Chapter 7
Chapter 7: Not a Blessing, but a Curse
It was beautiful. Indeed, the gem truly seemed like one personally crafted by a deity from legend. Vinea Madretta Veshnu and Tatar de Tessibania stood before Sefitiana, which lay atop a plush velvet cloth on a high pedestal in the center of the small room, their eyes dark with contemplation.
“This is the third time we’ve faced Sefitiana here,” Vinea said.
“Yes. Let’s hope we get some useful answers this time.”
Seventy-seven regressions. They hadn’t been idle during that time. They died repeatedly, thinking that if regression started with death, ending it might involve something similar. Simultaneously, they frantically searched for anything capable of causing this miracle or curse known as regression.
Through effort and coincidence aligning with fate, they finally reached this place in the seventy-fifth regression.
Vinea tightly gripped the necklace she had brought and stood before the gem. Raising her arms, she brought them down with all her might.
Crash!
With a cracking sound, the supposedly unbreakable Sefitiana shattered into pieces, almost laughably so. If not for its radiant glow, one might have mistaken it for a well-made imitation.
A blinding light filled the room, and Vinea squeezed her eyes shut. Even though this was the third time, she couldn’t get used to the brilliance.
A strong hand gripped her shoulder. The familiar scent tickled her nose, and a low voice resonated in her ear.
“Open your eyes, Empress.”
When she slowly opened her eyes, the scene had completely changed. The sky was an aurora-like blend of colors, and beneath their feet was a vast ocean, solid enough to stand on. In this fantastical space, the most peculiar being floated in the air.
It had first appeared as a young woman, then a horned deer, and now it took the form of a young boy.
Sefitiana’s empty, glass-like eyes looked up. A strange voice that defied gender and age echoed in their minds.
[Those blessed by the gods.]
A cold sneer spread across Vinea’s face.
[What answer do you seek this time?]
The boyish form of Sefitiana walked forward. Its aurora-hued hair swayed, casting small shadows over its white eyelids. Like a living being, Sefitiana’s unfocused eyes blinked slowly, and its lifeless lips moved slightly out of sync with the voice in their minds.
[Those blessed by the gods, I am allowed only one ‘truth’ to guide you lost ones. I ask again, what question do you seek an answer to this time?]
“Ha!” Vinea’s eyes blazed with barely concealed hatred.
Who are these “blessed by the gods”? We don’t remember any such blessing. And answers? What answers?
This wasn’t the first time they had encountered Sefitiana.
During the seventy-fifth regression, Tatar, consumed by rage at the gods for not providing any clues to end the regression, had led his army to demolish the temple. The fleeing priests, the half-destroyed temple, and the hidden underground chamber had finally been revealed.
Seeing Sefitiana, possibly the cause of their wretched cycle, Vinea had struck it with her sword in fury. The young woman-shaped Sefitiana appeared with brilliant light and spoke with its strange eyes.
[You are lost. Is that why you could awaken me?]
In front of the incomprehensible Sefitiana, how they had cried out.
“You are said to perform miracles! Sefitiana, end this regression now!”
Sefitiana had responded after a brief silence.
[The gods allow me only one ‘truth’ to guide the lost. I will answer your desire as best I can.]
According to scriptures, Sefitiana was supposed to perform miracles. One miracle permitted by the gods. Yet, what nonsense was this about a single truth?
It was a deception. The cause of the war between two empires was a gem that provided just one truth!
Fire raged within. Rage at the gods and Sefitiana for deceiving humanity turned Vinea’s vision red. But showing that anger was premature.
Now, Sefitiana. Answer. Give us the answer to end this regression!
In response to Vinea’s desperate plea, Sefitiana’s answer had been far from helpful.
[Love until the miracle bestowed by the gods is fulfilled.]
After giving this useless answer, Sefitiana shattered into pieces.
Thinking back to that moment still made Vinea grind her teeth. Love? The gods’ miracle? Who were they supposed to love? Tatar? If not him, should they spread their love to every living being? And what about the miracle bestowed by the gods?
There were countless instances in the scriptures referred to as divine miracles, even the sprouting of grass and the blowing of the wind. Which miracle were they supposed to wait for?
Just when they thought they had found the answer, they were left stranded in the middle of a vast sea with nothing but a single rowing boat, without wind or oars.
A useless truth, a shattered Sefitiana, and us left in despair.
When they awoke at the wedding again, they naturally sought out the temple first. Breaking every branch of the statue, they had dashed into the underground chamber that finally appeared.
What if it had been a one-time chance? Anxiety nearly tore them apart as they found Sefitiana again, this time in the form of a mystical deer.
