[If I run away from here, Teo… people will continue to die until the next Saint appears.
If I don’t do it now, the next Saint will suffer. I don’t want that. So it’s fine. I’ve made up my mind. Don’t cry. It’s okay.]
In the original novel, Estelle was the Saint who would purify the Land of Death. Her warm nature earned her the love of many across the empire.
(When I think about it, Damian was oddly cold to both of them and never showed kindness.)
If that’s how he acted in the original novel, it might explain why Damian was cautious around the two who had suddenly gained the people’s affection.
(If that’s the case, maybe I could’ve resolved it within the original plot.)
In the novel, Rosalyn was merely a supporting character who helped define the relationship between the Crown Prince and Teo.
I gently massaged my temples.
“Haa…”
Falling in front of everyone was embarrassing enough, but having these strange memories made it even worse. Maybe all of this is just a delusion. Perhaps I had a very vivid dream during my fainting spell.
Maybe I’ll feel better if I sleep and wake up again. I buried myself beneath the quilt.
But…
(What if it’s real?)
The mere thought sent shivers through my body.
He’s still cruel to Teo, even now.
As I sat upright, the blanket slid off me.
I stepped down from the bed barefoot.
Staggering slightly, I approached the wall-mounted desk and opened the top drawer.
The first drawer always held paper and quill.
It’s best to write before I forget anything. I’m not sure if any of it will be useful.
But as I sat before the desk, I felt something off.
(Has this desk always had five drawers?)
The bedroom desk wasn’t used much except for replying to Damian’s letters. It only ever held a quill and paper, so I never bothered counting the drawers.
But the desk I remembered had long legs, whereas this one had a drawer that sat flush with the floor.
It looked like a drawer had been added. I reached out and opened each drawer from the top.
The first had paper. The second, third, and fourth were empty.
If my memory served me right, the fifth drawer should’ve been empty too.
But when I gripped the handle, I felt a distinct weight.
I pulled it open quickly. Inside was a thick, leather-bound book.
The dark crimson cover bore no title.
A strange feeling washed over me as I opened the book.
Then—
(This…)
On the very first page of a book I had never seen before was written, “Diary of Rosalyn Moore”—in my own handwriting.
What is this? I don’t recall writing anything like this.
I lifted the book quickly.
It was far too heavy to hold with one hand. It was also incredibly thick.
I set it on the desk and began flipping through the pages. Each one was filled with my own handwriting.
The problem was, the dates weren’t from the present—they were from the future. As if someone had written sequels to the story from my perspective.
My fingers trembled as I turned the pages.
[Year 974 of the Laires Calendar, September 29th
Estelle finally entered our home.]
The date was exactly one month from now.
Even though I didn’t remember writing it, the handwriting was unmistakably mine.
If my family, Estelle, or even the servants saw it, they’d all agree it was my handwriting.
By then, autumn would be in full swing.
In the original novel, Estelle also arrived at our estate in the fall.
“What is this…?”
Just like the memories had appeared suddenly, so too had this diary.
Could this all really be a coincidence?
Images of Teo and Estelle from their childhood until now flashed through my mind.
Teo at five years old, crying until his eyes were red from fear of the wind.
Estelle at seven, grabbing the hem of my skirt with dirt-stained hands, offering me wildflowers.
The children’s laughter, the sunlight, the warmth.
The cheap plastic necklace and the crookedly stitched handkerchief they had once gifted me during their adolescence.
The peaceful days that existed because of them.
As I was about to turn another page, a knock came at the door.
“Lady Rosalyn? Are you awake?”
Judging by the voice, it was the head butler.
Since the doctor had ordered complete rest, for the butler to come himself meant something had happened.
Was it about Father? I quickly tucked the book into the bottom drawer.
“No, what is it?”
I could’ve pretended to be asleep, but it was better to hear it out and act accordingly—unless it was serious.
As for my condition, the sharp headaches had dulled to something more like a heavy sloshing sensation.
Upon hearing my voice, the butler continued from outside the door.
“A message has arrived. An urgent one.”
There was no reason for the butler to summon me—or for me to receive an important message.
I gathered the quill and paper back into the drawer and stood.
When I opened the door, the butler’s face looked frozen.
He bowed and handed something to me.
“Here it is.”
Despite the shadows cast from the light behind him, the envelope in his hand gleamed faintly.
The seal was a deep violet—almost like a poisonous fruit.
A bitter chuckle escaped my lips.
My eyes landed on the familiar elegant slanted script.
[To my dearest Rosalyn,
I heard you had an accident. Are you alright?
If moving is difficult, I’d like to visit you—but I fear I may be a burden.
Please let me know when would be convenient, and I shall come to see you.
Your fiancé, Damian.]
“What is this…?”
How did he learn I fell down the stairs so quickly?
And now he says he’ll come personally to the duchy?
I opened the drawer and took up my quill, but—
“It came from the capital. Have you confirmed the sender?”
“Yes. It’s from His Highness, the Crown Prince.”
Damian?
I furrowed my brow. The butler nodded again.
I took the envelope and stepped back into the room.
Receiving that letter right after recovering my memory…
It felt ominous.
I sat at the desk to read the letter again, but the butler didn’t move.
He remained standing on the threshold, not entering.
I tore open the purple seal without hesitation.
“You may leave now, Butler.”
“Actually… I was instructed to retrieve your reply as well…”
I scoffed, and the butler’s eyes widened in surprise at my uncharacteristic behavior.
I unfolded the letter within the envelope.
My eyes landed on the familiar slanted script once more.
[To my dearest Rosalyn,
I heard you had an accident. Are you alright?
If moving is difficult, I’d like to visit you—but I fear I may be a burden.
Please let me know when would be convenient, and I shall come to see you.
Your fiancé, Damian.]
“What is this…?”
How did he know I fell down the stairs so fast?
And he says he’ll come in person?
I opened the drawer again and took up my quill, but as I dipped its tip in ink, I hesitated—unsure of what to write.
“Butler.”
“Yes, my Lady?”
“If I ask him not to come, will he listen?”
“…He’s a man who’s concerned about you. He’ll likely come right away.”
Really?
I’ve never had a proper conversation with him, so I doubted he’d refrain.
But if he comes, he’ll surely enter this room.
(Because I’m sick, he won’t be received in the drawing room—but here.)
Letting Damian into this room like this… worried me, especially after I just found that diary.
Even the butler, who still stood unmoving, might take interest in the diary.
So what about Damian?
It didn’t seem like a wise option at all.
I wrote a reply quickly and handed it to the butler.
“Deliver this to him.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
He took the letter with a courteous bow and left the room.
I leaned back into the chair and stretched out my arms on either side.
The frame was cold against my skin.
(Thank you for your concern. Fortunately, I wasn’t seriously hurt, so I shall visit you myself this evening.)
The best way to prove I’m fine… is to go myself.
I was told to rest, but since I could move, it didn’t seem like I was truly injured.
And I had another reason to visit…
Could Damian truly be the one who will kill my family?
The more I reread that sentence I wrote in the reply, the more I couldn’t shake the feeling that there might’ve been a better option.
But I wanted to confirm it myself.
Will Damian really force Estelle and Teo to fight in that hellish land to the very end—and then kill them without mercy?
In the final scene of the novel, Estelle and Teo arrived at the ruined palace at the center of the Land of Death.
In the heart of that palace… was a stone coffin.
The only thing left intact amid the complete collapse.
That was, according to the novel’s setup, “the Rift” that turned the basin into the Land of Death.
And when Estelle placed her hand upon the coffin and purified the ancient curse—
The swords of the comrades who had returned with them to the palace rose toward them—
Then…
