Five Years Remaining
“…Mae…ve… Teach…er…”
Unable to bear the noise any longer, the woman cracked open her heavy eyelids. A fierce light struck her eyes, and she scowled. What? Am I alive?
“Teacher. Why are you staring off into space like that?”
“…? Count Airon? You escaped?!”
Count Airon tilted his head to one side, looking thoroughly puzzled.
“Escaped? Well, I did escape that hellish mountain of paperwork, yes.”
Maeve stared at him with her mouth hanging open at the baffling reply. Amid the jostling of the carriage, the count smiled kindly—and he looked younger than he had in the prison. Had he found some rejuvenating elixir after his reinstatement?
Beyond the carriage window stretched a clear sky. There was no trace of the razor-edged tension or the terror that had gripped the capital under rebel control.
“And the… rebellion?”
“Rebellion? I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Teacher. Did you have a nightmare?”
Count Airon regarded Maeve with worried eyes. She thought it through: a rejuvenated count, surroundings that knew nothing of any rebellion, and this carriage. She looked down at herself. Her hands were full of documents.
A report card. A name was written on it. Melissa Airon, eighth year, Imperial Academy. The final exam results. Surely not…
“Are we… on our way to Lady Melissa’s graduation right now?”
“Perhaps we should stop for a moment after all. Teacher… have you suddenly come down with amnesia…?”
The carriage halted. Oh, for heaven’s sake. Maeve clutched her head. Yes—this was a setup she had seen somewhere before. Years ago, when she had confiscated one of Lady Melissa’s trashy novels and secretly read it herself. Regression, or whatever they called it…
My lady. Instead of studying like you’re supposed to, what on earth are you doing? What does it matter which house succeeds at what business, and when?!
If I regress, I need this knowledge to make a fortune! It’s far more important than studying!
…Hand the novel back over. This time I’m burning it for good!
The memory was vivid. Her head throbbed. Maeve had not the slightest idea why this was happening to her. She deliberately felt along her throat.
The ghastly sensation of coughing up blood sent a shiver through her. But there was no pain now. Unless she had simply dreamed something extraordinarily vivid, this was regression. Nothing else explained it.
Having climbed down from the carriage to sit in the grass, Maeve watched the count approach.
“If you’ve calmed down, let’s be on our way again. Melissa is waiting.”
“Yes… I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Hahaha, whatever for? Once Melissa graduates I won’t see much of you, so if you’ve caught a case of amnesia just so you can keep teaching my daughter longer, I understand the impulse completely!”
The count laughed with hearty abandon. Ah—right. He had always been a hopeless doting father. A faint smile touched Maeve’s face, which had been frozen stiff until now. She nodded. Past or present, the count was the same unchanging man.
All the way to the Imperial Academy, Maeve half-listened to the count’s endless boasting about Melissa and thought. The situation was certainly bewildering, but since it had already happened, she had to accept reality.
Her senses were far too sharp for this to be a dream, and the memory of drinking poison and dying was far too clear to dismiss as a mere nightmare. That left only one answer. She had truly returned to the past.
Maeve steeled herself quickly. Denying reality would solve nothing. This was a second chance that had fallen into her lap. Used well, she could produce a different outcome this time. If today was the lady’s graduation, then roughly five years remained until Duke Cardenas’s rebellion.
Five years.
Long if you thought of it one way, short if you thought of it another. Far too little time to build power of her own and stop him directly; far too much time to sit on her hands and do nothing.
She needed to start by considering what she could change within five years. If she wanted to alter the future in which the crown prince died, there were several approaches. The most direct was for Maeve herself to remove Jack from the prince’s side. But she could not be certain how other variables would interfere with that plan.
Even if she selected another servant and steered him into helping the prince escape, there was no guarantee that person would not betray them. Being betrayed after placing her trust in someone was an experience she needed only once.
Or she could smuggle the crown prince out of the palace entirely before the rebellion even began. No. Too many variables there as well, Maeve thought.
Then what am I supposed to do? She sighed. The count in front of her glanced back at her and folded his arms.
“Must you keep fretting like that and making a man nervous?”
He narrowed his eyes and asked. Maeve, who had briefly forgotten him, bowed her head again. A man with nothing left to lose can make any choice without hesitation. The words she had heard from him before dying rang clear. A man with nothing left to lose.
Duke Selver Cardenas had chosen rebellion among countless methods of revenge. It was certainly the surest path—but failure would cost him a house that had stood for centuries, and his own life.
He had staked his status, his life, and his honor. Why? Even carrying that risk, he had maintained that unfailingly leisurely attitude, that air of not particularly caring. Looking back now, it was strange behavior.
She recalled her exchange of questions and answers with the duke. What had he still possessed? Family and close retainers were all dead. And those he had trusted… seemed to have betrayed him…
Maeve’s bowed head snapped up.
“My lord!”
The surest way to keep the crown prince from dying. Simple; no need to agonize. Before he lost everything, abandoned reason, and committed the madness of rebellion—she only had to erase the cause of the rebellion itself.
