17.
An old enemy of the Imperial Court.
The Marigold Count family.
‘How does that make sense?’
Lancel couldn’t shake his bewilderment.
Traitors?
Those people?
As far as he recalled, the Marigold Count family wasn’t bold enough for treachery.
Even in Marigold’s childhood flashbacks in the game, it was all the same—a count and his wife overflowing with benevolence. Could such a kind family have the audacity to defy the royals?
If asked to picture a typical harmonious and prosperous noble family, the Marigold Count family would likely come to mind.
‘Marigold Count family. Traitors. Old enemies.’
The carriage had arrived at the palace.
“See you at the Imperial Ball tomorrow, Lancel. Don’t skip it—you’re old enough to think about marriage, aren’t you?”
“The Marigold Count family…”
“…?”
“…I heard they vanished during a war. Is there something I don’t know?”
The Second Prince, stepping out of the carriage, turned back with a faint smile.
“My father’s humanity, I suppose. He even loved the old empire he crushed.”
The old empire.
The Second Prince’s elder sister once called it the “Elf Empire,” but for some reason, the continent only referred to it as the “old empire.”
“People get reflective with age, don’t they? As my father neared his end, he didn’t want to fall to hell. After causing so much bloodshed, who wouldn’t?”
The Second Prince let out a silent laugh.
“But… even so, passing the empire’s legacy to them feels wrong, don’t you think, Lancel?”
“…”
“Whatever the case, don’t dig further. It’s for your own good. I’ve learned there’s nothing more comforting than ignorance.”
The Second Prince patted Lancel’s shoulder and walked away from the carriage.
.
.
.
‘I just don’t get it.’
His head throbbed, but Sir Lancel decided not to overthink. In times like this, simplicity was best.
‘Take her and run away, that’s it.’
Yes. Only the Second Prince knew “Mary” was Marigold.
Grab her quickly, slip away, and hide her somewhere safe. If they stayed hidden until the tenth year, that’d be enough.
The continent was vast, with plenty of places to hide Marigold, and ten years was too short for the Imperial Court to pursue.
Lancel turned the carriage toward Mary’s location. The streets were already buzzing with festival excitement.
“What? Lady Mary’s at the pre-ball party right now.”
“What?”
Lancel learned this at the house Marigold had acquired in the capital.
‘Where is she, wandering at this hour?’
The maid, engrossed in cleaning, answered Lancel.
“She left in a hurry to meet you, Sir Lancel… Why are you here? Didn’t you summon her?”
“Summoned her? Me?”
“She said a high-ranking person called for her…”
Bang!
“Oh my!” The maid flinched at the sound of Sir Lancel bolting out. His figure was already vanishing in the distance.
18.
“Phew, phew.”
“Why do you keep sighing so loudly?”
Pina’s chattering voice reached Marigold’s ears as she took deep breaths.
“Ugh, I just can’t calm down.”
Marigold clutched her head in the carriage, dressed perfectly for the pre-ball party.
“Wh-what do I say when I meet him? What do I do? Should I ask him to dance first?”
“You see him all the time—still nervous? Just act natural.”
“Parties are different, Pina! They’re the real deal!”
“Just dancing and eating snacks, isn’t that it?”
“No, it’s not! Sigh, phew!”
Marigold’s heart was already pounding.
[—Someone is waiting for you at the pre-ball party. I shall escort you.]
Her heart had been racing since the carriage arrived to escort her.
The brightly lit palace ballroom shone under the dark sky. Marigold felt like she was facing the most nerve-wracking moment of her life.
“We’ve arrived, Lady Mary.”
“Eek!”
She reached the ballroom before she could compose herself.
“I’ll guide you. This way.”
“Y-yes!”
Marigold moved stiffly toward the ballroom’s interior.
“We’ve arrived, Sir Lancel.”
“Thanks.”
“Sir Lancel?”
Lancel leapt from the carriage.
The palace ballroom was crowded with well-dressed nobles at the entrance, blocking his path in groups.
“Excuse me, passing through.”
Lancel pushed through them without hesitation.
“Eek! What’s with the rudeness!”
“Hey, watch where you’re going!”
