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{3rd Pov}
Anastasia Hoshin sat inside her office, calmly reviewing the latest information she had received regarding the movements of the Crusch camp.
Documents were spread neatly across her desk as she analyzed each detail, her sharp mind already working to determine how she could turn these developments to her advantage.
For Anastasia, every movement made by another camp represented a potential opportunity—or a potential profit.
Outside the hotel, the three cat siblings were enjoying a meal together.
Ricardo stood guard near the entrance of the hotel, accompanied by more than a dozen soldiers and magicians under Anastasia's command.
The area was well-secured, with personnel positioned at every important route and vantage point.
As a result, Anastasia was completely alone inside her room.
This arrangement was intentional.
Because Anastasia carried a secret in the form of Eridna, she had developed the habit of isolating herself whenever possible.
Being alone allowed her the privacy she needed to speak freely with Eridna without fear of being overheard.
It wasn't that she distrusted her guards or doubted their competence—far from it.
The soldiers, magicians, and mercenaries protecting the hotel were thorough and vigilant.
Every entrance and corridor was under constant observation, ensuring that no one could approach unnoticed.
Their presence guaranteed her safety while simultaneously giving her the solitude she required.
With the perimeter secure and her privacy assured, Anastasia could focus entirely on her thoughts—and on the conversations only she was meant to hear.
She picked up a cookie from the plate beside her, absentmindedly bringing it to her lips.
Just as she took a bite, her eyes suddenly went blank.
For a brief moment, she simply stared at the documents laid out on her desk, unmoving.
Then her heartbeat spiked violently, thudding in her ears as a sharp sense of wrongness washed over her.
Her breathing hitched as she began blinking rapidly, struggling to focus.
A gasp tore from her throat.
She shot up from her chair in a sudden, uncontrolled motion, only to lose her balance and fall to the floor with a dull thud.
The sound echoed softly within the room, but it drew no immediate response.
The office was tightly sealed, reinforced with good soundproofing meant to keep most of the outside noise out—and inside noise contained.
'Anastasia? Are you alright?' Eridna's voice echoed urgently inside her mind.
'What just happened? Why did you react like that?'
Anastasia's breath came fast and uneven as she scrambled backward, pressing herself away from the desk.
Her eyes darted around the room in panic, her hand instinctively reaching for something to defend herself with.
"Who is talking to me?!" she shouted, her voice sharp and filled with alarm as she scanned her surroundings warily.
That shout was enough.
The sealed safeguards disengaged, and the reinforced doors finally opened.
Almost immediately, guards stormed into the room, weapons drawn, alerted by the sudden disturbance and the breach of silence.
"Miss Anastasia Hoshin! Are you alright?!" one of the guards shouted as he rushed forward, his eyes immediately taking in the scene—the overturned chair, the scattered documents, and Anastasia standing rigidly in the middle of the room, her posture tense and defensive.
"Where am I?!" she demanded sharply.
"Who are you people?!"
Her voice was strained with panic as she thrust her palm forward on instinct, attempting to activate magic she barely understood in that moment.
However, the instant she tried, a sharp, searing pain shot through her body.
"Ah—!" she yelped, clutching her hand as the sensation forced her to recoil.
At the same time, Eridna's voice rang out inside her mind, filled with disbelief and alarm.
'Have you completely lost your mind?!' Eridna shouted.
'Your gate isn't stable! Why would you even try to use magic in that state?!'
There was a brief pause before the voice continued, sounding even more shaken.
'Wait—how do you even know how to use magic?'
The guards exchanged uneasy glances as the situation rapidly spiraled out of control.
Anastasia's confusion, her hostile reaction, and her sudden attempt to what looked like cast magic made it clear that something was seriously wrong.
One of the guards stayed close to her, lowering his weapon slightly but keeping a cautious stance, clearly prepared to intervene if necessary.
The other guard turned and sprinted out of the room, his voice echoing down the hallway as he shouted for reinforcements.
