Chapter 95

# 95

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"… I heard you're eight years old. Is that not correct?"

"It's accurate."

"Ugh."

How could an eight-year-old girl know his true identity, and how could she know what information they were desperately seeking? He felt as if he were under a spell.

"This doesn't add up. The price is too high compared to the information you're offering."

Nabia was a bit surprised by Elkin's conscientious declaration but soon replied nonchalantly.

"It's fine. The anesthetic herb farm is very important to me."

Given his situation, where he had to parasitize the Esselred mansion, the anesthetic herb farm would be a significant achievement in his life.

He didn't find it the least bit regretful to exchange it for the emperor's hunting grounds.

Moreover, by treating her like this, he might expect a friendly attitude when he needed to use the information broker again.

Nabia told him about the true nature of the place the emperor secretly visited every winter.

"There's a temple called the Sophia Temple in the outskirts north of the Tuz River. It's currently closed, but His Majesty visits there instead of the hunting grounds every winter."

"Sophia Temple…"

He pondered the possibilities, then slowly nodded.

"Alright. Let's make a contract."

They soon wrote down their requests on the prepared documents and signed them.

Then a small vial containing blue liquid was placed on the table.

"It's a kind of magical tool. It's called a wizard's contract, are you familiar with it?"

"Yes."

"If you dip your finger in this magical ink and place it on the signature on the contract, a similar effect will occur. It's used when making a contract with a non-mage."

Nabia, already familiar with the ink, calmly nodded and dipped her thumb.

Elkin was purely impressed by her bold action of dipping her finger without hesitation.

"You're a brave child."

Nabia smiled at his words. She found him quite amusing.

"Please check it as soon as possible."

Elkin's eyes widened at the vocabulary Nabia used.

She really didn't seem like an ordinary child at all.

Was the word 'extraordinary' meant for someone like her?

He couldn't believe that he had been thoroughly manipulated by an eight-year-old and couldn't help but chuckle. But when Nabia hopped off the sofa, he quickly said,

"Are you going home?"

"Yes. My business is done here. I'll be on my way."

Nabia politely bowed and opened the office door.

Whoosh.

'Oh, it's raining.'

The office had no windows, so he hadn't noticed it was raining.

Nabia was at a loss.

Usually, she would have just gotten wet and gone to hire a carriage, but now she was wearing the coat Margaret had lent her.

'It would be a problem if this coat gets wet. What should I do…?'

At that moment, a bright yellow umbrella was thrust in front of her.

Elkin had handed it to her.

"Many guests leave their umbrellas at the coffee house, so we have quite a few children's umbrellas."

"Ah… Thank you."

Nabia, who really needed the umbrella at that moment, accepted it with relief.

Elkin's eyes deepened as he saw her smile without any suspicion.

There was something more he needed to confirm about this child.

"Are you going to Esselred?"

Elkin said with a smile full of goodwill.

"I'll take you there."

* * *

Lark knew very well that he was a mess.

It was only natural for a monster child who should have died long ago to keep repeating life without dying.

He was wrong. Completely wrong.

'I should die.'

Lark's eyes, now empty, held only one thought.

'I should die.'

Completely, forever.

Only then could he stop doing such disgusting things.

Lark recalled Nabia, who had seemed like a wax doll.

The etiquette she maintained, like a marionette puppet tied with strings.

Her image, devoid of all will and fragrance, suddenly flashed through his mind.

He had never seen anyone like her, even after thousands, tens of thousands of regressions.

No, he had never seen anyone like her in all that time…

Lark rushed to the opposite room almost at a run.

What should he do when he got there?

He didn't know. His mind was so muddled that he couldn't think of what he should do.

He immediately moved to the second floor.

There, he happened to meet Margaret, who was tidying up a room on the second floor.

He had come to look for the child, but she wasn't there either.

He asked irritably,

"Where is she?"

Margaret answered with a slightly surprised look.

"Miss Nabia went outside."

Lark felt his breath catch at her words.

'Could I be too late?'

Too late for what?

'I told her to leave just now.'

Was that wrong?

No, it wasn't.

"Master?"

Lark, with a frozen expression, ran towards the front door.

He couldn't explain why it was wrong or why he was too late, but he knew something was off.

'No. If she leaves, if she leaves now…'

Even as he repeatedly used spatial movement to increase his speed, his mind was a jumble of thoughts.

Why did she leave?

What if she never comes back?

Then, what will I do?

Lark had stopped in front of the front door.

The gray sky and the pitch-black front door. The door had never been closed since the woman left.

Lark extended his hand.

The moment his fingertips touched the door,

Crack!

His fingertips turned red, and the signs of a crack appeared.

Thud.

Lark let his arm fall. His eyes were dark, almost black.

He couldn't leave the mansion.

It was the price he had to pay for regressing to eight years old forever.

Lark had damaged his soul.

It was a terrible act. His human body and the divine power within him had twisted, and his body had become a chaotic mess, unable to maintain its form and collapsing.

That's why Lark found a way. He cast a powerful maintenance and restoration spell on the mansion to forcibly keep his body intact.

The spell had dyed the entire Esselred mansion black.

It wasn't a curse but actually the color of life.

Thus, Lark could no longer witness his mother's suicide in subsequent regressions.

He didn't have to slaughter his entire family with his own hands.

In exchange, he thought being trapped in the mansion forever was a cheap price to pay.

If he took even a step outside, his entire body would shatter. He had actually tried to commit suicide this way dozens of times.

Lark muttered emptily,

"Disgustingly incompetent and pitiful."

Even with the power of a god, he couldn't die completely, save his deranged mother, or leave the mansion.

All he could do was wait stupidly for someone.

Perhaps it would be better if the child never came back.

She was too radiant to be in a place where a terrifying monster like him lived.

Certainly, it would be so.

Thud! Thud!

The overcast sky finally began to rain.

One drop, then another. The raindrops grew thicker, blurring his vision.

Whoosh.

Lark didn't even realize he was getting wet from the rain.

He just stood in the closest place to the outside world that he was allowed, staring endlessly outside.

Waiting for someone was the most hopeful and simultaneously the most hopeless thing Lark could do.

Lark didn't know who he was waiting for.

The woman? Or the child?

'Or both?'

Perhaps an hour had passed.

Then two hours.

He had never felt the flow of time, which he had tried to forget, so vividly and in such detail.

Lark suddenly realized.

What he was waiting for was death.

If the child didn't return, he would take a step forward.

He would leave the mansion and walk as far as he could.

His body would shatter into thousands of pieces, breaking into a terrible shape.

That would be the most painful way to end his life.

And when he opened his eyes, he would be back at eight years old, perhaps starting to wait again with a desperate hope.

'How ridiculous.'

During the countless lives he had spent trapped in this mansion, only in this life did the woman happen to find him.

Also, only in this life did a mysterious girl with an unknown identity appear.

How many deaths would he have to repeat for something like this to happen again?

"Still, that would be happier."

So, he intended to end this cycle here.