1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

66. Wonyoung (5)

The night sky seemed painted, the moon’s brushstrokes sharp and clear.

The surface of the grass was uneven, as if the oil had dried, and the gray buildings stood with an unnatural brightness.

The entire world felt like a painting.

This was a fusion of magic that depicted the heavens and earth, intertwined with curses that manipulated the mind.

And perhaps it included a peculiar type of magic I did not yet understand.

‘…Where on earth did that man learn such things? Is this even part of Sadomancy?’

Even as the seconds passed, there was no answer.

‘Donathan?’

Calling his name yielded the same silence.

It seemed he hadn’t followed me after all.

Perplexed, I checked the system window reflected in my retina.

[1 Second Invincibility Cooldown: 57 Seconds]

The count remained unchanged since Rockefeller had smashed my head.

Though it felt like several minutes had passed, time did not flow.

No, to be precise, it flowed far too slowly.

[1 Second Invincibility Cooldown: 56 Seconds]

‘Does time in the mental realm flow differently from the outside?’

To understand better, I tried to bring up the status window.

But the usual display was eerily absent.

“What the hell?”

Above all, I felt a strange sense of freedom in my mind.

It was as if the gentle warmth that always resided within me had vanished.

The ‘Ember of Noble Blood’ seemed to have disappeared.

It was odd.

I had ‘1 Second Invincibility,’ yet why had I left Donathan and his peculiar traits behind…?

I felt a nagging unease, but for now, it was a question I could not unravel.

I walked along the winding dirt path toward the building perched on the hill.

Yet, the color of my pants was different from what I usually wore.

Familiar textures and designs.

These were the dress pants I had worn countless times during my days at the company.

The shoes were the same, and the watch on my left wrist mirrored the memories perfectly.

Just to be sure, I pulled down my bangs, and indeed, my hair was still blonde.

As I touched my face, the contours felt distinctly like Hershel’s.

With features so jumbled together, it seemed my appearance was shaped by my own perception.

I was me, yet I was also Hershel, a fusion of ingrained elements that could not be denied.

“Hm.”

Then, shall I delve deeper into the image of myself as a company worker?

I focused, gazing at the doorknob of the hall.

Reflected in the metal, my image bore dark hair, and I recalled my face as rather handsome, so it didn’t seem too far off from what I had just seen.

…Perhaps a bit of nostalgia was coloring my memory?

“Well, is that a good thing?”

I was about to enter the mind of a woman who loathed Hershel, but at this rate, I wouldn’t appear as him.

Creeeak—

The hall I stepped into evoked the image of a long, corridor-like gallery.

On the side, paintings hung in a line, and my gaze fixed on the frame at the very front.

A pristine white bed, curtains, and familiar tools revealed it to be an interior painting of the Frost Heart ward.

Yet, the depiction of the bed at the center was peculiar.

As if a transparent man lay upon it, the pillow was pressed down, and the blanket bulged as if it covered a life-sized air doll.

Curiosity piqued, I poked the painting, and my finger slipped in as if it were an entrance to another world.

Just as I stumbled back in surprise, sounds began to emerge.

“Didn’t they say that one got the boot from Bürger? Sounds like nonsense, doesn’t it?”

“Hmph, what about Adele?”

“They say her family is Derabian? Never heard of it before; I wonder if she even knows how to wield a sword properly.”

A cacophony of mockery filled the air.

…Though I didn’t understand the principle, it seemed the sounds of the scene were captured within.

For now, perhaps I should examine another painting.

The other artworks were similar to the previous one of the ward.

Teacups floated in midair, and a knife appeared to be slicing meat on its own, as if manipulated by some unseen force.

—

Only traces of humanity lingered, while the figures themselves vanished, as if edited from existence, leaving behind mere remnants.

Amidst the confusion, Rockefeller’s voice echoed through the hall.

– “Hershel Ben Tenest. Seek out Leana within the painting. She is the master of your inner self, the sole consciousness. Use any means necessary; if you meet her, you shall regain your senses.”

