A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 118: Sophien (3)

My heart had stopped beating, and my lungs had failed. As all my vital organs shut down, except for my brain, my body temperature dropped, and the nerves in my fingers and toes grew rigid. My body was already dead.

However, the body of an Iron Man delayed my death. My blood vessels, in place of my heart and lungs, rhythmically contracted and expanded, forcing blood and oxygen through my body. It was a temporary fix, a brief reprieve, but it gave me the time I needed.

In order to keep my death hidden from Sophien in this world, allowing her memories to continue without interruption, I headed toward the underground chamber of the Imperial Palace. The wooden door was already open, as if it had been waiting. I moved forward, slowly stepping into the depths of the darkness.

"You knew this was going to happen," came a voice from behind.

I turned around and saw the Demon’s Mirror, its face a reflection of Sophien.

"It's all over," the Mirror said. "And you're dead."

I nodded. I had drained nearly sixty thousand mana points in a single moment and let a massive surge of demonic energy flood into my body. After that, survival had never been an option.

“I am aware of that.”

“Then why did you do it? I’m just curious,” the Mirror asked.

I closed my eyes as a flood of thoughts surged in—some belonging to Deculein, others to Kim Woo-Jin. But there was only one answer to the demon’s question.

“I made a promise, and I refuse to lose.”

My body had already given out, and even my brain was slowly shutting down. Yet, oddly enough, a smile spread across my face. I managed to open my eyes and fix my gaze on the demon.

“I refused to let a wretched demon like you claim this world, or the Empress,” I concluded.

The demon's expression stiffened. It muttered under its breath before giving a small nod and said, "Well, congratulations. You won."

Those were its final words. First, my vision faded, then my hearing. The world dimmed, sinking into silence. In that stillness, in the hollow emptiness, I felt death drawing near—cold, unbearably cold...

***

Sophien woke from her sleep, her thoughts still hazy. Her memories were tangled, but one thing was certain—Deculein had fulfilled his promise to her.

"... That stubborn man," Sophien murmured with a faint smile.

Deculein had witnessed all of her deaths—except for the three times she had been assassinated instead of falling to her illness. But after she had finally recovered, he had left.

“And yet...” Sophien murmured, glancing around her chambers. Two teacups rested on the table, the coffee long since gone cold—just as it was when Deculein left. “He said we would meet again.”

Frowning, she picked up the cup and used her mana to warm it before taking a sip. She drummed her fingers on the table, waiting. She wondered how long it would take for him to come from the underground chamber to her room. Glancing at the clock, she checked the time.

Tick-tock— Tick-tock— Tick-tock—

Seconds had passed, yet Deculein still hadn’t returned. The Imperial Palace was expansive, but surely it wouldn’t have taken more than ten minutes for him to arrive. Growing impatient, she crossed her arms and pursed her lips in frustration.

"Your Majesty!" came a sudden disturbance from outside her chamber.

With a wave of Telekinesis, Sophien opened the door and said, “What’s causing all this noise?”

"There is a serious matter in the palace’s underground chamber—"

Before her vassal could finish speaking, her eyes widened, and she leaped to her feet. Her legs moved before her thoughts could catch up, with dozens of officials and knights rushing after her.

"Your Majesty! Over here, something unexplainable—"

Sophien hurried to the underground chamber, where a wooden door stood at the far end. Beside it was a solitary figure. She approached in a daze, her vision blurring with each step, and her footing grew unsteady.

“Ha...” Sophien scoffed, a helpless laugh escaping her lips. Without realizing it, her hand curled into a fist. “... You said you’d stand before me at the end of my journey.”

It was Deculein. His body, overtaken by demonic energy, leaned lifelessly against the wall, his veins dark and swollen. To any observer, he appeared as nothing more than a corpse.

“Is this how you meant to stand before me?” Sophien murmured, a cold headache pressing at the edges of her thoughts.

Suddenly, countless memories surged through her—fragments of her long life spent with the one who had stood beside her through every regression, leaving traces in each cycle.

“Y-your Majesty, please do not go near... Th-the demonic energy may—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Sophien commanded, dismissing her vassal's warning. She stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Deculein's lifeless face.

“I will be watching over Your Highness, no matter where or when.”