“Hm?”
“So you really didn’t win the premiership at the gambling tables!”
“…? What exactly have you been taking me for all this time…”
It had been a very long time since she last visited the Imperial Academy. With graduation season in full swing, the front of the main building thronged with people carrying bouquets. Graduates chatted quietly with their families. Everyone wore happy smiles. The scene felt a little strange to Maeve.
Only moments ago she had been drinking poison in a dark prison cell. It hardly felt real. Yet she liked this lively atmosphere. A faint smile rose to her lips.
She was so absorbed in savoring the cheerful energy after so long that only much later did she remember Count Airon. Fortunately the count was carrying a bouquet larger than anyone else’s, so finding him was not difficult. He had spotted Melissa waving lightly from a distance and was already pushing through the crowd.
Maeve hurried after him.
By the time she reached Melissa, the count was already weeping with pride over his daughter. Melissa stood before him, patting his back with an expression that said she was mildly appalled.
“My lady, have you been well?”
“Huh? Teacher Maeve?”
Maeve held out the gift she had prepared and called to her. Melissa’s eyes went wide; she gave her father a light shove to the side and stepped up to her teacher. The displaced count collapsed to the ground, fully inhabiting the role of a tragic heroine.
“I asked you to come, but you actually came!”
“Wasn’t that why you invited me?”
Maeve smiled, the corner of her mouth lifting. For all Melissa’s words, her face made it plain how glad she was to see her. Maeve pressed the gift into Melissa’s hands.
“Congratulations on your graduation.”
Melissa accepted it with a bright smile. When she opened the pouch, she found several small biscuits inside. Her face filled with confusion.
“What is this?”
“Biscuits. You’re heading to the temple for the coming-of-age rite next, aren’t you?”
Graduating from the Academy was important in noble society in its own right, but its greater meaning was that one became an adult.
As soon as the ceremony ended, graduates proceeded to the temple for the coming-of-age rite; those qualified to inherit their houses then received the honor of knighthood before the emperor.
All of it happened in one continuous stretch with the Academy graduation. In other words, it meant being relentlessly busy without a moment’s rest.
“You know you can’t eat anything at the temple, right? It’s harder than you’d think.”
They called it a coming-of-age rite, but it was a day-long ceremony of prayer on an empty stomach. Maeve recalled her own graduation. With only slight exaggeration, she had truly believed she was about to return to the gods’ embrace. She had no desire to create more victims of that rite. Especially not her own student starving to death—that she absolutely would not stand for.
“I guarantee you’ll need them.”
“…It’s that hard? But… isn’t this a bit much?”
“Might as well put a few people in your debt while you’re at it, don’t you think?”
Maeve smiled, the corner of her mouth curling. Melissa seemed to catch on; she grinned and swiftly tucked the biscuits into her bodice.
Remember this, my lady. At the temple, the one with food is the law.
Of course I know, Teacher.
Maeve and Melissa exchanged a look.
Thud—
A dull impact from behind the building made Maeve turn her head. Melissa followed her gaze.
“Ah. Those idiots again.”
Three tall, well-dressed boys who looked every bit the upperclassmen were shoving a somewhat scrawny boy to the ground. She could not see the fallen child’s face, but the jet-black hair stirred a sense of recognition.
“Who is that?”
“Donation students. Not all of them, but there are always a few morons who think money buys everything.”
Melissa made no effort to hide her disgust. Maeve gave her hand a light tap in warning.
“There are eyes everywhere. Mind your expression. Mind your expression.”
Maeve murmured quietly. Melissa quickly composed her face and modulated her voice.
“And the student who fell?”
“Ah, you know—the one adopted into the Cardenas ducal house last year or the year before…”
Melissa frowned as if trying to dredge up the name. Having heard the description, Maeve spoke first.
“…Aern Cardenas.”
“Ah! That’s it!”
Melissa’s expression cleared at Maeve’s words. She had heard the rumors circulating through high society, of course, but this was her first time seeing Aern Cardenas in person.
An heir bought with money from a fallen cadet branch. A half-baked young duke with vulgar commoner’s blood. Those were the labels the noble world used for him.
Maeve recalled how, in her previous life, the nobles had endlessly gossiped about the young duke’s origins and manners. She had known most salon talk was exaggerated and inflated, but she had not realized he was treated this way even at the Academy.
“Me… Melissa…”
From behind them, the count who had been sprawled on the ground staggered to his feet and lurched toward his daughter. Being shoved aside by her seemed to have been quite the shock. Watching him, Maeve allowed a small smile and spoke to Melissa.
“My lady, please look after the count for a moment. I’ll step away briefly.”
The adopted son. Aern Cardenas. The duke’s reverse scale.
A good idea had just occurred to her.
Without further comment, Melissa supported her father and steered him toward a wooden bench in a corner of the garden. Maeve watched them for a moment, then headed for the rear of the main building.