“Do I need more explanation…? Professor? Can you not hear me? Hey, Rockefeller.”

No response.

Is this a one-sided decree?

‘…For now, it seems I must find the painting that holds Leana among these.’

Yet, the thought of searching felt overwhelming.

True to the nature of a life dissected into fragments, the number of paintings approached an astronomical figure.

Naturally, this place, where each scene of a single person hung framed, revealed an endless corridor stretching before my eyes.

“Find Leana among these…?”

It was akin to searching for a needle in a haystack.

* * *

My mind felt hazy.

A sensation akin to floating, as if I were dreaming.

In that moment, a sharp pain shot through my wrist.

“Ugh.”

The feeling was reminiscent of the time I had, in a fit of pride, struck a rock with all my might using a wooden sword after hearing a tale of a knight…

Leana opened her eyes wide, cradling her wrist.

“Is something wrong?”

As I lifted my gaze to the voice, my father looked on with concern in his eyes.

In his hand, a fork speared a piece of meat.

It seemed we were at a meal.

“Oh, no. It just stung suddenly…”

Beside him, my mother smiled gently, her eyes warm.

“It seems you were swinging that wooden sword late into the night again.”

Her voice was like a lullaby.

Leana brushed it off lightly, reaching for the meat on her plate with her knife.

Yet, it was plated with the carrots she despised.

“Ah.”

—

As the fork scraped against the plate, Mother spoke up.

“You must eat that to stay healthy.”

“Yes…”

Leana, feeling awkward, popped a carrot into her mouth, grimacing as if she were swallowing poison.

Father watched with a pleased smile.

“Hmm?”

After a few firm chews, Leana’s eyes widened.

The bitter taste she had loathed had dulled enough to be bearable.

Mother chuckled softly as she watched Leana gulp down the food.

“Actually, I asked to change the recipe this time.”

“…That explains it.”

Leana blinked.

She saw her mother, who had prepared the hated carrots just for her, and her father, who seemed to cherish this moment as a precious memory, his eyes glistening.

Now that she thought about it, there was a flicker of a memory tucked away in the corners of her mind.

“Why is that? It feels like something similar happened a long time ago…”

It was as if a box, sunken deep beneath the sea, had floated to the surface of her thoughts.

At the same time, she felt her consciousness begin to drift away again.

Leana excused herself to her parents and rose from her chair.

“I’m not feeling well today, so I think I’ll head to my room.”

Her parents looked at her with faces tinged with disappointment.

It was a somewhat unfamiliar scene.

“The carrots were tasty. I finished them all!”

Only then did her parents relax, their expressions softening.

Leana slipped away, walking toward her room.

The creaking wooden floor felt familiar beneath her feet.

The walls, marked by the passage of time, still bore their grooves.

Leana navigated through the house, which was neither particularly prosperous nor entirely destitute, until she reached her room.

She approached her desk to pick up the book she had been reading.

As she passed by the full-length mirror, she suddenly halted.

“Was I this tall?”

It feels somehow smaller than memory.

Her face, too, seemed to carry a weight of maturity.

Leana brought her hand to the mirror.

In that moment, the reflection of someone behind her flickered into view.

A woman, draped in an antique dress, with long black hair cascading down, stared back with an expressionless face.

“Perhaps it is time for this memory to grow tiresome.”

“Who are you?”

“Do not ask; remember who I am.”

It was a strange reply.

Yet, for some reason, the name slipped from Leana’s lips effortlessly.

“Pheldira…?”

“Correct.”

Leana’s eyes widened in surprise as she questioned, “How do I know your name?”

Pheldira gently grasped Leana’s hand and explained.

“You know that too. You simply have not recalled it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think of it as an old toy box. Have you not rummaged through one, only to discover toys you had forgotten? ‘Ah, so this was in here,’ you might say.”

As Leana blinked in confusion, Pheldira smiled softly.

