Mia, who had bowed toward him, asked a question. Although the person who heard it couldn’t even respond as his face was subsequently slammed into the ground...
"This is also a kind of sparring, isn’t it? Don’t you think so? A half-wit without divine power being humiliated like this by someone in an honorary position... I wonder if he’ll ever be able to hold his head up again. How pitiful."
So, what should I really do with this guy? After pondering for a moment, Mia finally came up with a use for him. After all, even someone who constantly interferes with plans can be useful if you look closely enough.
"Leonard. At dawn today, after all the lights on the top floor of the castle went out, in front of the assigned inn’s main gate..."
Mia couldn’t finish her sentence. At that moment, she caught sight of a black shadow passing by the corner of her vision.
The moment she saw the shadow, she felt nothing. The battle plan she had been frantically revising just moments ago. The fool desperately writhing at her feet. Even Etienne, who had returned and grabbed her hand—everything seemed to freeze in an instant. And just like that, Mia was plunged into the past.
"Have you ever encountered fear?"
It was a question that anyone who had served in the Etalon Army during that time would find hard to deny.
The woman with hair as dark as ebony, who appeared whenever Rochefort was in the most perilous situations, freely roamed the battlefield after his death and threw the few remaining officers of the Holy Legion into chaos.
The other officers also possessed divine power. Though exhausted and broken, they were trained soldiers who could still fight. Yet no one could stop her. No—they couldn’t even figure out how she did it.
When she appeared, formations crumbled. Panicked allies stumbled into traps. At least, Mia was convinced they were traps. After all, it was impossible for soldiers to disarm and self-destruct without any warning.
The officers weren’t frightened because she was skilled in combat or because they feared death. No—Mia had never even seen her fight directly.
Strange things happened just by her standing still. The woman merely observed them from a distance—sometimes with an expression devoid of emotion, other times bursting into laughter like a madwoman.
She was like a grim reaper on the battlefield. Her first appearance coinciding with the Legion Commander’s death led many to treat her as either an illusion or an actual reaper.
Of course, Mia didn’t believe in reapers. The woman was undeniably real. Mia had heard her being called 'C.' Some of her comrades referred to her as 'Ciccy.'
But whether real or not, she had effortlessly dismantled all of Mia’s schemes. Worse—she’d trapped Mia multiple times.
Her fighting style defied prediction. Even Mia couldn’t perfectly anticipate her intentions or next moves.
No matter how Mia tracked her, devised countermeasures, or even attempted assassination—it all proved futile. Clearly, something was being overlooked. Yet Mia died without ever discovering what.
Thus, Ciccy became the first person Mia couldn’t ensnare with schemes. She solidified as Mia’s primordial fear.
Without knowing Ciccy’s intentions, Mia followed her trail—a near-instinctual habit from past lives. Echoes trailed behind.
"Ah..."
"......"
"Mia? Are you listening?"
Ah—perhaps not echoes after all.
Only then did Etienne enter Mia’s field of view.
He stood blocking her path, anxiously calling her name for the umpteenth time.
Thanks to Etienne’s timely intervention, Mia quickly escaped her panic. In her unsettled state, she might’ve welcomed even mockery—if it helped clear her mind.
Only then could she address practical matters. Mia asked Etienne:
"Is bringing the entire army here advisable? The castle seems too small to accommodate everyone."
"Scattering would be disadvantageous. There are several inns within the territory—those unable to enter the castle can lodge there temporarily."
Etienne answered while fidgeting with her hand. Mia didn’t shake him off—too focused on his words to mind the touch.
'I’ve heard this answer before.'
Some events mirrored past lives; others diverged completely. Mia couldn’t discern the differentiating factor.
The mysterious prisoner-triggered explosion. Their arrival date at Glen. Solutions for surplus personnel—all matched previous cycles. The changes?
Every deviation stemmed from one source: Rochefort’s attitude.
Learning swordsmanship. Gaining military authority. Being treated as a war hero’s confidant. Receiving his personal training and medical care.
Even this absurd lover charade.
All resulted from Rochefort becoming inexplicably affectionate compared to their past life.
Thus, the line between changed and unchanged events aligned perfectly with Rochefort’s involvement.
'...Then why?'
The warmth tickling her fingers vanished abruptly. Mia looked down, then forward—the castle gates were opening.
As Mia predicted, the slouching lord appeared startled by the army’s scale. But true to his opportunist nature, he swiftly composed himself and greeted them in clumsy imperial tongue:
"Oh, what an honor to meet the renowned Sir Rochefort! I’m Rufus Gallois! Your very presence radiates glory!"
He showered them with empty praises—lauding the sword that "saved the empire," praising Rochefort’s "heroic bearing." Etienne ignored his outstretched hand and walked past. Undeterred, the lord turned to Mia beside him:
"And this lady... We haven’t met, I believe? Hehe. Might I inquire which noble house claims such grace?"
His handshake attempt carried an escort-seeking vibe. Mia half-heartedly reciprocated.
Though she never gave her name, Mia felt certain the lord would learn her identity before day’s end. Gossipmongers wouldn’t stay silent—especially when dealing with the infamous eldest daughter of Blanchard.
"Baron."
Mia shook off his hand. Her subdued voice carried gravity mismatching his expectations of a "noble lady."
"You’d do well not to take our courtesy for granted."
Only Mia, Etienne, and few Holy Legion officers remained in the castle.
Mia’s minor protest about Leonard assuming overall command was smoothly quashed. The "lover" title held no authority here.
Mia lay on her bed after unpacking. Her march-weary body resisted sleep.
Soon, a knock came—likely the baron’s servant. He notified her of a banquet in one hour before scurrying off. The rushed timing reeked of desperate ingratiation.
Though understandable given Glen’s precarious border position—recently changed from Etalon to Beridiane rule—hosting exhausted officers during their unpacking seemed ill-advised. Mia dismissed the baron’s folly.
