🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 50
At last, I’d found a way to approach Evan Taylors.
The sight of Evan—corrupted, broken, and utterly devoid of hope—in his so-called special ending was so shocking that I felt all the more compelled to meet him, to sit down and have a serious conversation about the future.
“If His Grace the Duke finds out, my life is forfeit.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t get caught. Just trust me!”
While Maya drew the guards’ attention elsewhere, Robin led me down a hidden passage that led to the underground cells.
“But, Robin, how do you even know the way?”
“This path? Well, I’ve broken out a few times before. Ha ha.”
Robin winked and continued.
“My brother and I used to be rather famous street thieves. At least, until my brother crossed paths with His Grace when we were twelve.”
With surprising amusement, he recounted how they’d been “scouted” into the duke’s service.
“We stole a piece of jewelry from a noblewoman—but it turned out to be something extremely important.”
To think they’d once been daring enough to steal from House Winchester.
“They branded us as thieves and beat us nearly to death. Just when we were about to draw our last breath, His Grace said he’d make use of us. I don’t know what he saw in us, but…”
Probably their toughness, I thought.
That would explain it. Rowen, having received proper knightly training, had risen to near the top ranks of the order, while Robin’s skills as a rogue were unmatched among his peers.
“Ah, here we are.”
Robin stepped aside, revealing a narrow crawlspace.
“With my build now, I can’t fit through. You’ll have to go alone.”
He fixed me with a grave look.
“I’m only doing this because you insisted. Please, don’t make me regret it.”
I smiled faintly as I stepped inside.
“Of course not.”
On the other side of the crawlspace was a single, isolated cell.
Inside, sitting among the shadows, was a boy.
His body was covered in wounds, but his face was oddly untouched—handsome even. His clothes were tattered rags, but his eyes gleamed with a chilling clarity.
“Haa…”
I steadied my breath and stepped before him.
Evan Taylors.
He greeted me with a calmness as if he’d known I would come.
Awkwardly, I raised my hand.
“…Hello…”
“……”
The silence grew heavy. Embarrassed, I lowered my hand.
“I’m Shasha Winchester, the youngest daughter of Ricardo Winchester. And you are…”
For the first time, Evan’s brow twitched at my words.
“Evan Taylors. A regressor, aren’t you?”
So it connected.
After several seconds, Evan finally spoke.
“This time… are you Perseotos?”
His icy blue gaze bore into me.
I didn’t understand.
In The Secret of the Blue Hawk, Perseotos was resurrected in Jin’s body. Evan knew that—he lived through it. So why ask if I was Perseotos?
“Perseotos is a demon. Are you asking me if I’m a demon?”
Meeting his stare, I answered firmly.
“Of course not.”
But a troubling thought nagged at me.
If Evan really was a 28th-turn regressor, then he knew Perseotos revived in Jin during the first turn. So why hadn’t he stopped it in the following lives?
What circumstances had forced him to die twenty-seven times and still reach his twenty-eighth regression?
Because Jin was too strong? No—Evan was supposed to be a brokenly overpowered protagonist.
“Of course you’d deny it.”
His answer came swiftly.
“No one knows they’re Perseotos until the sleeping demon awakens in the Era of Ruin.”
The Era of Ruin—a specific time period, no doubt.
When I turned twenty, when Evan was twenty-five, when House Winchester was destroyed.
And if no one knew they were Perseotos until then, that could only mean…
“Wait—you’re saying Perseotos resurrects in a different body every regression?”
Evan’s brows furrowed.
“Yes.”
My eyes widened.
“So just as I have the privilege of regression, Perseotos has a privilege as well.”
So this was the truth behind Evan’s endless regressions.
I wanted to grab Death by the collar and shake him until his teeth rattled.
So what if I cured Evan’s sickness? The world was still doomed. Doomed twenty-seven times already!
Still, there was a sliver of relief.
The part of the story I had read showed only his first life. Meaning, in this life, the odds were high that Jin wasn’t Perseotos.
“…And by my judgment,” Evan said suddenly, “there’s a high chance you are Perseotos in this life.”
Excuse me, what?!
“I know you’ve infiltrated my Square multiple times.”
Only then did I realize—the owner of that mysterious Square had been Evan all along.
Oh. So he knew. That must’ve been why he had slipped into my room.
And to think I’d scribbled a giant “ㅗ” symbol in his notebook…
“Sorry. I honestly didn’t know it was your place at first.”
I felt oddly sheepish.
I’d trespassed into his room first, yet he was the one thrown into a cell.
“Anyway, I have nothing to do with Perseotos, and I’m not a regressor like you. My situation is… complicated. I’ll explain later. For now, I’ll talk to Father and get you released—”
But Evan cut across me.
“You’ve created countless variables.”
“Well… that’s not wrong.”
“So I can’t help but suspect you as Perseotos. Unless you provide undeniable proof, killing you is the safest choice.”
His cold, murderous eyes—and his words even colder—erased whatever awkwardness I’d felt.
“You came to my room… to kill me?”
My heart thudded painfully.
“No way… right?”
But he gave no answer.
Not, I’ll kill you because you’re Perseotos.
But, I’ll kill you because I suspect you might be Perseotos.
I steadied myself and spoke.
“You’re trapped by Perseotos.”
His brow twitched again.
“Trapped… by Perseotos?”
“Yes.”
In the novel, Evan Taylors had been noble and heroic. But like all heroes, he was also self-righteous—defining his own path of justice and pursuing it without hesitation.
And if that self-righteousness hardened over twenty-seven regressions in a single, obsessive direction…
“The human brain can’t process negation. The more you try not to think about what you hate, the more you dwell on it. All you think about now is destroying Perseotos. But if that’s the only thought you cling to…”
I leveled my voice, calm and steady.
“…You’ll lose yourself.”
His blue eyes flickered.
“Look at me. I’m seven years old.”
His jaw tightened at that.
However many times regression had worn down his soul, the fact remained—this man had declared that a seven-year-old child must die.
This wasn’t the righteous Evan I had admired. This was a broken hero, consumed by obsession. Could such a man still be called a hero?
His gaze remained icy, fixed upon me.
I pressed on.
“You don’t know me. But I knew you—and I always thought you were incredible.”
I remembered that scene in the novel that had moved me most.
When his enemies forced him to choose between innocent lives and surrender, Evan Taylors…
“…waited ten nights and days at the bottom of a cliff to save a single child.”
My voice wavered with emotion. For a moment, his eyes trembled.
“You never gave in. You endured, no matter what.”
That unwavering justice was his very identity.
And in that instant, a message window appeared before me.
[You have achieved the accomplishment: ‘The Realization of the 28th-Turn Regressor.’]
[Achievement unlocked! Skill level has increased.]
[Skill: Black Dominion (SS/LV.4)]
