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Chapter 220: A Day to Remember (4)

This is it.

I looked at the case in my hand. More precisely, I looked at the ring carefully stored inside the case.

I had briefly debated whether to choose a ruby to match Marghetta's hair, or an emerald to match her eyes, but I went with a classic diamond. In this world, diamonds were also considered the finest gems.

Of course, Marghetta would’ve played with diamonds as if they were pebbles, but a ring wasn't valued by its price—it was the symbolism that counted. It was valuable because it was received from someone else and not bought with your own money.

It’s perfect.

A sense of relief and pride welled up deep within me. After all, it was the best gift I could give to calm Marghetta's worries.

It was absolutely perfect. This was the best decision I could ever make before the New Year's Ball. Marghetta would be genuinely delighted.

"It’s a ring that adjusts to the wearer's size."

"Oh."

The size was my only concern. Though I had held Marghetta's hand many times, I wasn't sure if I could guess the size correctly. Thankfully, magic solved that problem. I was told that any item I bought would adjust itself accordingly.

So, apart from a little hush money to keep my visit a secret, I also gave a generous tip. A merchant who satisfied his customers deserved to earn well.

It’ll be three days later.

I turned my attention to the calendar. Just to be sure I wouldn't forget, I had marked the day in red several times.

In exactly three days, it would be Marghetta's birthday. Until then, I would hide the gift carefully and present it to her on the day. That was why I didn't go to the Vice President's office today. I didn't want to risk giving my surprise away with my expression.

I felt a bit guilty for not even hinting that I wouldn't come today, but I could always say that I was too busy to contact her. After all, it wasn’t wrong; my mind was preoccupied with choosing the perfect gift.

***

When I went to the Vice President's office the next day, she wasn't there.

What's going on?

I thought she went out for a while, but that wasn't the case.

"She's absent?"

"Yes. She called in this morning. She said it’s just a cold, so there's no need to worry..." the President said.

I just nodded and quickly left. Without Marghetta, there was no reason for me to stay in the student council room. I'd only be in the way of their work if I did.

Still, I felt a bit bitter. If I had known that I wouldn't see her today, then I would have come yesterday. At the very least, I should have called her.

A cold.

I couldn't trust the ‘there’s no need to worry’ part. It wasn't that I didn't trust the President, but I knew Marghetta too well to believe it.

For Marghetta, who valued appearances highly, to miss a day of school, it had to be more than a simple cold. If it were just a minor illness, she would have come without a second thought.

It was definitely not a light cold. The weather was getting colder—maybe she caught the flu.

Magic can't cure everything.

Unfortunately, the healing methods on this continent were all about treating physical wounds. They could fix a severed limb in the blink of an eye, but simple ailments like colds and headaches were their weak points.

At least they weren't at the level of ‘Where does a headache come from? The head, so let’s destroy it!’ Still, it wasn’t something that can be cured in a day. Even in my previous world, that was impossible.

It just had to be today, of all days.

Imagining Marghetta lying in bed and sick filled me with guilt.

It would have been painful any day, but for this to happen the day after I left her hanging because of a surprise made me think that it was my fault.

Of course, I wasn’t a god who gave away illnesses, but I couldn't help feeling concerned.

I should contact her.

Suppressing a sigh, I took out the communication crystall. First, I needed to check if she was okay. If Marghetta said she was fine, then I would visit her.

Going to the girls' dormitory might be a bit awkward, but who cared about social norms when Marghetta was sick? I'd go even if I had to disguise myself.

...However, my message never reached Marghetta.

Damn it.

A Nerve-Wracking Feeling.

It felt like my blood was drying up. Was it really just a cold? She hadn't passed out or anything, had she?

***

I spent the whole day in bed, staring weakly at the ceiling and blinking slowly.

I need to get up...

I shouldn’t be doing this. I was a member of the prestigious house of Valenti and the Vice President of the Imperial Academy's student council.

I must live up to the name I carried. I must always show a confident and responsible image. That was what people expected from me, and it was how I should live my life.

But despite my resolve, my body refused to move.

I’m so pathetic.

A bitter smile crossed my face. Crying alone, feeling helpless alone, lying alone—I felt ashamed and embarrassed of myself.

Even though I knew that Carl still had wounds in his heart, I cried alone. I did that even though I knew that I had been too demanding of him and that I should have been the first to comfort him.

How pathetic. Would doing this heal his wounds? Would it make my greed go away?

Doing this will just make him worry.

That was the kind of person Carl was. He talked about his own deep wounds as if they were nothing, but he often made a fuss over others' minor injuries.

The more I acted like this, the more he'd suffer. I knew this all too well.

...No, could I even say that I knew him well?

I don't. I know nothing about him. If I did, then I wouldn't have left him alone long enough for him to visit their graves.

Yet, I arrogantly thought that I knew him well and that we were destined.

Destiny...

Now, that word weighed heavily on my heart.

