"You!" The duke's furious roar echoed through the mansion.
The man merely chuckled and walked away, as if nothing had happened. At the same time, Henry saw it clearly as the snake slithered up the man's arm and coiled itself comfortably around his shoulder.
"Good job, my kitty." The man patted the snake affectionately and disappeared down the hall, leaving behind a duke trembling with rage.
"Someone call Arthur! Quickly!" As he shouted, the duke grabbed Henry and rushed toward Henry's room. Behind them, Ricarda remained where she had fallen. Her once-peaceful smile was frozen in place as blood slowly soaked into her golden hair, staining the marble floor beneath her.
'I can't breathe!'
Henry's chest tightened suddenly. The pain barely registered. What terrified him was the suffocating sensation, the way air refused to enter his lungs. His body felt unbearably heavy, powerless.
'Am I really going to die? But… why? And in pain like this?'
No one answered.
His eyelids grew heavier, darkness swallowing his horrified yet beautiful eyes.
He felt it again.
His very last breaths leaving his body.
He felt it.
Death.
Just like that time when he had felt this exact chest pain, only then, there had been a knife slid in by Ricarda…
He was dying again.
'Ug- A-am I g-going to wake up again, somewhere?'
Henry knew.
He couldn't be saved.
Maybe… he was dreaming again.
Because this felt the same as that dream.
Except this didn't feel like a dream at all.
That didn't either but he thought so...
The pain was real. He was aware, he wasn't dreaming.
'W-was I not dreaming that time too, maybe? I felt every pain. It was real pain. But… Ricarda wouldn't go crazy like that. She wouldn't kill me—haa…'
…..
"Haaa! Ug- ugh- haaa!"
Henry woke up again.
Bright light pierced his vision, making him groan in discomfort. He turned his face away, squirmed, and finally opened his eyes fully.
And… he was completely fine.
Before hoping he had been saved, he looked down at himself, having experienced this exact thing once before.
He couldn't care about anything else.
He just wanted to see it.
Was he still eight?
Or… had he become even younger now?
He rushed to the mirror, tripping on the way but getting up and running again.
As soon as he stood in front of it, he stiffened, his hand running over his face.
The reflection staring back at him belonged to a teenager. His features were sharper, more mature, but it was still him.
Henry Bryxton.
'He isn't fourteen. Definitely older… So every time I die here, I get time-traveled into a random age?'
Henry sat down on the ground, hands on his head, thinking deeply.
Fear, confusion, terror, and disgust still clung to him, but he had more things to worry about now.
'I didn't dream about being eight. It can't be a dream. I time-traveled to eight-year-old Henry and now back to an eighteen-year-old Henry. But I started with fourteen-year-old Henry. And… I died there too. Maybe it wasn't a dream either. I literally got killed by Ricarda… but she can't do that, right? Maybe it wasn't her. It didn't look like her. That Ricarda had red hair, and she was weird. Unsettling.'
Henry tied the events together and formed an assumption.
First, he became fourteen-year-old Henry.
Then he died though he still wasn't sure, because Ricarda killing him felt stupid. She was known to be kind. Maybe he should look into that red-haired version this time.
Then he became eight and suddenly got chest pain and died. Maybe a heart attack? He had been shocked, so it made some sense but that strange man with the snake mentioned a curse. So… it was the curse?
That made more sense. Eight-year-olds didn't usually die of heart attacks. At least he didn't know...
But that opened more plot holes.
If Henry died at eight, how did he grow up to be fourteen and then get killed by thieves?
And now… how was he going to die again?
Chest pain again?
And how old was he anyway?
"Y-young m-master, the duke wishes to see you."
Henry was pulled back to his senses, which possibly saved him as he was close to going mad, thinking about how he kept dying and waking up as Henry at different ages.
It was a maid, sounding very scared. She didn't even come inside.
'She's scared… of me.'
That made sense. And it upset Henry, because it meant his attempts at age eight were all useless now.
Fate was messing with his sanity.
"Okay."
