I’ve Decided to Let You Go - Chapter 36

Natasha refrained from asking the clichéd question, “Are you God?” Such a rustic inquiry felt meaningless and pitiful in the face of a life-or-death crossroad.

“I was meant to die, wasn’t I…” she murmured, reflecting on the divine answer. A peculiar detail caught her attention.

“…So, it seems I won’t die this time either.”

“There is someone who doesn’t wish for your death.”

“Can a life really be spared by something as fleeting as someone’s wish?”

“As long as there’s a price, why not? It only happens once every hundred years. It’s hardly a big deal.”

His words were hard to decipher. Natasha simply nodded, pretending to understand.

“So, how was it? That happiness you encountered after so long.”

“Perhaps because I knew it had an end, at some point, the joy faded.”

“Still, it must’ve been good.”

“…”

“You must have missed it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to deny that.

The voice, as if understanding her silence, chuckled faintly.

“This will truly be the last time. So, reclaim the happiness you lost.”

“…That’s not something I can take back, is it?”

Perhaps from deep resentment, Natasha dared to retort. And rightly so—she hadn’t been responsible for losing that happiness in the first place. No amount of effort could change a preordained future.

Her frustration was met with a soft, amused laugh from the voice.

“Well, you never know. For someone so full of resentment, your life’s looking fairly improved.”

“That’s…”

“Don’t take it too seriously. I’m simply saying, keep striving for what you want—just like now.”

To attain happiness…

It was such a vague piece of advice. Unable to feel any certainty, Natasha fell silent.

Yet, there was one thing she was faintly sure of:

Before she touched the doorknob, she’d had no regrets. But the moment she came face-to-face with the happiness she had forgotten, a yearning started to take root again.

She didn’t want to die—not like this. Just as the voice said, her life had improved. It was hopeful, and sometimes, even joyful. If this continued, she might even reach the goals she had failed to achieve in her previous life. It was all so peaceful.

“Yes, that’s enough,” the voice whispered, as if reading her mind.

Moments later, the platform shimmered. The smoke that had surrounded Natasha scattered into the air like mist caught in the wind, then coalesced to encircle the altar.

Enchanted, Natasha rose and stepped forward. A mysterious energy glimmered faintly on the platform.

Suddenly, the essence surged forward and seeped into her hand. What she thought would slip through her fingers instead began to penetrate her skin, saturating it completely.

“No! Don’t accept it!”

“That scent—it’s him!”

“Traitor! Heretic! You’re giving your blood and flesh back to that creature!”

As Natasha accepted the essence, the voices of her family—silent until now—burst forth again. Howling like beasts, they vanished the moment the energy fully merged with her hand.

As the voices faded, so too did her consciousness begin to dim.

✦

“Ugh…”

Her dry lips parted, cracking as they did. The sound escaping her teeth broke apart into fragmented moans.

“Ugh…ugh…”

Screams followed immediately from nearby. The sudden noise of rushing footsteps halted at the foot of Natasha’s bed.

Maids leaned in closely to check on her condition. Through her barely open eyes, her crimson irises were vividly visible.

“My Lady? Can you see me?”

“…”

“If—if you can, please blink once.”

Two maids asked in quick succession.

Moments later, the red eyes closed. Slowly, they fluttered open again. Judging by her response, it was clear the duchess had regained consciousness.

“She—She’s awake! The Duchess is truly awake!”

The maid’s piercing voice echoed down the hallway, spreading through the estate like wildfire. In no time, nearly every servant in the manor had gathered in the infirmary.

The family doctor, upon checking her condition, announced that the Duchess’s health had greatly improved. A collective sigh of relief erupted across the room.

“Her condition is better than expected. Still, since she was unconscious for several days, it’s important she gets plenty of rest for now. She should avoid going outdoors and make sure to eat well.”

The kind physician gave his final instructions before leaving. But the moment he stepped out, Vanessa and Meliana rushed in to check on Natasha.

That much wasn’t too far outside what the doctor called “complete rest.”

But holding Natasha tightly while sobbing uncontrollably? That might have gone beyond the limits of what he had warned against.

