DBOFS 67

Chapter 67

“Princess Irene….”

At the mention of her name, her cold purple eyes from the banquet and the silver hair that flowed like waves automatically came to mind.

Her death was due to the sudden war that broke out in the Layer estate.

As the head of Layer, she led her soldiers into battle against the enemy and was reportedly killed in the process.

Of course, she didn’t die without leaving a mark—she ultimately succeeded in annihilating the enemy… but, in any case, the Layer estate suffered greatly from that battle.

“Dymuard’s suicide happened around this time.”

It was a suicide by self-splitting.

Nobody knows exactly what magical measures were involved; apparently, he left neither a corpse nor a note. As if he wished for no trace of his life or existence to remain.

I felt uneasy.

Even when reading about tragedies in print, I had always thought, “What a shame…” but meeting the real-life protagonists of these stories made it even harder to bear.

“Especially the grumpy little kitten, Dymuard… he’s far too young.”

I sighed.

He was still very young, an age when life should be full of joy—so why did he carry such resentment that it led him to such an extreme choice?

Part of the reason I wasn’t overly upset at Dymuard’s mischief today was because I already knew the horrific future awaiting the boy; it weakened my resolve.

But seeing him in person only made me question it more.

“He’s weak, yes, but judging by how others react around him, he doesn’t seem to be in mortal danger. And looking at his family, it’s clear he was dearly loved.”

How could he end up with such a tragic death?

“Is it because Princess Irene was murdered…?”

After Princess Irene’s death, the previous Duke, furious that the Layer estate was responsible, severed ties entirely.

“Right. That caused some problems for the Godwin dukedom too.”

Layer was a central hub for trade. Naturally, a large portion of Godwin’s income came from transactions with them.

However, the previous Duke, who had grown older and lost his only daughter tragically, was not in a state to make rational decisions.

“Even more obstinate, violent, and self-destructive… a true tyrant.”

It was Harris—and more precisely, Harris and his guide Adrian—who appeared to this near-tyrant and instilled a new purpose and will for life.

“Something only the protagonist could manage, really.”

From this perspective, meeting the relatively sane previous Duke two years earlier than usual was a stroke of luck, for both Harris and me… Wait.

“The time when Princess Irene is killed is around now!”

“How should we handle it?”

“What?”

“We have to stop it!”

“Stop what, exactly?”

I hurriedly explained everything.

True to his word that he would try to trust me, Harris listened patiently to my jumbled explanation without complaint.

“So, you’re saying that preventing Princess Irene’s death will also prevent Dymuard Layer’s suicide?”

“Yes. So we have to stop it…”

“Why me?”

“…Excuse me?”

I stared blankly at Harris.

His eyes were red and transparent, yet the depths could not be seen—dark and unfathomable.

“Why should I be the one to stop them from dying?”

He was sincere.

Jade instinctively realized:

“He doesn’t truly understand why he should save them.”

Harris didn’t feel any special affection for his aunt, Princess Irene, or his cousins from the Layer estate when he spoke.

Nor was it resentment—Why should I help others when no one helped me as I suffered as a child?—that fueled his words.

It was simply genuine curiosity.

“Why do you want to stop it?”

Harris was merely asking: why did preventing someone’s death seem so natural to me?

“….”

Jade couldn’t speak.

There were many arguments she could make to explain, persuade, or convince him: They are your relatives; helping them would benefit us; we could negotiate with them using this…

But not a single word came out.

Her heart ached too much.

They say a person’s values and behavior are determined by their childhood.

But Harris’s early years were so harsh that even the instinctive human desire to help others in danger was suppressed.

No one helped him as a child.

No one comforted the crying boy.

No one…

“…Those bastards, they deserve to die!”

How could anyone be so cruel to Harris? Why make him suffer so much?

When I first read Si Cheon Gui, I empathized with his pain. I understood the suffering of being trapped.

That was the start of my fascination.

