Chapter 3: (3/142)
Mia squeezed her eyes shut. It felt as though the chronic headaches from her past life were resurging. The lingering remnants of an unpleasant dream remained vivid.
Yes, Étienne had died for Mia.
Though difficult to accept, she couldn’t dismiss the reality of what she’d witnessed the previous night.
Back then, Mia had seethed with resentment, certain the Rochefort family’s second son bore malice toward her. She attributed every injustice she suffered to his political machinations.
Her own incompetence? Lack of effort? Those factors might have contributed more to her failures. But Mia had denied this truth until it became impossible to ignore. She’d been skilled, yet her arrogance matched her talent. She never imagined this would become her fatal flaw.
Thus, Mia rejected reality and directed her fury at Rochefort. This time, since Rochefort was already covertly clashing with Blanchard, it seemed entirely plausible.
But had eliminating him brought her any recognition?
Étienne had been exceptional. Despite worsening health from an unexplained fever, he kept fighting. With no replacement available, it was unavoidable. The rank of legion commander couldn’t be inherited through noble lineage alone.
After his death, the crumbling frontlines were swiftly overrun by Etalon. Perhaps it was inevitable.
Where had things gone wrong? In hindsight, the rot had set in the moment they joined the war.
During Mia’s past life, an explosion occurred near their border station’s warehouse. Food supplies were disrupted, and upon reaching their next destination, half the soldiers fell victim to poison.
The region’s lord—a indolent, greedy baron—denied involvement despite irrefutable evidence.
Worse still, this coincided with the emergence of Étienne Rochefort’s mysterious illness. Mia suspected a link to the soldiers’ poisoning.
The legion commander had been their strongest. Unlike others who fell quickly, he’d endured four years while ill.
Yet even his resilience finally broke. He died shielding Mia despite having means to avoid it.
The Etalon army’s disadvantage, present from the start, became irreversible from that moment.
Mia buried her face in her hands.
Perhaps the goddess had opposed this war.
Or perhaps she’d disapproved of the hero Mia selected.
Thus, Mia had been permitted to return to the past.
Rochefort had relinquished all potential glory for Mia. She’d killed a man capable of such sacrifice.
She couldn’t repeat that mistake. The right choice for both goddess and Étienne.
Mia vowed to live this life for Étienne. This time, she’d protect him relentlessly and secure the glory he deserved.
As she thought of Étienne, Mia closed her eyes softly.
"Goddess, I’ll devote myself wholly to aiding him. Please guard him this time."
The short prayer served only to cement her resolve.
***
The tent stood empty. Rochefort likely had urgent business—far more fitting for a legion commander than days spent nursing an invalid.
After confirming her solitude, Mia rose. Her unusual vitality suggested someone had healed her as she slept.
Inspecting her injuries confirmed it—such recovery demanded intervention.
This wasn’t simple healing. Someone had flooded her with divine energy.
Her persistent wounds had faded to faint scars, bodily fatigue miraculously purged.
Even renowned priests wouldn’t exhaust themselves thus. Divine power strained its users, yet someone had sacrificed their wellbeing to heal her.
It must have been Rochefort.
Who else would infiltrate the commander’s tent, leave everything undisturbed, and tend only to the patient?
In her past life, he’d never shown concern however injured she became.
She’d never desired attention from that stern commander, yet now found his sudden care equally disquieting.
Witnessing Étienne Rochefort’s uncharacteristic behavior sparked dread rather than joy. "Kindness" ill-suited him.
"Why break old habits now?" Mia grumbled while preparing to depart.
