To You Who No Longer Want Me (7 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 3

A curtain of light unfurled before Viare as if a lamp had been suddenly lit.

Drawn by the murmuring voice in her ear, she looked around, searching for its source.

As though no other sound existed in this world, only a child’s sobbing echoed through the air.

Soon, she saw a young child, cheeks flushed red, crying so hard he could barely catch his breath.

The boy’s eyes, tightly gripping the hand of the woman lying on the sickbed, were swollen and twitching restlessly, unable to calm his heart.

Viare still lacked the courage to confront the fragmented memories that hadn’t yet fully healed—but her twelve-year-old self from the unconscious realm tormented her.

[Mother, please don’t leave me behind. I beg you.] [Viare…]

Though the woman now lacked the strength even to hold herself upright, she comforted the child without showing the slightest hint of exhaustion.

[No! I can just use the “Eye of Truth”! So please don’t leave me!] [Hush now, didn’t I already tell you? That power will surely help you greatly.]

She, who carried the blood of the elves, gazed into the child’s jade-green eyes—so strikingly like her own—and added solemnly,

[Viare, when you find someone you must protect yourself, then use that power.]

With those words, she closed her eyes quietly, gazing at her child with such tender longing it seemed she wished not to miss even the smallest fragment of him.

The child was still too young to understand that this conversation would be her final words.

When word spread through the ducal estate that the duchess’s passing had been witnessed by the duke’s daughter, everyone grew curious about those last words—but Viare could not utter a single one of them.

Not even to her father or younger brother.

No one must ever learn that her vivid jade-green eyes—so like her mother’s—were the “Eye of Truth.”

The Eye of Truth held the power to transcend time, but it could be used only once in a lifetime.

Fearing that such immense power would inevitably attract covetous eyes, the duchess had repeatedly warned young Viare,

[You must never speak of this power to anyone.]

If only she had used it then, perhaps no one in the ducal estate would have suffered such pain and hardship.

So Viare had told herself again and again, groaning alone in silence many times over.

Knowing that both Gaisen and her father missed their mother just as deeply only made her heart heavier.

The duchess herself had once used that power in the past, though she never revealed to her daughter exactly for whom she’d used it.

But now Viare understood—for whom her mother had used that power.

And for whom she herself must use it.

For there was undeniably only one person she herself was destined to protect.

“It’s alright now. I’ll protect you.”

Viare cried out, gazing at her jade-green eyes reflected in the water.

“May the blessing of truth be with you.”

With a soft pop, emerald flames erupted, spreading swiftly until they enveloped Viare, then swiftly consumed her vision entirely.

Her eyes burned with stabbing pain, her breath grew short, and her chest tightened unbearably.

“Please, just stay alive, Sion.”

‘This time, I’ll protect you so you can escape death.’

The world plunged into darkness as the flames vanished—but only for a moment. Without so much as a final struggle, she lost consciousness completely.

[This is the timeline separator]

Viare opened her eyes, feeling a dull ache, and strained to move her stiffened limbs.

Only after thrashing about and finally managing to twitch her rigid fingers did she feel her body slowly return to life.

Just as she began to wonder if it had all been a terrible dream, feeling numb and strange,

Viare suddenly sat upright, quickly covering her eyes with her hands and rubbing them repeatedly.

The pain of being engulfed in flames remained so vivid she never wished to feel it again—it had sharpened all her senses.

‘Did I truly return?’

The cufflink she’d clutched tightly before using the power of truth was still in her hand, confirming that none of this had been a dream.

She urgently rang the chime bell on the nightstand, and soon a maid entered after knocking three times.

At first glance, she seemed a young handmaiden—but upon closer inspection, Viare recognized her as the very maid who had always assisted her with her baths.

‘So I’ve surely returned to the past…’

Viare bit her lip, considering whether to subtly test the maid.

Unaware of her mistress’s inner thoughts, the maid simply tried her best to please Viare.

“My lady, the bath is ready. Do you have a particular scented oil you’d like?”

“No, you may choose yourself. But where is Father?”

“The Duke has gone to Marquis Verdeum’s estate.”

Viare’s heart nearly sank—but she carefully kept her tone calm as she asked the underlying question.

