Ah, Natasha.

A frosty breath escaped, like smoke rising from a pipe, as the man’s deep sorrow lingered in the void. Soon, it traced the orbit Sieghart would have to walk.

His feet moved slowly, carrying his sturdy body. It was difficult to take steps, as if his ankles were fused to the ground. Sieghart barely managed to create movement and increase the distance.

Ah, Natasha.

As he drew closer to the woman’s form, the man’s face twisted harshly.

His oval-shaped field of vision crumpled here and there, losing its shape. Barely holding onto the blurring view before him, Sieghart pressed on resolutely.

Finally reaching the bed, the tension released. Along with it, his legs gave way, and he nearly stumbled backward.

Natasha’s face, lying alone on the bed, was as pale as a corpse. Her arms were rough and wrinkled like a rag that had been stabbed repeatedly.

The sheets and blankets were spotlessly clean, changed daily by the maids. The flawless white was stained red.

Startled, Sieghart surveyed his surroundings. The first thing that caught his eye was a shard of glass beneath the woman’s hand. Next, he saw a vase that had been mercilessly shattered.

Judging by her narrowed eyes and labored breathing, it seemed Natasha hadn’t completely lost consciousness.

However, her condition was strange, as if she had taken a narcotic. Her eyes were unfocused, and she showed no reaction to loud noises.

The blood that had run cold now boiled hot. He felt his muscles expand and his entire body grow stiff.

“The doctor, call the doctor immediately!”

Sieghart shouted at Meliana, who had brought the first aid kit. After hastily handing over the kit, Meliana scurried out again with quick steps.

Sieghart ground some herbs and sprinkled the powder over the woman’s arm. Natasha flinched repeatedly, wincing as if it stung, even in her semi-conscious state.

It hurts, she whispered softly. It didn’t seem like she was reproaching Sieghart. It was closer to an instinctive reaction.

The composure he had barely maintained crumbled once again.

“Why on earth…”

“…”

“Why are you doing this, Natasha?”

At that voice, Natasha’s head moved.

“You have a dream. You’ve built up so much until now! There’s no reason for it all to crumble like this. Why are you choosing death again, why…”

Unintended reminiscence once again approached the man.

The ten times Natasha had died.

Until then, Sieghart had been trapped in the past, hearing news of the woman. Although his body didn’t move freely and acted like that man living in the same era, his pure soul was still himself.

His mouth and hands moved on their own, thoroughly projecting the Sieghart Asthart of that time. He couldn’t even stop the woman who rushed to the window and threw herself out.

Without time to mourn her, time arbitrarily turned and placed the man elsewhere.

Two times, three times, four times, five times…

Finally, up to ten times. He could only watch helplessly as the woman he loved died.

Given one last life, and finally able to move by his own will, Sieghart sought out the woman. Vowing to bring her happiness at last, he acted as Natasha had wished.

They ate together, slept together. He wrote the letters she wanted without fail.

He remembered the wedding anniversary he had previously neglected. He took the woman, who felt lonely being confined to the duke’s residence, outside to travel.

He tried to protect her from Kyle Letius…

“It must be easy to say, Sieghart Asthart.”

A tearful voice reached the man, who was entangled in a whirlwind of distracting thoughts. The past that had clung so tenaciously suddenly fell away from his body.

“It was because I loved you. Back then, I loved you so desperately that I was willing to give up everything…”

“…”

“So now, I hate it and it’s so hard. It’s painful. As much as I loved the you of the past, I resent the you of now, I do.”

The faint voice now pushed the man into an endless maze of guilt.

“I loved you that much, wanted you, yearned for you… And you ruined everything. You called my blood lowly and disregarded my entire existence.”

“…Tisha.”

“You should have either abandoned me or let me go when I said I would leave! You persistently kept me by your side, tormenting me, even though you wouldn’t accept me. Treating me worse than the soot stuck to your feet…!”

The woman’s words pierced Sieghart’s chest like a dagger. The man who hadn’t fallen even before a sword desperate to tear his flesh and take his heart now crumbled completely at just a few words.

“And yet in this life, you acted as if you loved me.”

