Why Do You Obsess Even After Death (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 5

Suddenly, I remembered something Crown Prince Belial had once said.

‘After Duke Violentus visits the imperial palace, everyone says they feel uneasy. They say his eyes look as if he could kill a person without a second thought…’

Laches walked forward without hesitation and lightly tossed a white lily into the large prepared chest.

Inside the chest, flowers for mourning me were piled high.

After completing this series of actions, he courteously bowed to my father, who was consumed by grief.

Then, without a trace of reluctance, he turned away. The crowd seemed to expect him to greet the man who had suddenly appeared, but he paid no attention to anyone.

‘Did he really come just to mourn me?’

For an instant, I felt our eyes met.

I needed to turn my head away.

My mind knew it, yet my body refused to move, as if under a spell.

Laches did not avoid my gaze.

He looked directly at me and slowly walked toward where I stood.

‘Why is he coming toward me?’

Sweat soaked my palms gripping the flower basket. My breath caught as if I were suffocating. My heart pounded like that of an animal fleeing at full speed from a hunter.

The closer Laches came, the more I wanted to bolt from this place.

Just as I tried to calm my churning stomach with deep breaths—

“His Eminence Cardinal Solnis has arrived.”

A soft cry pulled me back to reality.

“Princess Reflio is here too. So the rumor that she went to the temple’s prayer hall because she didn’t want to marry was true after all.”

Whispers behind me grew louder. Laches must have sensed their presence too—he shifted his gaze from me and glanced over his shoulder.

I slowly turned around as well.

“…The Temple.”

Cardinal Solnis, known as the Right Hand of God, entered alongside priests and Princess Reflio, dressed in a neat black nun’s habit.

“We have come to pray so that the noble daughter of a guardian house of the Empire does not walk her final path alone.”

It was common for temple priests to visit funerals and offer prayers for the deceased.

But it was highly unusual for Cardinal Solnis himself—the Right Hand of God—to appear in person.

‘Of all times…!’

I hastily lowered my head and stepped back to avoid drawing the temple’s attention. Fortunately, the priests paid me no mind.

Delia and Detor reluctantly moved aside, and Crown Prince Belial was nowhere to be seen—perhaps he’d left his seat after crying too much.

Everyone marveled aloud, calling this an extraordinary memorial gathering.

“Only after death do I receive such honors.”

I muttered under my breath so no one would hear, then glanced back toward where Laches had been.

But he was already gone—vanished as if he’d slipped away in the meantime.

Was that uncanny sense of déjà vu I felt toward that man merely my imagination?

“…I’ll just have to check for myself.”

I shook my head, shaking off my fear.

Actually, this worked out well. Now that the temple had arrived, I could blend in inconspicuously.

I offered the lilies from my basket to the nobles listening to Cardinal Solnis’s prayer.

“These are flowers to honor Lady Niriel.”

Flowers for mourning.

The invited nobles naturally accepted the blossoms.

And then…

“…!”

In the act of exchanging flowers, I stole their memories.

If someone had planned to kill me—

No, even if it had been an impulsive murder without prior intent, anyone who’d kept watch over me—

Would surely attend my memorial service.

But most of the memories I saw from these nobles had nothing to do with me.

If I kept every trivial memory in my head, I’d lose track of what was mine, what belonged to others, or whether I was reliving reality or dreaming—so I let them all slip away.

“…Huh?”

Finally, I found a useful memory.

[‘What kind of person is Lady Niriel?’

‘Lady Niriel? Do you mean Lady Referentia Niriel?’

‘Referentia… That does sound familiar.’

‘Asking about her without even knowing her name properly? That’s hardly like you, Duke Violentus. Heh heh.’]

An image flashed through my mind: Laches questioning a noblewoman about me.

‘What? Why is he prying into me?’

And it wasn’t just one person.

[‘How is Lady Niriel?’

‘Hmm… Lady Niriel? I’ve never seen her before, so I wouldn’t know.’]

What on earth was this?

[‘Do you know anything about Lady Niriel?’

‘Lady Niriel… um, I’m sorry, but I don’t know her. If you’re curious, shall I invite her to tea so you can find out?’]

