The Man’s 101st Bad Ending

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He had been living in a fantasy.

He knew that his struggles were futile, that his death was inevitable, yet…he had clung to the naive belief that Miragen would be safe as long as they were together.

“Miragen.”

Burning debris struck his shoulder. He didn’t feel the pain as blood flowed from the cuts and burns.

He was too focused on finding Miragen, walking through the inferno. His clothes caught fire, and the scorching heat dried his eyes.

He no longer had tears to shed.

He rubbed his bleeding eyes, his vision blurring, and looked around.

Crackle.

The silence was deafening, amplifying his sense of helplessness.

If he had been able to sense mana like a knight, he wouldn’t be wandering aimlessly like this. If he had been faster, if he had sensed the attack sooner… He dug his nails into his flesh, regret gnawing at him.

Tears of blood streamed down his face, his lips twisted in a grimace of anguish. None of this would have happened if he had given up on Miragen sooner.

He had promised to make her happy, but it always ended in tragedy. Nothing ever changed. Miragen always witnessed his death.

If only time could be reversed.

It wasn’t that simple.

He remembered. No matter how many times time reversed, he remembered. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Could he truly erase those memories?

He had been living in denial, pretending he was fine, believing he could continue to love her with the same intensity, even though he knew it was impossible.

He hadn’t realized he had become complacent. If he had continued to love her with the same fervor as in the beginning, he wouldn’t have left to buy her a gift.

This was the first time he hadn’t been there when she returned.

He had been careless, foolish.

But self-blame wouldn’t change anything. He had learned one thing during his thirty-five lives: how to channel his mana.

He had avoided using force.

His body was too weak to wield a sword effectively. He hadn’t made any progress in a year.

He had given up, thinking it was a waste of time, but what did it matter now?

If he had even the slightest ability to deflect these flames with his sword, he wouldn’t feel so helpless.

He could only run.

He overturned debris with his bleeding hands, following the ominous trail of blood.

He prayed she was alive.

If she had been lucky enough to find shelter, to escape unharmed, that would be enough. She could resent him, blame him for his incompetence, for not being there.

As long as she was alive.

Please, let her injuries be minor.

He prayed, invoking the name of the god he had so often cursed in his past lives.

He clutched the rosary he had received from the Church.

“Miragen.”

He gritted his teeth, a spark grazing his forehead, as silence met his desperate calls. She had to be alive.

She had never died before.

He clung to that belief, to the memories of his past lives, despite having no proof.

“This feels familiar. I’ve never been here before. Have you been here before?”

He hadn’t answered.

He couldn’t tell her he had been there with her in a past life. He often found himself lost in bittersweet memories when he revisited places he had been to in his previous lives.

He wondered how she felt, seeing him with a melancholic expression when she smiled at him the way she had in his memories.

He hadn’t understood then.

“I’m happy just being with you. I was a little surprised at first, but I can’t dislike someone who loves me.”

She had accepted him, despite his sudden advances, without any explanation. She had never accused him of using her, even though she had every right to.

After they became lovers, he had spent most of his time in her room, plotting against Kaitel, yet she had never complained.

“You love me, don’t you?”

When had she started asking that question? After he had died ten times as her lover?

He had been annoyed by her question then, but now…he understood.

His steps faltered.

He had already realized what was happening.

The debris thinned as he walked, revealing the pale starlight above.

The red glow intensified.

He stepped in puddles of blood, his expression hardening, as if someone deeply wounded had barely managed to move.

An unseasonably cold wind blew. The cold sweat on his forehead froze, his breath misting in the air. The blood on his body congealed.

A tingling sensation spread from his fingertips, up his spine, and then…he saw her.

Miragen.

“…Miragen.”

He whispered her name, the name he had cried out hundreds of times in this short span of time. She lay in a pool of blood.

The sight filled him with denial. It couldn’t be.

He had only been gone for a few minutes.

This had never happened before.

He reached out and touched her cheek, usually warm, now cold.

