"…I heard you were eight years old, am I mistaken?"
"You are correct."
"Hmm."
How on earth did an eight-year-old girl know his true identity, know about the information broker, and what information they were currently looking for the most? He felt like he was possessed by a ghost.
"It doesn't make sense financially. The reward is too high compared to the information I am to provide."
Navia was a bit surprised by Erkin's conscientious declaration but soon responded nonchalantly.
"It's fine. The anesthetic grass farm is very important to me."
Having to parasite at the Duke of Eseled's estate, the anesthetic grass farm would be a lifetime achievement.
She didn't regret exchanging it for the Emperor's hunting ground at all.
Also, by setting it up like a debt, she could expect a friendly attitude the next time she utilized the information broker.
Navia told him the identity of the hunting ground that the Emperor secretly visits every winter.
"There's a temple called Sophia Temple in the outskirts north of the Tuz River. It's currently not in operation. His Majesty visits there instead of the hunting ground every winter."
"Sophia Temple…"
He sunk into thought with a speculative expression, then slowly nodded his head.
"Alright. Let's make a deal."
They soon prepared documents, each writing the content of their request before signing.
Then, a small cup filled with shimmering blue water was placed.
"It's a kind of magical tool. You know about a magician's contract, right?"
"Yes."
"If you dip your finger in this magical ink and press it on the signature of the contract, a similar effect occurs. It's a method used when making a contract with a non-magician."
Navia was already familiar with this ink, so she calmly dipped her thumb in it without hesitation.
Despite the potentially unsettling nature, her bold action of dipping her finger surprised Erkin.
"You're a brave child."
Navia smiled at his words. She found him quite interesting.
"I'll ask for prompt verification then."
Erkin was astonished by the vocabulary Navia used.
She really didn't seem like an ordinary child.
Was the term 'extraordinary' coined for such a child?
He couldn't believe he was thoroughly manipulated by an eight-year-old and involuntarily chuckled, but as Navia hopped off the sofa, he quickly asked.
"Are you going home?"
"Yes. My business here is done. I'll take my leave now."
Navia politely bid farewell and opened the office door.
Whoosh.
'Oh no, it's raining.'
The office, lacking any windows and completely enclosed, didn't reveal the rain outside.
Navia was perplexed.
Usually, she would've just walked in the rain to hire a cab, but now she was wearing a coat lent by Margaret.
'It would be problematic if this coat got wet, what should I do…?'
Just then, a bright yellow umbrella was suddenly extended in front of her.
It was offered by Erkin.
"Apparently, many customers leave their umbrellas at the coffee house, so there are plenty of these children's umbrellas."
"Ah… Thank you."
Nabia received it without hesitation, looking relieved as she really needed an umbrella at the moment.
Erkin's eyes deepened as he watched Nabia smile comfortably without any wariness.
There was something more to confirm with this child. "Should we go to Eseled?"
Erkin said with a smile full of kindness. "I'll take you there."
* * *
Lark knew all too well that he was a mess, completely ruined.
It was only natural for a monster that should have died long ago to keep reliving life, unable to die.
He was wrong. A completely flawed being.
'I should die.'
Lark thought with his empty eyes.
'I must die.'
To die completely, forever.
Only then, he wouldn't commit any more repulsive acts.
Lark remembered Navia, who had seemed like a wax doll.
The etiquette she maintained, like a marionette tied with strings.
The image of her, having lost all will and scent, suddenly flashed through his mind.
Even throughout thousands, tens of thousands of regressions, he had never seen such a person.
Yes. Not even once in all that long time…….
Lark almost ran as he headed to the room across.
What should I do when I get there?
He really didn't know. His mind seemed to malfunction, unable to recall what he was supposed to do.
First, he had to face Navia.
With a bang!
He flung the door open. He could almost picture her, with her big eyes widening in surprise, turning her head gracefully.
Navia was quiet. Her breathing, steps, every movement were all close to silence.
Yet, she carried a tumultuous light that seemed too loud for this place.
She was pale and bright. Thus, wherever she was, Navia seemed to stand out instantly.
But nowhere to be seen was her silver hair.
Snap!
He immediately moved to the second floor.
Just then, he came face-to-face with Margaret, who was tidying up a room on the second floor.
He had come hoping to find her, but the child was nowhere to be seen here either.
He asked irritably.
"Where is she?"
Margaret looked a bit surprised as she answered.
"Miss Navia went outside."
Lark gasped momentarily at those words.
'Could it be too late?'
What's late?
'I told that child to leave earlier.'
Is that not allowed?
No, it's not.
"My lord?"
With a frozen face, Lark dashed towards the main gate.
What's late, what's not allowed, he couldn't attach any reason to explain it right now.
'No, if I go out now, if I leave right now.'
Even as he repeatedly used spatial movement to increase his speed, his mind was crowded with all sorts of thoughts.
Why did that child leave?
What if they leave this place forever?
Then, what will I do?
Lark had stopped in front of the main gate without realizing it.
The ash-gray sky and the pitch-black main gate. The gate had remained closed ever since that woman left.
Lark reached out his hand.
The moment his fingertips slightly passed the gate.
Crackle!
His fingertips reddened, showing signs of a fracture about to happen.
Thud.
Lark dropped his arm. His eyes darkened to a deep, blood-red.
He was unable to leave the mansion.
It was the price paid for being perpetually reverted to an eight-year-old.
Lark had scarred his soul.
It was a terrible act. The human flesh and divine power were twisted, and Lark's body soon became chaos itself, unable to maintain its integrity and collapsing.
That's why Lark found a way. He had cast a powerful restoration magic on the mansion to forcibly maintain his body.
The magic steeped the Eseled Duke's mansion in darkness.
It wasn't a curse, but rather the color of life itself.
Thus, Lark was able to avoid witnessing his mother's suicide in his subsequent regressions.
He no longer had to slaughter his family with his own hands.
Instead, he thought staying trapped in the mansion forever was a cheap price to pay.
If he took even a single step outside, his body would shatter. He had indeed attempted suicide dozens of times in that manner.
Lark muttered emptily.
"How disgustingly powerless and pitiful."
Even with the power of a god, he couldn't completely die, save his deranged mother, or leave the mansion.
All he could do was wait for someone like this, foolishly.
Perhaps it would be better if that child never came at all.
The child was too dazzlingly bright to be in a place where a terrible monster like himself lived and breathed.
It was surely so.
Thump! Thud!
The heavy sky finally began to release rain.
Drop by drop. Then the rain grew heavier, dampening his vision.
Swoosh.
Lark didn't even realize he was getting rained on.
He just stood at the closest point he was allowed to the outside world, endlessly gazing out.
Waiting for someone was the most hopeful yet the most despairing thing Lark could do.
Lark didn't know who he was waiting for.
Was it that woman? Or the child?
'Or both of them?'
Perhaps an hour had passed.
Then two hours.
He had never felt the flow of time, which he had been trying to forget and live without, so intensely and vividly.
Lark suddenly realized.
What he was waiting for was death.
If the child did not return, he would take a step forward.
He would leave the mansion, and walk as far as his legs could carry him.
His body would split into thousands of pieces and shatter into a terrible form.
Thus, he would end his life in the most painful way possible.
And when he opened his eyes, he might find himself back at the age of eight, once again harboring desperate hopes and beginning the wait.
"It's not even funny."
In the countless lives he had spent trapped in this mansion, it was only in this life that, by chance, that woman had come looking for him.
Also, it was only in this life that a mysterious girl, whose identity he could not discern, had appeared.
How many more deaths would he have to repeat before another life like this one occurred?
"Still, that would be happier."
So, he intended to end this round here.
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