Chapter 70 : Pain

When Yuri returned to the mansion and received the letter from the butler, she learned that it was at her own request. She had no memory of such a thing, but with a mix of doubt and suspicion, she opened it to check.

“…!”

The entire paper bore just one word, written large.

[ Back ]

“…?”

There was no other writing or note—just the single, bold “Back.”

‘What is this…?’

Judging from the circumstances, it seemed clear that she had written it herself and handed it to the butler, yet Yuri had no idea why such a meaningless word remained.

‘I don’t remember writing this…’

Above all, it was strange that she had no memory of it. The more she pondered the reason, the tighter her head felt.

‘Is this just someone’s prank…?’

She could only imagine that someone had impersonated her and played this trick. One thing gnawed at her, though: the butler wouldn’t have failed to recognize her. He had watched over her for nineteen years since her birth—she was certain he could distinguish her even if someone had disguised themselves.

Yet he had clearly said that Yuri herself had given him this paper.

‘…I need to look into this more.’

In case the paper hid other letters or meanings, Yuri took it to her room to examine it closely.

Nothing. There was nothing.

She tried everything, testing for invisible ink that might reveal itself under specific conditions, but the only thing on the page was the large “Back” written in the center.

‘What does “back” mean…? Is it about light…?’

Just in case, she held it near a fire, but nothing happened except for the edge of the paper scorching slightly.

‘Back… Back…?’

A sense of unease crept in. She slipped her hand beneath the clothes at the back of her neck and felt around.

‘…?’

There, she encountered a strange sensation that shouldn’t have been there. It felt burned, rough, like a raised wound. Realizing that “back” referred to her own back, Yuri turned to the full-length mirror in her room and pulled down her top.

‘…!’

Reflected in the mirror were two small characters etched directly onto her skin.

[ Saya ]

‘Saya… Saya…?’

She didn’t know why, but the word felt familiar. It was unmistakably a name—someone’s name. A name that stirred anger in her just by thinking it, making her brows furrow.

‘Who did this? When? No, more importantly, why…?’

She couldn’t fathom why she’d carve a meaningless word onto her body when a simple note would suffice.

‘Saya…?’

Oddly, whenever she repeated the name, the image of the black-haired Sarkas human she’d encountered earlier that day flashed in her mind.

Jet-black long hair. Red eyes. Battle scars etched across her body. She didn’t know why these details surfaced, but unfamiliar images overlapped with her memories, creating dissonance. Fragments of time spent with someone she’d never met pieced themselves together like a puzzle in her head.

‘…Stop, stop…!’

Overwhelmed by the splitting headache that followed, Yuri Freesia shattered the mirror before her.

Engraving a word unrelated to her memories directly onto a private part of her body—that had been the desperate measure past Yuri Freesia had devised through countless experiments.

She had already sensed, through Carne’s case, that she wasn’t safe from brainwashing upon contact with Violet. To shield her mind, she’d taken dangerously high doses of stimulants daily.

As she’d feared, merely looking into Violet’s eyes and speaking with him had allowed him to tamper with her mind. She felt him erasing memories of a girl named Saya, replacing them with an instinctive loyalty to him alone.

‘…It was this elaborate…’

Whenever she faced Violet, fragments of her memory vanished, so she began recording everything with painstaking effort. What started as a single notebook grew until memos covered her entire room. But it was all futile.

Each time she returned home and took stimulants out of habit, the lost memories resurfaced—but when she came to, she’d always find she’d erased her own records. The memos were scribbled over with pen until illegible; even traces on furniture or desks were meticulously wiped away with tools. It was as if her body refused to let those memories linger.

‘Even the stimulants are useless now.’

Over time, even the stimulants brought back less and less. At first, she could recall every detail from start to finish, but now only fleeting scenes remained. Tolerance to the drug played a part, but the root cause was clear: the brainwashing’s hold on her was growing stronger.

‘I can’t forget. If I forget…’

No matter how creatively she tried to preserve her memories, she’d awaken to find she’d destroyed the records with her own hands. Perfect recall was impossible. So she resolved to leave only the most vital word—the one she must never forget.

To do that, she had to outsmart even herself. She visited an illegal clinic in an alley, paid a hefty sum, and made a request.

“…I want these letters engraved.”

She asked the clinician to come to the mansion and perform the procedure while she slept. She instructed him never to mention it, even if they crossed paths later, and devised a trigger to one day prompt herself to check the words on her back.

Her solution was to leave a note with the simple word “back” for the butler. Since “back” bore no direct link to the memory she needed to protect, her uncontrollable self wouldn’t erase it.

On the scheduled day, she’d take a heavy dose of sleeping pills and fall asleep beforehand. When she awoke, she wouldn’t even realize the procedure had happened.

Now, all she could do was wait and hope that, seven months later, she’d check the words etched into her body thanks to that note. Even if the letters were somehow erased, it wouldn’t matter.

Unlike memories, the sensation of pain—tied directly to her body—couldn’t be erased unless she died.

“Did you wake up, Miss Yuri?”

“…”

“There was a wound on your back, cut by something sharp. It looks like glass stabbed you, but I’m a little worried…”

As he spoke, she felt a sharp pain in a specific spot on her back. Yet it seemed vague, as if it had been cut multiple times, not just pierced by glass.

“…I’ve been so tense lately, I must’ve lost my mind for a moment… Ugh…!?”

The wound throbbed, sending waves of pain through her. But with each pulse, a certain emotion surged within her. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, dressed herself, and climbed out of bed.

“Are you leaving already…? You’re still bleeding…”

“I’ll head back to the academy now. I’ve been away too long.”

Though she’d forgotten useless memories entirely, something kept prodding her—a sensation tied to the pain in her back.

‘That woman…!’

Whenever she thought of the black-haired woman she’d narrowly missed that day, something dormant in Yuri stirred.

She didn’t know what it was, but she felt certain that something had shifted in her life, which had felt colorless for far too long.

‘I’ll catch you no matter what…’

Commander Violet stood before the academy’s instructors and hundreds of Spirit Masters, delivering the news in a mournful tone.

“I can hardly believe it myself, but Combat Instructor Cled, who has shone brilliantly on countless battlefields…”

He paused, then continued with a heavy voice.

“…I’ve learned he’s been plotting a coup for some time.”

His words left the crowd incredulous. Amid the murmurs, Violet pressed on, his voice quiet but firm.

“Last night, he threatened me while drunk. After I subdued him and questioned him relentlessly, he confessed.”

He closed his eyes, as if lost in thought, then spoke with resolve.

“I know he’s achieved great things, but rebellion is a grave crime. To restore order, I have no choice but to make this decision.”

His proclamation followed:

“Seven days from today, we will hold the execution ceremony of Spirit Master Cled.”