Episode 03
Had it been the hand of God?
The answer she had sought in vain, even after crossing the snow-capped mountains, had been in the possession of the alchemist who lived in seclusion near the river that never froze.
“The rite is founded upon a powerful wish to bring someone back to life, and it also requires a vessel. You preserved the body in ice—that was wise. With these two conditions fulfilled…”
“Then… Alfonso can be revived?”
“The vessel is ready, and the rite prepared. But the fuel is lacking. A strong rite demands a great deal of fuel.”
The alchemist’s finger pointed at Charlotte.
“The fuel is the life of one who possesses a powerful wish.”
“…”
“Even now, you may turn back. You have much to live for, my lady. It is not too late. Find someone new—”
“My life. That’s all it takes, isn’t it?”
Charlotte’s voice trembled faintly.
Yet what rose to her face was unmistakable joy.
“If Alfonso can live again, then this life is more than worth the price.”
To give her life for the man who had died because of her—how could that be too much to ask?
After all, her existence had lost all meaning since his death. To have it spent for his sake was only fitting.
“Kill me. Bring him back.”
Surely Alfonso would rejoice to hear that the woman he loathed so deeply was dead.
There would be no need for him to dwell on the details of her passing; an accident would suffice as explanation.
“You happened upon the manor by chance, heard our plea, and restored Alfonso. Eduard will see to it that your reward is more than generous.”
“…Very well. But, my lady, know this—you may never be able to send him a message.”
At the unexpected condition, Charlotte’s brows knit.
“And why is that?”
“The rite is built upon your wish. The result—his revival—is fixed. But the form that revival takes will be shaped by your wish. It may not be what you imagine.”
“What do you mean?”
Charlotte only stared at him, not comprehending.
The alchemist sighed, low and weary.
“I mean that even if he lives again, he may not return in the way you envision. If your wish focuses only on ‘revival,’ the result may twist into something you cannot anticipate. It could even be monstrous—”
“Oh, is that all?”
Her frown eased, and Charlotte let out a small laugh.
“If that’s the concern, then I need not worry. What I wish for is Alfonso’s happiness. So long as your rite is rooted in my wish, he will be fine.”
What she wanted was to return everything he had lost because of their marriage—his life, his happiness.
Even if she was no part of his future, it didn’t matter. As long as he lived, as long as he was happy, it would be enough.
The conviction in her voice left the alchemist looking pained.
“Whatever the result, the rite’s duration is one year. If your wish is not fulfilled by then, all of it will come undone.”
Charlotte’s death was inevitable—as was Alfonso’s, should the wish fail.
“You are truly willing to pay this price?”
“Yes.”
Her answer came without hesitation, and the alchemist shook his head slowly.
“Then it seems life holds no worth for you.”
“There is no one who doesn’t value their life.”
Her eyes softened.
“There are simply times when one values something else far more.”
The years she had wasted searching for a way to save Alfonso. The grief, the regret, the endless tears.
—Even if you despise me, Alfonso, it cannot be helped. This marriage is for my family’s sake. If you wish to curse me, then pour yourself a fine drink and call my name. If the taste is good, I’ll even allow you to strike me.
—Alfonso, your birthday is next week, isn’t it? I’ll say it early: happy birthday. I won’t be here then. Surely you’d prefer it that way.
—Why don’t I wear the necklace you sent? Because it was too fine to be wasted on me. Would you have me flaunt a gift from a man who despises me, smiling like a fool?
Every memory was one of barbs, venom flung to shield herself from the contempt in his eyes.
If only I’d had the courage to be honest.
To say that she was sorry.
That she wished she could celebrate his birthday with him, even in some small, ordinary way.
That the necklace was too beautiful—it made her feel so small and unworthy—that she couldn’t bear to wear it.
Why had those words been so impossible to speak?
If she had known regret would cut this deep, she would have laughed with him, even once.
“…I lived my life selfishly. For once, I want to choose for the sake of the one I love.”
“To offer your life for love… how different you are from the stories I heard.”
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Once, I wandered through the capital. Back then they said you were many things, but never that you were reckless or foolish.”
“Well, that’s love for you.”
To love a man who despised her, and give up her life for him.
The world would call her foolish. Some would call her mad.
And Charlotte knew it. She accepted it.
But what of it?
Even knowing all that… I loved him.
If there exists in this world a sentiment both the most foolish and the most noble, it must be love.
Better to be a fool who dies for love than a fool who lets the one she loves die.
Even if no one else ever understood.
Even if she could never dream of a future at Alfonso’s side.
So long as he lived. So long as he was happy.
That would be enough.
That was Charlotte’s atonement. That was her love.
The alchemist, unable to fathom such devotion, produced a vial.
“Drink this, and the rite will begin.”
Though his eyes betrayed a faint hope she might yet turn back, Charlotte took the vial without hesitation and swallowed it in a single breath.
The agony came swift, overwhelming, her consciousness shattering in a heartbeat.
When she finally awoke, it was to the murmur of familiar voices.
The bright ceiling of the Noah estate stretched above her.
“M-my lady, are you awake?”
In that instant she knew—
The alchemist’s rite had worked.
She had returned to the time before her marriage to Alfonso.
***
That was a week ago, already.
Charlotte sat gazing out at the winter garden under a cloudless sky, recalling the moment with vivid clarity.
She could still remember asking the maid the date, bolting upright from bed, and rushing to the mirror.
“Impossible…”
Could it truly have worked?
The woman in the mirror whispered in disbelief.
Though her hair was uncombed, her attire a mere negligee, her reflection was radiant: long, vivid scarlet hair curling softly at the ends, eyes like summer leaves in sunlight, hands pale and unmarred.
It was a sight unimaginable in those frantic days when she had been searching, mad with grief, for a way to bring Alfonso back.
There was no need for further proof.
I’ve gone back.
It wasn’t the result she had expected, but it hardly mattered.
This is still revival.
At first she had panicked, checking again and again that this was no dream. But once convinced, she felt nothing but gratitude.
A chance to begin again from the very start—what greater fortune could she ask for?
That alchemist was more capable than I thought.
She had only wished for Alfonso’s life, yet fate had given her so much more.
So elated was she that she nearly embraced the maid and danced for joy.
Of course, I did collapse bleeding soon after…
Fortunately, she had awakened just after tumbling down the stairs.
Thus, when she coughed blood, no one thought it strange.
No one, that is, but Charlotte herself.
I never fell down the stairs before…
And her body had never been so frail.
Was this the side effect of time’s reversal?
I’ll only know if I find the alchemist.
But the alchemist had vanished.
She had sent people to the place where she’d met him, only to be told it was abandoned.
He did say he wandered. He’ll be hard to find.
Still, one thing was clear.
—Whatever the result, the rite’s duration is one year. If your wish is not fulfilled by then, all will be undone.
She was living proof of that.
Her death had been the rite’s offering. The fact that she still breathed meant the wish was incomplete.
Her wish had been for Alfonso to be alive—and happy.
The rite had chosen to fulfill it by turning back time.
Alfonso had been restored. But his happiness was yet to be secured.
Until he is happy, the rite remains unfinished.
Fail, and time would return to its rightful course—erasing both Alfonso and herself.
Her path, then, was clear.
Whether she lived or died in the end mattered little.
I only have one task: to make Alfonso happy.