His final words echoed in her mind.

“Even if I’m out of sight for a time... I will always be with you on your journey.”

Sophien glanced down at the sword hanging at her waist, an ancient blade that had been passed down through the imperial line to each Emperor or Empress. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“... May I ask one favor of you?”

If I were to commit suicide now, you would come back to life due to the regression, Sophien thought.

“From now on... no matter what happens, you must not take your life by your own choice.”

Did you foresee this outcome when you spoke those words?

“You must value your life, Your Highness.”

Did you truly believe I would take my own life for your sake? You damn fool. If you were going to die like this, you should have at least had the decency to tell me.

A surge of emotions, ones Sophien couldn’t quite name, flooded through her. Amid the chaos, she noticed a small piece of paper sticking out from Deculein’s jacket pocket. Reaching out, she pulled the scrap free.

“... Your Majesty,” Jolang, the eunuch, called softly at that moment.

Sophien turned to face him, her gaze sharpening into a cold glare. His usually impassive face betrayed a faint trace of amusement, one she couldn’t fully understand.

“Two knights have been detained in the Imperial Palace prison.”

“Knights?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Yulie and Keiron were caught conducting an unsanctioned duel within the palace grounds.”

Sophien let out a bitter laugh and replied, "... What the absolute fuck happened while I was asleep?"

***

Empress Sophien had personally visited the Imperial prison. Yulie and Keiron had been confined to separate cells.

She cast her gaze over the two knights before saying, “Who claimed victory?”

Neither knight spoke, their silence hanging in the air.

"Do you plan to ignore me? Or was it just a pointless brawl, not a proper duel?"

There was a distinct difference between a duel and a brawl. Duels between knights were considered sacred and often granted some leniency in judgment, but a brawl was an entirely different matter. A fight within the palace grounds could, in severe cases, result in execution.

“... I was defeated, Your Majesty,” Yulie eventually responded.

Sophien smirked and remarked, “Naturally. It would’ve been surprising if you had won.”

“Your Majesty,” Yulie asked cautiously, her face tinged with fear. “Has there been any word about Professor Deculein—”

“He’s dead.”

Yulie’s head snapped up, shock flooding her expression.

Clicking her tongue, Sophien remarked, “You look like you’ll be following him soon.”

Yulie bowed her head in silence. Sophien then turned her attention to Keiron, who knelt with both knees pressed to the floor.

“Keiron.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

“... How are you faring, Your Majesty?”

Without responding, Sophien turned to her vassal, uninterested in dragging the matter out any further. She commanded, “Release them both. It was just a knight’s duel.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Guards!” one of the senior officers called out, and the guards quickly moved to unlock the cell doors.

Yulie, visibly shaken, struggled to rise, while Keiron quickly stood and took his usual position behind Sophien.

After a brief glance at Yulie, Sophien left the prison. She glanced at the guards and said, “That will do. You may all go now.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. We remain deeply honored by your favor...”

Having dismissed her officials, Sophien made her way down the corridors of the Imperial Palace.

Thud, thud—

The sound of her footsteps echoed alongside Keiron’s, who followed closely, matching her pace as any knight was expected to do.

“... Keiron,” Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“There was a Message Paper in Deculein’s pocket,” Sophien remarked, passing Keiron the folded paper she held between two fingers. He accepted it silently. “It states that you’ve been trailing Néscĭus.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Are you still tracking it, as the directive states?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Sophien’s lips curled into a faint smile. Whether Deculein had intended this outcome or if it had happened by coincidence, she couldn’t be sure. Or perhaps it was just her thoughts of him that stirred something within her.

“That little demon took the power that was rightfully mine.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, that is correct.”

Sophien stopped in her tracks and turned to face Keiron, who instantly dropped to one knee.

She looked down at him and spoke, “Then tell me. What punishment does a thief deserve for daring to steal from the Empress?”

Keiron responded firmly, “Death, Your Majesty.”

***

The following morning, just before dawn, Sophien quietly departed from the Imperial Palace. It had been a long time since she last stepped beyond the palace gates. She confided only in Keiron, though she purposely sent dozens of carriages in different directions. Nevertheless, news of the Empress’s departure quickly spread throughout the palace.