Why in the world?

[‘I’m curious about Lady Niriel.’

‘As a fellow noble daughter of a guardian house, wouldn’t you know her better than I do, Your Grace? Lady Niriel is quite mysterious. But why do you ask?’

‘I’m debating whether to kidnap her, spare her… or perhaps kill her.’

‘What? Heh heh. You really take your jokes too far.’]

What were all these memories?

Several other noblewomen and young ladies held similar recollections.

Laches asking about me—and people consistently replying they barely knew me—then Laches turning away without hesitation.

Suddenly, I recalled Laches’s fierce eyes as he brushed past me moments ago.

Just remembering them sent a chill down my spine.

“…Why are you so curious about me?”

Every memory pointed suspiciously toward one person.

A man who didn’t even know my name was curious about me.

It was clear he wasn’t asking out of affection.

Could it be that this man was the mad killer who murdered me?

‘This is the worst…’

The Empire’s greatest guardian, defending the monster-infested North.

In other words, the most dangerous man to make an enemy of.

Thinking that this man might be my murderer made me feel as if I’d sunk into a deep, murky swamp.

‘The North…’

A place where snow still hadn’t melted, even in early spring.

The insular North was shrouded in rumors, yet almost no one truly knew its reality.

Few dared visit due to tales of rampant monsters, and also because its lord, Laches, disliked noisy gossip.

Which meant information about Laches Violentus here was extremely limited.

‘…I might have to go to the Duchy of Violentus.’

The North.

I had to go there.

I needed to confirm whether Laches Violentus was truly the murderer who tried to kill me.

I’d died far too many times already to flee based on mere suspicion.

Besides, he clearly didn’t recognize me.

No—he didn’t even know my name, so he certainly wouldn’t recognize my face.

Having settled my thoughts, I placed the basket in a corner and turned to leave the reception hall.

Just then—

“Khuh…”

A small sob silenced the bustling hall. My feet stopped of their own accord.

“…Will my daughter… will my daughter be able to rest peacefully there?”

It was my father.

Father clutched the cardinal’s robes and asked, struggling to hold back tears.

Cardinal Solnis consoled him, promising to pray for the deceased’s happiness.

At the word “deceased,” Father sank weakly to his knees, biting his lip as tears streamed down his face.

Onlookers comforted him sympathetically, patting his back as he wept.

“Ha.”

Those words fit perfectly.

A farce.

How utterly absurd.

Who was comforting whom? Why did you deserve consolation?

All those countless days I died in agony again and again.

You stood calmly on steady feet, trampling over my suffering, always seeking comfort like this to justify yourself.

‘You should’ve treated me well while I was alive.’

Back then, you simply left me alone.

What good is regret after death?

Nothing remains.

Honoring the dead’s final moments is merely hope fabricated by the living to evade responsibility.

Like a frail candle of hope, flickering helplessly in the cold wind.

I turned away from my father, collapsed and weeping, with indifferent eyes—and locked gazes with Princess Reflio standing beside Cardinal Solnis.

Unlike my startled reaction, Princess Reflio clasped her hands devoutly and bowed slightly to me.

“May you receive God’s blessing.”

She smiled and silently mouthed a blessing toward me.

She couldn’t possibly know who I was—her face was covered.

Priests always wish for others’ happiness the moment their eyes meet.

‘God’s blessing?’

If God truly blessed me, He wouldn’t have forced me to relive life and die over and over.

He wouldn’t ignore my wish to finally stop.

God does not grant me blessings.

I gave a slight nod and turned away.

[This is the timeline separator]

“Did you pay your respects well, Your Grace?”

“Yes, Ronan. So crowded and noisy—I thought I’d die. Are memorial services always this boisterous?”

“Given that she was a guardian of the Empire, all the prestigious noble houses naturally gathered… But I never expected you’d actually attend, Your Grace.”

Laches offered no reply to his subordinate’s question.

While fending off monsters and cleaning up afterward, news of Referentia Niriel’s suicide had abruptly reached the North.

Upon hearing it, Laches ordered his carriage prepared immediately—without even changing his bloodstained clothes.

