The Protagonist of a Romance Fantasy Only Likes Me - Chapter 34

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Potter

◈ The Protagonist of a Romance Fantasy Only Likes Me ◈

Chapter 34: Inheritance Run 1, Lancel Behind the Scenes. (2)

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“Did you call for me...?”

Marigold had been about to sit beside him with sparkling eyes, but Lancel immediately directed her to the seat opposite him.

“It’s nothing important. You’ve already been here for two months, so I was wondering whether the work is manageable. Sir Evil should be asking you this, but he’s busy at the moment.”

“Ah, I see...”

Why did she look disappointed?

Lancel glanced at Marigold as her mood visibly sank.

There was only one reason he had called Marigold here, even pretending to be the sort of strange noble who held consultations with his maids.

‘I need to confirm whether Marigold truly has memories of the previous Iteration.’

Lancel fixed his gaze on a nearby potted plant and spoke casually.

“Miss Mary, how old are you this year?”

“Twenty...”

“Twenty?”

“S-seventeen! I’m seventeen!”

“Not sixteen?”

“Sixteen! I was sixteen! Yes!”

She was confessing without even being interrogated.

“I see. Being a maid is hard work. How is it?”

“...Are you asking because you want to dismiss me?”

“Don’t read too much into it. I’m just asking because I was curious.”

“If it’s because I stole your clothes before, Young Master...”

“...Put them back where they belong while I’m asking nicely.”

“Ah, ahhh, yes.”

Lancel rubbed his throbbing head for a moment.

“Hestie said that even though you slack off sometimes, you work well. I was curious, so I asked.”

“Did you call me here to praise me?”

“Yes. Let’s just say that’s why.”

“Could it be... you mean to give me a reward...?”

“I take that back. I didn’t call you here to praise you. I asked for no particular reason, so just answer properly.”

Marigold hunched in on herself and watched his expression.

“Well, I worked briefly before.”

“How long ago?”

“I don’t remember well, but... around eight years?”

Eight years ago, Marigold had still been a noble lady.

“I see.”

After that, Lancel continued with trivial conversation, though his thoughts were elsewhere.

It had become certain after only a few questions. There was nothing more to ask.

‘It’s already certain that Marigold inherited the memories of the previous Iteration.’

How much she remembered, how she had inherited those memories, and where they began and ended were still complete mysteries. What was clear was that she remembered the past.

‘I don’t know whether this is good or bad.’

Lancel’s goal was to get Marigold together with a prince. He somehow had to reach this game’s proper route, the Imperial Consort Ending.

But what would happen if she remembered the past? Would it help or hinder her path to becoming Imperial Consort?

Lancel could not tell.

‘Should I reveal my own information and ask Marigold for help while I’m at it?’

For example.

“Let’s join forces as regressors and make you Imperial Consort, Marigold!”

What if he said that?

Would it help, or would it get in the way?

Lancel’s worries deepened.

“All right. Good work. You may go now.”

“Ah... Is that all?”

“What else were you expecting?”

“Yes...”

Marigold returned looking dejected.

‘What should I do? Tell her everything? Or not?’

His long deliberation was resolved that night, just before Lancel fell asleep.

============

Congratulations! Marigold has mastered Beginner Black Magic! From the next “Inheritance,” Intermediate Black Magic can be purchased.

※Memories are shared among all Iterations that use “Inheritance.” However, all Stats are reset after an ending. Please purchase them again before use.

============

“...?”

Lancel sprang upright from his bed.

Instinctively, he grabbed the quill pen on the table.

Afraid the words would vanish from his memory, he hurriedly copied them onto paper while repeating the message that had appeared before his eyes.

The sudden news that Marigold had mastered Black Magic did not even register.

What mattered were the final two lines.

“Memories are shared among Iterations that use Inheritance...?”

Lancel listed Marigold’s most recent endings.

- Warrior.

- Beggar.

- Parasite.

- Saintess.

- Merchant.

- First Inheritance of Memories. (Current point)

‘All Iterations that use something called Inheritance of Memories share their memories. That means...’

Lancel began writing again.

- First Inheritance of Memories. (Current point)

- ??? (No Inheritance)

- Second Inheritance of Memories. (Second run from the current point)

‘Like this?’

Inheritance.

As Lancel remembered it, a special condition had to be met for Inheritance to activate.

The condition was accumulating achievement points past a certain threshold.

Once that score reached 1,500, would a regressor Marigold who had inherited memories of the past appear, just as she had now?

And the memories from Regressor Marigold’s first run would be passed down intact to the Regressor Marigold who would appear in the future for her second run.

