It Turned Out She Wasn't a Favored Concubine - Episode 94

“I have no right to speak to you as a sinner. But I won’t let you be hurt by a misunderstanding. There’s a reason I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

My gaze locked with Giscal’s crimson eyes. Even after finishing that long story from the past, Giscal remained silent, cold and unyielding.

He said he couldn’t speak because he was a sinner. That made me even angrier.

Just as Perlo and Marian had waited for me to speak, I had been waiting too—for Giscal to say something. Not just throw out a story from the past and fall silent, but to speak to me in the present.

But all he offered was an excuse for why he hadn’t told me the truth.

“I don’t want to hear it. What lie are you trying to feed me now?”

I turned away from Giscal, cutting him off. I didn’t want to hear any more of his excuses.

“No. You need to hear this.”

Elliot stepped forward firmly. He glanced once toward Giscal and sighed.

“Since the Marquis has finally made up his mind, I’ll speak.”

“I said I don’t want to hear it!”

I screamed, but Elliot didn’t flinch and continued speaking.

“You need to know this now. To return to your original world, you must be prepared to face death. And even if you do return, that world may no longer be the one you remember.”

Elliot rushed to say everything before I could interrupt. Ortland glared at him for revealing the final secret all at once, then quickly added:

“We’re sorry. We’ve struggled ever since you entered Lady Arne’s body. But we feared you’d risk your life recklessly, so we couldn’t bring ourselves to speak. We never considered using a substitute.”

Ortland pleaded desperately.

I looked into Ortland’s earnest eyes, then turned my gaze to Giscal. He was still looking at me. His unwavering eyes insisted that this explanation wasn’t a cowardly excuse, but a truth.

My chaotic thoughts began to settle. I replayed Elliot’s words: to return to my original world, I would have to face death.

“Wizards teleport around so easily—why would I have to risk dying?”

“Because the place you’re returning to is another world.”

Elliot explained slowly.

“After Lucy entered the cycle of reincarnation with Motus, I continued my research with the Marquis’s help. We studied whether Motus could cross worlds. If Lucy’s reincarnated soul entered Lady Arne’s body, could she return to her original world?”

He stared into space and sighed.

“We found many possibilities, but no clear answers. The wall between worlds is thick. Of course, since you crossed over, it proves Motus can breach that wall.”

“Then isn’t it possible?”

“It’s a matter of probability. You might return, but unexpected issues could arise. I can’t even determine the current state of Lady Arne’s soul, despite having crafted the Motus both of you carry.”

Motus crafters can sense souls that carry their crafted Motus. That’s how Elliot knew Arne’s fever wasn’t ordinary, and why he rushed to me when I arrived at the Edelheit estate.

But the wall between worlds is thick. Arne’s soul may not have entered my body properly—it could have vanished or be wandering another world.

In short, it was a gamble. If successful, I could return to the place I missed. If not, I’d die.

Or worse—I might not even die, but be doomed to wander endlessly through other worlds.

I swallowed hard. It was not an easy decision. I had to stop myself from thinking of home.

“I understand that. But what do you mean the world I return to might not be the one I remember?”

Marian, standing behind Elliot, tugged his sleeve and asked. She was just as focused on his explanation as I was. Whether it was her curiosity as a Motus crafter or guilt over her past confident claims, I couldn’t tell.

“That’s…”

Elliot, who had been speaking so freely, hesitated. Even when Marian asked again, he didn’t respond immediately. His silence made my anxiety grow—until Giscal finally spoke.

“Because the flow of time is different between this world and the one you came from.”

“Time flows differently?”

I recalled the thick wall between worlds. My original world didn’t even know this one existed. And this world only vaguely acknowledged the existence of other worlds. Of course, there would be vast differences between them.

Time flow included.

Suddenly, the old Korean proverb came to mind: “While the immortals play Go, the axe handle rots.”

Long ago, a woodcutter entered a cave and watched two old men playing Go. When he finally decided to leave, he picked up his axe and found the wooden handle had rotted away, leaving only the rusty blade. When he returned to his village, decades had passed.

So, am I in the world of the immortals? Or the woodcutter’s world?

The answer was clear. If I had come from the immortals’ world to the woodcutter’s, Giscal wouldn’t be so somber. Time wouldn’t have passed so drastically. No—I’d come from the woodcutter’s world into the immortals’.

“So, the time units between this world and mine are different…”

“I get it. Then how much time has passed?”

Elliot tried to explain further, but I’d seen enough stories and films about time travel to understand.

I never imagined something so fantastical would happen to me. But crossing into another world was already beyond belief.

Elliot looked at me skeptically, then spoke.

“Just to confirm—when you crossed over, you were about twenty-five years old as Yoon Seha, correct?”

“…Yes. Exactly twenty-five. How did you know?”

Elliot gave a bitter smile.

“I told you—I can sense souls carrying my crafted Motus. I could determine the exact age when you stayed at the Edelheit estate.”

“So you checked under the guise of monitoring my health.”

I didn’t feel any fresh betrayal. I scoffed and nodded for him to continue.

“From the incident to Lady Arne’s fever, about six months passed.”

Everyone knew what “the incident” meant. The day Arne and Louis’s souls were expelled by the transparent stone, and Louis entered the cycle of reincarnation.

Soon after, Arne entered the palace. Giscal was still away handling post-war matters with the Jaren Kingdom, and the wedding was held quickly.

Whether it was Erich’s plan, Arne’s, or both—I didn’t know. But Giscal was completely excluded from the ceremony. Arne then caused havoc in the palace as a villainess, until one day she collapsed with a fever.

That was when I touched the transparent stone my grandmother had left me—a relic from the world I was born into.

In just six months, I had lived twenty-five years in that other world. Simple math showed that one month here equaled over four years there.

At first, I couldn’t grasp it. But as I added up the years, my heart sank.

I’d been bedridden with a fever for three months, and when I recovered, it was still cold enough for Louis to drape a shawl over me. Now, the autumn hunt had ended and winter was approaching.

Including the time I was sick, about a year had passed. A year might seem short in the wheel of life, but I no longer had the luxury of counting time calmly.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

I screamed the same question again.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier? The moment you knew I’d crossed over, you should’ve sent me back immediately. You should’ve told me the truth. You say you didn’t speak because I might have to risk death? That’s ridiculous! You had no right to decide that for me. You shouldn’t have taken away my choice!”

I was the foolish woodcutter who watched the immortals play Go, unaware of time passing. When I returned home, my house was no longer mine, and everyone I knew was gone. I was left alone—foolish and lonely.

What thoughts must he have had, standing there with nowhere left to return to?

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