TPITT - Chapter 129

 "?!”

Michael stiffened in momentary despair.

“Ah, you stopped. Okay, I'll call you brother from now on.”

“What, are you crazy...?”

Michael couldn't hold back the swearing at this point. Of course, Elijah didn't mind.

“Brother, I'll be good.”

“Shut up. I've never had a sibling like you.”

“Oh, well, we can start now. I'll use polite speech too, okay?”

Elijah continued to annoy Michael, acting like a tail-wagging puppy. Of course, in Michael's eyes, who hated Elijah, he only looked like a dog.

'Maybe I shouldn't have saved him.'

The fever in his body felt like it was all coming to his head because of Elijah.

At this rate, he was either going to pass out or lose his mind and kill him.

But then he heard a voice say something that struck him.

“You're going to be really good now, aren't you? Just trust me for once, I'll do everything you ask me to do.”

“You'll do anything... I tell you to do?”

Michael's gaze turned cold as he saw the potential for exploitation. The first command fell from his smirking lips, a cruel command that trampled on a knight's honor.

“Then kneel.”

“Yes, brother!”

Apparently, Michael had underestimated Elijah.

Elijah dropped to his knees without a second thought. His lemon-colored eyes even glared up at Michael.

One might have mistaken it for a well-trained dog sitting down.

“Ha... What the..."

Suddenly, Michael was skeptical of the emotional investment he was making in dealing with Elijah. He sighed as he decided to give up trying to be serious. He spoke his second and third orders without heat.

“From now on, don't talk to my Princess.”

“Yes!”

“And stay there until the ceremony is over.”

“Yes, brother!”

The command authority that he had obtained was quite useful. Only then was Michael able to free himself from Elijah.

The award ceremony was underway. Up on the podium, Michael was presented with a golden laurel wreath. He then recited the wish he had promised before the fight began.

“As a wish, I would like to dance and kiss the 7th Princess.”

The crowd waited in anticipation for Eve's answer.

There were formalities to acceptance. A golden laurel wreath was passed to Eve by a servant.

“I will allow your lips to touch mine.”

Eve gave the awkward answer that Alben had told her and put on a laurel wreath over her lime-blonde hair. The laurel wreath, which symbolized victory and glory, suited her hair very well.

'I suppose she'll look like that at her coronation someday.

Micael gazed up at Eve, envisioning a brilliant future.

Eve, in turn, gazed trustingly at the man who had brought her honor.

The farther away they were, the more their gaze seemed hazy and yearning.

At that moment, the sound of the people's enthusiasm broke the silence.

“Waaaah! They did it! The uprising had been accomplished!”

“Sob, sob, be happy, Lord Agnito!”

The emcee, who had become a fan of Michael's as of today, chimed in.

[Tonight, the Seventh Princess will grant Sir Agnito a hot, rich, sweet kiss! Congratulations, Sir Agnito!]

“Waaaaaah!”

The cheers rang out as loudly as the shouts of a victorious army, the most enthusiastic response to a martial arts event ever. As Eve watched, she thought to herself.

'No wonder good gossip is added to good battles.'

As the moment came to mind, Eve felt bewildered. It was none other than Rosenite.

'Sir Millard was chosen by Rosie because of his hair color.'

As expected, Rosenite had forgotten to blink for a moment, staring at Michael.

Eve hated that piercing, insistent gaze. Eve had the urge to raise her hand and cover Rosenite's eyes.

“Rosie.”

Eve called her name, hoping to distract her. Fortunately, it worked.

“Why?”

“I just called you.”

Rosenite, finally realizing Eve's intentions, glared at her, exasperated.

'Yes. Look at my face, not Michael's.'

The stinging stare that pierced her cheeks made Eve feel a little more comfortable.

The awards ceremony was over and the closing ceremony was underway. A spectacular performance dazzled the eyes, and a cannon shot into the blue sky.

A summer festival that would be remembered for generations to come in theater and literature had come to an end.

As soon as the ceremony was over, Michael ducked into a dark hallway.

“Thud, thud."

His body, which was barely holding on, had reached its limit.

