel through winding corridors to a specific location.
There stood a massive door adorned with marble.
As Isabel stared blankly at it, the priestess smiled and said,
“Go on in.”
“And you?”
“I’m going back. His Holiness called for you alone.”
The priestess kindly explained and then turned away.
Isabel blinked dumbly and, only after confirming the priestess was completely gone, opened the door.
“......”
As the door opened, she locked eyes with the Pope, who was sitting at a side table.
Narrowing her eyes, Isabel walked up to him.
“What is it?”
The Pope, with an impassive face, watched her.
Only when Isabel was right in front of him did he slowly open his mouth.
“You have a visitor.”
“A visitor?”
“Yes, someone specifically asked for you.”
Asked for her?
Who could it be?
“Where is this visitor now?”
“I’ve had them wait in the reception room.”
“Who is it? This person asking for me?”
“Who indeed...”
The Pope began to speak slowly.
And the person who had come to see her was...
“Information broker Emily.”
“.......”
Isabel frowned instinctively.
Then she let out a belated sigh.
“She wants to see you.”
[Translator – Peptobismol]