He called for help—specifically for Ricardo and Julius—to come immediately.
Whatever was happening to Anastasia Hoshin, it was far beyond a simple shock or fainting spell.
Soon after, Julius arrived at her room, followed closely by Ricardo, both of whom had been staying at the hotel.
The moment they entered, they were met with a troubling sight.
Anastasia stood near the guards, visibly panicked and deeply confused.
Her attention was fixed on her own arms and clothes, her fingers brushing over the fabric as if she were trying to understand what she was seeing—or even what she herself was.
The atmosphere in the room was tense.
"My Lady!" Julius said immediately, stepping forward with urgency in his voice. "
I was informed that something had happened to you. I came as fast as I could!"
The sound of his voice hit Anastasia like a shock.
She froze.
It was a voice she had not heard in a very long time—a voice she had believed was gone forever.
Slowly, almost mechanically, she lifted her head and looked at the man who had spoken.
Standing before her was a man with light purple hair and striking yellow eyes.
He was standing upright, alive, breathing, and very much present in front of her.
Julius Juukulius.
Her mind reeled.
This should have been impossible.
He was supposed to be dead.
She had killed him herself long ago.
There was no mistake about that.
And yet, there he stood, unharmed, speaking to her as if nothing had ever happened.
The sight alone was enough to make her heart race as reality itself seemed to crack beneath her feet.
She turned her head slowly and found Ricardo as well—standing there alive, solid, and unmistakably real.
The sight of him only added to the growing confusion twisting inside her chest.
At the same time, she became increasingly aware of her own appearance.
She was wearing clothes she clearly remembered from long ago, garments she had not worn in years.
Fragments of blurry memories began resurfacing one after another, overlapping with sensations that felt far too familiar.
And then there was that voice—ringing clearly inside her head, just as it had done ages ago.
That voice had never left her.
Everything started to connect.
Her youthful body.
Julius and Ricardo standing before her, alive.
The unmistakable presence of the voice she used to hear directly within her mind.
Slowly, a single conclusion forced its way to the surface.
'Did I return to the past?', she thought in disbelief.
There was no other explanation that made sense.
Nothing else could account for all of it at once.
The only possibility that fit was the one she didn't want to accept.
The fact that she was young again.
The fact that those who should have been dead were standing before her.
And the fact that the artificial spirit Eridna—whose voice she had not heard in ages—was once again speaking to her directly.
All signs pointed in the same direction.
She had returned to the past.
But how?
That question echoed relentlessly in her mind.
Something like this should not have been possible.
Returning to the past—rewinding one's life so completely—defied everything she understood about the world.
'Is this the work of my husband?', she wondered suddenly.
The thought struck her hard.
He had possessed the authority to return to the past upon his death.
That much she knew better than anyone.
It was the power that had defined his suffering, his struggles, and his victories.
'Did it somehow affect me as well?, she continued thinking.
The idea felt both terrifying and absurd.
'It should have been impossible,' she argued with herself.
'That authority was his alone. It never worked on anyone else. Not even once.'
And yet, doubt crept in.
'But what if… what if something changed at the very end?' she thought.
'What if it activated differently when he died of old age?'
Her chest tightened as another possibility surfaced.
'Did this happen at the exact moment we died?'
The more she questioned it, the more her thoughts spiraled out of control.
Each answer only led to more uncertainty, more contradictions, and more fear.
Her mind raced, jumping from one conclusion to another, unable to settle on anything concrete.
Before she realized it, the weight of those unanswered questions became too much.
"M'Lady! Are you alright?!" Julius asked urgently as he stepped forward, instinctively reaching out to grab her hand.
She reacted immediately, jerking her hand away from his grasp before he could touch her.
Her expression tightened for a brief moment before she forced herself to calm down.
Taking a deep breath, she steadied her racing thoughts and spoke in a controlled voice.
"I am alright," she said.
"I must have dozed off for a moment and had… a bad dream."
She hesitated briefly, as if choosing her words carefully.