“If there are memories you wish to summon with that sense, you may bring them forth. This is a world where you are the master.”

“Bring forth? What does that even mean…?”

As curiosity about Pheldira stirred within her, a sudden realization flickered through Leana’s mind.

This was an intrusion of thoughts into another’s mind.

Leana narrowed her eyes, suspicion creeping in.

“…What have you done to me?”

Pheldira merely shrugged.

“What have I done? I am not even a living being; what could the wind have done to you? What could an earthquake have done? Such expressions seem rather misplaced, do they not?”

“…”

“Yet, if you insist on personifying me, then you should have asked, ‘Why did you help me?’”

Once more, new memories began to surface in Leana’s mind.

The moment she regained her senses, the reality unfolded before her.

There, the professors gasped for breath, their bodies wounded, and in her hands, a bloodied sword lay heavy.

This was the aftermath of events that had transpired since being consumed by Peldira.

“You’ve stolen my body and now you offer help? What a laughable notion.”

“Well, I have my own needs, don’t I? But fret not. I’ll only borrow your flesh until I can craft my own; I’ll use it well and return it in good order.”

As Peldira chuckled softly, Leana clenched her fists and stepped closer.

“Return it to me, this instant.”

“If you wish, then do so. Didn’t I mention before? The master of this place is not me, but you. I’m merely here, standing and chatting with you.”

Peldira pointed nonchalantly to the door.

“Now, if you want to leave, go ahead. This is your inner self, after all. If you desire it, you can.”

Without hesitation, Leana opened the door.

Peldira whispered as she followed behind.

“Just know, you’ll have to pass through the bitter memories.”

“······.”

Crossing the threshold, droplets of sweat splattered.

Leana found herself wielding a wooden sword.

In that moment, a voice echoed from beside her.

“Don’t act like a girl swinging a sword.”

It was Hershel, perched upon a rock.

Automatically, a retort slipped from Leana’s lips.

“If it displeases you, I shall take my leave.”

“You’re mistaken. That’s not what I desire. I mean, don’t wield the sword at all. Ah, even if you say you’ll give up right here, it won’t matter. You’ll grasp the sword again in places I cannot see. Isn’t that so?”

The scene unfolding now was their first encounter.

And thus began the descent into misfortune.

…Was this what they called bitter memories?

Leana smiled faintly, recalling Peldira.

“I’ve overcome such memories long ago.”

“Indeed, indeed. Then move on. If you continue to wish for the reality you so long for, an escape will reveal itself.”

Peldira waved her hand dismissively, a look of annoyance crossing her face.

Leana narrowed her eyes, focusing solely on the thought of escaping this place.

The next scene was of herself, clad in a dress, learning to dance.

Beside her stood her father, a stern expression etched upon his face.

“How many more times must you repeat this before it becomes second nature?!”

At the sound of her mistake, her father’s voice thundered.

Leana furrowed her brow, a bitter smile creeping onto her lips.

“It was difficult, but just a trivial memory now.”

“Yes, yes.”

The memories that followed were much the same.

Swords, all the swords of the mansion, disposed of, and with the money gathered, she secretly bought armor and a wooden sword.

Her father, burning the storybooks of the knights she so admired.

And herself, weeping.

The constant bickering between her mother and father echoed through the halls.

As the days, gnawing at her sanity, slipped by in a blur, she reached the most recent memory.

“In the end, it has come.”

“…This place.”

The setting was the dormitory of the Adel Academy.

Leana stood in her room, clutching a letter sent by her father.

A letter filled only with tales of Hursel tightened her grip.

As she relinquished control, she watched her body mimic the actions of that time.

“I was a fool to have hoped.”

Next, she recalled heading to the shower, her clothes soaked in sweat.

“Ah.”

After finishing her shower, then came…

“Why have you barged into someone else’s room?”

A woman stood in her space, armor clutched in her hands.

“…Put that down, at once.”

It was in that moment, as she glared fiercely, that the tension thickened.