“Oh no, my glass…!”
“Are you hurt? Hey, you should behave like a noble, friend!”
Protests rang out, but Lancel ignored them all, soon entering the dazzling ballroom.
The opulent decor, the sparkling chandeliers, the soft music, and people dancing or chatting.
Lancel scanned the chaotic scene. Soon, a maid approached him.
“Do you need something, Sir?”
“Have you seen a woman named Mary?”
“Mary…? Who might that be…?”
“Never mind.”
Lancel brushed past the maid and entered deeper into the ballroom.
‘Where the hell is she?’
Soon, a familiar face appeared.
“Oh! You’re here, Sir Lancel!”
It was Baron Ibil Shen, who was already quite drunk. Lancel grabbed his shoulders.
“Mary!”
“Ow! You’ll bruise me, young man! What’s with you?”
“Have you seen Mary?”
“Mary? The Mary I know?”
“The Honorary Baronet Mary.”
“Huh? Haven’t seen her. Where are you off to, Sir Lancel? Hey, stay a while and have fun…!”
Lancel shoved the baron aside the moment he answered. Baron Ibil Shen’s disappointed look followed, but there was no time for complaints.
============
—Encounter event triggered! First Prince Delphi Aaron Frisia and Marigold have met.
※ The blooming palace garden makes Marigold appear even more beautiful. (Dignity, Charm, Morality has gone UP!!)
============
‘…!’
The timely system alert made Lancel kick off the ground.
He charged toward the palace garden, shoving through people, leaving chaos in his wake.
He burst out of the palace and raced to the garden.
He sped through countless scattered petals, accelerating.
“This way.”
Marigold sensed an ominous air upon reaching the garden.
Armed knights appeared sporadically, as if encircling her. At her destination, only the back of a neatly dressed man was visible.
Her unease turned to certainty. She knew at a glance he wasn’t Lancel.
“They wither in November.”
It was a much taller figure.
The figure had long hair for a man.
A flawless posture.
The man held a plucked golden hydrangea to his lips, savoring its scent.
“They bloom again in June.”
The man slowly turned.
Marigold stepped back, feeling an unprecedented fear from him.
“You’re alive, Marigold.”
Her name pierced her ears chillingly. It wasn’t a mistake—not “Mary,” but “Marigold.”
“…!”
Marigold kept retreating, urgently summoning her magic. She had to escape. Alarm sharpened her senses.
“…My lady!”
Pina’s cry rang out.
“Mary!”
At the familiar voice, Marigold turned. Lancel, with a sword in hand, filled her vision. Relief flooded her.
“Lancel…!”
Thud!
A cold sensation pierced Marigold’s chest in an instant.
“Lancel…!”
A silver blade pierced through Marigold’s chest.
“…Sir…?”
‘Ah.’
Regressor Marigold’s first cycle met a tragic end. The scene unfolded slowly before Lancel’s eyes.
Blood trickled from Marigold’s mouth. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed. Behind her, an armored knight withdrew the blade.
Cold air, the scent of hydrangeas, a faint smell of blood, eyes turning toward Lancel, the First Prince’s stoic expression—every element of the scene etched into his vision.
‘Marigold.’
Even now, he didn’t know what Marigold had wanted to achieve.
What was Darkhood’s purpose? How did Lemon Verbena even come to be? Lancel had no way of knowing.
It was Marigold, so it probably wasn’t a big deal—that’s all he sensed.
And yet…
“Lancel Dante, you’re unlucky. A bit later, and you might have lived.”
At the First Prince’s voice, Lancel gazed at the fallen Marigold, coughing painfully as blood soaked her.
‘How tragic, Marigold.’
Knights slowly approached him.
Lancel smacked his lips bitterly.
19.
Marigold opened her eyes in the garden’s flowerbed.
She felt a familiar sensation. She realized she was lying with someone’s leg as her pillow. Slowly looking up, her eyes met a familiar face.
Only then did Marigold realize she was in Lancel’s arms.
“Hehe.”
“Ha.”
Her instinctive smile seemed so absurd that Lancel let out a hollow laugh.
“You’re the only one I’ve seen grinning after being stabbed.”
