Resurrection of Duke Werstein ~ I Didn't Hear Anything About Being A Middle-aged Man ~

─ ─ By now, was Father around the time he got to the realm?

It was when he entered the Cavalier-General's office, which had no longer been transformed into his room, prepared for the Royal Castle of Renamilia.

I mock myself for such a self while gently closing the heavy metal door.

Until recently, I even think of myself as one of those foolish human beings who thinks that I can truly respect the existence of a father who hated me so much, just like the colors, the nobles who rumored to me as they returned their hands.

But still, I also understood that there was now because the presence of his father, Augusto Verstein, made up the majority of one person, himself.

I guess that's why my corrupt and going father couldn't forgive me, and as a result, he ran away.

In the room where no one was, breathing out small, he sat alone, in a desk chair stacked with documents.

I feel strange tiredness because of unexpected things that happen day after day.

What the hell does that girl want?

Conceive while massaging wrinkles that have come between nature and eyebrows by rubbing them loose with your fingertips.

The White Virgin and the prestigious granddaughter of the Prime Minister of this country.

A merciful, inseparably gentle, beautiful girl, similar to my grandfather.

The way you smile, it sure is pathetic.

But for some reason, instinct refuses.

A gentle voice with pleasant ears, like a rolling bell, eyes that gaze up at themselves with moist eyes as they blush their cheeks, and their lips, like peachy rose petals.

Everything, everything, feels rejected.

I don't know why, but twelve years ago my mother rarely fell ill, stirring up a sense of insecurity like that one that I couldn't help.

Like that granddaughter's grandfather, the Chancellor, I feel horrible for some reason.

A feeling of contradiction, similar to that of the Chancellor, who I respect and trust but feel horrible, even though I think she is beautiful and pathetic.

I talked to my father and his deputy, who was a classmate, to see if anyone felt the same as me, but the result was just disgusting and laughing at me with my nose.

Then, if a raucous young girl likes you and asks you the other way around what the hell you're unhappy with, the spot can't say anything more.

"What the hell did I do......"

Words that are not told to anyone, but pounded and whined, disappear to dissolve in the air.

To be honest, I don't like it.

I don't like women, but I don't like granddaughters as much as the Chancellor.

I remembered and lamented the reality of being attached to that girl since that day when she was about to be introduced to the Chancellor at the Founding Party.

The beginning was when I went to the military training ground to train with the soldiers.

It's new to my memory to see us all touring in the distance.

Later, little by little, it was horrible, including the appearance of fellow laughers who were healthy against that appearance of making allies among the soldiers as time passed and packing a distance here to erode.

When was this? I was behaved like a handmade plug.

From around here, I think my side is gone.

Says, good wife Wise Mother.

Says, you deserve to be called the Virgin.

Originally, many, including myself, became soldiers and knights on the recommendation of the Prime Minister, and I applauded the fact that I had no negative impression of that girl, who looked great and had great contents.

The outer moat is buried.

To that terrible fact, he held his head.

But just because it's horrible, there's not enough reason to reject her.

Poor, gentle and caring.

The Renamilia kingdom is one of the most beautiful in terms of appearance.

What the hell is so horrible about being a weak girl under age?

Are you out of your mind, or is there really something?

There has never been any mistake in these sensations before.

However, they could not deny that they were wrong.

So much for vague fear.

Second, I heard a knock.

Because of the metal door, his consciousness was brought back to reality by the dull sound of carrots rather than cones.

"Who?"

At any rate, as usual, who utters the word "what" based on the idea that it would be a deputy commander or a castle soldier or a direct knight.

At this time he had no particular idea.

The gift of an education that speaks out from the back of the belly, or the voice echoes indoors.

With all this volume, there will be nothing wrong behind the door.

In evidence, from beyond the door, a single person was heard.

'Um, it's me, would you mind letting me in?

It was such a shock to my overheard voice that I thought my heart would pop out of my mouth.

It's like you rolled a bell, poor thing, and then you feel quite a chill there, Lord of the Voices.

Whatever you think, it belonged to a girl who haunted her own head until just now.

The only sign from across the door is one girl.

But by the time I got here, there was no way I could have been more than a soldier or a knight.

Nonetheless, it was only possible that he was silent that he had come before this room.

Shall I use my absence to deceive you?

To the point where such shallow thoughts came to mind for a moment, I was upset.

It would be the only thing that would have survived if it had become so stiff because of the agitation that it had not unnecessarily hit my body on my desk.

But he has already done what he did earlier.

It doesn't make sense to pretend that there are no people.

If so, there was one means he could take.

"I'm sorry, we can't let women in this room."

It is a kick-ass, refusal.

It is the original prehistoric action that women are forbidden to enter a room where soldiers and knights reside without permission.

By then, he didn't want to be involved with a girl.

But knowing or not knowing him like that, the girl shook her voice sadly.

'I don't know, I think.

But I really wanted to talk to you. "

If you don't think so, why don't you have one of your companions?

