I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! - Chapter 105

Ah…

For a moment, my mind went blank again. As expected, my parents had been brainwashed since my childhood. All those countless things they had instilled in me over the years. Because you’re a Lamia. Because you’re Lamia. Lamia must… Words so outdated that even Reia would find them absurd. As I thought, it was all because of the Emperor’s brainwashing.

…I want to believe that, but I know it’s not true.

My parents genuinely believed those things, and it only became more extreme over time.

“I was going to honor your last words, but that won’t be necessary,” the Duke said, raising his sword at an angle.

The Emperor immediately rose to his feet. I quickly backed away, running toward where Reia and Lyol were. The clash of blades rang out repeatedly, causing the chandelier’s crystals to tremble delicately from the vibrations. Several candles on the long dining table were extinguished by the wind.

Though I couldn’t follow their movements with my eyes, I could grasp the general situation. Initially, the two seemed evenly matched, but soon, the Emperor visibly began to falter. Then, just as the Duke’s sword let out a sharp, piercing sound aimed at the Emperor’s chest—

Thud.

As if time had frozen, the Duke’s movements came to a halt.

Right before the blade could touch the Emperor’s heart.

A brief silence fell. Had he stopped on purpose? Just as I thought this and looked at the Duke, I realized that wasn’t the case. His expression was unusual. He looked up with an incredulous face. It was ominous. Soon, the Emperor’s lips curled into a slow smile.

“Hahaha… How predictable you are, foolish as always.”

What went wrong? The Emperor’s face was full of composure.

“You must have destroyed the crystal ball, I assume?”

“We’ve already located all the magical artifacts…”

“No, you’re still searching, aren’t you? It’s been years since I used Erma as a chess piece. Do you even know how many things I’ve planted in your household?”

“……”

“Mirrors, windows, glass ornaments—everything that reflects.”

The Duke clenched his teeth. Everything that reflects… If magic had been cast on such objects, there was no way to tell. Even now, despite the Emperor’s words, I couldn’t begin to guess. The Duke seemed similarly perplexed.

What kind of spell could it be? Could it affect all of us? Without Count Kiara here, there was no way to discern it now. If only we could at least figure out its nature. My mind raced. Something like ‘You cannot kill me’ perhaps?

No, if that were the case, the Duke would have frozen the moment he swung his sword at the Emperor with the intent to kill. Brainwashing has many limitations, they say. Even more so if it’s done through a medium. If it’s an old form of magic, I reasoned desperately, it wouldn’t be an absolute prohibition against killing. Maybe it’s something more specific, like ‘You cannot wound me with a weapon or your hands.’

That thought was soon confirmed. When the Duke tried to grab the Emperor’s neck with his left hand, he was stopped as well. It seemed he couldn’t make direct contact.

So, was the spell cast on all of us? That didn’t seem likely either. The fact that it rendered the Duke entirely immobile suggested it was targeted specifically at him. And given the spell’s nature—opposing the Duke’s will—it must have been one of the most potent spells left in the imperial arsenal.

The Duke, even if he bore no goodwill toward the imperial family, had once frequented the palace during the previous emperor’s reign and lived as a vassal of the royal house. The faintest hint of resistance against raising his blade toward the Emperor might have lingered in his mind. The brainwashing would have exploited that like a snake slithering into a crack.

“Yuraine.”

Once again, my name was sullied by his lips. I glared silently at the Emperor.

“Who here can challenge me? The Duke is in this state, my nephew is still out of sorts, and you two Lamias? Do you think you can face me? This will be an amusing diversion.”

The Duke stood motionless with his sword lowered, his face expressionless. He seemed deep in thought. He must have been contemplating ways to break free of the brainwashing, likely along the same lines as my earlier reasoning. A spell cast through a medium, targeting a specific subconscious fragment—it might not be impossible to undo, perhaps with a strong enough catalyst.

“A patricidal monster who killed his own brother for power.”

The muttered words came from Lyol. It seemed he had finally regained his senses. The Emperor snorted derisively at his words.

“I simply reclaimed power that should have been in the right hands. Why do Lamias keep inheriting magic, I wonder… Tsk.”

Lamia is the connection.