Leaving the North unattended was something he’d never normally do.

Ronan struggled to understand his master’s inexplicable behavior.

“I’ve skipped every one until now—this is my first time attending.”

“What? Your first time?”

What did it mean to say he’d never attended before but was doing so now for the first time?

Laches’s phrasing made it sound as if Referentia Niriel had died multiple times. Knight Ronan glanced warily around.

“They said it was suicide, right?”

“The evidence is clear, they say. There were also widespread rumors.”

“What rumors?”

“That it was a tragedy caused by betrayal—from her close friend and fiancé. Supposedly, she was terminally ill with a set lifespan and couldn’t overcome the loss.”

Ronan opened the carriage door as if to signal departure. But instead of boarding, Laches glanced back at the reception hall and gave a quiet scoff.

“If she were the type to despair and kill herself over something so trivial, she’d have done it long ago. That woman isn’t suicidal. She’s the type to stab both betrayers to death. She’s got spirit.”

“…Did you know Lady Niriel well?”

“No. I barely remember her name. Still, I might be the only one who knows everything about that woman’s true nature.”

“Were you perhaps infatuated with her?”

At Ronan’s question, Laches twisted his lips into a mocking smile.

“Don’t be absurd.”

His dark eyes, like the moon’s hidden side, clouded over.

“I did consider how best to kill her, though.”

Ronan’s head snapped up in shock. But Laches ignored his gaze and climbed into the carriage.

“Let’s go.”

After issuing this brief command, Laches opened the small carriage window.

Just then, he spotted a woman hurrying alone out of the reception hall.

She’d left her flower basket behind and ran without looking around, empty-handed.

No one noticed her—not even a glance of interest.

“What could it be…”

Laches trailed off, his eyes tracking the retreating figure. A sharp glint flashed in them—like a hunter spotting prey.

“How is Lady Niriel, supposedly dead, walking around alive?”

Laches murmured, watching the woman’s fading silhouette.

“If I kill her myself, maybe I’ll finally break free from this wretched cycle.”

He gave an arrogant nod, as if mocking a life with no one to protect her.

“She’s a woman I’ll never see again anyway.”

No one heard his confident mutter.

“Ronan. Heavy rain will pour soon—drive carefully so the carriage wheels don’t get stuck.”

“Rain? But the sky is clear—no storm clouds at all.”

Ronan looked up at the cloudless sky.

But Laches gave no answer.

Rain would fall soon. It always poured heavily.

Closing his eyes, he recalled her slender shoulders, trembling alone as she bore everything in silence.

But he believed that memory, too, would soon wash away in the rain.

The carriage departed.

Moments later, just as Laches predicted, a sudden downpour crashed from the clear sky.

[This is the timeline separator]

“Good day, Your Grace.”

“……”

“I heard you needed staff for your brewery, so I’ve come for an interview. This is a letter of recommendation from Pesoor, personal physician to the Niriel Family. I trust a recommendation from such a respected physician will be helpful.”

“……”

“My name is Lea. I was told it’s a common name, given with the simple wish for an ordinary life.”

“……”

“If you give me a chance, I’ll work hard at anything. I truly want to work here.”

Strange.

They said brewery jobs were tough and undesirable—anyone with a recommendation letter could easily get hired…

“…Never see each other again? What nonsense.”

Why is that man glaring at me like that?

I subtly turned my gaze toward the glass cabinet beside me.

My unfamiliar violet eyes met my reflection first.

‘Even my eye color changed completely…’

Laches doesn’t recognize my face.

Even if he vaguely recalls seeing me, he’d probably just think I resemble someone.

Besides, who’d imagine a supposedly dead woman—whose funeral had already concluded—was alive and applying for a job?

“Why…”

A hoarse whisper escaped my lips.

Was this the same voice I heard as I died?

I tried to recall, but it felt both familiar and unfamiliar—confusing me.

“Why are you treating me like this… seriously…”

“Hm?”

He’s acting this way even though I’m offering to do the difficult brewery work?

I stared at Laches, perplexed, as he rested his chin on his hand.