Mother-in-Law Refuses to Regress! (7 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 1

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Guinevere Rodante was an indifferent woman who showed no concern even for the son she had given birth to.

Her one and only son was merely the result of a one-night mistake, and no one knew the identity of his father.

When that son grew up and announced his intention to marry, Guinevere nodded her approval without even seeing the face of the woman who would become her daughter-in-law.

The wedding was held in grand style—it could not possibly be modest, given that it was the son of Rodante, the one and only arch-witch of the realm.

For an entire month, a wedding more magnificent and dazzling than even the Emperor’s own ceremony was held, with no regard whatsoever for the bride’s personal tastes.

And then she forgot.

She only remembered the existence of her long-forgotten daughter-in-law when her son William burst into her laboratory, carrying his dying bride on his back.

But by then, the light of life had already faded, and Guinevere could do nothing. The girl had been frail by nature since birth.

After the daughter-in-law died, her son was utterly broken. He skipped important events, refused to remarry, and occasionally lost his senses entirely, bringing shame upon the Rodante name.

Guinevere urged her son to forget the past, but soon regretted it—because her son, William, had turned back time.

On the day time itself reversed, Guinevere sensed a powerful surge of magical energy emanating from William’s location.

Her magic, reacting instinctively to the danger in that fleeting moment, surged uncontrollably around her. When the storm passed, she felt an unsettling dissonance in her ever-steady laboratory.

As she headed toward William, Guinevere Rodante realized what had happened.

Everything had reverted fifteen years into the past. William, now just on the verge of turning fourteen, stood facing a young child—unable even to recall that he himself had turned back time.

Guinevere instantly recognized that child as her daughter-in-law, whose very name had grown hazy in her memory.

‘He turned back time… just for that girl?’

William was no mage, but because witch’s blood flowed through his veins, he could perform simple magic using his own blood as a medium.

Truly simple things—like gathering moisture from the air to fill a single cup of water, or lighting a flame without matches.

Time belonged solely to gods and dragons. Even Guinevere Rodante, whose greatness was unparalleled in history, could not grasp even an instant of time.

‘All that studying, and it was useless!’

Having confirmed her son’s brilliant talent, Guinevere resolved to train him even more rigorously than in his previous life.

Even without his mother’s attention, William, as the arch-witch’s son, had always borne great expectations. Now that Guinevere herself began teaching him, he became the sole focus of society’s admiration and anticipation.

So great was the weight of those expectations that at times he wished he were dead.

Yet no matter how much she taught him, William never became a mage. He grew into an even more melancholic and silent young man—and despite his packed schedule, he met and fell in love with that girl, whether her name was Larisa or Lara or something else entirely.

Guinevere opposed the union. Why marry a girl destined to die young? Her son possessed a rare talent that could transcend the human realm and challenge the divine.

He barely had enough time in his life to devote wholly to magic—how could he waste it on love? It was precisely because she thought this that Guinevere was able to return even sooner this time.

For William, defying her opposition, had eloped with Larisa. They lived a difficult life together until Larisa fell ill and died.

The moment Larisa died, William turned back time—ten years this time. Guinevere Rodante alone remembered the vanished twenty-five years of accumulated past.

The instant she traveled back through time, Guinevere immediately sought out William.

Once again, she found him standing face-to-face with the unmistakable child who was Larisa—and instantly separated the two.

William had turned time back to the moment of their first meeting, but there was no way they could have fallen in love at first sight.

What could a fourteen-year-old noble boy possibly see in a grubby seven-year-old from the slums to fall for her instantly?

There was a seven-year age gap. A boy of fourteen simply wouldn’t fall for a seven-year-old child—so if they never crossed paths again, there’d be no problem. Guinevere thought simply.

Just as she grabbed her son by the scruff of his neck to teleport away, William cried out desperately.

“Mother, wait! I’ve lost my wallet!”

“So what?”

Guinevere teleported them straight into William’s room, tossed him into the corner, and said coldly,

“You won’t need money anyway. You’re forbidden from leaving until you become a mage.”

‘That way, he won’t meet Larisa, won’t fall in love, and won’t turn back time again.’

But perhaps Guinevere had underestimated the situation? William, who had always been obedient, dared to defy her words—something no one had ever dared before, which is why she had grown careless.

