I had guessed what the words written on the paper intended to convey.
That’s why it was difficult to accept the paper.
Yet, despite that, I found it easier to take the paper, as it required no effort to refuse the sincerity and earnestness that had gone into filling it to the brim.
There were no longer any betrothal contests or noble customs binding us together.
I had changed since that day, and reading the words I had filled with respect and admiration—things I had been unable to express back then—began to take shape.
And as I read through every single word, I wanted to convey that there was nothing to apologize for, that I had no reason to feel regret.
Just as I had always intended.
I aimed to relay that there was no reason or qualification for her to accept an apology, to help her lighten the burden of emotion she carried.
After all, it was all in the past now.
Indeed, I was determined to do just that.
But if only my vision hadn’t wavering and my nostrils hadn’t tinged with a burning sensation, I would have conveyed comfort, suggesting that I no longer had to be bound by those days, that the calamity we faced wasn’t anyone’s wrongdoing.
“When you declared your withdrawal that day, to be honest, I couldn’t believe it. I even doubted it. I thought you were escaping, knowing who I was… I’m sorry. Truly.”
The more I read the densely packed words, the more I realized that I not only lacked the right to receive an apology but also the qualifications to offer comfort.
I finally grasped that it was an absolutely natural, unavoidable thing for the protagonist—who was known in the original setting for her cold judgment and keen insight—to lose her composure after a regretful character’s declaration of withdrawal.
“Even after hearing that you had an observer, affirming your consistent change, I denied it anyway… Eventually, I committed a terrible act against you… The sensation of hitting your cheek with my palm still lingers ominously. Yet, because of that feeling, I haven’t forgotten that time. I thought, if I didn’t forget, I could someday apologize…”
Looking back, all I did was commit vile acts against Lumia.
I would merely blame the wrongful possession of my mind, swearing I wouldn’t face the injustices of my former life while ignoring the humiliation and resentment Lumia might have felt.
To avoid my own helplessness, I erased the inference of another’s anguish, and in doing so, I disregarded Lumia’s suffering, instead finding enjoyment in the revenge she wished to pursue while mocking her.
Instead of feeling the agony she should have felt, I turned it into a culinary celebration, and instead of fearing the hunting contest, I trivialized it as a fresh amusement.
I don’t know why the foolish actions I could not feel back then now strike me with clarity, but one thing is certain.
The letters filled in this thin sheet of paper are bringing us back to that day, and it dawns on me that the apology left unspoken on that day is one I must deliver, not Lumia.
Looking at Lumia, who had been tied to her past alone, confined to a memory of mere joy for having escaped, I realized she wasn’t the one who needed to apologize but the one who deserved to receive one.
“I wouldn’t listen to what I heard because I found it unbelievable, and I didn’t see what was in front of my eyes. I had stubbornly clung to the foolish belief that human nature doesn’t change…”
Human nature doesn’t change.
I had thought the same.
I believed that nature was something innate, that it isn’t meant to change but rather to endure.
No matter how hard one tries to completely reshape their identity, I thought that enduring for a long time only made it appear as though one’s nature had changed, much like a heavy smoker’s waiting for their craving to ease.
Elden Raphelion.
Whether it was a prank crafted by a bored divine entity or chaos birthed from interdimensional fractures, I foolishly realized—it matters not if another personality has taken over that villainous role, in Lumia’s eyes, he merely seemed like a villain pretending to have changed.
No matter what actions he took or words he spoke.
Unaware, I had demanded unconditional understanding and pretended to appreciate that which I didn’t comprehend; it felt as if all the sincerity and earnestness packed into this sheet had been laid bare.
I felt embarrassed.
Just with the single resolve of not wanting to be an unfair victim, I had ignored the pain she had endured.
Because of that one-mindedness, pretending not to know the danger facing her at the end of the betrothal contest, I had left with nothing but paltry prayers in my wake. Now, I felt ashamed.
After that.
Lumia faced an even harsher fate due to Deron’s actions, becoming so drained and broken that she nearly extinguished the flame of her own life.
Knowing it could be dangerous, she escaped, wishing for happiness, and just like the carefree Elden from her academy days, she left, indifferent and neglectful of the risks.
“I denied it to the end. Thought you couldn’t change. Thought you shouldn’t. Because if you changed, it would feel like all the violence and suffering I endured would vanish. That’s why I desperately denied it. At first, I really didn’t want you to change for my own desire for revenge. But then, after getting slapped by Lord Gelwood, I came to my senses…”
One night,
I remembered Lumia standing alone on the street, with her swollen cheek and vacant eyes stretched towards the sky.
Her red, swollen cheek and the hazy gaze in her eyes.
The only thing I could offer that night was a tube of ointment.
“Even after that day, I heard stories about how you saved a hat during the wedding day of the betrothal contest, but honestly, I couldn’t believe it. How foolish of me. Looking at the you today, you’ve been changing consistently since you declared your withdrawal…”
Suddenly, I thought,
If the betrothal contest hadn’t been a noose tightening around my neck, would the only thing I could offer Lumia that night have been ointment?
Was giving her ointment really to support her, or was it just a way to alleviate my own guilt with that small gesture?