It is unthinkable for a young maiden to come to this part of the Knights packed with the smell of men.

Really, what the hell do you say you're doing here?

To the incomprehensible reality of even remembering a headache, he stretched out his wrinkles at his fingertips, which had dropped between his eyebrows again.

"If you want to talk, let's call someone and we'll do it."

'No! I want to talk to you alone!

"A knight cannot be alone with a woman.

Please pick it up. "

"Why is that? Your grandfather gave you permission."

No matter what you hear, the voice that appeals to you in an unceasing manner is innocent.

But something cold ran through my spine.

"Then you will not be allowed to enter the room."

"Oh, no, why?

I will never interrupt your work. "

"When something happens, I can't take responsibility.

Please note. "

"What do you mean, there's no reason why a knight can't protect a lady, please, don't let me in?"

He had a further headache in the words of a girl who, like an innocent child who knew nothing, was not convinced that his words would not be rejected, even as if it were normal.

"That's not the problem.

Please understand that the rules stipulate that there is a risk. "

"Why are you so mean?

Please, open this door, it's too heavy for me to move. '

"...... not mean, this is the rule.

As a knight, please understand that I am here to protect you. "

You mustn't let this woman in your room.

The emotion was a defense coming from instinct.

"Why? It's terrible... I just admire you...!"

I have goosebumps.

But the feeling is backwards, from beyond the door, there are just signs of a little, sobbing girl.

"Please, pick it up."

If he had a strong sense of justice for making a woman cry, he would have felt guilty, but all he had to do was return pale words, especially if he didn't feel anything.

From that day on, rumors arose that the Knights Commander was the worst man to have made a flattering young maiden cry.

But he didn't care at all because he seriously thought that he was a lousy man enough to be rumored like that.

Seeing how he was like that, the girl wore the mask of a maiden in love, teething at the excess of her anger.

The girl who behaved in a position no one could hear, from anyone's eyes, as if she were only a weak, in love maiden, was indeed pitiful, but she would have rounded her eyes and marveled at anyone if she was right on her side.

"What the fuck...!"

Because it was something horrible, like a dead man crawling at the bottom of the earth, far from a poor voice like the one who rolled his usual bell.

How long the hell have you been crying?

I don't think it's been that long in my physical sense, but I didn't know how long it was actually.

But I cried a little, and I feel refreshed at last.

It is an indescribable feeling that the disgusting emotions that were smoking in my chest were washed beautifully by crying.

It's not like something convenient happened that made me sad disappear or that I was admitted to being dead.

The concept of reincarnation was in Mr. Augusto's knowledge.

But I (...) deviate completely from that circle.

I must have had a dead end then.

That must not have been Mr. Augusto, it must have been another, much less a new soul.

If I had been Mr. Augusto's rebirth, it wouldn't have been so hard.

But Mr. Augusto's soul and mine are completely separate.

Besides, it's not vague memories such as memories from previous lives, but a clear continuation of my life as an extension, now me.

Guilt and regret have not disappeared at all in me for taking over every memory of others, not being reborn.

To me, Mr. Augusto is Mr. Augusto, a complete other person.

So I really didn't like it when he made the life he lived, the life he lived.

That's why I couldn't call anyone's name in my heart who Augusto knew in this country.

I really wish that now was the result of rebirth.

Then I thought it was my second life.

They'll be gone.

The hard stuff is tough, tough, sad, inseparable, and I don't want to admit it.

But still, I may not be able to, but I managed to feel like I just changed my mood.

Crying can be stressful, so I think it's probably because of that.

But when I was refreshed that way, the next thing I care about was reality.

Maybe it doesn't have to be, it's just a real escape.

I can't deny the possibility that I thought that way in an attempt to distract myself from something else in order to escape the pain.

How fat are you? If you put everything behind you, the recoil will come for you.

As for that, it would have been inevitable already.

Because I was only twenty-three years old.

But still, I care about what's bothering me.

I wiped my wet face with tears gently with my palms and exhaled small.

At a normal moment, when I felt signs beside me and turned my gaze, there was a transparent figure of Julia.

...... Intuition, but this isn't Julia herself.

She seemed unaware of my presence, which was supposed to be right on the side of the evidence.

I don't think it's a ghost, but a leftover incense or something like that.

When I reached out to touch her, she disappeared softly so that she could dissolve in the air.

I wonder, fluttering and appearing near the ceiling, she is shaking her shoulders small, covering her face with both hands as she drifts.

It is sad, and ironically very beautiful, that a zero Shizukuishi dissolves into the air from the gap between your fingers.

I guess that's how she cried all the time alone.

It looks like Mr. Julia herself, but no.

It's just a fantasy of moaning and apologizing repeatedly in an unsound voice with a clear, large tear.

It's like a video from the past that captures the sorrow that Julia felt and the various emotions of mourning, guilt, loneliness, etc.

Called soul, Mr. Julia herself no longer exists in this place.

All there is is is flesh that has been shelled out and leftover incense.

