Francia’s fingertips trembled as she held the letter.
Rudbeckia Friché.
Yohan’s former wife.
Even if their marriage had been a loveless political arrangement, she had undeniably been Yohan’s wife. And now, having returned to the past, she was making her presence clear with just a single letter.
Francia took a deep breath. A faint tremor ran through her heart, and a chilling sensation spread down her spine.
The contents of the letter made it obvious Rudbeckia had also returned to the past. Otherwise, she would have had no reason to send such a letter to Francia.
Of course, even after their return, Rudbeckia and Francia weren’t complete strangers. They had both been second-class civil servants and had served during the same period.
Since they had been in different departments, their paths hadn’t crossed often, and they hadn’t formed a deep connection. But still, Francia remembered her.
Before her regression, she had been too preoccupied to notice but considering that Rudbeckia had also failed to recognize Francia as a fellow civil servant, it was likely the same for her.
However, that wasn’t the important matter right now.
There was something far more pressing.
“How did she regress?”
Francia’s brows furrowed.
How had Rudbeckia managed to return to the past?
Francia had only been able to regress thanks to Yohan’s ability to read rune inscriptions and the remaining magic in the celestial mage’s crystal, which had sustained the barrier.
It wouldn’t have been possible for Rudbeckia alone.
The celestial mage’s power, which had maintained the library’s barrier, had been completely spent when Francia regressed. And Rudbeckia wouldn’t have been able to decipher the runes on her own.
Moreover, how had she even learned about the existence of regression magic?
“Did she overhear my conversation with Yohan?”
That was the only possibility.
Unless, of course, someone had helped her.
But if that was the case who?
“What in the world…”
Francia’s crimson eyes quivered.
She couldn’t even begin to guess.
But one thing was certain.
“I have to meet her.”
She had to meet Rudbeckia and speak with her directly. Ignoring her was an option, but if she did that, there was no telling what Rudbeckia might do.
“It would be best to sever this issue completely before it escalates.”
Click.
“Francia?”
Yohan entered the room. His robe hung loosely around his body, his skin already dry, suggesting he had finished bathing quite some time ago.
“Oh, Yohan…”
Francia averted her gaze slightly. Meeting his eyes felt unbearably difficult.
She hadn’t expected her greed to come back to haunt her like this. Her heart was tangled in a web of conflicting emotions.
“Were you reading a letter?”
As Yohan’s gaze fell on the letter, Francia instinctively moved to block it from view.
“I-It’s nothing important. I’m sorry… Did I keep you waiting?”
“I didn’t wait long, but…”
Yohan approached with a concerned expression and asked,
“Did something happen?”
“….”
What should she say to him? No matter how much she tried to think of an answer, the words wouldn’t come out.
Francia carefully closed the drawer, trying to hide the stationery she had set aside.
“It’s nothing. I think I just got bored from reading the same letter over and over again.”
Forcing an awkward smile, Francia stood up.
“Shall we sleep early tonight? I’m feeling a bit tired.”
“…Let’s do that.”
Yohan found it strange how her mood had suddenly dropped, but he didn’t press her for answers. It wasn’t that he wasn’t curious there had to be a reason why Francia hadn’t spoken up first.
“Let’s go.”
Francia walked down the corridor with Yohan.
As she moved at a slow pace, her eyes narrowed slightly. A sharp, chilling gaze settled on the patterns carved into the wall. There, a floral motif reminiscent of Rudbeckia was engraved.
‘Rudbeckia.’
Since she had been Yohan’s former wife, a conversation would be attempted first. But if no reasonable compromise could be reached, removal was an option.
Rudbeckia Friché she was, at this moment, the most powerful variable that could threaten Francia and Yohan’s relationship.
* * *
He had a dream.
A woman appeared.
A woman who was accused of being a witch.
And yet, she was once known as the Obsidian Saint.
But he knew the truth.
It was nothing more than an absurd rumor.
She had been branded as such due to mere propaganda.
However, the woman was truly beautiful so much so that even he, who had little interest in the opposite sex, couldn’t help but be captivated.
Moreover, she possessed the power of purification, something that could fulfill his ambitions.
So, he accepted her.
He provided her with food, clothing, and shelter and even promised to protect her from the empire, if only for a short while.
She had that much value.
He wanted to have her.
It was the first time he had ever felt such greed.
Because she was beautiful?
Because she could satisfy his ambitions?
He wasn’t sure.
A mix of complex reasons blurred his understanding of his own heart.
With this unfamiliar desire, he watched over her.
The power of purification.
It was an ability that could open the path to celestial magic the realm he so desperately longed for.
If only he had her, he could surely reach it.
So, he made her an offer.
He would grant her anything she desired if she would become his wife.
But she refused.
Her face turned pale with fear, and she fled.
Did she hate him that much?
It didn’t wound him.
He had never been like ordinary people, anyway.
He could easily dismiss it as nothing.
But her power was a different matter entirely.
That power could elevate him to a higher plane.
He could abandon everything else but that, he could never give up.
Thus, he formed a pursuit unit under the Tower of Magic and hunted her down.
Along the way, he clashed with the young emperor of the empire and Grand Duke Lenochonen.
But in the end, even they joined forces with him.
For now, the priority was finding her.
Even if it meant cooperating with those he had no desire to.
After enduring countless hardships, he finally found her.
But at that moment an unexpected obstacle arose.
A nameless man.
With deep navy hair and piercing blue eyes, the man stood as the final barrier between him and the woman.
In the ensuing battle, the man sustained severe injuries.
A miscalculation.
He had never expected that a man who had only barely reached the rank of Special Class could survive his magic.