He was no longer just feverish and short of breath. His mind was confused and his forehead was covered in cold sweat.

A bizarre sensation washed over him as if his body was being torn apart and rebuilt.

Thud.

His off-balance, staggering body slammed into the wall.

The small impact was too much for him, and he slid down the wall.

Amber flapped her wings anxiously around him.

'I need to get to the Princess..."

Once he admitted that he couldn't protect himself, the regression instinct was all that remained in his dazed mind.

Michael managed to push himself back up. Each step he took toward Eve was a struggle.

In the meantime, it was time to look at the memories of his past life.

A distinct vision altered Michael's vision. The cagey prison scene he had seen before reappeared.

"Yes, you've honed your charms enough to seduce me!!”

It was Eve's voice, unmistakably. But the taunting words were unfamiliar.

'Seduced?'

He thought he was going to go crazy, wondering in what context she was saying that.

But Eve, the one who should have answered, had fallen to the floor, unable to speak anymore. A small porcelain bottle rolled to the ground beside him.

Michael's eyes trembled as he watched the vision. He felt his breath catch in his throat, a voice whispered in his ear, filled with joy.

"My sister committed suicide."

“Ugh..."

At that moment, the memories of the most tragic day of my past life began to flood in.

"She drank Belladonna's poison."

"I made the right decision on your behalf as your companion."

"..."

The memories were brutal as if asking him to hold on for dear life without going insane.

Eve in front of him was a corpse, and the porcelain vial was poison.

The moment he realized it, Michael went white, unable to even scream.

'Did I... fail to protect the Princess...?'

Even as he recovered from the shock, the vision continued.

Michael from the past life, holding Eve's carcass, entered a room with a red obelisk and confined himself. He stood by her side, which had never been permitted before, for a long time.

The passage of time was marked by the sight of Michael's deteriorating form in place of the incorruptible corpse.

It felt like a long time had passed.

"The Great Sage of the Spruce Forest greeted the new ruler of the Empire, the King of Homunculus."

The familiar mask of an osprey owl appeared in his memories of his past life. Before Michael could marvel at the exquisite connection, the scene in the room changed in an instant.

The floor, walls, and ceiling of the obelisk's chamber are now filled with intricate, malleable cords.

The Great Sage from the past life kindly explains the purpose of the cords as if to show consideration for Michael who does not recognize it.

"The preparations are complete, we will now begin the ritual of regression."

'...'

Regression. He clearly said regression.

It was a heart-stopping moment of surprise. The obelisk in the center of the room emitted an intense glow and shrank in size.

Only then did Michael realize that the red mineral structure was the Philosopher's Stone.

'Oh, my God.'

The Gear Sage's voice echoed in Michael's ears as he realized what had happened. It was the crucial hint he had heard in this life, not the last.

"Someone had performed a regression ritual because they couldn't bear the loss of a loved one."

'Ah.'

His vision, the world, was bathed in a ravenous red glow.

It was the light that heralded the end and rebirth of the world of the past life.

The light engulfed Michael from the farthest reaches. One by one, sensation, memory, and consciousness faded away. And then Michael felt his most precious possessions return to nothingness.

It was an emotion he'd been pushing down.

He had not even confessed his feelings yet. Michael embraced Eve more tightly with his remaining strength. And he was quiet.

"I don't know about you, but I loved you so much, and maybe it will be the same when I see you again."

A tear rolled down his bitter face. He had never learned to cry like this before, but somehow his Princess had taught him so much about the world's ills.

This is the end of the miracles of this life. If there are miracles in the next, please, if there are miracles in the next.

Inaudible, unreachable, but nevertheless said.

"Love me, just a little bit."

It begged in a throaty voice.

The redness must have swallowed his vocal cords. There was no more sobbing, no more desperate confession, no more pleading. The world of his past life had ended.

And Michael returned to reality.

There was no longer the eerie feeling of his body rebuilding itself. His breathing and heart rate returned to normal.

After what seemed like an eternity, the trembling stopped in Michael's violet eyes. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, staring into the dark void.

Who is the regressor?

Finally, the answer to the riddle. Michael opened his mouth with longing.

“Eve.”

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