“Sigh...”

The breath he’d been holding finally escaped.

The sounds of the knights sent by the Order faded into the distance. The sun had set, and raindrops began to fall from the sky.

The coming night would hamper the pursuers’ vision, and the rain would wash away the fugitive’s tracks.

Yet neither night nor rain was exactly on his side—they bound his wounded feet to the dangerous forest and would rapidly drain his remaining strength.

The bleeding refused to stop.

Was he going to die? Probably.

“If I used the magic sword...”

He flinched.

Magic sword? He was the wielder of the holy sword, so why would he think such a thing?

Of course, his situation was too dire to care about such mental glitches.

“I’ve lost too much blood.”

His hands lost all strength in trying to staunch the bleeding. His vision blurred.

Without a miracle, he would die. And miracles usually belonged to the realm of gods.

Even when he served faithfully as a paladin of the Order, the “strict order and goodness” showed him no mercy.

Much less now, as a heretic.

So he did not expect a miracle.

No miracle was meant for him.

For him, a miracle was...

“...Reid.”

“....”

Did not exist...

“Tesilid.”

“....”

...or so he thought.

A healing force wrapped his body. A powerful holy power capable of reviving him instantly with even one last breath.

It swiftly sealed the leaking wounds.

A figure approached. Even through his blurred eyes, he could see a beautiful face nearby, close enough to distinguish clearly. It wore an expression as if about to cry.

‘Ah.’

As he quietly gasped inwardly, she spoke.

“Why are you here like this? Do you know how much I...”

“I found you.”

“....”

He hadn’t exactly stolen her words—that was also his to say.

Summoning all his strength, he stretched out his hand. His trembling hand cupped her cheek.

“I found you. So much.”

“....”

“Ayleth Rodeline.”

Her green eyes flickered deeply.

Even in this moment, it was so beautiful.

Perhaps it was because he wanted to see that beauty that he had wandered in such despair for so long.

“Where have you been all this time?”

“....”

“Why have you appeared only now?”

“....”

He swore he did not intend to blame her. He was simply curious.

But apparently, it sounded very different to her. The emotions silently crumbling and the heart beneath were visible on that pretty face.

He hurried to apologize.

“I’m—”

But this time she took his words.

“I’m sorry. Sorry for being late. Really sorry.”

“....”

“Sorry, Tesilid...”

“....”

She wrapped him tightly. The warmth pushed out the cold, sweet and soothing.

Wanting to stay in that feeling as long as possible, he said nothing, made no move—just quietly accepted it.

✠

Ayleth and Tesilid found themselves in exactly the same situation.

They had nowhere to return to.

Tesilid Arzent, the 17th round, excommunicated from the Holy Order. And Ayleth Rodeline, excommunicated from the 17th round timeline.

To hide from the world’s eyes, their companionship began.

The place where the Order’s influence was weakest was, unsurprisingly, the Mage Republic of Ragneif.

We entered a mountainous area far from the Elfenheim border within the Republic and took shelter in an abandoned cabin.

We cleaned away all dust and animal tracks and washed every utensil until they gleamed.

With fresh bedding laid, the place didn’t seem so bad for living. We had enough food stocked, so there was no problem for a while. If necessary, we could even live off the forest.

“I want to help too...”

“The patient should lie down.”

“I’m not a patient—”

“You’ve got a fever, you.”

“This is nothing—”

“Tsk.”

“....”

“Rest.”

“...Okay.”

He cut off every protest and gently laid him back down.

[‘The Scales Judging Souls’ watches their bickering fondly.]

Though his wounds could be healed with holy power, the exhaustion from long days on the run was another matter.

When we finished chores and returned to the bedroom, Tesilid was obediently resting.

“....”

The bed was placed by the wide-open wooden window, perfect for sunlight.

Tesilid sat propped against double pillows, gazing out.

His silver hair shimmered in the afternoon sun, swaying softly in the fresh forest breeze.

His calm eyes sparkled with a mysterious watery hue, like a tranquil shallow sea.

This was the faithful paladin before his fall.