"It confused me," she continued, shifting her gaze toward Ricardo.
"Can you tell me what I was doing before that?"
Ricardo scratched his chin slightly before answering in his usual relaxed tone.
"Lil' Missy, you were going through all the information we have on the movements of the Crusch Camp," he said.
"You were checking how they've been stocking up on armor and weapons. You also mentioned that it looked like preparations for hunting the White Whale."
Hearing those words, Anastasia felt something click into place inside her mind.
She finally understood.
'So this is that point in time,' she thought.
'Just after the Royal Selection.'
The realization brought clarity, but also unease.
'I remember forming an alliance with Duchess Crusch,' she continued internally.
'Together, we hunted and slaughtered the White Whale.'
Her thoughts moved forward rapidly, recalling fragmented memories.
'After that, the Sin Archbishop of Sloth was killed through a three-way alliance,' she recalled vaguely.
'It was arranged by that maid… or at least, that's how I remember it.'
Her expression darkened slightly.
'But that wasn't truly my achievement,' she admitted to herself.
'That was my husband's doing.'
A sharp ache surfaced in her chest.
'And I forgot most of that past,' she realized bitterly.
'After the Gluttony incident… both of us were affected.'
She remained outwardly composed, but inside, the weight of memory and loss continued to settle heavily, confirming exactly where—and when—she now stood.
To say that her life had not been easy would have been an understatement.
From the very beginning, she had been abandoned and left to fend for herself.
She grew up in the slums, surrounded by filth, hunger, and desperation, learning early on that the world was neither kind nor fair.
Survival was not optional—it was mandatory.
Somehow, through circumstances she herself could barely explain, she crossed paths with Ricardo and the three cat siblings.
What began as coincidence gradually turned into something resembling family.
She later adopted the siblings and, together with them, founded the Hoshin Company.
At one point, that company had been the greatest pride of her life.
It was proof that she had risen from nothing, that she had carved out her own place in the world through intelligence and ruthlessness.
And yet, in the end, it became one of the things she hated the most.
The Hoshin Company, the structure she had built with her own hands, eventually turned into a symbol of everything she had lost.
It stood alongside another thing she deeply despised—the bastard Julius, whose existence alone stirred resentment she never truly let go of.
Then came Priestella.
That city became the turning point that ruined everything.
In Priestella, the Sin Archbishop of Gluttony devoured her name.
Not only that, but he also devoured the name of the man who was meant to become her husband—Natsuki Subaru.
In an instant, both of them were erased from the world's memory.
No one remembered who she was. No one remembered who he was.
Ironically, Subaru had been the only one who still remembered her true identity.
She, however, did not remember him.
Because his name had been eaten as well.
Despite that, circumstances forced them together.
His overwhelming Witch's scent, combined with her strange situation, caused both of them to be mistaken for Witch Cultists.
Without proper investigation or mercy, they were imprisoned together as criminals, hated and feared by everyone around them.
At first, she despised him.
To her, he was nothing more than an unknown man—someone she had no connection to, someone who had inexplicably become the reason she was imprisoned.
Every misfortune that followed felt like it could be traced back to his presence.
She resented him deeply for that.
Still, she remained confident.
She believed that since she had no real ties to him, the misunderstanding would be cleared up soon.
She assumed that the truth would come out, that she would be released, and that he would be dealt with separately.
At that moment, she had no idea just how wrong she was.
She learned that truth in the most horrifying way possible.
What followed was not interrogation—it was torture.
She was subjected to it alongside Natsuki Subaru, dragged through endless suffering without mercy or restraint.
There were no answers to give, no secrets to reveal, yet that did not matter.
The pain continued regardless.
Felix had gone mad.
After his Lady had been cursed by Lust, something inside him broke completely.
Desperation twisted into obsession, and obsession into cruelty.
He believed that if he could extract something—anything—from them, then maybe he could find a solution.
It did not matter that they knew nothing.
It did not matter that they were innocent of what they were accused of.
He tortured them anyway.