“Then the first and second runs should essentially be considered the same person.”

- Linked.

If memories were linked, it probably meant something like this. She was literally a regressor.

...Was that right?

Lancel frowned as he looked at the paper, now covered in dense scribbles.

‘If I tell Marigold in this Inheritance that I’m a regressor... the Marigold in the next Inheritance will appear already remembering that.’

He made his decision.

He set down the quill.

‘Let’s not tell her.’

Yes.

There were too many variables, and it was irreversible.

Once he told her, Regressor Marigold would remember his words forever. There would be no taking it back.

If a time came when he had to tell her, it would truly be a last resort.

Besides.

There was even the risk of making Marigold feel some needless sense of fate or connection.

What if she said something like:

“My goodness! You’re a regressor too! Forget everything else. Let’s just live together!”

What if she refused to leave his side?

It would be quite troublesome.

The game would never end if the person destined to become Imperial Consort clung tightly to some young master from a provincial noble house.

Lancel did not want to waste every Iteration in which Regressor Marigold appeared like that.

Yes.

He was only Marigold’s Imperial Consort maker, not a romance target. He was merely an extra suited to a Normal Ending, someone who could never become a romanceable target.

After all, he had married her once, and it had not ended well.

“...”

Lancel stared at the sheet covered in scribbles, then tore it into pieces and threw it away.

The execution platform erected in the square was engulfed in flames.

“Add more fuel!”

“It’s burning well!”

What was burning? It was hard to see through the smoke and fire. Only the black shape that occasionally showed between the flames suggested it was a person.

Burning at the stake was rare. It was reserved for the gravest criminals, a sight seen only when someone had insulted the imperial family or divinity itself. Even Marigold, busy with her duties as a maid, stopped walking and found herself drawn to the sight.

“Look, everyone! Look upon the criminal!”

Marigold narrowed her eyes and focused on the flames. The blackening shape almost came into view.

“Look upon the final moments of this criminal, who drew a blade against a prince of the Empire!”

Thump.

Her heart constricted.

“Look upon the final moments of this demon, burning here for daring to insult divinity!”

The wind blew.

For an instant, the flames parted.

For that fleeting moment, she saw the outline of the criminal’s face.

It was as though her eyes met those of the charred corpse.

“Look upon the final moments of this historical criminal, who committed the greatest crime in the Empire!”

Her heart began to pound.

Thump.

“The traitor...!”

Thump.

“...Lancel Dante!”

“No!”

“Eek!”

Marigold woke from her nap.

“Why do you keep doing that, miss? You’re doing it on purpose to scare me, aren’t you? I won’t get angry if you tell me honestly. You did it on purpose, right?”

Pina, who had woken in fright as well, raised their eyes sharply. Marigold quickly wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth.

“This will not do, Pina.”

“What will not do? Running away without working?”

“That’s not it... No, I didn’t run away. I finished my work and took a rest, Pina.”

“Of course, of course. So what will not do?”

Marigold clutched her head. She tried to shake off the dream she had seen during her nap, but she could not.

Her body began to tremble. It felt as though the sight had been branded into her memory.

“...My benefactor...!”

When Marigold had first seen that scene, back when she lived as a maid, she had briefly thought, ‘A bad person has been punished.’

But that was not it.

Remembering what kind of people ruled the Empire in her memories, and what sort of person Lancel was, it could not be such a simple matter.

“Pina. I think I’m the only person in this world who can protect my benefactor. No. Maybe that’s why I’m here.”

“What are you suddenly talking about? Are you still half asleep?”

“This will not do.”

“...?”

Marigold jumped to her feet.

“Pina. No matter how the continent splits apart again, no matter how much it fights and becomes a battlefield, no matter how he’s falsely accused and wrongfully condemned, there’s only one way to survive without losing anything.”

“Are we talking about that again?”

“He needs to become a big shot. Someone so formidable that even if he wanted to die, he couldn’t...”

Pina only listened halfheartedly while yawning, but Marigold’s eyes gleamed.

“Someone formidable enough to survive anything and spend the rest of our lives together... Someone so formidable that even the Emperor and the imperial family would have to defer to him...”

“Yes, yes. I understand, so let’s go to Miss Hestie before we get scolded. Do you know what time it is already?”

“Hm?”

“It’s well past lunch.”

“...!”

Marigold was punished with cleaning duty that day.

That evening.

“What is this?”

Lancel woke from sleep because something had been intermittently tapping against his window.

‘A bird?’

A crow was perched on the windowsill.

When he gently stroked it, it bobbed its head and kept pointing at its ankle.

Something that looked like a letter was tied there.