The phrase I had heard in the memories of Prince Artis suddenly came to mind. The Prince, myself, Reia—three Lamias who had inherited magic. It wasn’t common for Lamias to inherit magic, yet I knew of three already. Surely there were more. The Emperor was right—why were so many Lamias inheriting magic? Was it just a coincidence?

No. Such coincidences don’t exist.

Connection. Lamias can bear children. Why is it that men who are Lamias can give birth? Why is it that their “ability” is to bear children? Children are… the future, the continuation of a lineage. The family’s unique magic is passed down through the bloodline.

Why do Lamias exist in the first place? To preserve magic by bearing children? No, the term connection likely has a deeper meaning. Perhaps it refers to a magical connection.

“Reia.”

I called his name softly. He turned to look at me.

“Do you think the term connection… has to be established solely through birth?”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

The reaction was one of confusion, but saying it aloud made the answer clear to me. No, it didn’t have to be. If it did, Lamias would have been born with magic from the beginning, and their children would have naturally inherited that magic. If that were the case, Lamias wouldn’t be treated as miserably as they are now.

Lamias clearly have another way to connect magic.

The Emperor had claimed to have rewritten the contents of the book. It wasn’t likely he could have rewritten the entire book, so there must have been other parts left intact. Prince Artis was not so foolish as to completely believe the fabricated content created by his much younger brother. The information passed on to Lyol… it was likely a decoy.

There was a secret library in the palace that gathered information about Lamias. It existed during the time of Prince Artis. There was no need to think deeply about who it was for—it was obvious. The late Emperor had compiled those materials for his son.

The method the Prince learned from spending all his time reading those books.

He said he wanted the Lamia to retrieve his remains.

Lamia.

When someone who inherited power through murder dies, that power returns to the one who was meant to inherit it. The medium for this process is the remains, and only a magic-wielding Lamia can retrieve them.

As a magic-wielding Lamia, I had retrieved Prince Artis’s remains, seen his memories, and arrived at these thoughts. A medium…

A medium. A connection. A way to inherit magic.

It felt like a spark went off in my mind. Excitement surged through me, leaving me short of breath, my heart pounding wildly. Sweat beaded on my temples as I looked for the Duke. Just as I was about to speak to him, he turned his head toward Reia.

…No.

He must have been trying to turn back time again, feeling that things had gone wrong. He was so close to the answer. If he could just go back one more time, he believed he could solve it. But no, I had already found the way. A way to resolve this situation and free the Duke from his reliance on repeated regressions.

The clarity of my realization left me dizzy, as though I’d been struck by lightning. But as soon as the Duke’s gaze met mine, Reia walked toward me without hesitation.

“Reia!”

The Duke, reading the rejection in Reia’s movement, shouted.

“Knock me out,” I said firmly. “If he uses his sword to threaten me, I might resort to magic to save my life.”

“How?” Reia asked.

“You learned it, didn’t you?”

…I had learned it. By using a small amount of blood to create a needle and prick someone with it. But could I really do it? Reia gave me a faint smile.

“It’ll be fine. Let’s save this regression addict together.”

“…”

Yes, I had to do it.

Gripping Reia’s wrist, I focused my mind. Soon, a small droplet of blood coalesced in midair, forming a thin needle. Because it wasn’t physical, it didn’t tremble in my hands. I took a deep breath, and the needle jabbed lightly into Reia’s wrist. He flinched slightly, as though it stung.

It’s done…

The dosage of poison was appropriate, and the needle was the perfect size. I had finally succeeded. Something I had failed at countless times before—something I considered the hardest task—was accomplished. My chest tightened with a mix of relief and pride. Watching the needle disappear after pricking his wrist, Reia narrowed his eyes slightly.

“He’ll be able to wake up, right?”

“Probably…”

At my uncertain answer, Reia gave a faint chuckle before collapsing on the spot.

“Yuraine, what are you—” the Duke asked in a daze.

“Your Highness, not this time.”

“…”

“I’m done. In this life, I’ve already been reborn and experienced happiness. That’s enough for me. So, I’m done with time rewinding. I’m done with you and Reia carrying the burden of pain alone. I’m done.”

I had always thought I couldn’t do it. That it was impossible for me. That I was too weak. But it was time to cast those thoughts and words aside. I had done it. I would continue to do it.

“So in this life, truly, I refuse.”

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