And if that was not enough, Julius joined in as well.
By then, Julius believed himself to be Crusch's knight.
Whether that belief was born from delusion, Gluttony's effect, or self-righteousness no longer mattered.
What mattered was that he participated willingly.
He did not stop the torture.
He did not question it.
He took part in it.
That was when she finally understood.
She finally saw the true face of her knight.
No—she corrected herself.
She had always known the true faces of everyone around her.
The only difference was that before, she had been standing at the very top of the pyramid of power.
From that position, she had never needed to care about the people below—the ones being crushed under the weight of this brutal world.
Their screams had never reached her ears.
Their suffering had never concerned her.
Now, she was one of them.
To rise to her former position, she herself had destroyed countless lives.
She had used people without hesitation, discarded them when they were no longer useful, and crushed obstacles without remorse.
How many futures had she ruined?
How many people had she stepped on to climb higher?
She had never counted.
She had never cared.
And now, lying broken and powerless, she understood exactly what this was.
This was karma.
Not divine justice.
Not fate.
Just the inevitable consequence of the kind of person she had chosen to be.
In the end, it did not stop at torture.
Her body itself began to fail.
With Eridna gone—vanishing to Od Laguna knew where—her already faulty gate deteriorated rapidly.
Without the artificial spirit stabilizing her, mana began to accumulate inside her uncontrollably, tearing her apart from the inside.
The pain was constant, relentless, and growing worse with each passing day.
Death was no longer a distant possibility; it was approaching steadily.
The same fate awaited Natsuki Subaru.
His situation was no better.
His contract with Beatrice had been forcibly broken, leaving him just as unstable.
To make matters worse, the authorities accused him of attempting to interfere with spirit contracts, turning his supposed crimes into something even more severe.
In their eyes, he was not just suspicious—he was dangerous.
They were both dying.
Slowly, Painfully and abandoned.
In the end, it was Natsuki Subaru who saved them.
Even in that state, even after everything they had done to him, he found a way.
He managed to contract a spirit capable of draining excess mana—one that could siphon the overflowing mana from both of their damaged gates.
It was the only thing keeping them alive, the only reason their bodies did not completely collapse.
He saved her life.
And yet, she still blamed him.
Blaming him was easier than blaming Gluttony.
Easier than accepting that the world had broken her.
Easier than acknowledging her own mistakes and the cruelty of fate.
So she directed all of her resentment toward him, treating him as the cause of her downfall even while relying on him to survive.
That fragile balance did not last.
When Felix's magic forced her blood to boil from the inside—when the pain became unbearable—and when her former knight brutally beat her down without restraint, something inside her finally shattered.
That was the moment she broke completely.
There was nothing left to hold onto.
No pride.
No hope.
No illusions.
In that broken state, she and Natsuki Subaru finally reached the same conclusion.
They had to escape.
Together, they planned it in silence, exchanging words only when absolutely necessary.
Somehow, against all odds, they succeeded.
Through desperation, luck, and the sheer persistence of Natsuki Subaru—and with the help of his contracted fire spirit—they managed to break free from their imprisonment.
It was not a clean escape.
But it was freedom.
And for the first time in a long while, they were no longer waiting to die.
After that, they fled deep into the forests, running without direction or rest until their bodies nearly gave out.
For a long time, they expected pursuit.
Every sound made her flinch, every snapping branch sending fear through her already exhausted body.
Yet, as time passed, no one came after them.
Eventually, she realized why.
To the authorities, they were nothing more than insignificant Witch Cultists.
Disposable.
Not worth the effort.
Even with Subaru's overwhelming Witch's scent, they simply could not believe that someone as weak and broken as him could possibly be a Sin Archbishop.
In their eyes, he was beneath notice—too pathetic to matter.
Because of that assumption, the risk of pursuit remained low.
And in the end, the search was abandoned entirely.
Even though they had escaped, their situation was far from safe.
Both of them were in terrible condition.
