* * *

I was definitely dead.

So why did I keep coming back?

If there really was a god, I wanted to ask what the hell they were trying to do.

“Don’t tell me… I’m not allowed to die?”

Even saying it aloud made my expression twist in disgust.

“After all this time, you tell me I can’t die? If that’s really the case, then as far as I’m concerned, there’s no such thing as a god in my life anymore.”

As an Apostle, I was inherently bound to the divine.

Yet I declared it without hesitation.

The reason Apostles and gods were so closely intertwined was simple: the power of an Apostle came from divine energy.

Because of this connection, people viewed ability users as those who received divine blessings and devoted themselves to the well-being of humanity—hence the title “Apostle.”

Not that I ever asked to be one.

Even before my downfall, I had never been particularly devout.

And since no divine punishment ever struck me for my blasphemy, I had no reason to start believing now.

I had cursed the gods daily when I was imprisoned.

If divine wrath really existed, I would’ve died long ago.

Recalling that time, I absently ran my fingers over my lips.

“…So why? Why can’t I die now?”

I lay there, sinking deeper into thought.

Five times I had died.

Five times I had come back.

“Apostles are supposed to be hard to kill, but not like this.”

They were resilient, yes, but not immortal. This was something entirely different.

I had no idea why this was happening to me.

I let out a long sigh, pressing my fingers against my forehead.

For now, I had no choice but to put my plans for death on hold.

Dragging myself out of bed, I sat on the stone floor.

Even in the height of summer, the cold seeped into my skin.

Hugging my knees, I buried my face in my arms, trying to steady my breath and figure out what to do next.

It was then that I heard the sound of footsteps.

Who could it be? I blankly wondered, then suddenly remembered.

“…I’m the heir to House Teian now.”

There was no one left in this family but me.

Letiyan had no children in the original story, and since the story only ended once he died, it meant no child had been born.

“I’m the only one left.”

I let out a dry chuckle.

I had never planned on revenge, but knowing that everyone I might have hated was already dead… it left me with an inexplicable emptiness.

Staring at the floor with dull eyes, I listened as the footsteps grew closer.

I wasn’t particularly curious about who it was.

There were only two possibilities.

Either they had come to kill me and tear House Teian apart, or they wanted to install me as the Duke and ensure the family’s survival.

As predictable as the rising and setting of the sun.

Through the narrow window, I gazed at the night sky.

If I had to choose, I’d rather they were here to kill me.

The thought idly crossed my mind as I ran my fingers across the cold stone floor.

The footsteps came to a stop right behind me.

I heard the faint sound of someone breathing.

I didn’t bother turning around.

And the person who had come for me didn’t speak right away.

The air remained thick with silence, as if mocking the significance of having a visitor after so long.

I was just about to consider whether there was a better way to die when, at last, the visitor spoke.

“Vivisian.”

…A strangely familiar voice.

I furrowed my brows slightly and tilted my head.

Polished and refined, with the composed elegance of nobility.

A distinct downward lilt at the end of their words.

The rigid dialect characteristic of the Eastern region.

Just from the way they spoke my name, I could piece together an identity.

I searched my memory, digging through faded and crumbling recollections.

And finally, I remembered.

“Haen De Winter.”

I murmured the name slowly, and a quiet voice responded behind me.

“Yes. My friend. I’ve come to see you.”

“Friend…?”

He thought it was an amusing expression and let out a faint smile.

Behind him, the sound of a key rattling filled the air.

Soon, the iron bars creaked open, and Haen stepped inside.

After confirming that there were no signs of an escape attempt, Haen strode in with confidence.

The guards who had once kept watch had long since disappeared.

Entering the solitary cell, he set down the candlestick he had been holding.

Then, as if he were a guest at a friend’s housewarming party, he glanced around the cramped space.

“There’s nothing to see here. Want me to give you a tour?”

I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

Haen let out a small laugh.

I couldn’t tell if it was mockery or something else.

As if he were in his own room, he shamelessly perched himself on the bed.

His all-black attire reminded me that this was a funeral.

Golden hair that looked as if it had been spun from molten gold contrasted starkly with the deep black of his clothes.

His clear blue eyes, however, remained piercing.

