Chapter 5
Thanks to their mothers being close friends, he had been with Fay since he was five years old. As they grew older, they even created a secret code known only to the two of them.
The rules were simple. After writing a letter, the sender would draw a shape next to their name.
For example, a circle meant “let’s hang out,” a diamond meant “I have a secret to tell,” and a star meant “I need help.”
Back then, Fay was obsessed with playing spies, and though he learned the code reluctantly, it came back to him quickly after years of use.
“If you were going through something difficult…”
If only you had remembered that game just once.
If you had drawn a star in even one of your letters, I would have come to you, no matter what.
Or did you feel uncomfortable because I was someone you briefly liked? But was there anything worth keeping faith with over there?
Fabian had dismissed it lightly, but Dante, having lived as a knight for so long, could tell.
Whatever else, the bruises on Fay’s body weren’t from an accident. Especially the hand-shaped mark on her wrist—it was unmistakably a trace of violence.
Fay was royalty. Who could dare lay a hand on her? The answer was obvious.
Even now, nearly three years after her marriage, there were no children between Fay and the prince. Looking back, that was strange in itself, yet he hadn’t noticed the unease.
The reason? Fay had never written a single line about her husband in her letters.
At the time, he assumed she simply didn’t want her personal family matters pried into. Even friends weren’t obligated to share everything.
*‘What in the world happened while I was away?’*
Was that why she wrote that she couldn’t attend Giulio’s wedding? Now that things had come to this, the contents of her past letters kept resurfacing, driving him to the edge of madness.
If only he had noticed sooner. If only he had at least pressed her for the truth.
A faint sigh escaped Dante’s lips, his breath forming a white puff in the air. As he watched the mist rise and dissipate, his eyes blinked slowly.
*Strange. Why am I suddenly so sleepy?*
The sun would rise soon. He had to attend her funeral with a composed face, at the very least.
He shook his head, but drowsiness surged over him rapidly. A chilling sensation crept down his spine.
The sound of the wind faded. It was as if he had been cut off from the world.
Sitting in the eerily silent space, Dante fought to keep his heavy eyelids open and thought to himself.
*‘If only, just once…’*
If he could see the living Fay again.
A faint purple shimmer danced around him. With that impossible wish as his last thought, Dante lost consciousness completely.
And then, he opened his eyes in an unexpected place.
“…What?”
He was in a tree.
The moment he opened his eyes, bright sunlight poured onto Dante’s face. Reflexively shielding his face with his arm, he muttered softly.
“A dream…?”
For a vision before death, it was awfully bright.
Dante glanced down at the thick branch he was lying on and slowly ran his hand over it. The smooth yet slightly rough texture registered under his palm.
This tree, standing tall in the marquis’s garden, was said to have been there even before the estate was built. Too beautiful to cut down, it had been kept as an ornamental piece.
As a child, he often napped in this tree on pleasant days. So, the fact that he was up here wasn’t surprising in itself, but…
“Why am I here?”
He had been in the cold winter storage room, guarding Fay’s coffin, and then lost consciousness, hadn’t he?
Even if he had collapsed there, neither his brother nor anyone else would have brought him to a place like this.
And this weather.
It should be winter, but the sunlight was so intense it stung. It felt like midsummer.
Bewildered, Dante scanned his surroundings and suddenly fixed his gaze on his left hand. Staring at his oddly smooth wrist, he rolled up his shirt sleeve.
And then, he blinked.
“…The scar is gone.”
During the three-month border campaign, Dante hadn’t been without his share of dangerous moments. Once, due to a superior’s delayed judgment, his unit had nearly been wiped out.
In that battle, he had earned a scar running straight from his left wrist to his elbow. Though it didn’t hinder his movement, it was supposed to be permanent.
So how…
“Hey, Dante!”
At the sound of someone calling his name, Dante slowly turned to look behind him. A woman ran up to the base of the tree, wiping sweat from her temple as she looked up at him.
“Found you! I’ve been looking everywhere.”
Her red hair was tied up in a neat bun, and her pink-tinged eyes sparkled. Faced with that all-too-familiar face, Dante mumbled dumbly.
“Vivian?”