Their bodies were covered in scars and open wounds, bruises layered over bruises, injuries that had barely begun to heal.
Every movement hurt.
The forest air was cold, especially at night, and the damp ground offered no comfort.
Survival was not guaranteed.
It was Natsuki Subaru who kept them alive.
Despite his injuries, he forced himself to hunt small animals so they could eat.
He moved through the forest with care, trapping and killing what he could manage, then preparing the food as best he could with limited tools.
She watched him do all of this without complaint, without hesitation, as if it were simply something that had to be done.
At night, he lit a campfire to keep them warm.
When the cold became unbearable, they shared body heat, sitting close together not out of affection, but necessity.
Their bodies were weak, and without warmth, they would not survive the night.
That was how they lived.
One night after another.
Cold. Hunger. Pain.
And silence broken only by the crackling fire.
It was during that time—during those days of shared suffering and survival—that something inside her changed.
Watching him endure without resentment, seeing how he continued to act despite everything he had lost, she began to feel something she hadn't expected.
She fell in love with him.
Not because he was strong.
But because he was kind.
But because he stayed alive—and kept her alive—when everything else had already given up on them.
Both of them were already broken by that point.
It wasn't as if the people from their former camps had never come looking for them.
On the contrary, several of them had visited—again and again—drawn by persistent pleas, rumors, and repeated claims that something was terribly wrong with the two of them.
Each time, those visitors demanded explanations, demanding to know why these two kept insisting on identities and relationships that supposedly never existed.
And every single time, they were rejected.
Without hesitation.
Without sympathy.
Every person they once called an ally denied having any connection to them.
Ricardo was the worst for her.
He didn't hesitate, didn't doubt, and didn't soften his words even slightly.
He called her a liar straight to her face, accused her of trying to deceive them, and coldly told her to never bother them again.
The way he looked at her—like she was nothing more than a nuisance—hurt more than any blow ever could.
She remembered that moment clearly.
She remembered how something inside her collapsed completely when he said those words.
And she also remembered the look on Subaru's face when it happened to him.
Emilia had been no kinder.
She told him openly that she hated him.
That she wanted nothing to do with him.
That she would never marry a man like him, no matter what he claimed or believed.
There was no anger in her voice—only rejection.
That rejection destroyed him.
Felix and Julius had broken their bodies, but these words broke something deeper.
Even though Ricardo and Emilia did not torture them physically, their denial cut far more cleanly.
It shattered what little hope they had left.
It left wounds that no magic could heal.
Their hearts broke.
Their minds followed soon after.
After that, there was nothing tying them to their old lives anymore.
No allies.
No protection.
No place they could safely return to.
To the world, they were criminals—suspected Witch Cultists who should not exist.
So they made a choice.
They decided to leave everything behind.
They chose to go somewhere desolate, somewhere far removed from their former world, a place where no one knew their names and no one would come looking for them.
Somewhere they could exist without being hunted, accused, or dragged back into suffering.
It wasn't hope that drove them forward.
It was the simple desire to stop being hurt.
They could not remain in Lugunica.
That much was obvious.
Even if they were not being actively hunted like Sin Archbishops, it was inevitable that wanted posters would circulate throughout cities and towns after their escape.
They were branded criminals, suspected Witch Cultists, and lingering in the kingdom would only invite capture sooner or later.
Kararagi was not an option either.
Her former company was based there, and too many people would recognize her from the cell.
Even without her name, suspicion would follow them wherever they went.
It was far too dangerous.
Vollachia was a dead end as well.
Between its brutal politics, constant internal conflict, and ruthless handling of outsiders, entering that empire would have been nothing more than a slow death sentence.
Neither of them was in any condition to survive that kind of environment.
That left only one place.
Gusteko.
It was freezing cold, unforgiving, and far from ideal.
The land was harsh, the climate brutal, and life there was anything but comfortable.
Still, compared to being hunted, tortured, or executed, Gusteko was the better choice.
At the very least, it was distant, isolated, and uninterested in the affairs of Lugunica.
