Why?
The question kept spinning in Elias's mind, refusing to let go. He didn't want everything to end like this.
Why?
Why did she sacrifice herself?
Why did she come back for him at all?
Why—when she knew it wouldn't change anything?
"In the end… it was you who protected me."
Was this really how it was supposed to end?
No…
This wasn't what he wanted.
It shouldn't have ended this way.
He couldn't believe it.
He wouldn't accept it.
If only…
If only he could go back and start over…
"If there's a god out there, please… give me one more chance. Let me start again. I'll make everything right."
"Your Majesty… Your Majesty, please wake up."
Elias opened his eyes.
The harsh light of the room made him want to shut them again. His breathing was heavy and fast.
"I'm terribly sorry to disturb your sleep, but it's time."
Time? Time for what? Where even was he?
He sat up in bed, dazed. Looked around.
This room… It was his own.
He turned toward the voice.
A few attendants stood near the door, and in front of them all— an older man with gray hair, a stubbled face, and a black suit.
Berlot.
Elias froze.
Berlot? But he… he had died. Weeks ago.
Then what did this mean? How was he back here?
Instinctively, he reached for his neck. Yes—he'd been struck there. But now… it was intact.
Berlot stepped forward cautiously:
"Your Grace… were you having a nightmare?"
A nightmare?
Could it be that everything had just been a dream? A nightmare that lasted for years?
Or maybe…
maybe he was still dreaming.
Elias whispered, "Knife."
Berlot looked confused:
"Pardon, Your Majesty?"
Elias looked at him:
"I need a knife. Now."
Berlot extended a tray with a small fruit knife resting on it. Elias was still seated on the bed.
He picked up the knife carefully, feeling its weight. Without hesitation, he sliced his palm.
Gasps echoed through the room.
"Your Majesty!"
A sharp sting spread across his hand, and drops of blood fell onto the sheets.
No… this wasn't a dream.
"Berlot, what day is it today?"
Berlot tried to answer calmly:
"Today is your coronation day, Your Majesty."
Elias froze. That meant… four years before everything happened.
He rose and walked to the window. He pulled back the curtains. Beneath the clear blue sky,
the shadows of the city's rooftops stretched across the horizon. A familiar view.
He had truly returned to the past.
As he prepared for the ceremony, he tried to assess the situation. He was back at the beginning— before he had lost those he loved,
before his allies had betrayed him.
He needed a plan. He had to find a way to stop what was coming.
After dressing, he dismissed the attendants
and sat before the mirror.
He stared at his reflection.
Eighteen-year-old Elias, with chestnut hair brushed neatly back to match his bright eyes,
and a fresh face that bore the mark of a privileged life.
Later, his troubled mind would wear him down so much that his face would always look tired and hollow.
He had to make the most of this power. It was best to start with the important things. Could he handle it alone? Knowing the future was only a small advantage.
Maybe he needed someone by his side— not just an ally, but someone closer than that.
But who?
As he pondered, he suddenly smacked his forehead.
"Idiot!"
She was right in front of him.
The plan was ready. The first thing he needed to do was bring Daisy to his side.
Tonight, Daisy would attend a party— her first public appearance in five years. No one, not even Elias, had seen her until tonight. So they were strangers to each other.
A knock came at the door. Berlot's voice called from outside:
"Your Majesty, it's time. Everyone is waiting."
Elias had to leave for the coronation ceremony at the temple.