He was an old friend who had come to loathe me beyond words.

In the original story, he didn’t just fall into madness—he went so far as to commit murder.

Now that the original plot had disappeared, I wondered if his fate would change.

My thoughts wandered as I closed my eyes.

‘I will never forgive you for killing my mother, Vivisian. Until the day you die—no, even after your death—I will pray that you never leave this prison, my friend.’

I could still vividly recall his younger self, gripping my arm with an icy glare as I was dragged to this prison.

The story may have changed now, but originally, I was never meant to leave this place—not even in death.

I was supposed to be found as a pile of bones, only to be buried at last once the protagonist stumbled upon my remains.

Back then, Haen had watched me struggle against my fate, thrashing as I refused to rot in this cell, and had smiled so brightly—almost like he was truly happy.

I tried to picture that same expression over the weary face staring at me now.

But I gave up. I was too tired to entertain useless thoughts.

I had died five times in just a few hours.

And lived five times.

My body remained unscathed, but the mental exhaustion was crushing.

Not even a god could endure dying five times in a single day.

“So, why did you come here, Haen?”

Pushing aside my pointless thoughts, I asked him directly.

He remained silent for a moment, running his palm over the hard surface of the bed.

“How’s life in here? Comfortable?”

Instead of resorting to violence, he chose to play nice—only to end up mocking me.

This place might become familiar, but it would never be comfortable.

The constant squeaking of rats.

The scuttling of insects.

The murmur of voices outside.

When it rained, muddy water seeped in through the open cracks.

When it snowed, it was the same—the pristine white flakes never touched me, only melting into filthy puddles.

It was sweltering in the summer, freezing in the winter.

And if you asked whether spring or autumn were any better, the answer was still no.

This was never meant to be a place where people lived.

It was a place where the condemned were locked away to die.

This was the dungeon of the Duke of Teian’s estate.

And I was its prisoner.

If I weren’t an Apostle, I would have died long ago.

And yet, after throwing me in this wretched hole, he had the audacity to ask me that question.

Even in my numb exhaustion, I found myself angered by the sheer absurdity of it.

“…You’re asking if it’s livable? If you’re so curious, why don’t you try it yourself? Who knows, you might even find it surprisingly tolerable.”

I replied, my expression as cold as ice.

Haen gazed at me, looking as if he had expected that answer.

“So you don’t like it here either. Fine. How about we make a deal?”

It was sudden.

I had just been rubbing my temple, trying to collect myself, when I looked up.

My eyes met his, and for a brief moment, I had the illusion that sparks ignited in those deep blue irises.

“Until I find the legitimate heir. Just until then—take over the dukedom. In return, whatever you desire, I’ll grant it.”

His voice was both arrogant and composed.

He’d probably kill me once he found the heir.

That thought crossed my mind, but outwardly, I just laughed.

“Even if what I want… is your death?”

I said it lightly, as if it were any ordinary request.

“Sure. I’ll gladly die. So take the title, Vivi.”

Haen responded without hesitation.

I studied him for a moment before rubbing my chin.

This world refused to let me die because there was still something I had to do.

And the moment I gave up on death, Haen had come barging in.

Maybe the only way I could finally die was by becoming the Duke.

And even if that wasn’t the case, once he found the heir, Haen would likely take care of my death himself. It wasn’t the worst choice.

‘I can just put in the bare minimum effort.’

Haen’s reason for appointing me as Duke was obvious—he wanted to prevent the family from falling apart and being absorbed by the royal house.

He would use me as a placeholder, then dispose of me the moment he secured the heir.

So I was just a stand-in.

Surely, they wouldn’t expect a substitute to perform perfectly.

If they did, that would be downright shameless.

With that in mind, I nodded.

“Fine. Let’s make a deal.”

“Have you decided what you want? If so, just say it now.”

“I have, but I’m not telling you. Don’t worry—you’ll like my wish.”

I grinned and stood up.

Leaning down, I picked up the candlestick and held it out to Haen.

He studied me, as if trying to read my thoughts.

I let him look.

Then, I lifted his hand.

His fingers were loosely curled into a fist.

I pried them open and placed the candlestick in his palm.

“Then, Haen. Take me outside.”

* * *