“Stabbed… I was… stabbed?”
“Not just stabbed—through a vital spot. You’ll die soon.”
“Umm, but why… doesn’t it… hurt?”
“That’s a relief.”
“Is that… a… relief?”
“It’s better than being in pain.”
“…Aha…” Marigold’s face paled and dark shadows appeared under her eyes, but her smile lingered.
In a way, she was remarkable. Compared to Lancel’s days as a newbie regressor, Marigold’s mental strength might be several times greater, Lancel thought.
“You can still laugh?”
“…Anyway… I’ll…” Marigold, with a weak smile, spoke to him.
“…meet you… again.”
Her voice was barely audible.
Lancel listened silently.
“Next time… I’ll do… better…”
“At what?”
“…Just… anything…”
Marigold’s eyelids slowly closed.
20.
Marigold’s consciousness faded completely. The strength slipped from the hand that clasped with Lancel’s.
‘Rest in peace, first cycle Regressor Marigold.’
She didn’t become an empress after all.
Perhaps she never would.
What if they hid her identity completely? Forced her to become an empress? Would it have worked? Maybe even reached marriage?
Lancel shook his head.
He didn’t think that was the answer.
No.
He didn’t even want to try anymore.
He no longer wanted to feed Marigold to those rotten princes. He knew it would yield nothing.
Lancel silently gazed at Marigold, her eyes peacefully closed.
“Sleeping?”
He didn’t know what to say.
It was a strange feeling.
Lancel realized how quiet the world was without Marigold. Come to think of it, it had been a while since he’d experienced such a world. Her lifeless form felt oddly unfamiliar.
Perhaps because he held her corpse in his arms. Perhaps because he felt her life fading through their touching skin. It seemed like she might spring up and start spouting nonsense again.
“Hey, can I pinch your cheek?”
Until all warmth left her cold body, Lancel held her hand silently.
Behind the scenes.
The curtain closed on the story.
Lancel alone remained on the stage.
It was October now, a winter of wilting flowers.
“…Honestly, I’m not expecting much from the second cycle…”
He let out a brief chuckle.
And so, ten years passed.
.
.
.
[Playtime: 3 years, 131 days]
—Marigold has died.
—No marriage partner.
—Several achievements.
▶ Socialite Star: +50 points.
▷ Imperial Fugitive: +50 points.
—Total score: 100 points. (300/1500 until the second cycle of “Succession of Memories” may be unlocked)
[Save.01 - Promise]
—Cycle saved at “Save.01.”
—Recalling memories.
.
.
.
“Young Master Lancel.”
“What?”
“Is it okay for me to live like this, doing nothing and mooching off you?”
“…Sometimes life’s like that. Every day feels like a vacation, doesn’t it?”
“Next time, I want to do better.”
“You talk like you have another life.”
“If you did, what would you do?”
“That would surely be something.”
“Then… if I get another life, marry me.”
“What’s that, out of nowhere?”
“If I get another life! You could do that much!”
“…I’ll think about it.”
“Positively?”
“Yes, positively.”
“It’s a promise.”
[Promise - Save.01]
—Would you like to restart the game?
.
.
.
“…?”
Lancel blinked at the unfamiliar screen. Just a string of banter between a freeloading maid and a lazy noble—could this even be considered an ending?
‘Save?’
He didn’t understand.
Lancel quietly reflected on this cycle’s events.
“Regressor Marigold.”
If she earned more achievement points and regressed again, what then? “Regressor Marigold” would reappear before Lancel, carrying the memory of dying in his arms.
Whether that would help things or hinder them, he didn’t know.
One thing was certain.
‘Forget princes and all—let’s just get a happy ending, somehow!’
Yes, a happy ending. Something bright and hopeful. That’s all Lancel wanted now.
He believed Marigold’s “true happiness” was the only way to save him from this tiresome loop.
.
.
.
Then…
“Pleased to meet you! I heard you’ll be helping with my work.”
Lancel reunited with a non-regressor Marigold.
“Mary, records officer of the Imperial Central Administration Bureau.”
[End of Succession Cycle 1: Lancel Behind the Scenes]
[NEXT - Civil Servant Marigold]
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