Crack!

Watching the armor crumple like parchment, a pain akin to having one’s heart squeezed gripped her.

The words she had secretly etched inside were now distorted.

Every time she traversed the thorny path, the steel that had been her steadfast support transformed into nothing more than a hunk of scrap metal.

The intruder tossed it out the window like a used tissue, imbued with her fervent wishes.

“Armor…”

The taut string of reason snapped with a sudden jolt.

Leana, heedless of the glass shards on the floor, lunged at the intruder with vacant eyes.

Strategy was cast aside; instinct took over as she poured her emotions into her fists.

Yet the intruder moved faster, landing a kick that sent her sprawling to her knees, winded.

“Gah!”

Leana rose again, wiping the blood from her lips.

Grasping a wooden sword propped against the wall, she swung it with determination.

The opponent, still barehanded, evaded her strikes, slapping her wrist upward with a palm.

Thud!

As her gaze drifted to the sword embedded in the ceiling, a swift chop struck her neck.

Crack!

Consciousness faded, and the next memory was the stinging scent of antiseptic that crinkled her nose.

This place, filled with white furniture and fabric, was the infirmary.

As she struggled to rise, a sharp voice from outside pierced her ears.

“Didn’t they say that one got taken down by Bürger? Sounds like a joke.”

“Hmph, what about Adel?”

“They say the family is Derabian? Never heard of it before; I wonder if they even know how to wield a sword properly.”

The intruder was Bürger…

A chill swept through her, draining the color from her face.

Were the calluses on her hands all just illusions?

…If this was the outcome, what had all her efforts amounted to?

Suddenly, the price of her stubbornness came rushing back.

“If it was going to be like this…”

She had lost far too much.

If only she had laid down her sword and obediently followed her father’s words, perhaps there would still be so much left.

Regret for the past trickled down her cheeks.

Thud.

A single tear soaked the blanket when Pheldira, with a face full of concern, sat on the edge of the bed.

“Third-year Bürger Academy. A perennial failure. That child has always berated herself for remaining stagnant, no matter how hard she tried. Yet, you were mercilessly trampled by such a child.”

“······.”

“A peaceful home lies in ruins, and this is the result of stubbornness. The sense of loss is profound, isn’t it? Still, you must acknowledge the truth. This is the fruit of your efforts.”

Leana lifted her gaze.

Wasn’t this woman the root of all that had transpired?

A surge of rage welled up within her, and she seized Pheldira by the throat.

“It’s your doing! You broke the armor! You manipulated that woman! All of it!!”

She shouted, teeth clenched, as if she would kill her.

The grip on her hands tightened further.

“So what? I was merely a catalyst. If you had truly achieved something, you would have won. And, if you had acted wisely, perhaps you wouldn’t have strained your relationship with your parents.”

Yet, Pheldira continued calmly.

“If it brings you relief, do as you wish. You can snap my neck, or throw me out the window like your armor.”

“?!”

Then suddenly, those scenes flashed through her mind like a déjà vu.

These were events that had occurred.

Already, Leana had memories of having so ruthlessly destroyed Pheldira.

“…How many times has it been?”

“Oh, you remember? How delightful. I find it tiresome to repeat the same things.”

In the end, it was a futile act.

Leana relaxed her grip, and Pheldira straightened her crumpled collar.

“But tell me, does counting hold any meaning? The important thing is whether you want to step out into a reality like this. Or would you rather return to that time when everything was in place?”

Pheldira regarded her with a gaze full of pity, gently stroking her cheek.

“I understand that feeling too. You and I share many similarities. In truth, you wanted to be recognized for your swordsmanship, didn’t you? In the past, your father praised you for that. I felt the same. I studied magic diligently to gain the recognition of my beloved master. Yet, I was condemned for taking the wrong path, locked away, and left to rot.”

Pheldira smiled bitterly.

“Still, I do not blame my master. I may not know about another version of myself, but if I were to gain a physical form, I would return to those happy days like you. I want to fill this empty heart, even if just in that way.”

