Chapter 199

After finishing his story, Leopold gave a light bow and immediately left the hospital room.

Well, he did seem busy, not even having time to rest properly.

It was obvious. You could tell he was under a lot of pressure.

Leopold’s army, so to speak, was a coalition of various interest groups.

Duke Bien, who wanted power. Ludwig, who wanted stability for the Empire. Duke Pailoon, who sought the Empire’s support for the peace of the north.

Even the three electors wanted different things. And let’s not even mention the local lords who wanted more territory and expanded autonomy.

Persuading them and coordinating their interests to keep them united as one group was entirely up to Leopold’s ability.

…Not an easy task, huh.

—

The now-empty hospital room was eerily quiet.

It was said to be the place where Empress Anna, Leopold’s mother, had been recuperating.

Warm sunlight streamed through the wide-open window, and outside, you could see the garden of the Prince’s Palace. It was a nice room, really.

Though I had no intention of looking outside, since I clearly remembered what had happened in that garden.

I drank the water Leopold left behind, trying to calm my churning stomach.

But the heavy feeling in my chest showed no signs of lifting.

I messed up again.

This time, countless people will die.

No. They’re probably dying right now. The damn civil war has already begun.

Civil war.

The weight of those two words pressed down on my head.

Honestly, it would be a lie to say I never saw it coming.

From the moment I helped the prince, who was supposed to have been assassinated, create a competitive dynamic… I had a vague idea that the two factions might clash head-on.

That’s why I believed Leopold’s assurance that a civil war wouldn’t happen.

I wanted to avoid that future, so I accepted his optimism. It was easier on my mind that way.

But in the end, I was wrong.

Where did I go wrong?

Every time I slowly retraced my steps, all that remained was regret.

If only, on the day Ernst reappeared, I had risked my life to break through Valenstein and the knights and cut Ernst down.

No. Even if we were outmatched and lacked justification, if only we had launched a preemptive strike to expose Isabella’s true identity.

No, even before that. If only I had used Claire, despite her relationship with Ophelia, as a pawn to expose Isabella, even if it meant turning Ophelia against us.

As Leopold said, we might have been overwhelmed and lost everything. But maybe…

“Damn it…”

Was it my fault, or Leopold’s? It was pointless to distinguish.

Because I was the one who agreed with his arguments.

I, too, chose safety over risk.

—

Someone might say I’m pointlessly tormenting myself.

It’s a civil war that was bound to happen anyway. You’re not even from here, just an outsider. Why should you feel responsible for their lives?

But… every time I feel this sticky, damp discomfort clinging to my chest, I just can’t draw that line in my mind.

If only I could see this world as a game, it would have been easier.

Even if the death toll in the game reached thousands or tens of thousands, from outside the monitor, it was just a number.

Even if mountains of corpses piled up, it was just a scene of jumbled polygons.

But after falling into this world, everything changed.

Every time I see the dead bodies, what comes to mind isn’t the memory of escaping reality by immersing myself in games, but the time before that.

From seventeen to twenty-three.

The time when I was sold off to a foreign country under the guise of deployment, carrying a gun and living through it.

Shooting down terrorists, recovering the bodies of fallen civilians, losing friends while raiding enemy strongholds in my youth.

Those uncomfortable memories.

When I played games on the other side of the monitor, it wasn’t a problem.

Back then, I could drown my brain in superficial fun and alcohol, ignoring those old memories.

Even the corpses in the game were just sounds and flat images.

They had no smell, no texture, no detailed sense of reality. Nothing about them felt vividly real.

But here… this is…

Undeniably, reality itself.

What was thrust into my hands in exchange for my intact legs was a world destined to perish with tens of millions of deaths.

This was the world I had to live in, and I wished, if possible, for this world to be peaceful.

And to achieve that, I thought I had to work for it.

With my own hands, I had to eliminate every enemy I knew.

Yeah, this might just be some shallow hero complex.

But.

