Why Do You Obsess Even After Death (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 2

“Lea. I’ve met someone.”

Just how many times had this conversation happened already?

I stared at Delia across from me, my chin resting in my hand, wearing an indifferent expression.

After experiencing the exact same situation so many times, I felt absolutely no emotion anymore.

“Congratulations.”

As I slowly stirred my teacup with a teaspoon and replied listlessly, Delia leaned forward eagerly.

“Aren’t you even going to ask who it is?”

Her eyes sparkled as if begging me to ask. Back then, I hadn’t realized it—but after seeing this scene repeat countless times, I finally understood: she desperately wanted me to notice.

‘Even though you won’t tell me even if I ask.’

Not that it mattered—I already knew exactly who it was anyway.

With a sigh, I set down my teaspoon, picked up a fig-embedded cookie, and asked,

“Who is it?”

“Hmm… Lea, it’s someone you know! But I can’t tell you who! It’s a secret. Hehe!”

“To be honest, I’m not curious at all.”

When I first opened my eyes after dying, I thought God was on my side.

The Renator Empire was a land purified by the one summoned by the Primordial God, guarded by four protectors appointed to ensure evil could never reclaim it.

And my family was one of those who inherited the bloodline of one of those four protectors.

So I prayed with clasped hands, grateful that God had pitied me—a descendant of a guardian bloodline—and granted me another chance.

I believed He’d sent me back three months before my wedding so I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again and could finally find happiness.

Determined not to be foolishly deceived again, I took revenge on Detor and Delia.

[‘Finally! Hahaha! Finally! I’ve completed my revenge! Ha, haha! Now I can die without regrets!’]

Just as I felt my hollow life had finally reached perfection after destroying both families in my vengeance,

I was murdered by an assassin who’d sneaked into my bedroom—and regressed once more.

In hindsight, I’d only ever thought selfishly in my favor.

Because Detor and Delia, who betrayed me, also came from families that inherited the bloodlines of the guardians.

Which meant God wouldn’t grant special favor to me alone.

From the bloodline of the one summoned by God, the imperial family was born; and the four families inheriting the guardian bloodlines became the Empire’s guardian houses.

My family—the Count Niriel household; the Count Deberti household, headed by Detor; and the Palo household, led by Delia’s older brother.

And the Violentus Dukedom, still honored for its service in defending the North from monsters, had been granted the title of Duke.

‘How did I die last time…?’

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve lived and died—I don’t even bother keeping track anymore.

My story always began just like today, with Delia bragging to me, and always ended in death.

“Tch. Aren’t you curious at all about who I’m seeing? If you ask just a little more, I’ll tell you!”

“If it’s someone you’re seeing, they must be a good person. I hope things go well for you.”

I tilted my teacup and took a sip of tea.

The only thing that ever changed was the type of tea I chose.

That was all I could do to distinguish one repetition from another—selecting a different tea each time.

“Yeah, they’re a good person. Then… next time, I’ll introduce them to you myself, Lea.”

Countless repeated lives.

I’d utterly ruined both of them; forced them to kneel before me and apologize through tears.

When my anger still wouldn’t subside, I’d exposed all their crimes and sent them to the gallows; other times, wishing to be done with them, I’d magnanimously forgiven them.

Wanting to end this tiresome karmic bond, I’d played the kind friend and cheered on their love; I’d even fought Delia to the bitter end and claimed Detor’s love for myself.

Once, right after opening my eyes, I’d turned Delia away when she came to my mansion and fled recklessly to some distant place.

But hell kept repeating. My end was always the same.

Even when I avoided the cause of death from my previous life, I’d inevitably die for some other reason—again, and again, and again.

“That’s enough. I’m done with revenge.”

Hoping I might find a solution, I once recklessly read the memories of everyone working in the Niriel household.

But trapped in this inescapable loop back to the past, no one ever held the answer I sought.

“Lea, you’re acting strange today. You’re not even listening to me… Hiiing.”

“I’m just tired. I think I’m unwell. Let’s stop here for today. Next time, I’ll listen properly.”

When would this life—neither truly living nor truly dead—finally end?

What does it even want from me?

I was sick of it.

.

.

.

This regression was the same as always.

I avoided every previous cause of death, yet another death awaited me.

Detor and Delia married peacefully, and I remained helplessly holed up in my mansion, not even attending as a guest.

Then, when I finally took a carriage out for some fresh air after a long while, I was caught in a carriage accident.

As if I absolutely had to die at that precise moment.

“Haa…”

When I barely regained consciousness, the carriage—once climbing a mountain road—was overturned and shattered below. Something sharp from the broken wood pierced my body, causing excruciating pain.

Lying on the ground, drenched by heavy rain, I stared blankly at the ruined carriage.

