Don't Concern Yourself With That Book

“43…”

What did she do 43 times? As she scanned the parchment carefully, she spotted another scribble. 

[The 10th Day of the Month of Habermia.]

It was merely a date. 

But the thickness of her letters differed slightly depending on what day she wrote it on. So, it was not difficult for her to guess what she had written on the same day.

‘It doesn’t feel right to pass it off as just numbers.’

The quill poked at the parchment. 

She first realised it when she found the diary. Even though the diary gave hints, it had always been up to her to infer what they meant. 

‘I really don’t get along with that diary.’

She was a simple modern woman who had only done what she was told to do even in her past life. Detective novels, mysteries and stories of pursuing criminals did not suit her natural disposition so she hated them all. Where had her trademark characteristic gone after her reincarnation? For a long time now, deduction had always been a pain. 

“… Reading this is making me think this is a riddle related to me.”

The girl scoffed though she couldn’t help but to feel resigned. 

“43. And the 10th Day of the Month of Habermia…”

This handwriting. The subdued calm within the spaces between the dizzyingly emotionally written words piqued her curiosity. 

The 10th day of the Month of Habermia was the day Castor visited her. The day the diary’s prophesied writings of the tyrant were realised as the truth.

The day she thought she would die but instead began her life of deductions. 

If it had been any other story, she would have lived a spectacular ‘happily ever after’ after overcoming death. However, that was not her future at all.

Rather, like she was stuck in  a neverending story, she had to continue dealing with such events. As if she was not allowed to leave the story halfway. 

The girl let out a deep sigh.

She was frustrated. She placed the parchment down and was now holding her diary in her hand. All the deaths she had avoided in the past had disappeared from the diary so now the latest entries only pertain to the desert princess. Thus, the entry about the 10th Day of the Month of Habermia from long ago had disappeared. 

Nothing ever went her way.

At her anger, she flipped through the pages with much force causing her to accidentally cut her hand.

“Ack.’

Blood dripped down her hand. She placed her diary down and stared at its spine before tapping it. She felt strangely bothered. 

Amnesia. 

Even if it weren’t for that, she still had numerous questions regarding this diary. She was so occupied with wondering why Castor could remain so calm and thinking about ways to survive Ahasia that she had neglected herself. 

‘Who should I ask about this?’

“Anyone will do.”

‘Tell me.’

She let out a pained sigh.

Flutter.

In a room without a single gust of wind, the book flipped open. Even before she could blink in surprise, light from the corner of her eye gradually spread across her field of vision to cover her hands and the spine of the book. Slowly, she raised her hand to stare at the diary from which light was pouring out. The light continued to flicker. Soon after, a strange purple mist diffused into the air.

‘Magic?’

No, no, it couldn’t be but as a modern person, those were the only words she could think of. 

Blink.

In a blink of an eye, the light wrapped around her. Ashley sank onto the floor slowly in pain while her eyes felt like they were melting. She wanted to scream to find out what was going on but her words were swallowed deep into her throat. 

When she opened her eyes, her vision was blurry and everything felt like it was at a distance away. No, her desk looked like it was getting further and further away as if she was falling backwards. 

–Just as you wanted.

The words rang in her ears. The voice sounded familiar as if she had heard it before somewhere. The voice was thin and clear like that of a girl’s. A voice that was similar to hers. 

–I can’t do it for long. 

The words hummed as if that person was laughing. 

After a few moments passed, a pale hand slammed onto her desk which swept the parchments away to reveal the girl’s pale face. 

“Damn. What’s this…”

***

Holding my throbbing head, I stared at the diary. 

The sound of the diary flipping itself open sounded like a nightmare. Though it may sound unbelievable, that old damned diary would appear in the dreams I once had without fail so my anecdote wasn’t exactly wrong. 

Honestly, if the diary ever materialises itself as a person, I would be beating them up without hesitation. I was not someone who was particularly violent, but like teenagers who rebel when being forced to sit for too long, the diary only elicits my anger. 

I slowly brushed my hand around my neck before sweeping my hair away. 

Staring at the diary which was wide open in front of me, I shuffled backwards. The memories that were pouring into me.

Rediscovering my memories now must have been the work of the diary. With a long sigh, I twisted my lips into a smirk. I placed my hand on the open diary.

The faint light. 

“Answer me.”

I could instinctively tell. My throbbing headaches and my vision which kept blurring. Like an electronic watch running out of battery, I was at a loss. 

My memories wasn’t going to last long

My sensitive intuition that was well-trained from escaping death and the clues given by the Saintess, Marissa, combined to allow me to draw another conclusion. 

“My amnesia, you didn’t expect this either, could you?”

To tell the truth, even if my body was filled with determination now, I still don’t think I would be able to easily open my diary. If I could find a solution without it, I would happily oblige to do so. 

I had been lost in thought but the flickering light seemed to be agreeing with me. 

“You understand what I’m saying now, don’t you?”

The book quickly lit up before dimming again. 

“This is only temporary and I’m going to lose my memories again. Right?”

I couldn’t stand being given the same answer so I grimaced. If the diary still did not have the solution, it should have found a complete on first. 

“Ha… What you’re saying is that I’m going to lose it again, right?”

It wasn’t as if I lost my memories before I took that small bottle of drugs. 

I knew that the diary was not responsible for making me lose my memories but the anger I had accumulated against the diary had been waiting to explode.

