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‘Reverse?’  

A completely unexpected feature had appeared. There was no detailed explanation, but the meaning seemed obvious. The hourglass’s basic function was to send me to the future. If it had a reverse function, wouldn’t that mean it could send me back to the past?  

If I took this idea further, it might even allow me to change the past.  

‘That seems rather dangerous…’  

Seeing the future didn’t feel like a big deal, but altering the past carried a heavy weight. After all, there’s a well-known theory called the “butterfly effect.” Something small that I change in the past could one day grow into a massive storm.  

Of course, if I’m being honest, even glimpsing the future and then altering it would eventually stir up a storm.  

“Reshia?”  

Bael called out to me with concern as I let out a groan, lost in my complicated thoughts.  

When I came back to my senses, both Bael and Axel were looking at me with worried expressions. I quickly waved my hand and forced a smile.  

“It’s nothing. Just that this hourglass will unlock a new feature after it’s used 100 times.”  

Now that I said it out loud, the condition of using it 100 times sounded ridiculous. Every time I used the hourglass, it cost me a million Heaven Coins. To unlock the new feature, I’d need to spend a total of 100 million Coins. It was clear that those Heaven folks were scheming to empty my vault completely.  

“Anyway, the thing we need to focus on right now is this document!”  

Axel nodded in agreement with my statement and then carefully tucked the document away.  

“If we hand this over to him, we’ll have an answer in no time.”  

“Him?”  

“Eugene, of course.”  

“I understand wanting to ask Eugene, but are you sure it’s safe?”  

I understood why Axel would think of Eugene first when it came to deciphering codes—I did too. But this was a matter that required the utmost security. Besides, wasn’t the former emperor and Eugene’s father, Duke Kreutz, clearly on the same side? Unlike the prophecy translation that had been confirmed safe by the late pope, we still didn’t know the true nature of this document.  

There could be significant risks involved.  

However, Axel shrugged it off nonchalantly.  

“He’s my apprentice. No matter what happens, I’ll take full responsibility and protect him.”  

“Wow, Axel, you’re really acting like a grown-up.”  

I clapped my hands like a seal, impressed, which made Axel cough awkwardly, grumbling under his breath.  

“I’m Axel Elpinard. I’m not like some hapless dark mage who got betrayed by his own apprentice.”  

“Blaming the victim instead of the con artist? I didn’t know our White Mage had such a personality.”  

As usual, Axel and I started to bicker, but Bael stepped in to mediate like a teacher calming down quarreling children.  

“Now, now, both of you, settle down. We still have important matters to discuss, don’t we?”  

His tone was that of a patient instructor dealing with unruly kids.  

“According to the prophecy, the ‘Saint of the Countryside’ is a wicked person. Based on what Reshia saw in the future, that person is Hazen. He was originally believed to be dead, but…”  

“He wasn’t actually dead, was he?”  

I had encountered Hazen twice now, very much alive. The first time was at the palace on the day of the debutante ball, and the second was at some point in the future.

“But if you look at the records from the old murder case, there’s clear documentation of Hazen’s body being autopsied. It was such a high-profile case that multiple people conducted the examination,” Axel said, rubbing his chin as if recalling the records he had reviewed.

“I’ve gone over those records dozens, no, hundreds of times. I’m certain of it. No matter how skilled one is in illusion magic, it’s impossible to deceive so many people.”

“So, are you saying he really died and then came back to life? Like some kind of resurrection, akin to a divine apostle?” I joked lightly, but Bael’s expression hardened slightly.

It didn’t seem like he was offended by the casual mention of divine apostles in front of a devout cleric. There was something else on his mind.

“Do you both remember what that creature said as it was dying, when we defeated the Mad Dragon?” Bael asked, his tone serious.

“Of course,” I replied.

How could I forget? It was a momentous occasion, the culmination of our hard-fought battle against the Mad Dragon. The image of that moment was etched in my memory, something I would never forget even in death.

