“Inas, stop.”
Nigel had tried to cooperate, but somehow the situation had spiraled into the worst-case scenario. Cooperation already seemed like a lost cause, but that didn’t mean he could just stand by and let this continue. So he tried to rein Inas in.
Unlike the indifferent Inas, Schumacher reacted immediately to Nigel’s voice.
“I don’t need your pity.”
“I’m not pitying you.”
Nigel had tried to sound as gentle as possible, but Schumacher gritted his teeth, as if that kindness only humiliated him further.
“I said I don’t need pity. Just kill me.”
“No, wait a minute—”
“I started this knowing I might die. I won’t crawl away in disgrace. Do whatever you want—kill me or turn me in to the temple. I’ve lost.”
Why the hell was he dragging this all forward on his own? Nigel shook his head.
“I told you—I’m not going to kill you.”
“Just kill me already!”
But Nigel’s mercy wasn’t even being considered. Schumacher clearly had no intention of accepting it.
Nigel couldn’t kill Schumacher—not with his personal feelings, not with his goals. And yet the man never listened and just barreled ahead.
“Seriously, that’s not it… If I meant to kill you, why would I bother bringing you all the way here?”
“Hah, obviously because you’re planning to use me! You’ll trample my body and soul, use me however you like, and then toss me away when I’m no longer useful! I know your kind all too well.”
“What did I even do?”
“I’ve seen it too many times before. I was seventeen when a noble betrayed me. I haven’t trusted a single one of you bastards since. I tried to use you and toss you aside too, but it looks like you figured that out. Damn it… If only His Majesty were still alive…”
It was a deeply unpleasant thing to hear. Up until right before he fell into the sea, Schumacher had claimed Nigel had helped him… so this felt utterly unjust.
And to top it off, now he was hearing bits of Schumacher’s tragic past.
“He’s really running his mouth, huh? Villains always start spilling their backstories even when no one asks.”
Inas leaned in and whispered into Nigel’s ear, voice low. Not that whispering helped—Schumacher could clearly hear every word.
Nigel glanced between Inas, who was being petty as hell, and Schumacher, whose already hostile expression had turned even darker at the mention of “villain.”
“Should I shut him up for you?”
“No, don’t.”
If he had to be honest, Nigel could actually relate to Schumacher a little.
Nigel could endure threats or even being killed by Inas, because he always thought, “I’ll just loop again anyway.”
But for Schumacher, this was the one and only moment he had. And Inas was trying to strip that from him.
Granted, for someone supposedly so desperate, Schumacher sure was throwing away his life rather easily.
Still, Nigel didn’t want to get too emotionally invested in him.
If he let himself get too swayed, there’d be no way to kill Inas and clear the quest.
“Haa…”
His head was starting to ache. Nigel furrowed his brow and pressed his hand to his forehead. That seemed to trigger an even darker glint in Inas’s eyes.
“I really have no intention of killing you. I wish you’d believe that. Why would I go this far if I did? Just take a breath and think things through.”
The man who had been glaring at Nigel like he wanted him dead faltered for a moment, realizing Nigel was genuinely flustered.
Slowly, a new expression flickered in Schumacher’s eyes—pity.
“I see.”
“What now…?”
“I always thought Inas Idenbach was suspicious.”
“…Why?”
“He gives off a bad vibe. Can’t explain it in words. I even thought maybe he was hiding his true strength. Didn’t expect he could use magic, though…”
He was seriously calling someone ominous based on a hunch?
Nigel didn’t know what the hell Schumacher thought he was perceiving, but instead of replying, he silently dropped Schumacher’s Affection Meter.
“Let’s just kill him. We’ll end this round quickly and reload anyway.”
“Inas!”
Shocked by the sudden comment, Nigel stopped him. Was it really okay to blurt out stuff like “reload”?
But Schumacher just stared at Nigel like he was the strange one.
Inas, on the other hand, ignored Schumacher completely and kept his eyes on Nigel.
“…Wait. Is this what I think it is?”
“When system-related topics come up, this happens. But Nigel, whatever you’re thinking right now, do not side with Schumacher.”
“Why not?”
“He’s planted more flags with you than Kay has.”
Nigel was silently horrified.
“Does that mean I’ll end up with Schumacher too?”
