The Heist Tower stood atop a cliff perpetually shrouded in an eternal blizzard. Here, mana detection magic was useless due to the density of ice crystals in the air. It was the perfect place to hide someone from the world, or to bury them alive.
"Drink this, Alex. It's herbal tea made from snowflowers; it's good for calming your mana circuits," Elara whispered softly as she handed me a porcelain cup.
I sat in a gold-carved chair on the tower's balcony, which was enclosed in magical glass. Outside, the storm raged, but inside, the room was warm and fragrant. Elara sat on the fur rug at my feet, leaning her head against my knees as if she were a spoiled pet cat.
"Why are you so calm, Elara? You just kidnapped your own assistant," I said, taking a sip of the tea. It was bitter, yet refreshing.
"Because here, no one can disturb you. No monsters, no foolish princes, and no holy maidens trying to steal your attention," Elara closed her eyes, her hand stroking my calf with a possessive motion. "Just you and I. Isn't this the 'quiet life' you dreamed of?"
I remained silent. Yes, technically it was quiet. But this was the tranquility of a luxurious coffin.
That night, after Elara fell into a deep sleep, having "forced" me to accompany her until late, I began to move. I sensed something strange about this tower. Its mana structure was inconsistent. There was a glitch in the underground foundation that only someone with mana sensitivity like mine could feel.
I slipped out, using Mana Silence so my footsteps wouldn't trigger Elara's magical sensors. In a basement hidden behind piles of ancient artifacts, I found a small wooden door covered in thick dust.
The door wasn't physically locked, but it was sealed with blood. Blood with a scent... strikingly similar to mine.
I touched the seal, and the door creaked open with a heart-wrenching groan.
Inside was not a storehouse, but a ruined research laboratory. On the walls were thousands of chaotic, handwritten scribbles. And in the center of the room, there was a wooden desk with a diary whose cover was peeling off.
I opened the first page. My heart seemed to stop beating.
"Iteration 47. Name: Alex Grey. Result: Failure. Elara killed me on our wedding day because I tried to run away with Clarisse."
I flipped to the next page with trembling hands.
"Iteration 62. Name: Alex Grey. Strategy: Become the kingdom's strongest knight. Result: Failure. Elara poisoned me so I would be paralyzed forever and could only stay in bed with her."
"Iteration 89. Name: Alex Grey. Strategy: Become weak and unremarkable (The Mob Strategy). Result: In progress..."
It was my handwriting. My style of speech. These were my notes from previous lives, whose memories had somehow been erased every time I "died" or "failed."
This world wasn't just an otome game. It was a circular time prison where I was forced to play the role of "Alex" over and over again, and Elara was the jailer.
"You found it faster than usual, my Alex."
The cold voice came from the entrance. I spun around quickly. Elara stood there, the darkness of the room hiding her expression, but her blue eyes glowed with a terrifying purple light. She wasn't wearing her bathrobe or nightgown. She was clad in silver battle armor stained with black mana.
"Elara... what is the meaning of all this?" my voice was hoarse.
Elara walked closer, her footsteps echoing in the cramped basement. "I love you, Alex. I love you so much that I couldn't let you die because of that game's plot. Every time you die, I use my own heart as a sacrifice to turn back time."
She stood before me, tears beginning to stream down her beautiful yet crazed face. "I've done this dozens of times. I've watched you die in so many ways. And every time time winds back, I swear I will lock you up earlier so you stay alive. So you stay with me!"
"So you erased my memories?!" I shouted.
"It was for your own good! Memories of death are painful!" Elara lunged at me, hugging me with a strength that could break bones. She buried her face in my chest, sobbing uncontrollably. "Don't be mad at me... please don't hate me. I do this because I can't live in a world where you don't exist!"
A piercing cold sensation suddenly struck my heart. My vision darkened, and the last thing I saw was Elara's face, ravaged by tears as she plunged a silver dagger into my chest, the most brutal act of "affection."
"Alex... with this, we shall begin it all over again..."
Thud.
I jolted awake. My breath came in gasps, my lungs feeling as though they had just been doused in ice water. Cold sweat poured down my temples. I immediately fumbled at my chest, searching for a stab wound or the lingering warmth of blood.
Nothing. There was only the smooth silk of my sleepwear.
I turned to my side. Under the dim glow of the crystal lamp, Elara slept peacefully. Her silver hair was scattered across the pillow like threads of moonlight. Her breathing was steady, her face looking so innocent and calm, a far cry from the crazed woman in black armor who had just "assisted" me in the dream.
But my heart was still racing. The pain from that dagger... I could still feel it. The sensation of cold steel cleaving through muscle tissue and stopping my heartbeat felt far too real to be dismissed as a mere nightmare.
Iteration 89. The words from the diary in that dream buzzed in my head like angry wasps. Was it truly just a dream? Or were those the residual memories of a timeline erased by Elara's magic?
I tried to get out of bed as quietly as possible, making sure not to produce the slightest sound. However, the moment my foot touched the warm fur rug, a soft yet firm hand wrapped around my waist.
"Alex... where are you going?"
The voice was low, raspy from sleep, but it sent a surge of trauma through my every nerve. I froze. Elara didn't open her eyes, but she pulled my body back into her embrace, burying her face in the crook of my neck.
"Just... getting a drink, Elara," I replied, struggling to keep my voice flat. "I'm thirsty."
"The snowflower tea is still on the table," she murmured, kissing my shoulder. That kiss felt like a brand of ownership. "Go back to sleep. There's a massive storm outside. You won't be able to go anywhere."
I stared at the porcelain cup on the nightstand. The herbal tea was already cold, but its color... it was exactly like the one in my dream. Bitter and calming.
"Elara," I called out softly, gathering my courage. "Do you ever feel like... we've done this many times before?"
Her grip tightened instantly. For a moment, the warm atmosphere of the room turned chilling. Elara opened her crimson eyes, staring at me with an indecipherable glint. She smiled, a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Perhaps in our past lives, we were lovers separated by fate," she whispered, stroking my cheek with her thumb. "But in this life, I will not let fate touch you, Alex. Never."
She closed her eyes again, as if the conversation were over. However, as I lay stiffly beside her, my eyes caught something in the dark corner of the room.
There, behind the pile of artifacts I hadn't had the chance to tidy yet, I saw a small wooden door covered in dust. The exact same door I had seen in the underground laboratory in my dream.
My hands trembled beneath the blanket. If this truly is the 89th iteration, then I must act with extreme caution. Because this time, I'm not just fighting a game plot or monsters... I am trapped in a golden cage belonging to a woman willing to shatter time itself just to possess me.