William didn’t worry about consequences. Consumed by a desperate desire to run away, he had saved every penny he could—and now that his entire savings had been stolen by a pickpocket, he secretly fled the estate once more to find Larisa.

By the time Guinevere realized what had happened and went searching for William again, she found him comforting a sobbing Larisa, her hands covered in dirt.

A chill ran down her spine. She felt a powerful premonition—a sense of invisible fate binding the two together, inevitably leading her son toward despair.

She strode forward immediately and pulled Larisa, who was crying in her son’s arms, away from him.

Larisa, light and frail, was tossed aside like a discarded doll. Seeing this, William resisted fiercely.

“Stop it! She just lost her mother yesterday!”

Guinevere glanced around and, seeing the shovel, the poorly covered mound of earth, and the two children clad in mud-stained clothes, quickly deduced what had happened.

Yesterday, Larisa must have stolen William’s money—but even that couldn’t save her mother. William, returning to retrieve his wallet, had discovered Larisa’s mother dead and buried her himself.

If love began with pity, Guinevere thought, it would be easy to sever—once there was no more reason for pity, that would be the end.

So Guinevere officially adopted Larisa into a noble family. The plan seemed effective.

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At first, William appeared suspicious of his mother’s sudden generosity, but soon he forgot about Larisa.

They met again at the royal palace’s New Year’s ball, when William was twenty-five and Larisa, now eighteen, was making her formal debut.

By then, Guinevere had grown completely complacent, seeing that William no longer sought out Larisa, and had immersed herself in researching time-reversal magic.

After all, she had witnessed it twice with her own eyes—and since her son had succeeded both times, perhaps she could achieve it too.

Guinevere herself had no moment she wished to return to, but the witch’s curiosity and thirst for knowledge burned fiercely within her.

Meanwhile, William was ablaze with love for Larisa. Had Guinevere known, she wouldn’t have idly wasted time researching magic.

A melancholy young man, years past adulthood yet still no mage—and a false noblewoman, fortunate enough to be adopted into a noble house but unable to shed her humble origins, shunned by high society.

The two quickly grew close, their childhood memories and lingering fondness intertwining, and as if by silent agreement, they fell in love.

When they came to ask for her blessing to marry, Guinevere could not refuse. If it happened once or twice, it might be coincidence—but three times? Perhaps it truly was fate.

Yet Larisa was destined to die young. If they married now, she would fall ill and die early, and William would turn back time once more.

So Guinevere set a condition for them.

“Have a child first. If a child is born between you, I’ll grant my permission.”

She reasoned that if they had a child, William would not fall into despair and turn back time again.

But three years passed with no child. Then one day, William appeared at Guinevere’s tower, carrying Larisa on his back.

It was a repetition of that day from his first life—with one difference: this time, Larisa showed signs of having coughed up blood.

‘She never coughed up blood in the first or second life.’

Though raised in poverty and frail by nature, she had never suffered from any serious illness.

Moreover, in this life, she had been raised since childhood in a noble household—surely she should live longer than the average slum dweller?

Only then did Guinevere begin to suspect something unnatural about her daughter-in-law’s illness.

She couldn’t save Larisa immediately, but she could delay death.

Drawing upon forty years of research—twenty-five vanished years plus this current life—into time magic, Guinevere succeeded in slowing the flow of time for Larisa.

Yet there was no way to cure Larisa, who was slowly dying.

Guinevere Rodante could teleport, summon storms, trigger earthquakes, or burn half a continent—but she could find no way to save someone whose organs were already dissolving from poison.

Larisa lived for ten more years—meaning she endured the agony of death for a full decade.

At any moment, Guinevere could release the spell and let her die—but it was William’s selfishness that prolonged her suffering.

William, nearly driven mad, plunged into research on resurrection magic—but wasn’t his true talent always time magic?

Guinevere advised him to abandon his futile efforts and instead focus on mastering time magic to reverse Larisa’s time.

“You’ve already turned back time twice—I don’t know how, but your talent is clear.”

After hearing his mother out, William gave a faint smile and said,

“I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t let Lara suffer any longer.”

And before her eyes, he took his own life.

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