Because I mourned in Mr. Augusto's room, that emotion may have triggered it and it came out.

But I was able to notice her because of it, and I was able to cry, so on the contrary, I even felt grateful, and I thought it was good.

If you calm down and observe the area carefully, you will notice that there are rainbow stones in the four corners of the room like fist jewels.

Mr. Augusto's knowledge stated that this stone was a demonic stone.

Demonic stones seem to refer to rare objects from warcraft and, if not rare, from the soil, and rarely occurring pieces of magic clotted like gems.

Apparently, Mr. Augusto's magic in this stone maintains this place because of his senses and memories left in his body.

That fact is unnecessarily sad.

By closing this place to ice, Mr. Augusto kept it as it was for 12 years.

It must be his love that saved Julia's magic and even the remnants of her emotions, which would otherwise be misty.

Although in Mr. Augusto's memory he didn't even see the phantom of this leftover incense.

Four stones about the size of a fist, that's all I can say about saving this place for twelve years.

Awesome, I think I used magic, but maybe that didn't matter.

Did the butler know?

...... Maybe you knew.

Turning her gaze from the visions of the clear Julia drifting in the ceiling to the bed, she still has a beautiful Julia who seems to open her eyes and is different from the one she remembers.

On closer inspection, fingers as thin as dead trees combined over the chest, with stoned rings shining on ice blue reflecting sparkling light, the same color as Mr. Augusto's eyes.

It was a rash, and even though it was going to come off immediately, I remembered that she hadn't tried to take it off in a long time, and the tears that she should have pulled in were zero again.

I can't help but have a hard time understanding her feelings and Augusto's feelings.

...... but as it were, I couldn't leave her body here.

Because Julia herself, and Augusto, can't float, and more importantly, it means nothing.

We need to bury him properly and put him to sleep with Julia's ring and Augusto's.

But before that.

Gently, reach for those thin hands of Julia's body.

Her illness was dead wood disease.

There won't even be a body left to look into the cause of the illness 12 years ago.

But even the air here stays as it was at the time, Mr. Julia is asleep.

I mean, there must still be some left in her body.

the underlying cause of the disease.

On my living planet, I was able to read all the information from a single piece of hair about the person's health and what kind of illness he suffered.

By CT scanning the body, even the cause of death.

There's no way I can't do that when I've become a sage or something of a different dimension.

I wanted to know.

I wanted to clear up Julia's thoughts.

It's only self-satisfying, and maybe it's just a real escape.

But still.

Because I can understand how Julia feels and how Augusto feels.

When I touched her hands, which were supposed to be terribly cold, various pieces of information ran through her brain through magic.

I almost peeked into the knowledge and memory I had left in her body, so that part shuts me out and taps other information into my head.

How did it erode and how did it die?

At the same time, understanding ran through all kinds of emotions, and tears flooded me again.

Dead wood disease is not an infectious disease.

As expected, it was a curse.

Giulia's body was left with a variety of information, such as history, which allowed her to know the details of her composition and background.

Developed in neighboring countries, this is a curse dissolved in water.

An unmistakable curse, although it exploits the rare temper that occurs on this continent.

The existence of chi apparently has the nature to blend into anything.

Using its nature, it seems to have thrown in some corpse and spread this curse throughout this country, packing to its limits the temper with which the curse was granted to the water resources of major cities and cities.

Activation conditions must be incorporated into the body in a certain amount.

Widespread extermination curses are the main targets of those with low magic resistance.

...... so much so that at the same time I understood that the patient was random, I was so frustrated that I couldn't help myself.

I don't know what else to do, but I'm angry.

'Cause magic resistance is normal in this world unless you're a knight.

There's no way that people of working age don't drink any water.

Besides, even if I was working out, it wouldn't be much more.

Because magic resistance is proportional to the total amount of magic.

But there are exceptions to that.

Noble.

Even if the total amount of magic is high, there is no reason why the magic resistance of those who don't need to fight is being built up.

So I guess the people at the time got sick one after the other.

I accidentally bit my teeth, and I felt the sound of Giri, echoing around.

... this curse generates a minimal demonic stone in the body, but also in the heart, to go around the body and suck up all the vitality.

Ultimately, the demon stone that grew larger than the blood vessel gets stuck in the thinner blood vessel, leading to death.

Even if the blood vessels are not jammed with demon stones, they die by rooting their vitality into demon stones and debilitating them.

Such a cruel curse.

Because of the large number of thin blood vessels in her brain, Julia must have suffered a terrible headache.

Even the memories could have been obscured.

─ ─ ─... but that's where I found out the facts that Mr. Augusto didn't know.

"Eh, what?"

The moment I realized it, I was struck by sudden nausea due to stress.

I had zero tears again because I swallowed desperately, but this was too shocking for me as I walked through my routine, so I'm sure I had no choice.

Julia's lying, lower abdomen.

I wanted it to be a mistake, but it feels through magic.

─ ─ ─ It was a demonic stone, in the shape of a small fetus.