“…”

“And yet, you actually confessed that you loved me.”

“…”

“How could I not go mad when you thrust such words at me? How could I have any lingering attachment to long-cherished wishes or the future I had always wanted? No, I just want to run away. Sieghart, to a place without you…!”

Natasha coldly brushed off Sieghart’s hand as he wrapped bandages around her arm.

The corners of her mouth twitched and moved upward. It appeared to be a smile at first glance, but it didn’t look like she was smiling at all. Rather, it looked like she was holding back tears.

Even when she finally cried moments later.

Sieghart lacked the strength to wipe away the streams flowing down her cheeks. He wanted to caress her eyes and gently kiss her, but he couldn’t muster the courage.

Because his sincerity and touch would surely push her further into ugly emotions.

“Sieghart, you neither love me nor loved me. If you had loved me, you couldn’t have done that to me, and if you love me, you couldn’t do this to me. This… this is guilt. A twisted emotion created from pitying my dead self.”

The woman who doesn’t know the truth wouldn’t be able to accept love.

Natasha Charliee, unaware that he too once struggled with the same concerns, wouldn’t be able to understand Sieghart’s repetitive love.

But Sieghart couldn’t open his mouth this time either. He couldn’t argue that her words were wrong when he couldn’t explain everything.

He had to guard the secret room of Bluebeard that she had not yet discovered.

The woman looked at Sieghart’s empty eyes and shifted her gaze as if disgusted. She smiled faintly at the bandages tightly wrapped around her arm, which had looked like a piece of trimmed meat.

She seemed to be sneering, as if to say, how could you tremble at such a trivial wound when I’ve died so many times?

“The reason I could face you, the reason I could smile at you, the reason I could be even a little kind to you. Sieghart Asthart, it was because the man in this life was different. But if that subject was actually you from the past life, the story would be different.”

Turning her head back to Sieghart, she continued speaking clearly in a more condensed voice. She was about to put a period on the conversation at last.

“Just as your confession was far too late, my forgiveness is also far too late. You should have confessed when I asked you over and over again. At least before I came to rely on you… If you had a conscience, you should have stopped me.”

A moment later, Sieghart picked up the bandage that the woman had dropped when she shook off her arm. After cutting off the part that had touched the floor with a knife, he silently wrapped the bandage again.

“Yes, you probably don’t want a heartfelt apology. It’s too late. No matter how sincere, it would sound like worthless hypocrisy, so it’s useless.”

He pretended not to care, even though his heart was tattered like a rag from the words that cut into his heart.

“Even if your life has fallen back into hell because of me, even if you’re grieving and angry and suffering, endure it to the end. To live.”

“…”

“Live steadfastly, remembering the time when you’ll be happy in the future. Move forward, anticipating the gratifying time when you’ll be happy and I’ll be unhappy. By my side, who has thrown you into hell, into the abyss, into the snow fields, continue.”

Seeing Natasha calming herself down as she listened to his voice, he deliberately continued speaking. He recited it without minding that it was both a curse directed at himself and a curse directed at Natasha.

Because he had to fix the woman’s arm.

Meliana and the doctor consistently reported on the duchess’s situation.

Meliana conveyed hopeful news that the duchess, who had been depressed for the past few days, seemed to be gradually regaining her will to live.

Sieghart realized that this was the woman’s struggle and escape. When faced with unbearable situations, she would move busily to an unbearable degree, afraid of the hardships she would have to face.

“I see, take care of the duchess more attentively.”

Should I be grateful that she’s moving now?

Whenever the woman exerted herself to be active, a strange pleasure would follow, so should I hope for a small fate now too?

“Yes, understood! Shall I subtly suggest that she visit Your Grace?”

Meliana, who didn’t yet know the exact situation, seemed to think the two had simply quarreled. She slightly appealed, suggesting that she could move to improve their relationship.

“…No need. Bring her here only when she says she wants to see me.”

Sieghart rejected the maid’s suggestion with a bitter smile.

However, for some reason, Natasha Asthart came to see the man first the very next day.

“Your Grace, I have something to tell you.”

Holding the contract they had written together.