🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 24
White Crow (3):
Before her regression, Berenice first encountered the White Crow while fleeing from the burning mansion.
At a time when she didn’t know where to go and hesitated to take a step, Bronwen appeared as if dropped from the sky. With only the words “Follow me,” he moved Berenice and the two who were with her outside the capital.
It was the White Crow who taught a young noblewoman—completely ignorant of the world—how to escape, where to go, and how to act.
Berenice had learned desperately, without knowing why they were helping her so much, and only three years after fleeing the mansion did she come to understand Bronwen and the White Crow.
The Guild of Information, which would tell you anything for money but refused assignments even for a fortune if they disliked the client, was a secretive organization. Its name came from a line left by a poet in the age of magic: “The white crow flying in the night sky watches everything.” Without connections, one could not even locate their request desk.
At first, Berenice could not understand why such a group would help her.
Over time, having lived as a fugitive, she became “friends” with them and learned that Bledin was the link between her and the guild.
That was why she chose the White Crow as her ally again after returning in time.
Surely, in this life as well, Bronwen and the White Crow would not have forgotten her brother.
Berenice silently offered the gratitude she had not been able to express before and sincerely prayed that they would help her once again.
“…How did you know?”
Seeing Berenice bowing her head and refusing to move, Bronwen asked.
Not to boast, but having lived long, Bronwen possessed many skills, and disguise was one of his specialties.
He had assumed that no one could have noticed him disguised as a hunter when he moved Bledin’s body to the marquis’ mansion…
Yet, a mere young noblewoman had noticed?
It was surprising, but what caught her attention more was the curiosity about the true identity of the young noble of the marquis’ family sitting before her.
“Through my ‘ability.’”
In truth, this was something she had heard from Karga, the vice-guildmaster of the White Crow, before her regression.
When she wondered if the two had a bad relationship because Bronwen would leave whenever Bledin’s story began, Karga had clarified that was not the case.
Berenice remembered that after learning this from Karga, Bronwen had avoided her for a while, either out of embarrassment or some other reason, making things difficult for her.
“Don’t laugh. Tell me the truth.”
Perhaps he misunderstood her smile recalling the past. Raising one eyebrow, a hint of mischief showed on Bronwen’s face. His pride must have been wounded.
Yet, what she said wasn’t meant to tease him; half of it was close to the truth.
Her ability had allowed her to become close to Karga and hear the story.
The other half, however, was bait prepared for Bronwen. Of course, she couldn’t guarantee he would believe the truth, hence her fabricated words.
‘Bronwen might believe that I’ve returned through time…’
Perhaps he, the last of an immortal lineage, could believe in such a divine miracle.
If so, it might be better to be completely honest and request help.
“You’re the youngest of Wiltiera, born five minutes after your twins. Tell the truth.”
“….”
…Is this really the White Crow?
Seeing Bronwen deliberately act mischievously as if knowing how to irritate her, Berenice resolved never to reveal her regression.
“Believe it or not, it’s my ability. Shall we stop talking about it here?”
“You’re just like the firstborn, changing the direction of the conversation at will.”
Realizing Berenice would say no more, Bronwen frowned and sank back into the sofa.
But she had to rise again soon.
It was because she recognized the object Berenice pulled from her bosom.
“A diary?”
“You noticed?”
“No… wait. Why is it in your hands? I thought it was lost or stolen.”
Muttering in confusion, Bronwen turned to ask Berenice.
“You’re the youngest of Wiltiera. Tell me—where did you find that diary?”
Berenice, resolved to reveal the truth this time, replied:
“When I returned to the estate for the second funeral, I found it in my brother’s bedroom.”
“That madman went there? When?”
Madman?
Bronwen had always been calm and composed—at least, that was how Berenice remembered him before her regression.
Now, however, he seemed, politely put, unusually expressive with his emotions.
“I told you not to even look near the estate! And yet you went there?”
“Please, calm down…”
“Do you know how many are trying to kill me everywhere? I’d plant spies first if I were you.”
“….”
“Wiltiera’s youngest, listen! You even evaded me! Or rather, you didn’t even evade properly. Had you not told me, I wouldn’t even have known you went there! That’s not what I taught you the technique for!”
Even here, Berenice thought she might discover another side of Bledin.
While fearing that her respect for her brother might be chipped away again, she first tried to calm the agitated Bronwen.
“Your brother must have had his reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“…Uh… good reasons?”
“Just like him, throwing out random words when flustered, huh?”
Bronwen, having calmed himself slightly, glanced at the diary in Berenice’s hands, likely cursing Bledin silently.
“Ahem. The reason I came today seeking the owner of the White Crow is for this diary.”
“Why the diary?”
“It contains hints that can help fulfill your wish.”
“What?”
Seeing Bronwen unusually flustered, Berenice recalled a page from the diary.
Recently written, it detailed secrets about Bronwen’s bloodline and her own wish—to end an endless life.
This was likely one reason Bledin wanted her to have the diary. Bledin, after all, was too kind to ignore a friend’s earnest wish.
“You can fulfill my wish… so you know something, then?”
“I know that the wish is precious to you.”
“So, you intend to use my earnest desire as leverage.”
“It’s not a bad condition.”
“Let’s hear it.”
Bronwen could have taken the diary by force anytime. Yet, he chose to listen to her first.
Berenice lightly bowed in gratitude and held up two fingers.
“There are two conditions to handing over this diary.”
“Go on.”
“First, help me.”
“Help with exactly what?”
“I want to know the secret behind Bledin’s death.”
She now knew Bledin was chasing a secret tied to the crown prince’s death before he died.
However, the true mastermind who killed him and ruined the family remained unknown.
“I want to know who killed my brother and tarnished his death.”
“To me, that sounds like you want to know who killed the crown prince.”
“It’s not much different.”
“And then? Revenge?”
“Yes.”
Bronwen, momentarily silent, studied her closely.
She seemed an ordinary noblewoman apart from her sorrow-tinged white hair and beauty… yet her amber eyes shone with grief, vengeance, and determination not to give up.
“The first of Wiltiera died saying similar things.”
“I won’t die.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“I won’t.”
“…Second condition?”
Bronwen, seeming slightly weary, asked.
“The second is simple. I want to know your relationship with my brother.”
“Huh?”
“What kind of relationship made you risk yourself to help him, even turning the royal family into enemies?”
Would she get an answer this time?
Before, he might have dodged such questions.
Yet, Berenice had to know. She needed to understand why he risked everything to help her.
“Relationship… there’s nothing special.”
“But…”
“I was just curious.”
“…Huh?”
Bronwen, looking tired, slumped on the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Your brother was a man standing on a line between two extremes.”
“A line?”
“Facing him is evil, protected by his back is good, and standing alongside him, no matter the direction, is friendship.”
Berenice unconsciously nodded, visualizing Bledin naturally standing on that black-and-white boundary.
“I wondered… how long can he stay on that line?”
People change. Even Bledin, seemingly the perfect knight, would change.
Would he become a dazzlingly great figure too formidable to face, or a wretched being lurking in darkness?
“And I wondered… could I become friends with someone who can clearly divide light and darkness?”
It was curiosity, amusement, and a small whim of someone living an endless gray life.
“Your brother…”
Recalling her first meeting with Bledin, Bronwen paused, then listened closely to Berenice’s quiet voice.
“Your brother already considered you a friend.”
“….”
Placing the diary on the low table between them, Berenice said to Bronwen:
“And I consider you a ‘friend’ too.”