And watching the trajectory of his life, I devoted myself to him so much that he became my favorite.

“But… I wish it hadn’t happened.”

I didn’t care about my own feelings—I just wished he hadn’t had to live like that.

If only he had grown up peacefully and safely, unnoticed by any obsessive readers like me…

“And if that wasn’t possible, could I have met him before it all began?”

If only I could have saved the young, innocent Harris from that hell earlier.

My heart ached, and the tears that welled up felt ready to fall at the slightest touch.

“…Why that face?”

Harris’s long finger touched my cheek. The tears I had held back streamed down.

“Crying again.”

Harris watched the transparent tears roll down Jade’s cheeks.

“You cry so much. Most of it is because of me. Is it this time too?”

“Are you scared of me?”

Harris gently wiped her tears with his fingertip. The face of the enslaved girl who had cried out of fear and threats overlapped with Jade’s current face.

Back then, she hadn’t minded—it was irritating at the time—but now, memories from that period gripped her heart painfully.

It hurt.

“Did I… hurt you again…?”

Before she could even ask, Harris’s lips tightened.

“No.”

Jade embraced him.

With all the strength her small body could muster.

“Just…”

And whispered in a wet voice:

“I wish we had met sooner.”

“….”

“I just thought that.”

Harris realized: the person Jade wished to meet was him as a child.

The one who hoped for family, yearned for love, dreamed of seeing his mother rise from her sickbed and his father smile…

That foolish, naive child, humiliating and pitiful just to think about.

“You want to hug me as I was back then.”

Harris stared blankly at Jade.

Why? Even though he would have threatened and intimidated her, memories of which still instilled fear, she approached him nonetheless.

“I really like you, Harris.”

Her voice resonated in his ear, signaling a wave that overwhelmed him, pulling him below the surface—down, down to the rusted, hardened part of his heart that he had locked away.

“…If that had happened.”

Harris chuckled. His own voice sounded strange to him.

“We would have been locked up together instead of escaping. You were weaker back then.”

Perhaps even that laugh was an illusion.

Like his trembling voice, his face might have been a mess too.

“Maybe I wanted such a hug.”

That foolish, idiotic self had at least gotten one wish right.

“…That would have been fun.”

Sniff. Jade’s face buried in his shirt, wet from tears.

“I was frail as a child, so I wanted a friend who could survive.”

Harris’s beautiful pale fingers gently stroked the back of Jade’s head.

“I wasn’t needed.”

If someone as small and weak as her had been pulled into that prison, she wouldn’t have survived.

“Even now, so harsh…”

“You wouldn’t have lasted a week in there.”

“Even cold-hearted too!”

“Really? With personalities like ours, friendship would have been impossible.”

Jade hugged him tighter.

“…I will be friends with you.”

Her red, tear-streaked eyes glinted with determination.

“I will make sure of it!”

Her bright blue eyes stared at him like the morning star he had seen while escaping, brilliant and overwhelming like a crashing wave.

“Alright.”

Harris laughed without resistance.

“Do as you wish.”

The conversation continued quietly.

“…Princess Irene surely has another purpose.”

“Probably.”

Harris’s fingers wiped the tears from my eyes. Clumsy but gentle, it felt comforting, making me smile.

“If the future you saw has changed, there is only one reason.”

“What is it?”

“You.”

Harris, who had wiped all my tears, said while staring intently at my face:

“You are the variable.”

Jade—from another world.

My cheeks warmed from the lazy whisper.

“Somehow… the mood feels nice.”

Our faces were close. His lips were red. I suppressed my excited heart and spoke.

“More precisely, Harris and I are the variables. So…”

Harris met my gaze and nodded, as if he understood.

“Our hearts are in sync.”

I realized that our intimate conversation had brought us closer.

Filled with emotion, I shouted:

“Let’s save them so neither of them dies this time!”

“Or we can quietly watch to see if both die again.”

“….”

That didn’t work!!