Noctis’s eyes snapped open.

  His breath came in short bursts.

  The ceiling above him felt too real — too still.

  Sweat clung to his skin, soaking the collar of his shirt.

  For a moment, he didn’t move.

  Then he slowly lifted a hand to his face.

  No tears.

  Just warmth.

  “The terrace…” he murmured.

  Noctis tried to sit up when he heard a familiar voice—

  “Finally awake, huh.”

  He turned toward the sound.

  In the corner of the room, Silas sat with his legs crossed, staring at him.

  Noctis looked at him for a moment before speaking.

  “Did I faint on the terrace? And where are we?” he asked, not taking his eyes off Silas.

  “You sure did. One of the maids had to carry you out. And to answer your second question, we’re in my little cottage. This is where I stay,” Silas replied, a faint hint of annoyance in his voice.

  “Damn. How long was I out?”

  “1,392 hours.”

  Silas’s tone was almost robotic.

  “Oh… well. Okay,” Noctis said, slightly taken aback.

  “Anyway, how are you feeling now?” Silas asked, his voice more serious.

  “I’m fine. Just a slight headache. Have you been taking care of me all this time?”

  “You could say that. But if you’re feeling fine, you should hurry. You’re almost out of time.”

  “Huh? What do you mean by that?” Noctis asked, his eyes twitching slightly.

  Silas stood up and walked toward the door.

  “1,392 hours,” he repeated before leaving Noctis alone.

  Noctis remained silent for a while before muttering,

  “So… it’s already been more than four months.”

  He lowered his head, thinking.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Some time later, Noctis returned to his room.

  It was night.

  He skimmed through all the information he had gathered once again before drawing any conclusions.

  “If it’s truly been that long, then I don’t have much time before I start losing my memories as well. It’s about time I finally find out what’s really going on in this mansion.”

  He closed the diary and murmured—

  “Thanks, Dad. For showing me the right way one last time.”

  Noctis finally understood something.

  This mansion wasn’t reversing time.

  It was stuck in it.

  “So I just have to figure out what happened on June 4th in this mansion, right? Quite the hassle.”

  Morning came.

  With the revolver tucked behind his back beneath his coat, Noctis made his way to find Clarisse.

  This time, it wasn’t difficult.

  He spotted her arguing with the head chef.

  “Is it about that cake?” Noctis muttered before approaching them.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, looking at Clarisse.

  “Oh, Noctis. It’s nothing really. The head chef here is just being a little difficult, that’s all,” Clarisse said while glaring at the chef.

  “I am being difficult? Miss, you’re the one making unreasonable demands,” the head chef retorted.

  “Unreasonable demands? Are you seriously saying that preparing food for Miss Ilya is unreasonable?”

  “It’s not about preparing food. It’s about the quantity you’re asking for. You said it’s for her birthday, right? There was no such announcement from the master. So, I cannot comply with your request.”

  “What do you—”

  Someone gently grabbed her shoulder before she could finish.

  “Is this about Miss Ilya’s birthday party?” Noctis asked, signalling Clarisse to calm down.

  “And who might you be? You don’t look like a servant from inside the manor. Nor someone with authority.”

  “Well, I’m the new gardener. I arrived yesterday,” Noctis replied calmly.

  The head chef scoffed.

  “A gardener? And what gives you the right to interfere in this matter?”

  “Well, I’m somewhat indebted to the young miss. I’m simply trying to help.”

  “This isn’t something a mere gardener can resolve. Go back and trim some hedges while you’re at it.”

  “Hey—”

  Clarisse began, only to be stopped again by Noctis.

  “Well, this isn’t really about me being a gardener, is it?” Noctis said, a slight smile forming on his face.

  “What are you implying?” the head chef asked, confused.

  “I’m saying I know a way to solve this issue so that both sides are satisfied.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “The issue is that preparing a large celebration would consume more rations, and the master hasn’t expressed any interest in it. So instead of ignoring that… why don’t we create an interest?”

  The head chef raised an eyebrow.

  “At the end of the day, Ilya is still his daughter. If he finds out that his daughter prepared a surprise celebration while he’s been tirelessly working in his office, don’t you think he’d be pleased? And the servants who helped make it happen would naturally earn his gratitude as well.”

  “Hmm…” the head chef murmured, rubbing his chin.

  “So what if we arrange the party for Miss Ilya and invite Sir Ian as well? This way, the servants gain favor, and Miss Ilya gets a memorable day.”

  “I understand what you’re saying,” the head chef replied, “but how exactly do you plan to get Sir Ian out of his office?”

  “Leave that to me and Clarisse. We have a way. But we can only proceed if you’re willing to cooperate.”

  The head chef lowered his head and thought for a moment.

  “…Alright. I’ll help. But you better do your part.”

  Clarisse’s eyes lit up.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” she said, barely containing her excitement.

  “Then I’ll be on my way. I have a lot to prepare,” the head chef replied before heading toward the kitchen.

  “Noctis, thank you. Truly. I couldn’t have done this without you,” Clarisse said with a wide smile.

  “You don’t need to thank me yet. We still have to get Sir Ian out of his little prison.”

  “Oh… right. How are we going to do that?”

  “There’s a way,” Noctis replied calmly. “But I’ll need your help. And Miss Ilya’s as well.”

  “I’m willing to help, as long as there’s nothing suspicious about it.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  Noctis’s smile widened slightly.

  “Tonight, at 10 PM, we celebrate Ilya’s birthday.”