So they went there.
Life in Gusteko was difficult, but it forced them to rely entirely on each other.
There was no one else.
Just them, and them alone dependent one each other for care and love.
Over time, they built something resembling stability.
Using Subaru's ideas—concepts unfamiliar to that land—they formed a small business.
It started modestly, barely enough to survive, but it grew steadily.
Through persistence, calculation, and sheer refusal to give up, the venture eventually earned them a small fortune.
It was not wealth meant for humungous luxury, but it was enough to live without fear.
And in that quiet, isolated life—far from politics, camps, and kingdoms—they finally did something they had not planned for.
They got married.
Because, after everything they had lost, they chose each other.
Eventually, their existence did not remain hidden forever.
They finally drew the attention of a priest, someone knowledgeable enough to recognize that there was something unusual about the two of them—especially Subaru.
The priest brought them to Od Glass, expecting little more than confirmation of somewhat decent Spiritual affinity.
Instead, he was shocked by what he discovered.
Subaru possessed an extraordinary affinity for spirits.
What followed was something neither of them had expected.
Subaru formed contracts with multiple spirits, not just one, and did so with an ease that defied common sense.
Over time, he became recognized as a distinguished spirit knight, someone spoken of with respect rather than suspicion.
For the first time since their escape, they were no longer merely surviving—they were acknowledged.
From that point onward, their lives stretched forward, long and turbulent, filled with both love and revenge.
They did not forget.
Together, they hunted down and killed Julius and Felix.
There was no hesitation, no mercy, and no regret.
Those deaths were deliberate, planned, and final.
Subaru believed those acts were necessary for closure, and she ensured that belief was never challenged.
There were other acts Subaru never learned the truth about.
He never knew that Anastasia Hoshin herself had arranged Emilia's death.
It was written off officially as a Witch Cult attack, another unfortunate tragedy in a cruel world.
He accepted that explanation without question.
Nor did he ever learn how many other people she quietly eliminated—anyone she deemed a threat to him, anyone who endangered his life or peace, whether directly or indirectly.
She carried those sins alone.
The rest of her life was spent basking in Subaru's love.
She devoted herself to him entirely, finding fulfillment not in power, influence, or recognition, but in being beside him.
When her condition began to deteriorate with age, Subaru noticed immediately.
Refusing to lose her, he once again performed what could only be called a miracle—creating magic that stabilized and repaired their damaged gates, extending her life far beyond what should have been possible.
Thanks to him, she lived long enough to grow old at his side.
In the end, there were no more enemies to hunt, no more revenge to take, and no more miracles left to pull off.
Their lives slowed, their bodies weakened, and time finally caught up with them.
They died together.
Old, exhausted, and content.
In each other's arms.
And now, she was back in the past.
Back before all of it.
Back before she had broken Subaru down.
Back before she had forced him to fall in love with her.
Back before she had finally made him hers.
The realization was suffocating.
Anger burned visibly in her eyes as the weight of everything she had lost pressed down on her chest.
An entire lifetime—years of suffering, survival, love, revenge, and twisted happiness—had been erased.
Everything she had endured to reach the point where Subaru belonged to her was gone.
For a brief moment, she let that anger rise unchecked.
Then she took a slow, deliberate breath.
She forced it down.
"Lil' Missy, are you fine?" Ricardo asked cautiously, concern evident in his voice as he studied her face.
She turned toward him and offered a smile.
It was practiced, controlled and Perfectly fake.
"Yes," she replied calmly.
"I'm alright now."
There was a pause—just long enough to feel deliberate.
"…And I know what I need to do now."
"???"
Confusion spread across the faces of everyone in the room.
Ricardo frowned slightly, uncertain of what she meant.
The guards exchanged glances.
Julius, in particular, looked unsettled, his brows knitting together as he tried to read her expression.
He couldn't.
He had no idea.
Julius did not know that, in her mind, his fate had already been decided.
He did not know that Anastasia Hoshin had already marked him as someone who should not exist in this world.
