Chapter 117: Sophien (2) Part 2

The primary heir of the Imperial family, Sophien, was always accompanied by her mirror. The hand mirror that hung from her waist had long become a symbol associated with her among the palace officials.

Whenever she mentioned the Professor, it stirred a mix of concern and relief—concern that she might be losing her mind and relief that, perhaps, this imagined Professor helped her escape her pain, even if only briefly.

"Sophie."

"Yes, Father," Sophien replied.

Even on the day she met with the Emperor, her father Crebaim, she carried her hand mirror.

Crebaim smiled gently and asked, “Is the friend in your mirror well?”

She hesitated for a moment, her lips moving silently. No one in the palace had ever believed her. Part of the reason was that the Professor never revealed himself.

"Yes, Father. He is doing well."

"Good. If you and your friend are well, that makes me happy."

"... Yes."

After a brief exchange, Crebaim offered her a new hand mirror as a gift. Sophien accepted it with courtesy and ended the meeting with the Emperor, though the gesture brought her no real joy.

After all, once she died and returned again, the mirror would vanish along with everything else. As she made her way back to her chambers, something caught her attention—her younger brother Kreto’s room. She glanced around and quietly slipped inside.

The soft sound of breathing filled the room. A child, around three years old, lay asleep on the bed.

Sophien gazed at him, a faint smile on her lips, and said, "What do you think? He can’t even speak yet, but isn’t he precious?"

As she spoke to the hand mirror, a response echoed back, "Indeed."

Her younger brother Kreto, at just three years old, had always been a chubby little thing. Though they shared only half the same blood, she found him endearing every time she looked at him. He was one of the few in this life who could still make her smile.

"... I’m glad he won’t have to endure a life as painful as mine," Sophien murmured, gently brushing his plump cheek. Kreto frowned and rolled over with a quiet grunt. "We should leave before someone notices. It would be rather undignified."

She gave his cheek a few more gentle pokes with her fingers before stepping outside. Her footsteps echoed through the halls as she made her way back to her room.

***

That marked the end of her ordinary days. On the night she touched Kreto’s face, Sophien developed sepsis. She hadn’t even been able to withstand the germs from a mere three-year-old child.

“Your Highness—!” the despairing cries of her vassals echoed like background noise.

She died that day, beginning her fourth cycle of regression, then the fifth, sixth, seventh, and so on. The cycles continued naturally, one after another. During that time, Sophien didn’t live with any more determination, nor did she endure better because of my presence.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Her mind had fractured more than once. She had turned to suicide countless times, repeatedly hovering on the verge of madness.

“Anyway, it will all start over again. Again, and again! I’ll fucking begin from the start once more! What’s the point of this cursed life...”

She had only fallen into complete madness up until her seventy-sixth cycle. After that, she gave in. Having died seventy-six times, Sophien spent her days lying in bed.

"Your Highness," the vassals called out.

Sophien stayed quiet.

~

[Seventy-seventh Cycle]

Sophien's weary face shifted toward me, her appearance far too frail for an eight-year-old.

"No matter how many cycles you repeat, certain things remain unchanged. Some skills, for instance, do not fade," I said.

“... And what might that be?” Sophien asked.

“Chess. No matter how many times you regress, your skill in chess remains unchanged.”

That was why I had suggested chess to her. Even with constant practice, Sophien had yet to reach the skill level needed to defeat me.

"... Well, good for you," she scoffed, turning her back to me.

It didn’t seem to be working. I watched her in silence, wondering how many more cycles I could endure, and how much longer I could survive.

“Your Highness.”

“What now?”

I was dying. More than half of my lung and heart function had already shut down, and the demonic energy coursing through my veins pressed heavily on my nerves, sending waves of unbearable pain with every breath.

"Perhaps we could establish a signal between us," I suggested.

Therefore, I had to conserve my strength and allocate my time wisely.

“A signal?”

“Yes, a signal for when you wish to summon me.”

Knock, knock—

I tapped her full-length mirror twice with my fingers.

“If you tap the mirror twice like this, I will awaken.”

“Why bother?”

“Even I require time to sleep, Your Highness.”

“Hmph. I can’t sleep from the pain, and yet you’re going to leave me here to sleep?” Sophien grumbled, her tone still childlike, much like her complaints.

“However, I will spend all of my waking hours by your side.”

There had been no other way. I could barely move, and my lower body was almost completely paralyzed.

“... Fine, do as you wish,” Sophien said, clearly reluctant but without any other choice.

I could no longer deny it—demonic energy was devouring my body.

“But tomorrow, I’m going to commit suicide,” Sophien muttered in frustration.

And so, she did. The following day, she took her own life, and the world reset once more. From that moment, I bore witness to the endless cycle of repetitions, all while enduring my own suffering.

Life repeated, death repeated, despair echoed. Everything began again, disappeared, and started over once more. Disease and suffering, humanity and all creation, the world and its laws, mind and body, time and space, evil and good, light and darkness...

All of existence had lost its meaning, drifting aimlessly through the void.

Until, at last...

[One-hundred-fiftieth cycle]

I realized that the time had finally arrived.

***

It was December, in the depths of winter. Harsh, cold winds swept across the continent, and winter beasts wreaked havoc on towns and villages. Yet, in the gardens of the Imperial Palace, delicate petals still floated through the air. A warm, tender atmosphere wrapped gently around the palace.