Leana gazed at Pheldira with cold eyes.

Then, she infused her with a gentle, vibrant look.

“You already possess something precious. But will you cast it aside? Happiness is already within you, isn’t it?”

Leana closed her eyes.

If you wish to forget the loss of now, you need only return to those days.

To the time when the heart was at ease and everything was satisfying, casting aside all the painful memories······.

It was a moment spent once more imagining the smiles of my parents, lost in concentration.

Then, a voice of a man echoed from somewhere, drawing attention.

“That’s a fine sentiment.”

Unremarkable shoes crossed the threshold of the infirmary.

Long legs wrapped in plain fabric.

On his chest, a simple white shirt devoid of any character.

A man with dark hair, both unfamiliar and familiar, tugged at the elongated cloth hanging from his neckline, presenting himself with an air of neatness.

“But this wicked little brat wields that fine sentiment with such malice.”

The man’s appearance felt strangely out of place.

Seeing the bewildered expression on Peldira’s face, it was clear this was their first encounter.

“Who, who are you!!”

As Peldira asked, the man offered a greeting.

“Oh, my apologies for the late introduction. Hello? Nice to meet you. I am He······. Ahem, no need to know my name. More importantly, I came to visit, so may I sit?”

Leana nodded in a daze.

The man pulled a chair and sat down.

“I heard outside that you all were having quite an interesting discussion. The topic was whether to dwell on the happiest moments or to endure the muck of reality. Am I right?”

Leana pondered for a moment before nodding again.

“Then shall I join the debate?”

Peldira’s eyes widened in disbelief as she glared at the man.

“What gives you the right to intrude?”

“Isn’t that the very topic you barged into without invitation?”

The man shifted his piercing gaze from Peldira and looked toward Leana.

“Think of it comfortably. This oddly-shaped lady and I are like the devil and angel in your mind. You simply choose based on which opinion resonates with you.”

He then pointed at Peldira, grinning mischievously.

“Yes, you take the handicap of being the angel. Though you look like something crafted by Satan, I, with my generous heart, will concede the good side.”

Leana blinked in surprise.

‘What is this?’

As the question stirred within him, the man sank back into his chair, exuding a languid confidence.

“Then, shall we hear the opinion of the angel of the first strike?”

“Leana, there’s no need to listen to this fool. Let’s just ignore him and go back.”

“Such harsh words. But where exactly are we going back to?”

“…Do you think he’ll give you an answer?”

“Seems you have nothing prepared? That’s why you’re stumbling over your words from the start.”

Leana found herself intrigued by the bickering exchange.

“I’m going to listen here, Peldira.”

Perhaps feeling the absurdity of the situation, Peldira narrowed her eyes.

Yet, the master within was Leana herself.

If that were the case, then her will was the law.

Peldira reluctantly acquiesced.

“…Fine, I’ll indulge this foolishness.”

With a deep sigh, Peldira broached the subject.

“My opinion remains the same as before. The moment you’ve longed for is within you, so why are you trying to take the long way around?”

The man replied.

“Because it’s boring, I suppose. If you keep circling the same place, don’t you just end up yawning in the middle? Even your favorite snack gets tiresome after a month, you know.”

Peldira scoffed.

“Oh really? You only know one thing and not the other? You’re going back while forgetting your memories. I’ll help you feel new again.”

The man scoffed in return.

“Help me? By making me forget?”

Peldira shouted back.

“What do you know! There are memories one wishes to forget!!”

“Well, of course, everyone has those. But what can you do? That’s just how life is.”

“Hmph, the way you speak so nonchalantly makes it clear it’s probably something trivial. That’s why such words come so easily.”

The man clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Seriously speaking, isn’t that even more miserable? That’s why satirical humor has always been popular, regardless of the era. And you, don’t weigh happiness against sorrow. Someone else’s painful memory is still agony for them. Even if they claim to be fine, there’s nothing in this world that can be taken lightly.”