Though the hardships had hollowed his cheeks to sharp lines like a carving from jade, a gentle, kind aura remained.

Even his lightly worn white shirt made him look so pure he might melt away into light.

I felt a sudden strong resentment toward the “strict order and goodness.”

‘If you crafted such a masterpiece, you should treasure it, not treat it roughly.’

At that moment, Tesilid seemed to sense my gaze and slowly turned to look at me.

After a gradual tilt of his head, his eyes met mine, showing a gentle smile.

I nearly gasped. Again...

‘This is the 17th round.’

Though tired, he still met my gaze squarely and smiled kindly.

This was exactly how I had imagined the 17th round Tesilid Arzent during my tutorial days.

In fact, until the 101st round cheat happened, my plan was:

‘Rescue the 17th round, on the brink of death from the 100th round, bring him to a safe house, help him recover, and save the world together.’

Thus, the sick Tesilid in this cabin was very much like the future I had pictured.

Currently, due to the nightmare’s manipulation, Tesilid’s memory had regressed to the 17th round.

For him, it was partial amnesia; for me, it was an indirect experience of the 17th round.

‘No rush.’

I decided to slowly find a way to pull him out of the nightmare. I wanted to avoid forcing or triggering his memories unnecessarily.

Honestly, this was not just for him—I was selfish too.

I wanted to know the 17th round Tesilid.

Even just a little. Just a little.

“Ayleth?”

It was awkward to answer when asked what I was so lost in thought about.

I offered him the warm mug I held—a special milk tea brewed with tea leaves, honey, and potions.

“Drink.”

“Ah, thank you.”

As I handed him the mug, our fingertips brushed briefly. Though a small accident, he flinched and looked embarrassed. Even—

“Sorry.”

He apologized for something like that?

He was very different from the twisted person who ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ always teased me about being shaky.

Though it was the 17th round, he was not exactly young. He had spent an entire round locked in dungeon training to get stronger and was well over a hundred years old.

Still, his current state was... how to put it...

‘Fresh...?’

I couldn’t find a better word.

“Ayleth?”

Seeing he might question my thoughts again, I quickly took out a colorful, jelly-like fruit cube cut into a cube. I skewered it with a fork and held it before him.

“Here.”

“I’ll eat it myself—”

“Eat.”

“...Thank you.”

So fresh.

He ate and drank well. Watching him made me want to give him more, so I rifled through my inventory. This intricate dream world seemed linked to reality so my inventory was usable.

There was the limitation that items must be ones the dream’s owner could know or imagine, but since he was the 101st-round transcendent with Bible-level knowledge, there was effectively no limit.

Then.

“Ayleth.”

After putting away the empty mug on the bedside table, he suddenly lowered his voice. The mood instantly became heavy.

“Can we talk for a moment?”

It was probably a very serious topic.

“Yeah, of course.”

We moved to the dining table. I sat up straight and pulled in my chin, trying to sit as properly as possible.

While I showed that I was listening, Tesilid took a deep breath to prepare himself. Just as I wondered what he wanted to say, I got nervous too.

“I have to tell you something, Ayleth.”

“Okay.”

“Actually, I’m a regressor.”

“....”

Uh, how was I supposed to react?

“A regressor means someone who returns from the future to the past...”

He paused explaining and looked at me with a painfully twisted expression.

“I know you don’t believe me.”

“....”

“But I want you to believe me. At least you.”

“....”

My blank expression apparently robbed his confidence unintentionally. Not wanting to unsettle him, I quickly put my hand over his.

“I believe you. You’re the 17th round.”

“How do you know that...”

I couldn’t reveal about possession. Instead, I chose to say what I wanted him to hear.

“Everything I say from now on is true. You have to believe me.”

“Of course.”

After confirming his trustworthy nod, I said:

“I came to this world to meet you—the 17th round you.”

“....”

“Did you know? I awakened my holy power to heal you.”

“....”

“What? That looks like you don’t believe me.”

“Th-That’s...”

Flustered, he quickly splashed water on his face and carefully asked:

“Why...?”