The trek to the Baron's office was an extremely unpleasant one.

I hadn’t even realized my feet were also bandaged until they began ache and bleed, and I didn’t feel the ache until I saw the blood trailing on the ground and looked down, the rest of my body aching so badly I hadn’t felt the pain in my feet until I actually noticed they were wounded. Honestly, with how filthy this side of the manor was, it was miracle I hadn’t caught an infection and needed to have my feet chopped off. This wing of the building was totally falling apart, and the lack of maids definitely had something to do with.

Limping, leaning against the wall to keep myself steady, I wheezed, struggling to keep my breath. This body didn’t seem to be asthmatic more as it was just weak and out of shape. “Th-This place… is… a f-freaking wreck. Shouldn’t… a Baron’s manor be filled with maids?”

Were they all avoiding this part of the manor because I lived here…? What cliche storyline is this?

“The heck… is everyone?”

No sooner had I asked that did I see someone turning a corner, a cute little lady with short reddish-brown hair carrying a bucket. An actual maid. At the sight of her, I brightened immediately, lifting a bloody bandaged hand in greeting.

“O-Oh, hello!” I smiled at her in a friendly greeting. “I’m sorry, but can you tell me-”

She immediately spun on her heel and took off running the way she came.

My smile twisted into something bitter and I scoffed. “Oh, okay. I see how it is. Thanks for answering that question.” Jeez. “Hello to you. too, miss.”

Hmph.

Continuing my aimless search for the Baron’s office, I limped and scowled, one hand against the wall. “Who needs directions?” I muttered with a slight wheeze. “Not me, clearly. I totally know where the Baron’s office is.”

I had absolutely no idea where it was.

It took about two hours of mindless wandering before I came across a fancy door, praying it was the right place. My legs felt like jello. Walking towards the doors, I couldn’t help but whimper a little, the pain in my feet near unbearable, each step sending spikes of pain through me. A part of my cursed how pretty and clean this side of the manor was. There weren’t any specks of dust or any cracks in the walls or floors, and everything was so prettily decorated. Even now, on either side of the door, were two paintings of what looked to be a beach.

Yet, as I approached the door… preparing to knock… I was suddenly overwhelmed with the alarming sensation of fear.

Something horrible was behind this door.

Swallowing thickly, I tried to push down the fear.

I can do this. The person behind the door isn’t my real father. The Baron is a monster that neglects and torments his own family. Breathe. It’s just a dream. Even if he hits you, it isn’t real.

Reaching a shaky hand up, I knocked on the door, wincing a little as pain erupted in my wounded knuckles. My body, which had already been shaking, began to fully tremble. Even my voice seemed weaker. “I-It’s your daughter, sir.”

Sir?

That’s weird. Why did I use that term? “May I come in?”

“Enter.” A deep voice called out.

I flinched.

Trembling, a lump caught in my throat, the trembling seemed to intensify. My heart was racing wildly in my chest, pounding so loud I could hear it. I wasn’t sure if the wetness on my hands was sweat or blood. Gripping my dress, I inhaled shakily, trying to gather up the courage. I should be fine; even if he hits me, it’s just a dream. Besides, I’ve been hit before. It’s been a long time, but I know I can take it.

Dreams are… just a manifestation of one’s subconscious.

Maybe all the manga I read before bed the day before I had the asthma attack triggered me and I didn’t realize it? That’s a possibility. I tend to ignore any negative emotions and push them down as a coping mechanism, so I might not have noticed as I shut it down instinctively. Whatever the case, this dream can’t last for much longer.

Well, maybe it’d be more accurate to call it a nightmare by this point…

Focus. Inhaling deeply, I turned the doorknob and opened the door. Nod, don’t speak unless spoken to, and don’t antagonize him.

I stepped into the room.

Just smile.

Lacing my fingers together in front of my dress, I beamed as brightly and warmly as I could at the two men standing across from me. One was clearly the butler, given the black uniform he was wearing and his much older age, while the man beside him… looked somewhere in his thirties. He had tan skin and brown eyes identical my own, though the shape of them were much sharper. His long black hair was tied loosely and hung over his shoulder, thick strands of gray making themselves known. His suit wasn’t anything overly expensive or fancy, perhaps because of his status as one of the lowest ranked and most common members of nobility, but I couldn’t help but take notice of the cane he was using to help himself walk.

He was a handsome man, even with that goatee on his chin, but the glare he wore upon seeing me… was anything but kind.

“You-!” The Baron began to rage, whirling around. “You blithering fool of a child! What have you done!?”

There was no hesitation in the way he stormed towards me, the cane clearly more for fashion than practical reasons given his lack of a limp. Seeing him raise his hand, flashes of bad memories came to mind- memories that were both mine and not, belonging to when I had been abused as a child by my aunt, her boyfriend, and their child, and memories belonging to this dream of all the times this man had hit me, screaming and cursing and blaming me for everything that’s gone wrong in his life. My body instinctively tensed. I clenched my jaw.

“When will you learn to behave!?”

But there was nothing I could do to stop my frail body from being thrown to the ground by the sheer strength of the blow, his hand smacking against my face at full force.

“You’re as wretched as your mother! Is that why you’re acting this way!? For the final time, I wasn’t what killed her!”

Coughing and trembling, I struggled to sit up. That hit was a little unexpected, given I thought I was doing everything properly by being polite. What set him off? The smile? Oh, wait, if this is old nobility, then… I know what it was. He snapped after seeing me, right? Then he must have gotten mad because I cut off my hair.