Of course, he ultimately succeeded in killing him.
The man had put up a tenacious fight, but the difference in skill was undeniable.
But that was where the real problem began.
The woman vanished without a trace.
No matter how many tracking spells he cast, he couldn’t find her.
Those who had pursued her alongside him began to turn against one another.
After a long and bitter struggle, he was the only one left standing.
But he was gravely wounded on the verge of death.
He despised that man.
He desperately wanted to kill him again.
He was so close to reaching celestial magic, yet some nameless knight had dared to stand in his way?
How dare he?
The rage within him was unbearable.
Even someone like him, who rarely felt emotions, was being consumed by it.
“Hah…!”
His eyes snapped open.
He looked down and saw that, even in his sleep, his fists had clenched tightly.
His magic had surged to its limit, and his quarters had been reduced to rubble.
This had become a routine occurrence.
He reached for the bell by his bedside.
A crisp chime echoed through the air, laced with a faint pulse of magic.
The door creaked open.
“Did you call for me?”
A woman with round glasses entered, surveying the wreckage.
The room was in shambles.
Documents he had been reviewing before bed lay scattered across the floor.
The furniture was broken.
“You’ve destroyed your room again. I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened. Are you having nightmares?”
He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes.
“I’m not sure. But it wasn’t intentional. My magic keeps fluctuating.”
Confusion clouded his mind.
Why were these memories flooding into him?
Was this the work of rival sorcerers?
No.
There was no way such lowly magic could affect him.
“Well, I’ll take care of the mess. You should go eat.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
He rose from the bed and changed into a simple outfit.
“The weather doesn’t seem great today.”
“Even the Master of the Tower believes in such superstitions?”
“Of course not.”
The man, known as the Master of the Tower, smirked.
“After all, the sky is me.”
* * *
A quiet café in a remote territory.
Few people, a pleasant atmosphere perfect for a conversation.
Sitting gracefully, Francia tilted her teacup.
‘She should be here soon.’
Francia had sent a letter to Rudbeckia with the meeting location, suggesting they talk in person.
And so, she waited.
“Haa…”
Clack.
Francia set her teacup down.
Like the delicate white steam rising with its fragrance, tension, unease, and even a strange sense of fear lingered within her.
Yet, she showed no sign of it.
‘Stay calm.’
Ding-ling—
A crisp yet cool chime echoed through the café.
The sound of the door opening.
Click. Click.
A woman with long legs approached Francia’s table golden blonde hair and green eyes gleaming with intensity.
“Francia Ferbache.”
A heavy voice called out to her, yet it remained clear and pure.
Francia slowly opened her eyes and looked up.
There stood Rudbeckia looking just as she had in the past, though with a strangely youthful air.
Her gaze was cold, sharp filled with unmistakable killing intent.
As if she might end Francia right then and there.
But Francia remained utterly composed.
Without the slightest change in expression, she spoke evenly.
“Sit down.”
“….”
Rudbeckia felt a sudden chill.
How could she remain so calm?
She had thought this before, even before her regression Francia was truly a ruthless woman.
“Crazy bitch…”
Rudbeckia muttered a curse as she sat down.
This was a café.
As much as she wanted to kill the woman in front of her, doing so would only complicate things for her.
“So, how did it feel?”
Rudbeckia’s voice was low, yet the anger in it spread like an icy mist.
“Stealing someone else’s husband how did that feel?”
She leaned forward across the table.
Golden strands cascaded over her shoulder, and her green eyes glinted like a blade.
Francia narrowed her eyes.
She had expected hostility but for Rudbeckia to be this aggressive from the very start?
In that case, she had no choice but to respond just as strongly.
“Stealing someone else’s husband… The way you say that, it almost sounds as if Yohan truly loved you.”
Rudbeckia’s fingers twitched.
Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she fought to suppress her emotions.
Yet, Francia’s smile did not waver.
Her crimson eyes pierced straight through Rudbeckia.
“Don’t play word games!”
Rudbeckia slammed the table.
The impact sent a tremor through the teacup, causing the hot liquid to slosh over, lightly scalding her hand.
But she didn’t even register the pain.
Her face, twisted in fury, contorted further as she screamed.
“You stole him! My Yohan…!”
Rudbeckia twisted her face in anger and glared fiercely at Francia. The air around them was filled with a surging, murderous aura, and the magic, fueled by her intense emotions, made the atmosphere grow icy cold.
“You shamelessly stole my husband. Yohan was supposed to be with me, but you snatched him away…!”
Rudbeckia’s sharp gaze pierced through Francia.
Francia, however, simply tilted her head slightly, smiling.
“Wasn’t your marriage to Yohan just a forced political arrangement imposed by your family?”
“….”
Rudbeckia’s lips pressed together. She couldn’t deny it. It was true. Yohan had never wanted to marry her. He had only gone through with it because of the pressure from their families.
In fact, right after their wedding, Yohan had practically despised her. He had refused to even spend their first night together as a married couple. It was only over time that his attitude had softened.
“This ring.”
Francia slowly raised her left hand.
A glimmering iolite ring caught the sunlight.
” Yohan bought this for me himself.”
She gently moved her fingers, emphasizing the way the light reflected off the ring.
“That’s…”
Rudbeckia’s eyes trembled. Her fingers dug into the table as if she were trying to crush it.
Iolite.
A special ring given only to one’s true love.
Despite all the time she had spent with Yohan, Rudbeckia had never once received such a ring from him. And now, that very ring adorned Francia’s finger.
“Have you ever received a ring like this?”
Francia’s calm smile drove a sharp blade into Rudbeckia’s heart.