“I see. What business does he have at Marquis Verdeum’s estate?”

“Well…”

The maid first checked that no sound would escape the room before whispering cautiously into Viare’s ear,

“This morning, the House of Verdeum sent word of a death.”

“Oh dear. What happened?”

“The Marchioness was ambushed by bandits on her way back from inspecting her domain.”

Only then could Viare determine precisely when the Eye of Truth had sent her back.

“Sion… no, the Viscount—was he in the carriage as well?”

“No, my lady. As far as I know, the Viscount did not accompany them.”

Though Viare’s jade-green eyes trembled wildly at first, the maid’s words gradually calmed her—yet a heavy weight settled in her chest.

‘If only I’d come a little sooner…’

She felt she had unwittingly forced him to drink the bitter cup of sorrow twice, and could not utter a single word.

The accident involving the Marchioness of Verdeum became an unsolved mystery for years, widely discussed among the people.

Especially since the Verdeum household’s knights had accompanied her, many found it hard to believe they’d been so easily overwhelmed.

Though many questions lingered, no one stepped forward on Dension’s behalf.

Everyone knew the Imperial Court had tirelessly worked to close the case.

Long ago, Marquis Verdeum, fed up with the corruption in the Imperial Court, had withdrawn his family’s longstanding loyalty.

This earned him the Emperor’s deep resentment, yet as a noble house of great renown, the Verdeums could not fall easily.

Still, it seemed the Emperor retained a bitter grudge against the Verdeums.

Though Dension had repeatedly requested a reinvestigation, his plea was never granted—even before the Emperor’s passing.

All that remained to him now were his retainers and the injured knights staying at the manor—and upon turning seventeen, he inherited the marquisate.

Still too young and inexperienced, and unaware even of how to protect himself, the young viscount began ruling his domain.

But Viare resolved again and again—this time, she would not merely stand by and watch him fight alone.

‘There must be a way to protect you. So don’t worry, Sion.’

[This is the timeline separator]

After her bath, when Viare reached for a black dress, one of her maids, puzzled, asked cautiously,

“My lady, are you planning to go somewhere?”

“……”

Viare gave no answer, but her choice of attire clearly pointed to a single destination.

“But only the heads of noble houses may enter that place.”

“Yes, I know.”

Only the heads of noble families were permitted to attend the Marquis and Marchioness’s funeral, as the House of Verdeum, having failed to uncover the full truth, wished to hold the ceremony quietly.

‘I’ll confirm only this much—that Sion is still alive.’

From even afar, she desperately wanted to see with her own eyes that Dension still lived.

The maid seemed baffled that Viare would visit the Verdeum estate, to which she had no connection.

But seeing the profound gravity in her mistress’s reflection, she silently assisted with the preparations.

Viare took a random piece of jewelry from her jewel box and handed it to the maid.

“Call a private carriage for me—tell no one.”

The maid, who initially refused any payment, reluctantly accepted the jewel and obeyed her lady’s wishes.

“There’s a passage used only by the servants.”

Wearing a robe, Viare slipped past the staff and boarded the private carriage the maid had arranged, heading straight for the marquis’s estate.

At the Verdeum estate, a funeral banner flew high on the flagpole, announcing the deaths of the Marquis and Marchioness.

‘May they find eternal rest.’

Prepared abruptly due to the unexpected tragedy, the funeral proceeded quietly amid an atmosphere of disarray.

For seventeen-year-old Dension, it was surely a relentless series of trials.

From a distance, Viare finally exhaled in relief upon seeing with her own eyes that he still lived.

‘Sion, I’m so glad you’re alive.’

Relief at his survival and sorrow at her inability to approach him twisted strangely within her heart.

She longed to go to him and offer comfort—but dared not.

‘Have I made you unhappy?’

Soon, emotion surged in her throat, and she struggled hard to suppress the burning ache within.

All she could do was watch over him from afar.

‘Yes, I won’t ask for more. Just this much.’

This distance—this was the boundary Viare had drawn between them.

Now that she’d seen him and truly felt she’d returned to the past, she closed her eyes tightly, then opened them again and headed back to the ducal estate.