Vivian Crocus. His brother Giulio’s wife and the only daughter of the Crocus Dukedom, a prominent figure in high society.
But wait.
“She looks younger.”
The last time he saw Vivian, she was a fully mature woman, but the Vivian before him now, though still beautiful, looked remarkably youthful. Barely twenty, perhaps?
“Ho ho, what nonsense is that to your sister-in-law, who’s three years older than you?”
Vivian’s eyes glinted with a chilly edge as she smiled up at him. Sensing danger, Dante quickly shut his mouth, and she continued.
“I had a feeling, and sure enough, here you are. Aren’t you going to school?”
“School?”
He hadn’t been back since graduating seven years ago.
“This is amusing. Even the great Dante turns into a rebellious teenager right before graduation?”
“Right before graduation?”
Not a single word made sense. Hiding his confusion, Dante gripped the tree trunk with one hand and gracefully leaped down.
His body spun half a turn, landing nimbly on the ground. Even the way he brushed leaves off his shoulder was impeccably refined.
Vivian, watching him closely, let out a sigh.
“You always look so composed. It’s hard to believe you’re an eighteen-year-old kid.”
At those words, Dante’s hand, brushing off his shirt, froze. His gaze wavered slightly as he looked at Vivian.
“Vivian, what did you just say?”
“Huh? What.”
“Say it again.”
“Uh… You always look so composed?”
“The next part.”
“It’s hard to believe you’re an eighteen-year-old kid? Is that right?”
Vivian looked puzzled for a moment as Dante stood rigid, his usual composure gone. Checking her pocket watch, she let out a shriek.
“Oh no, we’re in trouble! Hurry up and get ready for school. It’s almost 8:30!”
Vivian grabbed Dante’s arm and dragged him toward the carriage. As he followed obediently and climbed in, his mind spun with tangled thoughts.
If he was eighteen and nearing graduation, as the weather suggested, it meant it was summer.
But could that be possible?
Where had the twenty-five-year-old version of himself gone, replaced by an eighteen-year-old kid who hadn’t even graduated yet?
*Slap!*
Vivian jumped as Dante suddenly slapped his own cheek.
“What the—! What’s wrong with you?!”
“…It hurts.”
“Why are you doing something so out of character?”
“It’s nothing. By the way, Vivian, is it okay for you to be with me? Didn’t you come to see my brother?”
If he was eighteen, then they weren’t married yet. They probably hadn’t even confessed their feelings to each other.
Testing his theory, he asked casually, and Vivian replied irritably.
“Hmph, why would I care about that shameless, stupid man?”
Her ears flushed red as she turned her head, arms crossed. That alone gave him a rough idea of the situation.
“Another fight?”
“Fight? The problem is that jerk who promised to go out with me today and then ditched me for some ‘urgent business.’”
“Sounds like my brother’s fault.”
He could picture the scene perfectly. His brother, usually so smooth-tongued, always fumbled his words in front of Vivian, stirring her anger.
Resting his elbow on his knee and fidgeting with his hands, Dante spoke slowly.
“Vivian.”
“What?”
“…Do you think miracles exist?”
The sudden question made Vivian’s eyes widen, and she burst into laughter.
“What’s that out of nowhere? That’s so unlike you.”
“Just… feeling a bit sentimental.”
“Well, I suppose it makes sense. You’re heading to the temple soon, aren’t you? It’s been your lifelong dream to become a holy knight.”
“I suppose…”
As Dante trailed off, the carriage, which had been moving briskly, came to a stop. Hearing the coachman’s call that they’d arrived, Dante draped his school cloak over his shoulders and flung open the carriage door.
If I’ve really gone back seven years…
“Then I’ll head off.”
“Okay, come with Fay after class, and I’ll treat you to something delicious!”
Then you must be safe, too.
The hill ahead, the wide-open gate, and the countless students streaming inside.
His heart pounded as if it might burst. Dante slowly wove through the crowd.
His leisurely steps quickened, and soon he was running, dodging between students until he reached the gate.
What class is first period today? Where do I need to go to find Fay?
At that moment, Dante’s eyes caught someone walking diagonally ahead, blending into the crowd of students.
He recognized her instantly.
“Fay!”
Shouting her name, the figure ahead paused, then slowly turned around.