“Ah… again like this…”

I knew for certain I’d die again. By now, I could faintly sense death approaching.

“I don’t want to die…”

No—I didn’t want to return again. I didn’t want to repeat this anymore.

I’d rather just… let me…

I struggled weakly to move my limp body, but even lifting a finger felt impossible.

Tears pooled in my eyes and spilled helplessly down my cheek. My dull eyes slowly faded into dimness.

Thud.

Just then, I heard footsteps. And then…

“…You’re not dead yet.”

A low voice sounded behind me where I lay collapsed.

Heavy footsteps and a sharp voice cutting through my fading consciousness.

Who are you? Please, save me.

“Haa, haa…”

My breathing quickened. Maybe this time I wouldn’t die. Maybe I could live.

Since I could feel someone’s presence right behind me, it meant help was within reach.

But the person who approached didn’t save me. They weren’t startled or alarmed to see me lying there.

They simply stood still, looking down at me.

Puzzled by this strange reaction,

“Referentia.”

The man behind me softly murmured my name.

“I hadn’t planned to let you go so pitifully—or painfully. I wanted to see your beautiful face twist gracefully with my own eyes.”

His low chuckle seeped through the rain like a faint, shapeless wisp of white breath.

“But I couldn’t help it. I prepared poison to send you off peacefully, snuck into your bedroom, even practiced striking your head hard enough to kill you painlessly… yet you ruined every single attempt.”

“…”

“So why keep avoiding death? You should’ve gone when I offered you a gentle end.”

My fading consciousness snapped sharply awake.

What did he just say?

I was struck as if by a bolt of lightning.

“But I’ve always been curious—how did you avoid everything I prepared in advance? It was as if you already knew.”

It was clear. This man was calmly stating the very reasons I’d died over and over.

As if it were all his doing.

“Hah, look at this. I hated how messy a carriage accident would be… tsk.”

The man clicked his tongue.

This voice—had I heard it before? Or was it completely new?

“I want to possess your final moment. The complete, beautiful instant of your death.”

His large hand stroking my head was chillingly gentle.

His hand didn’t tremble, his voice remained calm—even as I lay dying before him.

“I’ve watched you for a long time, Referentia.”

So this insane murderer was absurdly claiming that every death I’d endured so far had been his doing.

“Why can’t you recognize the day I love you? When will you finally understand?”

Who are you? Who are you to do this to me?

I wanted to ask. I wanted to see his face, confirm his identity, and demand why he’d killed me so cruelly.

But my voice was muffled and drowned out by the increasingly heavy rain.

My body wouldn’t move due to my injuries, my body temperature dropped rapidly, and my eyes began to close.

My mind grew hazy, strength draining from my limbs.

“No… don’t.”

I couldn’t let him slip away like this. Somehow, I had to… somehow…

My eyelids grew heavy and shut.

“Goodbye, Referentia.”

You—I will surely find you and take my revenge.

And with his gentle farewell as my last memory, I lost consciousness.

[This is the timeline separator]

“…Ha!”

Gasping the breath I’d been holding, I opened my eyes once more.

The same morning. The same ceiling. The same clothes.

‘I’m back again.’

I’d come back to life. I’d secretly hoped that maybe this death would be the final one—but once again, I had to open my eyes.

With trembling palms, I repeatedly wiped my dry face over and over.

It wasn’t a dream. Everything I’d just experienced wasn’t an illusion, imagination, or dream—it was all real.

My fingertips brushed against the corners of my mouth, which curved upward into a smooth, elegant smile.

“Hah, hahaha!”

Laughter burst out. I buried my face in my palms, laughing joyfully so none of this delight would escape.

“So it wasn’t by chance that I kept dying.”

Poisoning, assassination, and even the various accidents I’d dismissed as bad luck—

It wasn’t bad luck that kept killing me and sending me back. Someone had been relentlessly murdering me all along—persisting despite constant failures, always trying new methods!

“That’s why I kept dying, even after forgiving Detor and Delia—or taking revenge on them.”

Within this repeating timeline, the truth—the first thing that hadn’t repeated—sent a thrilling jolt through me.

I leapt out of bed and hurriedly pulled my diary from the drawer.

Before I could forget, I wrote down every word spoken by the one who’d killed me.

“Why can’t you recognize the day I love you? When will you finally understand?”

As I reread that final line, my elation gradually subsided. Pressing the pen firmly against the page, I finished the sentence.

“Crazy bastard.”

Cursing under my breath, I slammed the diary shut.

Do you really think I’ll keep letting you do this to me?

“Hah, hahaha!”

I couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how hard I tried. Perhaps it was natural—I’d just found the clue to escape this endless cycle.

‘I’ve got a good idea.’

I’d thought of a way to ensure I’d never repeat this nightmare again.

