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Valentin ignored all of them after sending a single reply: 'The envelopes the children received cause a terrible illness that requires long-term treatment by a specialist. I will contact you once they are fully recovered.'
Of course, it was all a lie. There was nothing the cowardly Valentin could do to defy Libertan, other than the decision to keep Fedora tied down at the holy hall in a distant city.
From that day on, Valentin waited endlessly for the day he would leave for the Papal State.
This city...
Makhachkala of Ohala was a truly horrific and disgusting land.
It felt as if the screams and shrieks of the countless victims ruined by Libertan were strangling him. He suffered the illusion that the fingernails of abandoned bastards and broken children were piercing his brain and heart. No matter what excuse he made, he could not escape this sense of sin and guilt.
Perhaps that was why. When three years finally passed and the day came for him to leave Makhachkala to don the golden Phasia, he had an exceptionally bad feeling.
It felt as if the screams of the city were refusing to let go of his body, pulling him back. Asking where he thought he was going, telling him he must not leave...
The sense of misfortune forged through death is this terrifying.
Because the price is paid the moment one defies it.
Lost in such sentiment... Valentin looked down indifferently at the red blood soaking his shoulder, then lifted his head.
The carriage heading for the Papal State had been brutally overturned. The accompanying priests, the servants, and the guards had all been slaughtered. It was a familiar handiwork of killing.
The face of the man holding the gun was very familiar to Valentin.
The man who had dragged him along like a piece of luggage on that filthy path in his second life.
It was that man again.
"...Is it Libertan?"
"How'd you know?"
The man asked back in a mutter, letting out a dry laugh.
"This time... why are you targeting me?"
"Now, why do you put it so strangely? Hmm... I mean, why do you have to die?"
"..."
"Well, since you're about to die, there's no reason to keep secrets. Do you remember the daughter of the Bisk family, Father?"
How could he not remember. Alexandre of Bisk. The man was speaking of the woman Valentin had hidden in the remote countryside along with her newborn child.
"That woman suddenly came to see my master. And she tried to stab him with a knife? Wow... she was quite a woman. I've never seen eyes filled with such venom."
That couldn't be.
The woman had a strong maternal instinct.
According to the rare pieces of information he had received, she had abandoned her family and fled to a distant land for the sake of her child, earning money through menial labor to feed her family.
How could such a woman...
"...Did you kill her?"
"What?"
"Did you go to her and perhaps... the family...?"
The man shrugged with a face that suggested it was nothing special.
"Ah... the girl? Of course I killed her. It took twelve years just to find her. Was she the fifth? My master has many women and many children, but most of them are dead. They interfere with the Great Work."
Perhaps due to excessive blood loss, his head felt as if it were spinning.
"I heard the mother was spared out of pity, though her tongue was cut out, but in the end, she came here on her own two feet. After that, through various processes, I heard the Father's name, and then this and that..."
Hahaha. The man laughed unnaturally without any inflection, and with eyes devoid of even a shred of pity, he raised the gun again.
"Poor Father. Why do you live interfering in other people's lives? Did you think we wouldn't know? There are plenty of eyes and ears in the holy hall too."
By then, Valentin was no longer listening.
He closed his eyes.
He didn't want to struggle, and he didn't want to know any more facts. He simply wanted to lie here, stop the tens of thousands of intrusive thoughts tormenting him, and sleep eternally.
Everything had failed.
In the end, he was exhausted.
Yes... Valentin was exhausted.
"Don't be distressed, because you have a companion here. This mission is completed when I, the last witness, die. Now... close your eyes. Let's die together on the count of three."
Death was nothing special.
"One."
Either way, when he opened his eyes, he would be back on the bed.
"Two."
There was no three.
Valentin's time turned back once more.
"Valentin."
Following a low call, the blackout curtains were drawn back.
As his vision brightened beyond his eyelids, Valentin covered his face with the back of his hand.
"It is already past noon. Are you still feeling unwell?"
It was a tender question steeped in deep concern, but Valentin neither affirmed nor denied it, instead burrowing deeper into the bedding. His father tried scolding him and comforting him, but no words could stimulate Valentin.
"Sigh."
As had been the case for the past few days, the one who lost the skirmish between father and son today was the father. As he turned to draw the blackout curtains again and leave the room, the voice of his young son reached his back.
"...The Empress will fall from her horse at tomorrow's hunt. A nail is driven into the right front horse's hoof, so please check it."
His father paused for a moment, gave a short reply that he would do so, and closed the door. After confirming the receding presence, Valentin fell back into a deep sleep.
The next day as well.
The day after the next day.
The day after that... Five-year-old Valentin did not leave his bedroom, like a hatchling bird just born in its nest.
Occasionally, while counting the dates, he predicted the disasters that would befall the Empress and warned of events or people that would negatively affect the household or his father.
There was no grand intention or desire. It was simply an action close to habit. Even if he let go of everything, he wanted to fulfill at least the minimum duty toward the woman who had a child and her family.
Two seasons passed like that, and unable to bear seeing the gradually withering Valentin, his father visited the holy hall.
"Valentin, I hear Bishop Parben is visiting in a week. If you seek advice from him, it will surely be of great help to you. Just hold on a little longer."
The father believed that the lethargy that had suddenly come upon his five-year-old son was closely related to the precognition that had similarly descended upon him.
He wasn't wrong.
Valentin was exhausted.
He no longer wanted to struggle, he didn't want to make an effort, and he didn't want to suffer. He was no longer curious about what God wanted from him; he simply regarded it as a curse.
If death was the fate bestowed upon him, he would accept it humbly. He didn't know how many more times he would have to repeat this hell, but if there was a final destination he could eventually reach, then someday...
After the seasons changed a couple more times.
"Wake up, Valentin. Today is a day of great celebration, so I cannot overlook your circumstances. We must head to the Imperial Palace as soon as possible. Nanny, I leave the child to you."
"Yes, Duke."
The sunlight beat down once more.
Valentin covered his forehead with the back of his hand. What was the date today? While slowly counting the days, his nanny approached and dipped a towel in warm water.
"Now... Master Valentin? Let's quickly wipe your face and change your clothes. Since this is an occasion to meet Her Imperial Majesty the Empress and Her Imperial Highness the Princess, I'll make you look like a very handsome gentleman."
Empress? With a foggy mind, Valentin carefully counted the dates.
However, no matter how much he counted, the Empress of this period could not possibly be alive. The Empress of the third life had closed her eyes on the same day as the Empress of the second life, and it was a fate where her lifespan could not be extended further.
'Did she live about a month longer than expected?'
If so, today would be the fourth death of the Empress that Valentin witnessed.
Four deaths. For the first time, Valentin felt a sense of kinship with the Empress. Since they were both in a position where they could not escape repeating deaths, in some ways, they were no different from comrades.
However, the Imperial Palace he arrived at was different from the atmosphere he had expected.
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