Perhaps feeling cornered in the argument, Peldira turned to Leana, seeking agreement.

“You heard that, right? In the end, he’s saying we should just bear it. To live on without even a clear answer is irresponsible, don’t you think?”

Surprisingly, the man nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. Isn’t that why there’s a saying that life is painful?”

“Right, so let’s leave this behind and head back.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be so bad, living in the happiest times as they are.”

“Did you hear? I’m right, this man has given up too.”

In truth, there was no need to heed their words.

Leana had already made her choice.

For the time when everything was in place was far better than a reality foreseen only with pain.

As she closed her eyes, recalling the fond memories of the past, the man spoke.

“Still, know this: there’s nothing to be satisfied with there, only what has already been satisfied.”

Leana glared at the man fiercely.

“I will be satisfied with that time.”

The man looked at her with a serious gaze, as if peering into her soul.

“Really? So, in your memories, did you become a knight?”

“?!”

A chill wind made her skin prickle.

Her head felt as if it had been struck by a hammer, a dull throb echoing within.

Something long forgotten began to resurface, and Leana’s eyes widened slowly.

“Ah…”

It was a dream born of unfulfilled longing, for she had not been satisfied.

Because it had not been realized, it was absent from her memories of the past.

…Well, the things she had given up to come this far were indeed because of that.

To please her father, she could have accepted it willingly and married that man.

When her mother handed her the Frost Heart admission agreement, she could have shaken her head, saying her mind had changed.

Yet, what she truly did not want was…

“Whether to stay or not is your choice. Then I shall take my leave.”

With that, the man exited the infirmary.

Leana rubbed her aching wrist.

She felt again the pain of having cleaved the rock, yearning to be a knight…

* * *

As she stepped out, she found herself before a framed picture of the infirmary.

···Goodness, what a struggle this is.

In truth, there was no real struggle at all.

All I had done was give up searching among the countless paintings and simply sat here, waiting.

I had merely waited, thinking she would come.

This incident was merely a wandering away from the goal, orchestrated by Peldira’s machinations.

For she possessed an indomitable spirit that knew no surrender.

Thus, if it were the Leana I knew, even if she forgot her goal, I believed she would instinctively fight to escape.

Then, wouldn’t she reveal herself before the painting closest to the entrance and exit of the hall?

In hindsight, that was indeed the answer.

A few seconds later.

Leana emerged from the painting in the infirmary and stepped onto the corridor of the hall.

As she glanced at the paintings lining the corridor, perhaps thinking I had glimpsed into her past, she offered a shy smile.

Then, her expression settled, and she alternated her gaze between the floor and my face before expressing her gratitude.

“…Thank you. For helping me come out. For reminding me of what I almost forgot.”

I responded with a soft chuckle.

“So, you’re thinking of becoming a knight after all? I’ll cheer for you from afar.”

After a brief exchange, I opened the door to the corridor.

As I took a step, Leana called out from behind.

“Wait a moment. Could you… tell me your name?”

Feeling a bit awkward, I glanced around the interior of the hall before crossing the threshold.

“Well, I’m not sure either which name belongs to me.”

* * *

Upon returning to reality, Leana was sleeping with a face of utter comfort.

The professors sighed in relief, laying their weary bodies down.

Rockefeller, with an air of arrogance, lifted his chin and looked down at me.

“Good work, Hursel Ben Tenest.”

Suddenly, the back of my head throbbed from the memory of his earlier blow, and I furrowed my brow.

“Do you have some grudge against me?”

“Hmph. Enough with the chatter. Just step back. I’ll handle the rest.”

With that, Rockefeller raised his cane high.

The sky was adrift with the “Peldira of Loss.”

At last, the time had come to end the long-awaited conversation with the grotesque thought.

“But, isn’t it strange that these so-called professors extend their hands to students? Shouldn’t they have figured it out on their own by now?”

“…Shut up.”