[It’s our second meeting. What truth do you seek this time?]
Love. The gods’ miracle.
Standing before the deer-shaped Sefitiana, Vinea had carefully chosen her question.
“Who am I supposed to love?”
Sefitiana had silently raised a hand, pointing at Tatar.
That had been their second encounter.
Despair, which they had experienced countless times, engulfed them again.
The love described in the scriptures was pure and noble, but how could they achieve such love? If it were their first life, perhaps, but not after rolling through muddy deaths and being revived dozens of times.
They had bound themselves together to stay sane, obsessed and desired each other. But could they dare call it love?
Maybe they could wrap it up as love somehow, but would it be the love Sefitiana spoke of?
Desperately trying to match the gods’ tune, they had spent countless nights together during the seventy-sixth life.
Nights that burned like the sun and were cold as winter.
It was a rapture focused only on passing the nights together, caring about nothing else. But perhaps because they had completely abandoned their duties, a rebellion broke out before three months had passed, forcing them to flee the palace. In a moment of unbearable disgust, Vinea impulsively jumped from the carriage, marking the last memory of their seventy-sixth life.
And so began the seventy-seventh life. Now, it was time to ask the third question. There could be no vague questions this time. They couldn’t afford to be toyed with by Sefitiana’s whimsical answers again.
“Love Tatar until the gods’ miracle is fulfilled.” The only thing left to ask was one specific question. Taking a deep breath, Vinea spoke.
“Tell us what god’s miracle we haven’t realized.”
A faint smile appeared on the face of the boy-like being. As if acknowledging that this was finally the right question after three tries.
[It is the god’s blessing that has not yet been achieved. The true miracle that I no longer possess.]
Sefitiana’s fingertip began to glisten like glass, creating frost-like crystals. Soon, with a sharp sound like breaking glass, a large crack spread across Sefitiana’s body like paint.
“Already…? Wait, Sefitiana!”
Vinea reached out toward the breaking Sefitiana. Sefitiana’s body crystallized like glass and shattered, sending sharp fragments flying everywhere. A shard cut across Vinea’s neck, drawing blood, as Tatar pulled her back, his face set in grim determination.
“It’s dangerous.”
“Let go! I need to hear the answer, not some riddle!”
“There will be another chance.”
Vinea bit her lip hard. Who makes that chance? Me? Or you? How will we die this time?
How much longer could their minds hold out as they gradually crumbled? It had been a long time since they had stopped relying on alcohol and drugs. Even impulsively ending their lives to turn back time was a sign.
How many more deaths could they endure without losing their sanity completely? They were breaking down, trapped helplessly in this cycle of regression.
Vinea shook off Tatar and reached out to touch the face of the now nearly destroyed Sefitiana. As her fingers brushed against its cold surface, Sefitiana’s serene eyes seemed to capture her desperate gaze.
[That is, what the first one who owned me desired—]
“Sefitiana!”
[—the true miracle of Sefitiana.]
With that, Sefitiana shattered completely into sparkling fragments, which then dissolved into a halo of light and disappeared.
At the same time, the bizarre, aurora-lit space faded away, replaced by the cool air of the underground chamber, as if nothing had happened. Vinea’s empty eyes stared at the spot where Sefitiana had been.
Her mind swirled in confusion. An unachieved divine blessing? What could that be? What did Sefitiana no longer possess? Was it telling them to find a miracle? A gem that couldn’t even properly answer their question about ending the regression dared to speak of miracles?
Moreover, the mention of a previous owner implied that someone else had possessed Sefitiana before them…
‘Who could it be? And when?’
Her thoughts were tangled like a ball of yarn unraveling on the floor. A chill as cold as despair itself enveloped Vinea, causing her small shoulders to tremble.
Collapsing to her knees, Vinea hugged herself, her fingernails digging into her soft flesh.
“I’m so tired of this. Do I have to die again? To ask Sefitiana another question? How many times do I have to die…?”
Her breath caught in her throat. She knew she had to gather her thoughts slowly, but it was not easy. Repeating the same time seventy-seven times was enough to drive anyone mad. Even though she pretended to be sane most of the time, moments like this, when despair yanked her down, brought bouts of terror and confusion.
She tried to remind herself that the confusion would pass, but it was difficult. Tears flowed down her cheeks despite her will.
As if underwater, her ears muffled, she barely heard a voice cutting through.
“—Nea, Empress!”
Someone grabbed her chin and lifted her face. As her blurred vision cleared, Vinea’s blue eyes met the distorted face of the man standing before her.
“Your Majesty…?”