“I’m really okay. You don’t have to worry so much…”

“Sniff—How can you say that?! Your face was so pale, and you were lying unconscious for three days! Do you know how scared we were? I honestly thought something terrible had happened to you…”

“Lady Wilts is right. We’re just… so relieved you’re safe.”

Their tearful voices hit Natasha with an unfamiliar emotion.

To think someone would cry for her just because she looked ill or had been bedridden for a few days… It was the first time she had ever received this kind of concern in the ducal house. The unexpected kindness touched her heart.

“Thank you for worrying about me. But I promise I’m fine now. The physician said I’m in good condition, didn’t he?”

Clearing her throat quietly, Natasha answered in a calm, graceful tone. Only then did the two finally start to relax.

They went on to explain everything that had happened after she collapsed.

According to a detailed investigation, what Natasha drank was a rare foreign poison—lethal even in small amounts. The culprit was a priest who had managed the Holy Chalice. He was charged with attempted murder and, along with his family, was banished from the Empire. All their property was confiscated.

They left out the gruesome detail that the man’s wrists and tongue had been cut off—for the sake of Natasha’s peace of mind.

“I see… Then where is His Grace?”

“Oh! You mean Duke Aschart?”

“His Grace is… um… well…”

Vanessa and Meliana hesitated at Natasha’s casual question.

“He’s at the temple.”

“Yes, there are still matters that need to be handled.”

The two quickly exchanged glances and matched their answers behind Natasha’s back.

“Come to think of it, isn’t this the first time you’ve asked about the Duke?”

“Usually, he tells you everything first and always shows up right on time, doesn’t he?”

After vaguely answering her question, they changed the subject on purpose.

This time, Natasha became the topic.

Thinking it over, they were right—this really was the first time she had asked about him. Even if the question had slipped out without thinking, the fact that she had asked where Sieghart was—it surprised even her.

“…It’s not like that.”

She was just curious. That man, so desperate to impress her, must have heard by now that she had woken up—yet still hadn’t appeared. She only wondered why. Honestly, she was relieved she wouldn’t have to watch him pretend to be overjoyed.

Yes. That’s all it was.

After chatting for a while longer to keep her company, the two said Natasha should rest and promised to return later with dinner. Then they left the room.

Now alone, Natasha glanced at the books and newspapers stacked on the couch. She didn’t mind solitude, but right now, she needed to clear her head.

“Already finished this one… that one wasn’t really my style…”

The books didn’t hold her interest. She reached for something else to read.

“Hmm… this paper’s way too old. So, is this one… and this?”

All the newspapers were strangely outdated.

Just then, her eyes caught a bold headline.

“Romance That Saved the Duchess of Aschart!”

It was from yesterday’s paper.

“Romance?”

The idea that romance had saved her life… felt completely wrong. A strange word choice.

This wasn’t some cheap gossip rag either—it was the Daily Beacon, a respected paper that didn’t exaggerate stories or fabricate scandals. It didn’t need to.

No—what saved her wasn’t romance. It was divine grace. From the world’s point of view, maybe it looked like a miracle or expert medical care.

Her tired eyes scanned the article. As she read further, her pupils widened. And when they could open no more, her eyes froze on the words.

“At the recent coronation, a serious incident occurred in which the life of Duchess Aschart was endangered. After ingesting a fatal dose of poison, the Duchess’s life hung by a thread. It has been revealed that Duke Aschart used the sacred sword to save her. The sacred sword, drained of all its power in a single day, left many people in shock…”

No matter how many times she reread it, the meaning didn’t change.

“Sieghart… used the sacred sword? To save me?”

The pain of the poison had been just like the suffering she had felt in each of her past ten lives. Natasha remembered clearly the sensation of her life fading away. She was sure—what she had faced was death. The end.

“This will truly be the last time. So, reclaim the happiness you lost.”

It was divine mercy that had saved her. Absolute grace for a lost soul.

“There is someone who doesn’t wish for your death.”

“Can someone’s wish really be enough to save a life?”

“As long as there’s a price to pay, yes. It only happens once every hundred years—it’s nothing special.”

The voice had said someone saved her, but at the time, she hadn’t fully understood. She let the words slip by. Could the person the voice mentioned really have been Sieghart Aschart?

“If that’s true… then what were the past ten lives for…?”

What did they even mean?

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