No, It was My Fault for Loving You - Chapter 60

Rembrandt watched his back as he entered the residence of the Marquis of Reinalpha, then motioned to the coachman. The carriage departed at a leisurely pace.

Rembrandt let out a sigh and leaned back against the backrest.

“One hundred gold coins per year, seven hundred gold coins to reverse seven years of time…”

Rembrandt contemplated.

This time, as a token of gratitude and apology for stopping Natalia from being kidnapped and Leopold from going out of control, Alejandro’s personal property, which was originally promised to belong to the Marquis of Reinalpha, was given to Rembrandt.

The amount was roughly five hundred and fifty gold coins.

Even though he is the son of the largest merchant in the kingdom, and a baron’s son, he is still a commoner and it’s still too large for him to hold.

“…and a few years from now, even more than that amount. Seven hundred gold coins, lavishly paid to a magician…”

Rembrandt shook his head after speaking to himself.

No matter how much he thinks about it, he can’t understand Alejandro’s thought process.

If that girl, Natalia, is so important, why hurt her? Pull her close to you, then push her away, and when she cries, pull her close again and comfort her.

One might think that it’s just for fun, but he also tried to protect her even if it meant damaging his own neck bones.

And in the house where he kidnapped her, there were no signs of assault except for the shattered pendant.

Alejandro showed an undeniable obsession. Still, it appears distinct from the love between a man and woman.

Rembrandt gave it some thought, and finally gave up on the futility of thinking about it.

There are people who can’t understand each other no matter what. Some things are beyond comprehension.

“…Alejandro, that man, I guess he only showed his better side to Trice.”

So in my sister’s mind, she only has good memories about that man.

It was not necessarily a false appearance, but it was certainly one of Alejandro’s personalities.

“I feel like I owe him. I don’t like it…”

While lost in thought, the carriage arrives at the Marquis of Strydom’s house.

In order to reduce the number of days he has to go to the royal palace, he brought home the work that can be done to his room at the residence. Therefore, there are piles of papers on the desk.

Even though the Reyes Chamber of Commerce case has been settled, there is still a lot of work to be done.

…

Ten days had already passed since the kidnapping.

In a week, the school’s summer vacation will be over, and Beatrice and the others will begin attending school again.

Natalia has regained consciousness and the pain from her dislocated shoulder is fading, but Alejandro is still in a coma.

From the outside, Natalia is merely involved in the case, but it would be an outrageous scandal if an aristocratic daughter was kidnapped and spent the night with a man who was not her fiancé.

Although it has not become a public incident, there is no telling when or where it might leak out.

Leopold was furious with his father on this point, and the argument was still on a stand still.

…

…

…

“Welcome back, brother. Why do you look so troubled?”

He’s glad his sister is feeling well enough to pick him up every day, but he really wanted to tell her that his face looked like this because of all the problems she threw at him.

But since it would be a long story if he told her what he meant, Rembrandt, who was both tired and busy, said, “Nothing.”

“You look tired. Oh, yes. I have some tea that is good for building up your strength.”

“I don’t need it.”

He rejected it immediately.

“Huh, why? I was worried about my brother’s health, that’s why I’m offering them to you.”

“I know you’re just trying to be nice, but you know me. I know it’s the stuff Edgar sent from Drieste. You know, that incredibly bitter herb that they make you drink every day and make you look funny.”

“I’m sorry, but the effects are amazing, you know?”

“I know that too. And I also know that herbal tea is the reason why you don’t collapse anymore.”

“Yes, I’ve been healthy! So please have some, Brother.”

“I don’t need it. You should be the one to drink such potent tea every day.”

“…Brother. You’re pretending to care about me, but the truth is, you just don’t want to drink it.”

“You’re the one who’s saying that. It’s obvious that it’s you who wants to drink a little less yourself.”

“Ugh.”

Rembrandt’s mouth naturally relaxes as he and Beatrice talk lightly.

He knew that she certainly never saw such a scene before her rebirth.

When Beatrice was born, before they could rejoice, they learned that she had a congenital blood disorder, and the whole family despaired.

Still, the ignorant baby cried when she was hungry and laughed when she was making a fuss.

If his tiny little sister, who was just born and knew nothing about anything, loosened her mouth with a pout, it was enough to bring tears into his eyes.

Eventually, she grew into her own self, recognizes her brother, and smiles angelically and innocently at the Buddha-faced Rembrandt.

She waddled and clutched at him.

She climbed onto his lap and asked him to read her a book.

Each time she did, his chest ached.

How long.

How long will she live?

Will she be able to attend school?

Will she be able to become an adult?

Will she be able to fall in love like other people, will she be able to enjoy her own time as a young girl?

Yeah, but surely she can’t get married, can she?

I felt sorry for having a healthy body.

I couldn’t help myself because I could draw the future easily.

Once, I cried in front of Edgar.

And then I told my parents that I would not get married while Beatrice was still alive, even though I knew that this was just self-indulgence.

I can’t show a happy married life in front of my sister, who can’t envision the future. I don’t want to show it.

And if I don’t want to be seen being happy and yet I welcome a wife, it would be disrespectful to the one who would be my wife, or so I thought.

I’m fine. I still have plenty of time.

But my sister. Trice is…

“…really. Brother takes too little care of himself.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. So let’s have a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“You’re so stubborn. Then together. Let’s drink together. That would be good, wouldn’t it?”

“…it can’t be helped. Just one drink.”

Beatrice’s pouty face, her begging sweet eyes, her happy smile.

Rembrandt thinks it is a miracle that such an interaction is even possible.

This time, I think they will make it in time.

Yes, I am sure they will make it.

But last time.

Last time, I learned that they didn’t make it.

Even if his decision to turn back time was not for Beatrice’s sake.

Even if he was only thinking about his own little Natalia…

Still…

If he hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be able to see this smile now.

Every time I feel this pain, my thoughts waver.

I could not think properly.

My inner self cries out, “How can I be thankful to such a man?” and begins to ask inane questions as to why it was not me who invested 700 gold coins to do it.