Several noble families found themselves gripped by both fear and anticipation, wondering if the Empress was coming to visit them, while officials of the Imperium grew increasingly anxious, suspecting the trip might be a covert inspection.

Yet none of these were Sophien’s intended destination. After a three-day journey, she finally caught up with Néscĭus, the creature Keiron had been pursuing.

"... Is this the form I’m meant to fear?" Sophien asked, her gaze fixed on Néscĭus, nothing more than a skeleton draped in a black robe. She remained unimpressed, the sight far from intimidating.

Keiron spoke, his voice steady. "You should cut it down, Your Majesty."

“Hmph. Is it really that hard for you to look at? Coward.”

Shing—!

Sophien unsheathed the ancestral blade from her waist. The sharp edge glinted as it aimed at Néscĭus, but she paused. If she were to strike the creature down and trigger the regression, Deculein would come back to life.

Because the power of regression, which Néscĭus had stolen, rightfully belonged to her. At its core was none other than Sophien Aekater Augus von Jaegus Gifrein. Yet, despite that, something made her hesitate.

“Keiron, he will forget everything, won’t he?” Sophien asked.

Though Sophien would retain her memories, Deculein would lose all recollection of her. He would fade from her life, and the countless cycles they had shared would be erased. No one would be left who truly understood her.

“That is likely, Your Majesty,” Keiron confirmed.

Sophien slowly returned her sword to its sheath.

“Your Majesty,” Keiron urged, as if encouraging her to proceed.

Sophien glanced at him, let out a sigh, and said, “... There’s no need to kill it.”

Instead, she extended her hand toward Néscĭus. With a simple touch of her finger on the skeleton’s forehead, she reclaimed the Essence of Regression it had stolen.

"This should be enough," Sophien murmured, gauging the length of the regression from its size.

Keiron said, “If the timing is wrong, it could lead to disaster.”

“This power belongs to me. I can see it clearly. If it’s lacking or excessive, I’ll correct it myself,” Sophien replied, her expression tinged with bitterness as she gazed at the essence. After a pause, she quietly called his name, “Keiron.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“... Forget it. Once we return, your wrongs will be wiped away.”

Keiron’s expression darkened as Sophien smirked, clenching her fist around the essence and saying, “We’ll meet again, Keiron.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

At that moment, the Essence of Regression activated with a dramatic flare. Light surged from her clenched hand, flooding the world like the sun. Sophien briefly shut her eyes against the blinding radiance.

Tick, tock— Tick, tock—

Tick, tock— Tick, tock—

The ticking of a clock greeted her as she opened her eyes. She found herself seated at the tea table, two cups of steaming coffee resting before her. She lifted her gaze and locked eyes with the man sitting across from her—someone bold enough to meet her gaze without faltering. It was Deculein. They sat in silence, staring at each other, until Sophien finally spoke.

“... Deculein,” I said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein responded.

"... Did I call for you?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"And you were pulled here from the library?"

“Yes, Your Majesty. What is it that you require?”

Sophien gave a faint smile. The timing had been perfect. If she had arrived just thirty minutes later, Deculein would have already gone down to the underground chamber.

But the smile didn’t last long. Sophien’s face hardened, and she asked him, “Deculein. Do you still remember?”

Deculein offered no response.

Her voice trembled slightly, laden with the weight of her expectations as she asked once more, “Do you remember?”

Nearly a century and countless deaths... Do you still remember me? I believed, if anyone could hold on, it would be you—you wouldn’t forget me, would you? Sophien asked in her mind.

“... What are you referring to, Your Majesty?” Deculein asked plainly.

Sophien clenched her teeth, swallowing her disappointment, before shifting the conversation. “About those Altar bastards.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. How could I forget such a thing?”

“How could I forget such a thing?”

His voice echoed in Sophien’s mind as she sat in silence, absorbing every word.

"This time...”

Having you by my side, I was able to endure everything, Sophien thought.

“I will crush them myself, bit by bit, with my own hands."

Therefore, you have kept your promise. After more than a hundred deaths and regressions, even if you don’t remember the endless suffering, I still do. Your sacrifice and loyalty hold the same worth. You have fulfilled your promise.