And for now, she would let him remain ignorant.
Just like everyone else.
"T–Tell me," she said after a brief pause, her voice deliberately softened into something curious and harmless, "when was the last time I met with… Hus—Natsuki Subaru?"
She corrected herself smoothly, but the near slip did not go unnoticed by her own mind.
The question itself was carefully chosen.
She needed confirmation.
'Did he return by death as well?', she thought sharply.
'I have to know.'
Her heart beat a little faster as the possibility lingered.
Subaru had never been able to speak openly about his authority, but over the years, he had told her enough—indirectly, carefully, through implication rather than confession.
She knew what it was.
She knew why he had been able to pull off miracle after miracle when no one else could.
She also knew its flaws.
He did not return at will.
The checkpoints were inconsistent.
He could not control when or where he returned.
Because of that, it was entirely possible that she had returned alone.
That thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Ricardo frowned slightly at her question, clearly confused by the sudden interest.
Still, he answered honestly, scratching the back of his head as he recalled the details.
"Well, Lil' Missy," he said, "you met that guy a while back. You questioned him for information—about the Royal Selection, about Crusch's camp, about what was going on around the capital."
He hesitated briefly before continuing.
"After you got what you wanted, you dismissed him. Didn't keep him around. That was about it."
Ricardo didn't phrase it cruelly.
He didn't say it with judgment.
But the meaning landed heavily anyway.
In her ears, it sounded far worse.
'So that's how it was,' she thought grimly.
To the world—to Ricardo—it had simply looked like another calculated move.
Anastasia Hoshin using someone for information and then discarding them once they were no longer useful.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing worth remembering.
But to her, knowing everything that had come after, the implication made her stomach twist.
She lowered her gaze slightly, hiding the flash of emotion in her eyes.
She clenched her fists tightly at her sides.
'Ah… yes. That definitely sounds like something a bitch like me would do,' she thought bitterly.
The image of her past self surfaced in her mind, and right now, she absolutely loathed that version of herself.
The cold, calculating woman who treated people as tools disgusted her more than anyone else ever could.
"I see," she said aloud, her lips curving into a perfectly controlled, artificial smile.
Then, as if the thought had just occurred to her, she continued, "Apparently, I've come to realize that he may have been telling the truth about the Witch Cult. After reconsidering it… I believe there might be some benefit for us in taking his words seriously."
"Really, M'Lady?!" Julius reacted instantly, genuine shock crossing his face.
He clearly hadn't expected her to say something like that.
However, his expression hardened just as quickly, and he added, "That man is unstable. His behavior alone proves it. His words should not be trusted."
"I know," she replied calmly, without missing a beat.
'You bastard,' she finished silently in her mind, directing the insult squarely at him.
She was careful—meticulous even—in how she framed her words and expressions.
Nothing she said aloud contradicted Julius, and nothing revealed her true thoughts.
She was thankful for one thing.
At moments like this, she could still block her inner monologue completely.
Eridna, who normally lingered at the edge of her thoughts, was forced into silence due to the presence of others.
That privacy allowed Anastasia to think freely, without interference.
For now, making Eridna understand everything would only complicate matters further.
That was something she would deal with later—after she reunited with her husband.
Until then, there was no reason to expose her entire hand.
"I have discovered a connection between the appearance of the White Whale and the movements of the Witch Cult," she said calmly, choosing her words with deliberate care.
"Based on the information I've gathered, I believe there is a strong possibility that the Witch Cult may be controlling it, or at the very least, guiding its appearances."
The moment those words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room changed.
Shock spread across everyone's faces.
Ricardo straightened immediately, Julius's eyes widened, and even the guards reacted visibly.
Such a claim was not something to be made lightly, especially when it involved two of the most dangerous threats known to the world.
She continued without hesitation, capitalizing on their attention.
"We can use Natsuki Subaru as a probe," she said bluntly.
