A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 117

Chapter 117: Sophien (2) Part 2

The primary heir of the Imperial family, Sophien, was always accompanied by her mirror. The hand mirror that hung from her waist had long become a symbol associated with her among the palace officials.

Whenever she mentioned the Professor, it stirred a mix of concern and relief—concern that she might be losing her mind and relief that, perhaps, this imagined Professor helped her escape her pain, even if only briefly.

"Sophie."

"Yes, Father," Sophien replied.

Even on the day she met with the Emperor, her father Crebaim, she carried her hand mirror.

Crebaim smiled gently and asked, “Is the friend in your mirror well?”

She hesitated for a moment, her lips moving silently. No one in the palace had ever believed her. Part of the reason was that the Professor never revealed himself.

"Yes, Father. He is doing well."

"Good. If you and your friend are well, that makes me happy."

"... Yes."

After a brief exchange, Crebaim offered her a new hand mirror as a gift. Sophien accepted it with courtesy and ended the meeting with the Emperor, though the gesture brought her no real joy.

After all, once she died and returned again, the mirror would vanish along with everything else. As she made her way back to her chambers, something caught her attention—her younger brother Kreto’s room. She glanced around and quietly slipped inside.

The soft sound of breathing filled the room. A child, around three years old, lay asleep on the bed.

Sophien gazed at him, a faint smile on her lips, and said, "What do you think? He can’t even speak yet, but isn’t he precious?"

As she spoke to the hand mirror, a response echoed back, "Indeed."

Her younger brother Kreto, at just three years old, had always been a chubby little thing. Though they shared only half the same blood, she found him endearing every time she looked at him. He was one of the few in this life who could still make her smile.

"... I’m glad he won’t have to endure a life as painful as mine," Sophien murmured, gently brushing his plump cheek. Kreto frowned and rolled over with a quiet grunt. "We should leave before someone notices. It would be rather undignified."

She gave his cheek a few more gentle pokes with her fingers before stepping outside. Her footsteps echoed through the halls as she made her way back to her room.

***

That marked the end of her ordinary days. On the night she touched Kreto’s face, Sophien developed sepsis. She hadn’t even been able to withstand the germs from a mere three-year-old child.

“Your Highness—!” the despairing cries of her vassals echoed like background noise.

She died that day, beginning her fourth cycle of regression, then the fifth, sixth, seventh, and so on. The cycles continued naturally, one after another. During that time, Sophien didn’t live with any more determination, nor did she endure better because of my presence.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Her mind had fractured more than once. She had turned to suicide countless times, repeatedly hovering on the verge of madness.

“Anyway, it will all start over again. Again, and again! I’ll fucking begin from the start once more! What’s the point of this cursed life...”

She had only fallen into complete madness up until her seventy-sixth cycle. After that, she gave in. Having died seventy-six times, Sophien spent her days lying in bed.

"Your Highness," the vassals called out.

Sophien stayed quiet.

~

[Seventy-seventh Cycle]

Sophien's weary face shifted toward me, her appearance far too frail for an eight-year-old.

"No matter how many cycles you repeat, certain things remain unchanged. Some skills, for instance, do not fade," I said.

“... And what might that be?” Sophien asked.

“Chess. No matter how many times you regress, your skill in chess remains unchanged.”

That was why I had suggested chess to her. Even with constant practice, Sophien had yet to reach the skill level needed to defeat me.

"... Well, good for you," she scoffed, turning her back to me.

It didn’t seem to be working. I watched her in silence, wondering how many more cycles I could endure, and how much longer I could survive.

“Your Highness.”

“What now?”

I was dying. More than half of my lung and heart function had already shut down, and the demonic energy coursing through my veins pressed heavily on my nerves, sending waves of unbearable pain with every breath.

"Perhaps we could establish a signal between us," I suggested.

Therefore, I had to conserve my strength and allocate my time wisely.

“A signal?”

“Yes, a signal for when you wish to summon me.”

Knock, knock—

I tapped her full-length mirror twice with my fingers.

“If you tap the mirror twice like this, I will awaken.”

“Why bother?”

“Even I require time to sleep, Your Highness.”

“Hmph. I can’t sleep from the pain, and yet you’re going to leave me here to sleep?” Sophien grumbled, her tone still childlike, much like her complaints.

“However, I will spend all of my waking hours by your side.”

There had been no other way. I could barely move, and my lower body was almost completely paralyzed.

“... Fine, do as you wish,” Sophien said, clearly reluctant but without any other choice.

I could no longer deny it—demonic energy was devouring my body.

“But tomorrow, I’m going to commit suicide,” Sophien muttered in frustration.

And so, she did. The following day, she took her own life, and the world reset once more. From that moment, I bore witness to the endless cycle of repetitions, all while enduring my own suffering.

Life repeated, death repeated, despair echoed. Everything began again, disappeared, and started over once more. Disease and suffering, humanity and all creation, the world and its laws, mind and body, time and space, evil and good, light and darkness...

All of existence had lost its meaning, drifting aimlessly through the void.

Until, at last...

[One-hundred-fiftieth cycle]

I realized that the time had finally arrived.

***

It was December, in the depths of winter. Harsh, cold winds swept across the continent, and winter beasts wreaked havoc on towns and villages. Yet, in the gardens of the Imperial Palace, delicate petals still floated through the air. A warm, tender atmosphere wrapped gently around the palace.

“Cough, cough, didn’t I tell you to get lost?” came a harsh and sluggish voice, as foul as the stench of rotting fish, breaking the peace.

“Hmm... Today is December 31st, which means tomorrow will be January 1st.”

“Hmph. What nonsense,” Sophien scoffed, her lips curling in annoyance.

Sophien scoffed at the absurdity of his words, thinking, What a ridiculous request.