Yes, I thought it was destiny. Because my father cherished his youngest daughter so much, the criteria for being my husband kept getting higher, and I assumed I'd marry a bit later.

Then, Carl appeared like a comet. He met my father's strict standards and captured my heart—he seemed like my destined one.

So, I believed it was destiny. That this man was my destiny and that meeting each other was our fate.

That’s not true at all.

If our meeting was destiny, then was Carl losing his first love also destiny? Was his suffering and unhealable wounds a part of destiny, too?

It mustn't be destiny. It couldn't be. If Carl's sadness was fated just to meet me, it meant that he had to suffer for my happiness.

Such a destiny was unbearable. I felt horrified and resentful of myself for being pleased with this so-called destiny.

"I'm sorry..."

I murmured into the pillow. It was an apology no one could hear, but I repeated it over and over.

I'm sorry for not seeing your pain when I kept saying that I loved you.

I'm sorry for only thinking about my struggles.

"I'm sorry..."

I'm sorry for thinking your death was destined.

I'm sorry for not seeing the pain of the man you loved—

Knock knock—

It was an apology meant for Carl and for the one he first loved.

But I couldn't finish even that as a sudden sound broke my thoughts.

I’m really pathetic. I couldn't even apologize properly.

"Huh...?"

Lifting my head slightly and looking toward the source of the sound, a bewildered sound escaped my lips.

It wasn't the door but the window being knocked on. And beyond the window, I saw a familiar face.

"Carl?"

Seeing him wave made my mind go blank.

Why was Carl at the girls' dormitory? And if he came, then why was he outside and not inside the building?

Wait, but my room was on the third floor to begin with!

...Was it a ghost?

***

Shortly after the second prince's faction fell, when they were still refusing to acknowledge their defeat and holding on stubbornly...

At that time, some would lock their mansion doors and resist even when the Prosecutor's Office attempted legal actions. The more they resisted, the more their crimes piled up—it was truly foolish behavior.

During those times, there was always the risk that the targets might burn important documents. And so, we needed a swift, unconventional method of entry.

"...What are you doing?"

"Practicing walking on water. If you step with the other foot before you sink, it might work."

That was when Walter came to mind. My inexperienced self was actually receiving help from someone in the grave.

I witnessed his ridiculous attempt to walk on water and, remarkably, his eventual success in real-time. Thanks to that, I knew how it could be done.

Applying that knowledge, I started scaling the walls. As long as my feet touched the wall, I could climb any number of stories.

So, I broke in through the window. You should have seen her face—it was priceless.

"No, I'm not a ghost. Besides, what kind of ghost walks around in broad daylight?"

To the properly raised young lady, it must have been a frightful sight. Marghetta, seeing me through the window, turned pale and tumbled off her bed.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn’t know Carl could... do something so extreme..."

Marghetta bit her lip, her voice trembling.

It was an absurd misunderstanding. I was planning to live a long life, and I'd be damned if I died before the minister. Besides, I wanted to retire and enjoy a peaceful, idle life someday.

But I understood why Marghetta would think this, so I quietly comforted her.

How far has this spread?

Of all things, it seemed that my sleeping outside story had reached Marghetta's ears. I knew it would get out eventually, but I didn't expect it to be so soon.

Could it be that that bastard of a 2nd Manager deliberately spread my story to try to cover up rumors about the 1st Manager?

"Don't worry, Mar. Where would I go without you?"

Marghetta cried even harder at that. This was a problem. Usually, these words would work.

Was it because I didn't show up yesterday? Considering that she didn't see the drunken wreck I was, she must have thought it was serious. She probably thought that my reassurance was just forced comfort.

Damn it. If I'd known this would happen, I would have postponed buying the gift. There was no need to buy it early since it was for her birthday anyway.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"What?"

I didn't know how to respond to her sudden apology. In this situation, I should be the one apologizing.

But Marghetta, nestled in my arms, kept repeating her apologies. It would’ve been more understandable if she had complained about why I didn't come yesterday.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know anything about you, Carl..."

The words ‘You can learn that’ stopped at my throat because Marghetta's face was too sorrowful.

No matter what I said now, it wouldn't make a difference. Marghetta wouldn't accept it even if I acted like it was nothing.

"I just showed off, and got jealous..."

Marghetta continued with a face full of guilt, but I couldn't understand what she meant.

Showing off? Jealous?

Was she?

I realized that our standards were very different.

"I said I'd wait until you opened up, but I just waited. I should have helped, even a little..."

Again, I didn't understand. What was wrong with waiting when I asked her to wait?

If Marghetta had actively tried to take care of my mental state, I would have felt embarrassed since I pushed her away because of my personal issues and then she would have had to take care of those issues, too.

"Carl... it's late now, but even if it's late... can I help you?"

My head was spinning. Just being by my side was already a great help.

At the same time, the ring case in my pocket felt incredibly heavy.

Two days left.

There was just two days until her birthday.

And in those two days, I'd caused a major incident that made the birthday girl /genesisforsaken