"He has already drawn the attention of the Witch Cult. If we act carefully, he can be used to lure them out, confirm their movements, and ultimately eliminate them."
There was a brief pause before she added the next part, her tone steady and confident.
"At the same time, we can form an alliance with Crusch Karsten to subjugate the White Whale. By doing so, we not only rid the world of a monstrous threat, but we also earn immense fame and political influence. Both camps benefit, and the balance of power shifts in our favor."
As the implications of her plan sank in, the reactions around her changed rapidly.
Shock gave way to interest. Interest turned into excitement.
Eyes began to light up one by one.
This was no longer just a defensive maneuver—it was an opportunity.
An opportunity for glory, influence, and advantage on a scale few could ignore.
And Anastasia knew it.
She watched their reactions carefully, already certain of one thing.
They were listening now.
"Haha! As expected of lil' sissy, you managed to find an opportunity even in something like this," Ricardo said with a wide grin, his voice filled with confidence in her.
There was no doubt in his mind—Anastasia had always been frighteningly intelligent, and more often than not, her ideas turned out to be correct.
He trusted her instincts completely.
"For now…" Anastasia began, then paused mid-sentence.
"I will need to meet hu—Natsuki Subaru."
She corrected herself quickly, but the slip was noticeable.
In truth, calling Subaru her husband had become such a deeply ingrained habit that it was now difficult for her to refer to him by his name alone.
Even after returning to the past, the word still came naturally to her lips.
"I see," Ricardo replied thoughtfully.
After a moment, he added, "Though I doubt he'll be happy about it."
Anastasia nodded slowly in response.
"We'll see," she said calmly.
Outwardly, her expression remained composed, but inwardly, her thoughts were already racing.
If Subaru had returned by death as well—if even a fragment of his memories remained—then he would not ignore her summons.
No matter how upset or suspicious he might be, he would come.
And more than that, he would try to test her.
He would look for signs.
Probe her words.
Search her expressions for recognition.
Even if he thought she didn't remembered their life—if he had returned by death alongside her—she was certain of one thing.
He would still try to get close to her in subtle ways.
He would maneuver carefully, testing boundaries, while gradually distancing himself from that stupid half-elf.
Those actions alone would be more than enough for her to confirm it.
Those would be the signs she needed.
But if none of that happened—
if he truly did not remember—
Then there was only one option left.
'I just need to win him over again,' she thought firmly.
A sly smile slowly formed on her lips as that conclusion settled in her mind.
To anyone watching, it looked like the smile of a sharp merchant plotting her next political move—someone calculating how to earn fame, influence, and advantage for her camp.
No one would suspect the truth.
No one would realize that behind that expression, Anastasia Hoshin was not thinking about alliances, profits, or reputation at all.
She was planning how to make a man hers—once again.
"Very well. I will send some soldiers to bring him here," Julius said, bowing politely as he spoke.
She nodded in response.
For a brief moment, she opened her mouth, almost saying that they were to treat him with respect.
The words were right there, ready to be spoken—but she stopped herself.
Giving such a specific instruction now would only invite suspicion, and suspicion was the last thing she could afford.
So she remained silent.
'If they so much as disrespect him,' she thought coldly, 'I will deal with them later. Alongside Julius.'
In truth, she trusted neither Julius nor Ricardo.
She had lived too long, seen too much, to place blind faith in anyone.
More importantly, she did not know how they would react if they noticed the changes in her behavior—changes she could no longer fully suppress.
Right now, her priority was clear.
She needed to save her husband from torment.
And to do that, she had to endure.
She had to restrain herself, hide her true intentions, and avoid exposing her hand too early.
Any mistake now could cost her everything.
Without looking at anyone else in the room, she clenched her fists tightly at her sides and gave a small nod, her expression settling into a carefully practiced smile.
It was flawless—convincing enough to deceive everyone present.
But it was not real.
Anastasia Hoshin's genuine smiles no longer belonged to this world.
They only ever appeared in front of one man.
The man named Natsuki Subaru.
To be continued...