He pulled her into his arms, her body lifeless.

Miragen was dying.

The thought echoed in his mind, but he couldn’t comprehend it.

He stroked her lips, which were moving slightly, his gaze fixed on nothingness.

“Robert…you came?”

“Miragen…what…”

What should he have done? Where had he gone wrong?

Her eyes were dull, lifeless. But she seemed to know where he was.

Her hand reached out and touched his cheek. It was cold. He felt the blood soaking his clothes.

He tried to stop the bleeding, but it was useless.

There were too many wounds.

Had Kaitel done this?

He asked urgently, and Miragen replied weakly that she hadn’t seen her attacker. She had woken up after being knocked unconscious.

The fire had been set to cover up the attack.

She had been stabbed and left for dead.

It was too late.

He laughed hollowly, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails drew blood.

He forced a smile.

He didn’t want Miragen to see his despair.

He knew his smile looked unnatural.

“It’s…my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. These things happen…in royal families. It’s not your fault. I was just…unlucky.”

“That’s not…”

“Don’t blame yourself. You know I can’t…talk much now. Will you…listen?”

He swallowed his words, and Miragen’s expression softened.

She reached out and touched his cheek. The cold touch almost made him burst into tears.

He bit his lip, and Miragen chuckled weakly.

“I’m worried…about you. You’ll blame yourself…when I’m gone. You’ll…try to do everything…yourself.”

“…I won’t.”

“Liar.”

They both knew he was lying.

If Miragen died, he would blame himself forever. Nothing would change. He would find her killer and take revenge.

He would gain power.

He would only confess his love to her again when he was ready.

Nothing would ever change.

“You always…overreact…whenever I get hurt. You…lock yourself in your room…trying to figure out…what went wrong. I’ve never…blamed you. This isn’t a lie…it’s true…okay?”

“I know. You’ve always said that.”

“…I’m sorry…for leaving…first.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but her fading pulse silenced him.

Miragen was dying. She would be gone tonight.

He would see her again when he regressed, but this Miragen, the thirty-fifth Miragen, would die before him.

This unchanging fact would haunt him forever.

“I…have something…to say. Can I…tell you?”

“You…can.”

He took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions.

Miragen smiled faintly and stroked his hair.

“I’ve always…wanted to say this. When we first met…you were the only one…who confessed. It bothered me… I never…told you…I liked you.”

He knew she had been uncomfortable with his one-sided confessions in their subsequent encounters, unlike their first meeting. But he had reassured her, knowing her feelings.

They had lived like that, shared several lives like that.

How would he react if he knew what she was about to say? Would he break, or would he be able to stand again?

He wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t stop her.

“I…liked it…when you said…you fell in love with me…at first sight. It’s something…I’ve only read…in novels.”

“…Is that so?”

“I wanted…to say it too…but…I’m not good…with words. So…I’ll confess…a little awkwardly. I hope…you like it…I really…wanted to say this.”

Her pale lips moved, and a faint whisper escaped.

A whisper only he could hear.

“I…Robert…I…”

Blood welled up in her mouth.

He panicked, but Miragen smiled faintly, stopping him.

Her lips twitched, then stilled, as if she had used all her remaining strength.

“Can I…like you?”

He couldn’t speak. He was too choked with tears, wiping them away frantically. He couldn’t answer her last question.

He could have told her a thousand times that she could like him, but she couldn’t hear him anymore. Her soul had left her cold body.

His words couldn’t reach her.

“…You told me…not to blame myself…so I won’t.”

He wouldn’t blame himself. He would honor her wish. But he would curse his weakness.

He would resent his powerlessness, his inability to protect the woman he loved.

Plunge.

He plunged the sword into his heart.

It was a simple act.

He had lived through countless happy fantasies, so this pain was nothing.

If his weak body couldn’t wield a sword, he would find another way to reach her.

Somehow.

He would find a way.

He swore, his thirty-fifth self, that he would save her next time.

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[Translator Notes]