Henry got ready by himself, changed out of his nightwear, and made his way to the duke's study, carefully observing his surroundings.
Passing that place....
the spot where the bloody scene had once unfolded...
It was clean.
Henry's stomach churned as his mind raced back to Ricarda's body on the ground.
'Ricarda must still be alive… even if she hates me now…'
He stopped before the familiar door, hesitating. After a moment, he knocked, entered, and lifted his gaze.
The duke was already staring at him.
Henry felt his nerves tighten.
'Should I call him… father?'
Henry remembered that last moment and felt a bit guilty. He wondered if the duke had good reasons for treating Henry badly. Maybe he didn't hate him as much as Henry thought, otherwise, he wouldn't have worried when Henry was about to die.
"Henry, I have lost my last hope in you. I am deeply disappointed. As I said before, you will be studying under Killian for the next three years.
You will not be able to play your dirty tricks with him. I expect you to return as a well-disciplined successor."
The duke's voice was cold, final, and Henry immediately gave up.
Maybe… the duke wasn't someone who cared when people lived.
"Now go. Pack your things. I will not listen to excuses."
Henry understood none of the current situation. This wasn't even in his memories as he only had memories up to age fourteen.
'Killian? Study?'
Still, Henry accepted quietly and left. The duke clearly had no intention of listening anyway.
As he walked back to his room, he noticed maids whispering and peeking at him.
He was still that Henry.
"Henry."
Henry sighed, but his steps halted when the voice called him. He already knew who it was.
'Ricarda…'
Ricarda stood behind him, her expression cold as she spoke his name.
Henry honestly felt relieved just hearing her voice. She was alive. She hadn't died.
Though Ricarda, or the person who looked like Ricarda in that "dream" he now suspected wasn't a dream, had killed him, he still felt grateful for her recent actions that saved him.
But he was now aware, he and Ricarda weren't good anymore.
They couldn't be.
He turned to face her.
She had grown taller, more dignified. A proud young woman stood before him, beautiful, elegant, mature. Anyone would bow their head before her presence.
"I hope you understand," she said calmly, "that you dug your own grave. Don't blame others for it."
She brushed past him, close enough for her scent to linger. His nose tickled, and he instinctively rubbed it as it was too strong.
The watching maids gasped, mistaking the gesture for suppressed anger, silently cursing him for bullying the innocent girl.
Henry watched Ricarda disappear down the hallway.
He sighed and continued to his room.
"Help me pack my things. I'll be leaving soon."
He didn't know where he was going.
He didn't know who Killian was.
Yet, for some reason, he obeyed. If he could get away from here, maybe it would be for the better. Now, he had to hope for the best because he had no idea about the future.
"Young master, are you really leaving?" the maid asked anxiously. "But you didn't do anything this time. You were framed. Didn't you explain it to the duke?"
Her concern soothed him slightly, even though he didn't understand exactly what she was talking about.
"It's alright," Henry replied. "But… who is Killian?"
"…Young master?"
She stared at him in disbelief.
"Just tell me. Explain him to me in your view." Henry played it cool, at least a little.
"Sir Killian is one of the duke's friends," she explained hesitantly. "He's known to be extremely strict. He's taken several students before… all of them became so stressed that some even tried to kill themselves."
Henry stiffened.
"The duke warned you before. If you caused trouble again, he would send you to him. This time… he really did. And it's unfair. You truly did nothing. You shouldn't go to him."
'Ah. This was punishment.'
"A discipline meant to break me," he muttered.
"In three years… how old will I be when I return?" he asked casually, avoiding suspicion.
She thought for a moment.
"In three years, you'll be twenty-one."
'Twenty-one…'
Henry processed it.
So…
'I am eighteen now.'
Good… that makes things even more complicated.
But at least he had figured out the dying-and-waking-up part.
So… he should just focus on his future now.
Maybe… until that curse takes him, like that man said.
'What exactly is that curse anyway? Does it give you heart attacks? But eight was way too young to die from it, right? Eighteen is the last year I could live accordingly… So I'm going to die soon again, right?'
That... wasn't so nice after all...