“Schumacher’s not a protagonist, so there’s no forced path like that. It’s just a metaphor.”
“Don’t scare me like that…”
“Still, this one’s got it bad for you. From the start, I think your face was already his type.”
“My face? But it’s just average.”
“It’s not.”
Inas replied firmly.
Sure, Nigel knew his features weren’t completely plain. But compared to someone as inhumanly handsome as Inas, he was average, wasn’t he?
Inas clearly didn’t agree, shaking his head.
“Anyway, even if you take the kill route, once you reload, everything resets.”
“Reload?”
“Restarting the game. We go back to the data from the initial start point. The last save was April 14th.”
“Why are you two just standing there?”
Schumacher suddenly cut in, looking suspicious.
Nigel glanced between Inas and Schumacher, confused.
Just standing there?
But I was talking with Inas just now…
Was this how people reacted when they couldn’t understand the truth even if it was spelled out for them?
Nigel had experienced this through hallucinations, but facing it in person was infinitely more bizarre—and deeply unsettling.
A wave of revulsion swept over him. Goosebumps erupted across his skin.
He, too, must have once reacted this way—unable to perceive what was happening right before his eyes, like a puppet. A being so clearly fictional, so rigidly confined within its limits.
Nigel unconsciously stepped back from Schumacher, who was now staring at him strangely.
“What is it?”
“Urgh…”
A splitting headache hit him like a swarm of hornets.
He’d felt this pain once before.
But experiencing it again didn’t make it any easier. It crashed over him, overwhelming.
<Forget.>
A commanding voice rang out in his head.
<Forget everything.>
But there was no way he could forget.
Not the pain that felt like his skull was being split open. And not…
“Nigel.”
Inas’s face, looking down at him with concern, right in front of him.
Nigel couldn’t forget a single thing.
I must not forget.
There were things you couldn’t run away from, no matter how cowardly you were.
<It’s better if you forget it all.>
Despite the message repeating in his head, old memories came flooding back.
Nigel and Inas stood on a scorched wasteland.
Smoke rose from every direction. Screams echoed in the distance.
He had thought it was just a plain, but here and there, ruined buildings lay in pieces. A collapsed spire—familiar in shape—revealed the location.
This was the Magnus Duchy. More specifically, the heart of it: Montstein.
Nigel’s land. His birthplace. His home.
In the illusion, Nigel was crying.
He sobbed, enraged and broken.
“How could you do this?” he screamed.
“What does it matter?”
The man standing before him didn’t respond to his fury.
“You’ll forget it all anyway.”
Inas’s black eyes were deep and stormy, like a raging sea.
His voice, cool and cold as ice, rang out with chilling finality.
Within it, a fierce anger—directed solely at Nigel.
Nigel turned from the scenery and looked at the Inas before him.
He was a mess.
The shirt he wore—who knew where he’d picked it up—was torn wide open at the chest, blood splattered so thoroughly it was hard to even see skin.
His hair was completely disheveled, his face covered in wounds. He barely looked human. But more than anything, his expression was different.
The Inas Nigel knew was always kind, always calm. But the one in this vision was raw, unfiltered rage.
Even that voice Nigel had thought so composed—now that he heard it again, he realized it had always been trembling, straining to hold back emotions.
“What am I supposed to be forgetting?”
Nigel, who knew nothing, insisted Inas’s anger was unfair.
That one comment finally made Inas explode.
He lunged.
Nigel’s body hit the ground, and Inas straddled him, screaming.
“You’ll forget, and forget, and forget again! No matter how many times I tell you, you won’t remember a thing… and next time, maybe you won’t love me anymore…”
Inas poured all his fury into those words.
But even then, every word he screamed in rage… was saturated with an overwhelming love for Nigel.
Nigel wanted to tell him no.
He didn’t know why Inas was so angry, but he wanted to apologize properly.
I won’t forget anymore.
“I won’t forget,”
Nigel whispered amid the crushing headache.
The illusion snuffed out like a candle.
Replacing it, dozens—hundreds—of system messages flooded his view.
<system: Cannot correct error.>
<system: Cannot correct error.>
<system: Cannot correct error.>
<system: Cannot correct error.>
<system: Cannot correct error.>
<system: Cannot correct error.>
<system: Cannot correct error.>
<system: Cannot correct error.>