And then,
“Today, you were so cool. That’s why I’m even more sorry. I asked you to believe me, yet you didn’t. I even slapped you. Please… would you forgive me, even if it’s not too late?”
How could someone who had endured such brutal violence and abuse for three years, someone who had been humiliated and mocked by those who stood by, ask for forgiveness from that bystander?
Has the situation been turned upside down, or did something get terribly mixed up here?
Lumia did nothing wrong.
At least not to me.
While it’s wrong to use the sacred betrothal contest for personal gain, it wasn’t a wrongdoing against me.
Yes, slapping her and causing injury was wrong, but considering what the original Elden did, it was merely an inadequate and justified form of retaliation.
Even so, Lumia seeks reflection and forgiveness.
Even though all that remains for me are memories of past days that evoke no feelings anymore, she still seeks my forgiveness while not forgetting the sensation of my palm on her cheek.
She apologizes for not believing my words.
She apologizes for slapping me.
Yet, she endured even worse at the hands of the original Elden.
Is it perhaps that her sincerity feels sacred?
Or that her true feelings seem beautiful?
Drip.
Something hard to define falls like a drop onto the paper.
Thinking back, I realized I had never truly apologized to her.
For just that one reason that what I did wasn’t my fault, and using the excuse of being possessed by a villainous character, I completely ignored Lumia’s emotions and suffering, merely offering a stiff, formal apology with my head held high.
What if,
Instead of blaming being possessed by a villainous character, I had humbly accepted it as karma and delivered the heartfelt apology she longed for on behalf of my body? Wouldn’t the heroine’s shining future be less overshadowed?
Maybe I didn’t even try and just chose to avoid the situation.
With just that one attempt, Lumia might have considered forgiveness and reconciliation.
If that were the case,
If that were true,
Lumia wouldn’t have lost someone dear, wouldn’t have lost her voice, and she wouldn’t have died forlornly in the decrepit mansion where death was frozen in time.
If she had just shown these tears instead of a mere ornamental apology to avoid the romantic fairy tale, perhaps she would have chosen tolerance over suspicion. A wave of regret washed over me.
In essence, while it wasn’t Elden who changed, it was merely Junwoo within Elden realizing his ideals. Yet, perhaps Lumia’s pure apology might have opened up better options for us than we would ever know.
On the Irretrievable
“Uh, uh… Deron? W-what…?”
I was selfish.
Hypocritical.
Having memories of the original Elden, I painfully ignored the suffering the female protagonist endured for three years, solely focused on my own comfort. It was truly foolish of me to consider Lumia and myself as “the same” victims.
After all, Lumia, who had faced brutal abuse for three years, lost her chance to erase the lifelong stain engrained by that time, and I was certainly not the same kind of victim.
Only now do I realize how arrogant and misguided that line of thinking was. What I needed to do was not to receive an apology, but to give one.
Thud.
Ultimately, unable to finish reading the last line, I knelt down.
If I was going to kneel to this piece of paper, I ought to have done it sooner. If I was going to shed tears for this paper, I should have done it long before now.
“Uh, Elden…?!”
“Please… I hope it’s not too late, but can you forgive me?”
Lumia wrote that.
Now I feel like those words are ones I should be saying, not her.
In place of the reckless Elden,
In place of the indifferent Elden,
Instead of whining childishly about the unfairness of being possessed by a villainous character, I’ve come to realize that accepting that responsibility and offering an apology in her stead is the right thing to do.
And…
I understand now that the “change” I promised her isn’t just about living as Junwoo, but begins with accepting Elden Raphelion.
Denying the essence of who I am is no different from a child throwing a tantrum.
So, I’ve decided to accept my own shell.
“I sincerely apologize for cruelly tormenting and using you, Grand Duchess, for the past three years. I will accept any punishment you deem fit.”
Unlike before, I wouldn’t add unnecessary words, nor would I ask for absolution, nor deny myself.
Unlike before, I won’t turn a blind eye to Lumia’s pain.
Though it may be a belated apology, and a faded one at that,
I bow my head deeply, offering a sincere apology that is not shameful in light of the efforts and genuine feelings she expressed to me.
“Please… I hope it’s not too late to ask for your forgiveness, Grand Duchess.”
What matters isn’t the mistake itself.
What’s important is giving an apology to someone who deserves it.
I hope she accepts it, but if she doesn’t, I’ll fall short of the promised transformation once again.
So, I kept my head bowed, waiting for Lumia’s response.
Whatever it may be, I vowed to accept it gratefully.
Of course,
The warmth that embraced me was so firm, it melted my resolve like snow.
“…”
“…”
Lumia’s embrace surrounds me, her hand comforts me, her tears soak me.
The gentle, trembling breath and the silent caresses felt more painful to my heart than any words could.
Perhaps if I had recognized my essence sooner, this moment might have arrived six months earlier, and while I ache at such a thought, I find healing within Lumia’s warm embrace.
Even now,
I’m thankful I can apologize to her on behalf of the vanished villain.
Pat.
Pat.
Lumia’s hand, the one that slapped my cheek, gently patting my back for so long.
This is the final episode.
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