Because, over the 40-or-so deaths I had experienced, it had been the one responsible for dulling me, making me as dry as sand and extinguishing my burning flame. After barely reasoning with myself like that, I quickly drew a conclusion. 

This was not the time to think about how I lost my memories or what caused my amnesia. 

What was more important was that I would lose my memories again and I would be performing on that stage without knowing anything. 

“I can’t even remember when I lost my memories.”

The moment I lost my memories flashed past my mind like a piece of film. 

There was not much time left. 

I stared at the diary before smiling uncontrollably. How could my misfortune make me so endlessly mournful, sad and angry? It was as if my misfortune was snowballing till the point I couldn’t stop it with my bare hands anymore. 

I hated this diary but at the same time, I needed it. How pitiful was my life for me to rely on my bringer of misfortune?

I gave a faint smile. After smiling like that for a while, I quickly erased it. 

Raising my head, with a cool yet burning fire behind my gaze, I stared into the air. 

“Right, this wasn’t what the diary wanted to happen either.”

Soon, my memories would disappear again.

The reason why the diary returned my memories for a while was probably because it had not wanted the current situation either. Though I wondered if it was lacking in any way because it could only return them to me for a short while.

Still, I also thought that losing my memories in such an urgent situation was not a good thing. 

Now, I was caught in the most daunting and dangerous situation I’ve ever been placed in. 

It’s not that I didn’t resent the world for making me face such misfortune with my bare body but on the other hand, this might be another opportunity. Don’t opportunities arise in the biggest crises? It was the case this time round too. If I already knew that I was going to lose my memories again without fail, I could prepare for it. I shouldn’t overdo it. 

I prayed that I wouldn’t break again. 

I raised my quill.

To the me who had no one. 

There was no need to wonder if anyone walking down an unstable path was afraid. Does having experienced death before make one no longer afraid of death? That’s nonsense. 

How could someone who had never experienced it before understand? Sometimes, what you have never experienced  is what you’re the most afraid of. 

Because I have many things to think about, I often hesitate. May you make a better choice than me. 

I had to choose my words carefully so that I could take steps without hesitation.

But the time that the diary had given me was too short to be called short and it couldn’t possibly contain the countless words I wanted to convey. 

Though I could think of the things Castor might do without much difficulty, I had to exclude things the ‘me’ who had never died before couldn’t possibly know. And, also, my plans on dealing with the desert princess… ah. There were so many things to say but my vision was dimming. 

“… U-urgh.”

With a grim expression, I smiled before twisting my lips. Damn it. With a swear, I barely finished what I wanted to convey to her the most. 

I only wanted one thing for her. 

Please. Don’t die.

***

Flutter.

At the fluttering of paper and the tickling sensation of wind blowing her hair, the girl opened her eyes.

“… Did I fall asleep?”

When she opened my eyes, the first thing she saw was a messy desk.

No parchment was in place as if someone had been determined to mess with the desk. There was also ink dripping from the edge of the desk. 

Ah, darn. She quickly placed the ink bottle back upright but the carpet was already soaked in black stains. 

‘I mean, will it be better if I just throw this away?’

This might merely sound like the complaints of a gold-spoon but… 

At the sounds of knocks at the door of her study, she whipped her head around to see Hannah peeking through the slightly open door. Hannah then spoke with a clear voice. 

“Princess, the 6th Prince is here.”

Had that much time passed?

When she thought of the meal she had planned on eating with her brother, she realised that she must have fallen asleep for quite a while.

‘When did I leave this open?’

When she tried to pick up her diary, something fell out of it. She picked it up to find that it was a ripped piece of parchment. However, as she looked at it, the girl gradually turned pale before her expression hardened. 

“Should I bring him to the study?”

“N-N-No! Bring him to the drawing room! I’ll be right there.”

Just when she was about to scream, she covered her mouth before speaking in a low voice. 

Her thoughts were already tangling up complicatedly.

She had always thought that she had to experience something before she could understand it which was why even in her previous life, she did not believe in the supernatural. 

However, when facing her prophesied death, such beliefs collapsed. Nevertheless, she still felt uncomfortable with stepping out of her bubble of experience. 

One example was this letter that she didn’t remember writing. 

‘These neat and tidy letters.’

Ashley quickly compared the piece of parchment to what she was reading a while ago. 

Her handwriting had changed little by little over the years so there were minute changes to her writing. 

So, her current handwriting was slightly different from before. 

She knew about people with dissociative-identity disorder having different handwritings for each personality. Was this what was happening right now?

‘So, for 16 years I’ve been living my life quietly only for me to suddenly have another personality?’

In the end, she managed to come to a more rational and reliable conclusion though she still found trouble believing it.

This… was a warning sent from herself. 

The evidence pointed at herself. Her hair which was sticking to her temple because of cold sweat, her soaked palms and even her dry lips. 

She had been fine before she fell asleep.

If that was the case, this must have been experienced by someone other than herself. 

The note was short, concise and in fragments. The note contained information only she herself would know. The girl paused at the last part. 

[I’ll end off with this. 

Lastly, watch out for Castor, he’s someone who can bring you down the worst path possible. And I can bet that the misfortune you experience then would be worse than death.]

With a handwriting that was subtly different from hers. 

[Never forget. How Castor in the original novel was described to be.]

For some reason, the letters were crooked towards the end. It had been written clumsily as if a child had written it.

[Stay strong.]

T/N:

Again missed last week’s update because its the start of a new semester!! so 2 chappies per update this week as well.