In the writers' terms, it's a rollback.
In my words, it's a reset.
Rewinding a section of the script, rearranging the characters, resetting the props, modifying the backdrop.
The characters' memories are erased, and the predetermined segments are repeated over and over for the sake of a flawless narrative. A loop, stretching into eternity.
'Erase my memories?'
Godric would take over Leovald's body, retrace the same events I had shared with him, and act as Leovald.
But that—
"That's not your story…"
Godric responded with an unsettling clarity, as if the question itself was meaningless.
"And this stage isn't mine to begin with, so what does it matter?"
I had no words.
If his plan succeeded, would I really come to believe that Godric, wearing Leovald's body, was my protagonist?
Forget Leonardo completely.
Erase every moment, every memory, as if they had never happened.
In this new story, Leo wouldn't have existed at all.
A wave of fear crashed over me—deeper, sharper than any threat to my own safety. My hands clenched into fists before I instinctively grabbed Godric's sleeve, gripping it tight.
"…Even after hearing all that, do you really think I'd hand over the body?"
"Of course not."
Godric smiled, as if amused by my defiance.
"But there are many ways to get what one desires. Did you think I'd simply torment you and take it by force? How crude."
He placed his hand over mine, fingers warm as they gently pressed down.
"Plundering is the work of common street thieves. A wise ruler ensures his subjects offer up what he wants willingly."
With a voice as gentle as spring sunlight, the king whispered his cruelest words.
"You're softer than you think… Yes, this method will do. First, I'll kill Leovald right in front of you. Then, I'll rewind it all and do it again."
Godric held my hand, guiding my fingers to fold, counting for me.
"Again."
Another finger pressed down.
"And again…"
One by one, my fingers curled under his touch, folding into my palm.
Before I realized it, he had counted past five.
With each finger that closed, a cold chill spread down my spine.
The moment I shook off the corpse's hand, weighed down by an unbearable discomfort in my chest, Godric spoke calmly.
"You'll come to understand eventually. That living on with eternal pain would be worse than death, which will bring you a more peaceful rest. Do you think you'll still remain unaffected when that time comes?"
"…"
"Affection is a sickness, isn't it? If you hadn't attached yourself in the first place, there wouldn't have been any suffering. I understand your heart. Don't worry, you'll be fine. If you forget everything, you won't have to suffer anymore."
Godric petted my cheek as if I were a helpless animal, and then he rose from the bed. Adjusting the length of the chains, he lifted the canopy and before leaving, he whispered softly.
"Sleep well."
The fabric of the canopy descended again, and I was left alone in the darkness.
For the first time in a long while.
In the prolonged silence, time seemed to stretch even slower, and my senses sharpened.
Each breath I took, rising and falling in my chest, made the blanket rustle slightly, the small noises from within my body, the nearly imperceptible shift of my eyelids… I couldn't even tell whether I was blinking or not in the heavy darkness.
The heightened sensations brushed against my nerves, making it impossible to fall asleep. I raised both hands and covered my face. Darkness wrapped around me completely. The weight of my palms pressed against my eyelids, and the steady pounding of my pulse thrummed against my wrist, close—too close.
And then, it hit me.
'Did he just try to threaten me?'
Fury surged through me.
Of course, Leonardo's death had become a kind of waking nightmare for me.
I had felt it happen. In the underground labyrinth of Sinistra, I had watched his face slowly lose colour, felt his body grow cold, listened as his breath faded into silence.
The main culprit had been Sub-writer 1 — and Godric must have known. That's why he pressed exactly on that wound. He thought I'd break.
'Does he take me for an idiot just because I got scared?'
There was no denying it — a declaration of war like that was terrifying.
But that'll only work if Godric was truly omnipotent.
And I knew one unshakable truth: as long as someone stands on the stage, no one can be all-powerful.
A performance isn't shaped by just one person.
Curling up under the covers, I let my body shrink into itself.
Godric was probably nearby, watching.
But whether he saw me or not—I didn't care.
'First, I need to expand my range of movement.'
To do that, a few small preparations were necessary.
'Since I'm in the capital anyway, I might as well act the part of a noble.'
I had chosen my role for this round.
Simply put…
A high-maintenance hostage.
***
He didn't let him out of his sight.
Not even for a moment.
No matter what nonsense he babbled, he had to stay close.
Had he known from the start how fragile this connection truly was—how easily it could snap—he would have never left him behind.
This happened because he had mistaken something fleeting for something owned.
He had come to him so easily, leaned on him so readily, given himself up without hesitation. He had grown careless, assuming it was safe.
Even when you write your name on something, one moment of neglect is all it takes to lose it.
The moment Leovald realized his connection with Isaac had been severed, he turned to return to the old castle ruins.
But before he could leave, Archbishop Butier seized him by the arm and declared—
[Isaac will be fine. Sir Orlie is with him—he'll be safe. For now, focus on gathering forces.]
Going back now wouldn't solve anything. Think ahead, for once.
'Is a field army really that essential for the plan?'
Isaac seemed to think so.
The archbishop, the holy knights, and his apostle—they all wanted him to act this way.
Leovald could sense the faint threads of their connection, the shared purpose tying them together. They had a grand design in mind. And Leovald was a piece on their board.
That, too, was nothing new.
Moving for a greater cause.
Nodding along in the name of duty.
Choosing from the options laid before him.
That was how he became a hero.
That was how he was named Leovald.
That was how, in the end, he was made a commander.
But he had never once asked to be a hero. Never once wanted to be a commander. He was given a name, a role, a purpose—and so he followed.
But now.
At last.
For the first time—he had found something he truly wanted for himself.
If he could have bound him to himself forever, never letting go. If he could have hidden him away somewhere secret, carried him with him unnoticed. If he could have kept him entirely to himself.
That would have been ideal.
But unfortunately, the other party was a living, breathing person.
And so, he couldn't simply act on his thoughts.
A shame.
Sometimes, he even envied Isaac's power.
That strange ability to tuck away a corpse into an unseen space, carrying it anywhere without a trace. If only Leovald had been given such a power—
'…It'd feel nice to keep him inside.'
To tuck him away somewhere safe and distant. To bring him out only when he was certain it was safe. To speak in hushed tones, just the two of them, so no one else would hear—
Nothing else would matter.
Not the fact that Isaac had descended as an apostle with a purpose.
Leovald had not longed for many things in his life.
But when he did long for something—he always made it his.
And this time would be no different.
"Proceed with the field army's rescue."
And then—
He would return. Just as promised.