“So then... for today,” Sophien began, recalling the moment when Deculein had once suggested they play chess.

“Let’s play chess.”

Deculein’s brow twitched at her words, and Sophien quickly caught the subtle shift in his expression.

Then, Deculein asked aloud, “Have you called me here so early in the morning just for a game of chess?”

“What of it? Are you going to refuse?”

“... No, Your Majesty.”

"Good," Sophien said, placing the chessboard on the table with a wave of Telekinesis. She took the white pieces, leaving Deculein with the black. "Shall we begin?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Deculein replied, his confidence evident.

Of course. That damn man never allowed me a single victory in all those memories.

Click—

Sophien advanced a black pawn, and Deculein followed by shifting a white pawn in response.

Click—

His opening had been aggressive, but Sophien countered with a calm, measured response.

With her gaze fixed on the chessboard, she spoke again, “Deculein.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

"Did you know? No matter how many times I regress, there are some skills that, for instance, do not fade."

"And what might that be?"

“Chess,” Sophien answered.

Deculein nodded with understanding and said, “It’s logical. Magic weakens without the proper restoration of its circuits, and swordsmanship erodes without consistent physical discipline. But chess, much like other intellectual pursuits—”

“That’s enough. I didn’t ask for an analysis,” Sophien said sharply, moving her knight with force as she shot him a glare. “I was simply stating a fact.”

"... Of course, Your Majesty," Deculein responded, a hint of confusion in his voice as he continued positioning his pieces.

The rest of the game played out in silence, with each move met by a precise response. When Deculein advanced, Sophien countered; when she pushed forward, he blocked. The outcome had already become clear.

“Damn it. A draw, is it?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. In theory, when both players perform flawlessly, a draw is the most probable result,” Deculein explained.

Sophien observed him, noting how intently he analyzed the chessboard.

“I’m quite skilled at it. Even if you spent your entire life trying, you wouldn’t be able to defeat me.”

The words he had spoken through the mirror echoed in her mind.

“Perhaps when you do manage to beat me, it will mean you’ve fully recovered.”

“No, it isn’t,” Sophien muttered.

Even now that I’ve fully recovered, it’s still just a draw. So, you were wrong.

“I was speaking strictly in theoretical terms, Your Majesty,” Deculein responded.

Sophien found his aristocratic face unusually bothersome today. After a moment’s thought, she gestured toward the door with her chin and said, “That’s enough for today. Get going. I’m sure your fiancée is waiting.”

“My fiancée... Are you referring to Yulie?”

"Yes. One game is more than enough for today."

“... Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied, standing from his seat.

He bowed and turned to leave, while Sophien rested her chin on her hand, pretending indifference. As he walked away, she watched him from the corner of her eye.

Creeeak...

He had walked with steady steps, the sound of his footsteps gradually fading before the door clicked shut behind him. In the brief moment before it fully closed, Sophien caught a final glimpse of his broad back.

Thud—!

After the door closed, leaving her alone, Sophien idly fiddled with the chess pieces. Then, reaching to her waist, she pulled out a small object—a hand mirror.

“... Hey,” Sophien asked, her gaze fixed on the mirror. “Are you there?”

No response came, no matter how long she waited. Eventually, she leaned back in her chair.

“If not, then it doesn’t matter.”

She let out a deep sigh as she opened the drawer and tucked the hand mirror away. Afterward, she drew back the curtains. Sunlight streamed in through the window, scattering like flower petals across the room. She stared at the light, her hands absently moving over her body. Somehow, the ennui that had been gnawing at her seemed to ease, even if only a little.

“Keiron!” Sophien called.

Keiron’s voice came from beyond the door, “At your command, Your Majesty.”

“It’s been a while, but I’ll get some exercise!”

Keiron hesitated, momentarily taken aback. Before he could gather himself, Sophien had already thrown the door wide open. He stood there, briefly stunned.

“Why are you standing there like a complete idiot?” Sophien asked, giving Keiron a firm punch on the shoulder.

“Well, uh—”

“Follow me,” Sophien commanded.

Then she walked with unwavering confidence, each step resonating with poise, and there wasn’t a trace of hesitation or lethargy in her posture.

Finally, it was time for the Empress to step out into the world.