“

Cough

,

cough

, didn’t I tell you to get lost?” came a harsh and sluggish voice, as foul as the stench of rotting fish, breaking the peace.

“But, Your Highness, you haven’t taken all of your medicine—”

“It’s pointless, I’m not taking it. Now get lost. Keiron, throw them all out!” Sophien commanded from her bed, dismissing the vassals. Once they were gone, she sat up and knocked the mirror twice. “Professor. Are you there?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I am here,” came the reply.

“... I see. But oddly enough, I seem to be lasting longer this time, don’t I?”

This life had been different for her. Though her body had remained in pain, she had endured this regression far longer than anyone had expected. It wasn’t because she had any will to live; rather, it felt as if life itself had stubbornly held on to her, refusing to let go.

"How many deaths have I endured?" Sophien asked.

"One hundred forty-nine times, Your Highness."

“

Hmm...

Today is December 31st, which means tomorrow will be January 1st.”

“Yes, Your Highness. If you can endure until tomorrow, you may find yourself fully cured.”

“

Hmph

. What nonsense,” Sophien scoffed, her lips curling in annoyance.

She held no expectations. Her mind had shattered and been pieced back together dozens of times, leaving her indifferent to life. The only solace she found was in the presence of the professor, who had stayed by her side throughout her regressions. Whether he was merely a creation of her mind no longer mattered.

"Your Highness," the professor spoke once more.

Sophien tilted her head and responded, “What is it?”

“I will be watching over Your Highness, no matter where or when.”

“... That’s rather sudden, don’t you think?” Sophien said, glaring at the professor in the mirror.

With his eyes gently closed, he replied, “It isn’t sudden, Your Highness.”

Sophien remained silent.

“Even if I’m out of sight for a time...”

A sudden sense of unease settled in her heart. Without thinking, she ran her tongue across her lips.

“I will always be with you on your journey.”

"Are you saying you plan to leave but have no true intention of doing so?" Sophien asked.

"Your Highness, may I ask one favor of you, as I once upheld my promise to you?"

Sophien remained silent, but the professor continued speaking.

His voice softened as he continued, "From now on... no matter what happens, you must not take your life by your own choice."

Sophien scoffed at the absurdity of his words, thinking,

What a ridiculous request.

Listening to his ridiculous request, Sophien pouted and asked, “What nonsense is this?”

"You must value your life, Your Highness."

"Is there somewhere else you need to be?"

“No,” the professor in the mirror said with a faint, tired smile. It was the first time she had ever seen him smile, and she couldn’t help but stare for a moment. “It’s late, Your Highness. Please rest.”

Sophien glanced at the clock. It was 8:30 in the evening. It was indeed time to sleep—her body would break down if she didn’t get at least fourteen hours of rest each day.

“I will await your signal, Your Highness,” the professor said.

“... I’m not going to sleep.”

Drowsiness crept over her, but she forced her eyes to stay open. She had decided to stay awake through the night, determined to keep watch on the mirror.

“I’m not going to sleep...”

Lying in bed, she had cast a sideways glance at the mirror. The professor had remained there each time she had looked. There had been no way to stop him from leaving while he had stayed inside the mirror, but with a sense of resignation, she had eventually drifted off to sleep.

“

Yaaawn...

”

With a final yawn, she had fallen asleep. The next morning arrived soon after.

Chirp, chirp— Chirp, chirp—

Awakened by the sound of birds, Sophien had opened her eyes. A strange sensation washed over her—a lightness she couldn’t quite explain.

“

Hmm

?”

Blinking slowly, she sat up. Having been tormented for so long, the sudden absence of pain made her wonder briefly if she had died and crossed into the afterlife. She ran her hands over her body, searching for any sign of discomfort. But there was none—no trace of pain remained.

“... Keiron,” Sophien said.

"Yes, Your Highness. Have you awoken?" Keiron asked.

“What is today’s date?”

"It is the 1st of January, Year 23, Your Highness."

It was the Year 23, during the reign of Emperor Crebaim. If she had died and regressed, today would have been January 1st, Year 22.

"Year 23? Are you certain it’s Year 23?"

“Yes, Your Highness.”

If today truly was January 1st, Year 23... then... then...

Sophien thought, her body trembling with excitement as she clutched her face.

“Does this mean I’m cured...?”

The professor's words suddenly resurfaced in her mind.

“

If you can endure until tomorrow, you may find yourself fully cured.

”

He had told her that if she could make it through to the next day, she would be healed.

Clutching her chest, her heart racing with excitement, Sophien cried out, "Professor!"

There was no response. She stood quickly and rushed to the mirror.

“... Professor!” Sophien called out, knocking twice on the full-length mirror, just as they had promised.

Knock, knock—

“Professor, I believe I’m cured. Just as you said!”

But no response came. She blinked and waited in silence, gazing intently into the depths of the mirror.

“Professor?”

By now, he should have answered, as he always did, with that cold yet gentle voice that had been her companion for decades. But this time, the professor didn’t show up.

Chirp, chirp— Chirp, chirp—

Only the sound of the damn birds echoed through the silence.

“... Professor?” Sophien’s voice wavered as she called out once more.

But neither in that mirror nor in any other mirror across the world did the professor ever appear again.