“You debut into society in just four years; get a hold of yourself, child!” The Baron continued to lecture, waving a hand about as he glared and scowled at me. Glancing to the side, feeling an immense pain in the right side of my face where he hit me, my eye not opening fully and my lip bleeding from where it had been busted, I saw that the butler was looking on apathetically, not even an ounce of sympathy or pity in his eyes. It was as if he were used to this kind of scene. “Cease this pathetic behavior at once!”

Ignoring the Baron’s shouting, I simply continued to move, everything in my body hurting as I shifted, but instead of standing I just took a seat on the carpet rug I landed on, crossing my legs in the most unlady-like fashion and only infuriating the lord more.

It was truly ridiculous how he busted my lip with just one smack. My body was weak before, but now even my bones feel brittle.

Lifting my head, I stared up at the Baron with cold eyes, arms draped loosely in my lap. “I didn’t like how long my hair was, so I cut it off.” I stated matter-of-factly. Before this dream began, either side of my head had been shaved and I had the rest pulled back in a little rat’s tail. Even the amount of hair left I have now after cutting it still felt so heavy on my head. “What does your dead wife have to do with it?”

Just what on earth is my position in this house? I need to figure that out first, just in case. The idea of dying in a dream fills me with anxiety, but… not knowing if this is reality making that anxiety, and the horribly vivid pain in my face, a thousand times worse.

…

East of the Baron’s territory, within a Count’s estate, was a young girl, no older than sixteen, who was sleeping soundly within her bed.

Her beautiful curly mane of black hair was tucked safely in a silk pink bonnet, thick red blankets embroidered with golden thread in the pattern of roses covering her softly sleeping form. She seemed to have naught to worry for, as a wealthy woman born into the middle ranks of nobility, with loving parents who doted on her and an older brother who cared for her. But, as she slept, golden butterflies fluttered into the room... and their dust tickled her face.

Slowly, she blinked open her crimson eyes, confusion dancing across her lovely features, but that confusion didn’t last long. The young girl gasped, sitting upright with a sharp inhale and wide eyes. She was breathing heavily, alarm writing across her face as she realized at once what had happened.

Again!? The girl thought, not even bothering to look around the room, already knowing where she was- as it was not the first time she had woken up here.

Suddenly, a voice called out for her. “Alice! Ali!?”

Her brother.

The girl named Alice was quick to jump out of her bed, kicking off the blanket and stumbling forward, her dark skin contrasting against her pink nightgown. “A-Alistair!?” A strange mixture of panic and relief flooded through her, as well as a desperation, needing to see for herself that her older brother was alright. “Alistair, I’m here!”

She stumbled through her room, leaning against a nightstand and nearly knocking down the vase of red roses that rested on it.

“I-I’m unharmed! It’s just another reverse!”

Alice could hear her brother’s footsteps.

“I’m in my room!”

“Ali!” The bedroom door slammed open, and there her brother was- breathing just as heavily as she was, his long black hair flowing down his shoulders and to his waist.

Unlike the rest of his family, he been born with straight hair, a most unusual trait, and so Alice normally straightened her hair so as to make him feel less odd. But, as always, she awoke on her sixteenth birthday without fail, and her hair had yet to be straightened after it returned to its usual state two days previously. Though, to Alice, those “two days previously” feel like an eternity ago.

Just how long has time been reversing? How many times must she relive the same ten years all over again? How many times must she fail?

Her poor brother was gifted memory of the resets, but not even he remembers all of them. All the times he died were gone from his memory, so he only remembers half of their failed attempts at saving the kingdom. What he remembers now is surely the attempt before the last, and Alice didn’t stop him when he charged forward to embrace her, hugging her tight and wiping the tears from her face.

“We failed again.” She choked out, and he looked at with sad eyes.

“I know…”

“H-How much longer must this go on?” Alice cried, burying her face in his chest as she wrapped her arms tight around his back, Alistair holding her close. Her sink bonnet falling from her head, having grown loose from all the movement, Alistair rested a hand against the back of her head, allowing her to sob into his shoulder. “I can not… take much more of this! This is the third time I’ve lost you…! Please, stop sacrificing yourself for me! W-We don’t… We don’t know if there’ll be a seventh chance!”

“...Seventh?” Alistair echoed, baffled by that comment. He made a face, squinting an eye at his younger sister. “Isn’t this the third reverse? Wait, before that-”

Just like every other time she told him about his deaths, he pulled back from her, a befuddled look on his face as he stared down at her.

“Are you saying I died again?” He remembered being told about them, but he still doesn’t actually remember it happening.

“Yes!” Alice exclaimed, a surge of rage flooding through her as she grasped him by his nightshirt and shook him, before hitting his chest with her fists. “Thrice now, you self-sacrificing fool of a brother!” She released him, just to smack his chest with her fists. “Stop it!”

Every time he fails to remember, and every time she’s left to remember the feel of his blood, wet and hot and sticky, against her hands. Every time she looks at him she remembers the image of his body being pierced, his throat being slit, and now…

Breathing a bit shallow and uneven, Alice inhaled shakily and stepped back, folding her arms over her chest as she gripped the sleeves of her nightgown. A disturbed, yet frustrated look crossed her face. “This time… it was during the final battle.” She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, her brows furrowing as she remembered the screams of the kingdom as it was burned down and utterly destroyed by the creatures going on a rampage. “S… Sliced apart… by the dragon’s claws. You died, I delivered the final blow, and Reinhardt… when he took his final breath… time reversed again.”

Every time.

Without fail.

It reverses.

“Just where do we keep going wrong…?” She asked, voice cracking as she closed her eyes and lowered her head, her fingers digging into her arms. “Why can’t we stop the curse from driving him mad?”

There must be something they’re missing, something they haven’t tried yet.