Every time I see those dying, or those who will die, I can’t help but wonder.

A fundamental question that no one can answer, and one I can’t resolve on my own.

…Why was I dropped into this world?

—

The Oath Sword tells me to save people. Is that the voice of a god?

An unknown impulse whispers for me to accept myself and kill everyone. Is that the fate of this body?

The voice of the Ice Blade only curses me to die. You blind snake. It wasn’t me who killed you.

And the owner of this body is currently furious, telling me to get lost immediately.

I had a rough idea of what would happen when I released her… but what actually happened was far more horrifying than I expected.

At least, the only voice I felt like following was that of the sword.

So, I’ve been fighting while holding onto the sword.

Even as I vaguely sensed that voice slowly changing me.

—

Exhausted by the waves of regret and depression, I habitually reached for a cigarette… but then just gave up.

There’s no way I’d have left cigarettes in the hospital room in the first place, and even if I smoked, it would only clear my head for a moment without changing the situation.

It was an escape. Forcing down the sense of responsibility and burden, turning away from it all.

But now wasn’t the time for that.

Even Leopold, instead of wallowing in regret, was staying up all night trying to sort things out.

Even if his motivation was self-serving desires like survival and revenge, he was doing his best.

So… I should do what I can too.

Lying on the bed, I stared at the ceiling and let out a deep sigh.

As if trying to vomit out everything weighing on my chest.

I don’t know if this is the wise choice… but I’ll give it a try.

“…You’re listening, right? Let’s talk.”

……

….

**[Talk? You and me, now?]**

A cold voice echoed in my head.

—

“…Yeah. Now.”

Hersela.

No, the true Princess Ha-shal-leur Ai-shan Gi-or. The original owner of this body, whose body I’ve stolen.

Right. I finally spoke to her.

Because I’ve come to painfully realize that ignoring it won’t solve anything.

**[Ha, how shameless can you be? Every time my voice reached you, wasn’t it you who covered your ears and stubbornly ignored me? A despicable and weak usurper.]**

She growled, clearly showing her contempt, hatred, and anger toward me.

Well, I’d probably feel the same.

Having my body forcibly taken, recklessly used, and my words ignored.

If she could, she’d probably snap my neck.

“Despicable, weak… Yeah, from your perspective, that’s not wrong. I’m sorry for taking your body and ignoring your words.”

But I had no choice but to ignore her.

From the start, all she said was either ‘get lost’ or ‘why aren’t you tearing them all apart?’

Neither was something I could listen to.

**[Sorry, you say? Cut the ridiculous jokes. You, who stole my body like a ghost and still cling to it as if it’s yours, dare to spout such nonsense. If you had even a shred of guilt, you’d leave my body right now.]**

Her voice was still filled with intense anger and distrust.

A burning resentment. The only way to ease it, unfortunately, wasn’t something I could do.

Even if I could, it wasn’t something I should do.

“…That’s difficult. I didn’t enter your body by choice. I don’t know why this happened, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

It was the truth, without a single lie.

Though it might be hard for her to believe.

**[Do you think I’d believe that?]**

“Well… Whether you believe me or not, the truth won’t change. As long as I don’t know the cause, I have no choice but to live in this body… and you have no choice but to live like this. That’s the reality.”

**[……]**

Hersela fell silent for a while.

Whether she accepted my words… or still doubted and thought I was lying, I couldn’t tell.

**[…This isn’t living. It’s being half-dead.]**

Her voice muttered, grinding her teeth as if lamenting her situation.

A deep sigh echoed in my mind.

**[How ironic. I, who was once called a ghost, have now truly become one.]**

“……”

I had nothing to say.

My comfort would only feel like deceit to her.

**[Well… At least now, I don’t have to scream into a void with no answers. You said you wanted to talk, didn’t you? Fine. Go ahead and babble.]**

Her voice was still filled with resentment.

But at least she seemed willing to talk.

…Not a bad start, I guess.