Rather than die once more by that murderer’s hands…

“I’ll die.”

I decided to kill myself.

Before that madman could devise yet another way to kill me,

I would take my own life with my own hands.

“The place, time, and method of my death—that will all be my choice.”

Then I called a maid and ordered her to bring the physician.

[This is the timeline separator]

“Miss. Are you alright?”

Pesoor, the Niriel family’s personal physician, examined me carefully as I lay there, drained and lifeless as if about to die.

Having died so many times, faking a deathly state came easily.

“Pesoor.”

I smoothly removed my glove and boldly grasped his hand as he checked me.

Memories from Pesoor’s mind swept through my head like a sudden gale.

“Miss.”

Startled by my inexplicable action, Pesoor flinched and slowly tried to pull his hand away. He seemed to fear I might do something strange and kept edging backward.

“Hmm, I don’t see anything particularly wrong with your condition. Due to recent abrupt weather changes, your energy may be depleted, so I’ll prescribe some medicinal herbs…”

Pesoor eyed me suspiciously and shuffled backward hesitantly, as if afraid I might devour him.

I gave him a calm, indifferent look and jerked my chin toward him.

“Pesoor. Come sit closer. Stop looking at me with such disrespectful eyes.”

“I should take my leave now to prepare your medicine… And I’m sorry, but I don’t have that sort of… inclination…”

“What if it got out that you’ve been selling strong painkillers to nobles for extra money? Would you really be fine walking out like that?”

Thud.

Pesoor dropped his medical bag limply to the floor, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“W-where, where did such, such vile rumors spread from?”

The physician, who’d been about to flee, immediately plopped down onto the chair.

“If this gets out to others, you’ll lose your position as a physician. My father detests any scandal involving our family, and no other house would hire someone with such a stain on their record.”

“M-miss!”

Realizing denial was useless, Pesoor paled, his face losing all color, and his hands trembled.

“I needed money… I only did it twice. Never more than that. I needed funds to treat the injured in the slums…”

“How many people would actually consider illegal charity a true act of kindness?”

Pesoor’s eyes darted around frantically, clearly searching for a way out of this mess.

“Fool. I haven’t breathed a word of this to anyone yet, Pesoor.”

His wandering eyes locked onto mine. Being intelligent, he instantly understood my meaning.

That I had something specific I wanted from him.

“W-what should I do…?”

“And of course, I…”

After letting Pesoor stew in fear long enough, I slowly spoke again.

“I don’t dislike what you did. Your intentions were pure, and the outcome was good, weren’t they?”

“Yes?”

Pesoor, who’d expected me to report him immediately, struggled to comprehend why I was defending him instead.

“No need to overthink it, Pesoor.”

“…”

“So just as you helped them, I’d like you to help me this time.”

Confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere, Pesoor blinked in bewilderment.

“I plan to leave this household soon.”

“B-but what does my involvement have to do with your elopement, Miss?”

“Everything. I’m not just running away—I intend to disappear completely from this household, from this empire.”

Pesoor still looked utterly lost. I smiled brightly at the naive, kind-hearted physician.

“If I die and vanish entirely from this household, would anyone come looking for me?”

“…Yes?”

“Pesoor, here’s what you’ll do.”

“Miss.”

“You’ll leave this room and tell everyone you meet, ‘Lady Niriel has only six months left to live at most!'”

Pesoor shot up from his chair in shock, knocking it over clumsily. His eyes now swirled like a ship caught in a storm—he finally understood my intent.

“B-but that’s illegal…”

“You’ve already committed illegal charity before, haven’t you? Think of it as the same thing—it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

If this is the first step to escaping my regression, it will carry me far enough to save my life.

And that would be true charity indeed.

“B-but if another physician examines you, my lie will be exposed immediately.”

“Haha. That won’t happen. No one cares enough about me to call another physician.”

“But what if the Count, your fiancé, or a friend grows worried and summons another doctor…?”

“I guarantee it, Pesoor. You won’t be in any danger.”

No one would ever go out of their way to call a new physician to verify my condition.

Having endured so many deaths, I knew this wouldn’t change.

“Why would you take such a risk…?”

“Because if I stay here, I’ll die.”

“Who would dare kill you, Miss…?”

Pesoor muttered to himself, questions mixed with disbelief, and buried his face in his palms. He knew he couldn’t refuse my threat.

‘I’m dying to find out who’s doing this—to survive.’

I merely gave a bitter smile.

“Pesoor. You don’t need to worry about my safety. Your choice is simple: help me and continue practicing medicine, or refuse and end your career right here. …I’m giving you only two options.”

He never truly had a choice to begin with.

And that day,

word spread throughout the empire that I was terminally ill.

It was the first variation of death I’d encountered after so many regressions.