“It said something incredibly clichéd, like a typical villain’s last words: ‘I will surely return alive!’ Wait…”

As I answered nonchalantly, the realization hit me. The Mad Dragon’s final words had hinted at resurrection, and my eyes widened in surprise. At the time, I had dismissed it as just another villain’s empty threat, but given the current circumstances, it suddenly seemed like it could be something more.

“…Could Hazen actually be the Mad Dragon?”

“Or at the very least, a disciple of the Mad Dragon,” Bael cautiously suggested, adding to my speculation.

“But I never sensed any… evil aura from Hazen…” I said, struggling to reconcile my memories of Hazen with this new possibility.

Our expedition had faced the Mad Dragon multiple times. There were instances where we inflicted severe wounds on it, and times when we suffered greatly. In the end, after a fierce battle, we emerged victorious, but the Mad Dragon had been an overwhelmingly powerful and terrifying opponent. The immense pressure and ominous aura it exuded were still vivid in my memory.

Hazen, on the other hand, possessed a completely different presence. In fact, he was so unremarkable that there were times I didn’t even notice him standing next to me.

“You claim to know your disciple well, but it seems you’re just clueless,” Axel sighed, tapping my forehead lightly with his finger.

If Hazen really was some incarnation of the Mad Dragon, I couldn’t refute Axel’s rebuke. 

“Resurrection goes completely against the natural order,” Bael explained seriously. “If the Mad Dragon truly ‘resurrected,’ there would have been an enormous price to pay.”

His words triggered a memory—the time in the future when Hazen had persuaded the former emperor to demand a ‘sacrifice.’ At the same time, a scene from my childhood at the temple flashed before my eyes: Duke Kreutz performing a ‘purification ritual’ on his own son, Eugene.

Why had the duke offered his own son as a ‘sacrifice’? 

‘Why specifically his son?’ 

It might seem harsh, but in a situation where a sacrifice was needed, wouldn’t it make more sense to offer someone unrelated by blood? Moreover, Eugene had been estranged from his father and living outside the Kreutz household for a long time. Yet, Duke Kreutz had gone out of his way to bring Eugene back to the family as the target of the ritual.

The only plausible explanation for this strange behavior was that ‘Eugene had to be the sacrifice.’

The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

* * *

“This way, Saint,” 

“Yes, thank you.”  

The attendant, momentarily entranced by the serene smile of the man before him, hurriedly bowed his head. He had heard rumors that the former emperor would be visiting the royal villa, and that the “Saint of the Countryside” would be accompanying him, but seeing the saint in person was an entirely different experience.

The Saint of the Countryside carried an aura that matched the divine presence described in the rumors. It was akin to the unsettling pressure one might feel when praying at a temple, where a strange heaviness settles in your chest, leaving your hands and feet cold. When the attendant had shared such feelings with the priests, they had all responded in unison, saying, “You have felt the presence of the divine!” while crossing themselves. Now, the attendant felt that same eerie sensation emanating from the Saint of the Countryside.

“Ah, um, His Majesty the former emperor has instructed that if you need anything, anything at all, it should be provided to you,” the attendant stammered, overwhelmed by the aura of the person before him.

The saint, still wearing a gentle smile, reached out to the attendant.  

“Will you truly give me whatever I ask?”  

“Y-yes! Of course!”  

“Good. But if it’s because it is His Majesty’s command, then I must decline. I only accept what is given from the heart.”

The Saint of the Countryside’s words flowed like music, soft and mesmerizing, as he spoke to the attendant.  

“Now, lift your head.”  

The attendant, as if in a trance, raised his head. The moment their eyes met, the expression on the attendant’s face slowly faded away, replaced by a blank stare. Meanwhile, the smile on the saint’s lips grew even wider.

“Will you give me whatever I ask?”  

“…Yes.”  

“And whose will are you following?”  

“…Only my own heart’s desire.”  

“Excellent.”

The saint patted the attendant’s head, as if praising a loyal dog. Despite the condescending gesture, the attendant’s expression remained vacant, as if his spirit had been drained from him.

‘It’s all coming back, little by little,’ the Saint of the Countryside thought, his smile one of satisfaction.

‘Now, if I can just get my hands on “that,” everything will be certain…’