Behind his expressionless face, Alon felt a bitter discomfort as he looked at Magrina.
She was smiling gracefully.
Her gestures were equally composed.
In short.
She didn’t look like she was lying.
It was as if Alon really had called her that in the past.
Realizing this, Alon felt a slight sense of self-disgust.
All because of Seolrang.
He hadn’t had the chance to ask earlier, but after seeing the marriage certificate Seolrang had handed him, he suspected their relationship might have been deeper than he’d thought.
Of course, Penia’s explanation hadn’t included anything of the sort.
Naturally, she was an outsider to whatever might have happened between Alon and Seolrang.
In other words, if there was something Penia didn’t know between them, she wouldn’t be able to explain it.
Of course, if Penia and Evan were here, they’d probably have said, “Please stop talking nonsense, my lord.”
Unfortunately, there was no one around now who could clear up his doubts.
Anyway, in that situation.
Magrina’s remark had shocked Alon.
Her words were so direct that anyone who heard them would think there was something secret going on between the two of them.
And if he put together everything that had happened so far with a calm mind, the conclusion was this.
Thirteen years later, in Palatio—Alon.
He was apparently two-timing between Seolrang the Baba Yaga of Colony and Magrina the Elf Queen.
‘What the hell have I been doing thirteen years from now…?’
His head was filled with utter chaos.
Then Alon finally came to his senses.
He had been so flustered by his supposed womanizing that he’d momentarily forgotten something.
Come to think of it, there was one thing that seemed suspicious.
That crystal storage sphere.
At least in Alon’s mind.
If he and Magrina really had such a relationship, that thing wouldn’t have been a good sign at all.
But of course, Alon couldn’t bring himself to ask why she’d brought the storage sphere.
What if he asked and she realized he’d lost his memory?
And what if—
Just maybe—it was some kind of… act?
‘What kind of man am I thirteen years from now…?’
Once again, Alon felt a wave of self-disgust.
He decided that after this meeting, he would definitely ask Penia or Evan about this whole matter.
After a long moment of contemplation, he finally opened his mouth.
“Right, I was a bit out of it for a moment. My lovely Magrina.”
Even after saying it, his hands curled in embarrassment.
But the moment he looked up, Alon’s face froze.
Just a second ago Magrina had looked so calm—yet now her face was turning red, as if about to explode.
“So… Magrina?”
When Alon asked in confusion, Magrina remained silent for a while, then—
“Hiccup—”
She hiccuped in surprise, suddenly jumped to her feet, and—
“E-excuse me for a moment!”
—bolted straight out of the office.
Silence instantly filled the room.
Alon stared blankly at the door she had run through.
“Didn’t they say she wasn’t weird…?”
He wore a dazed expression at the thought.
Of course, since Magrina hadn’t returned after yelling, “Just a moment!”, there was nothing to do but feel awkward.
Then Alon suddenly noticed the bag she had left on her chair.
“That’s the one she brought in earlier.”
Recalling the scene, he reached out to pick up the bag, which was precariously hanging off the chair.
Rustle—
A pile of crystal storage spheres tumbled out of it.
“…They said she wasn’t weird…”
Alon couldn’t help but feel dejected.
***
“Hmm, it looks like she caught on.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
When Penia returned from taking care of some business and Alon told her what had happened, she immediately reached that conclusion.
“How could she have noticed?”
“I’m not sure, but it seems like they already know you’ve lost your memory. From what I know, neither Seolrang nor Magrina actually have that kind of relationship with you.”
“Not… that kind of relationship?”
“That’s right.”
“Isn’t it possible there’s something you don’t know?”
But Penia simply looked at Alon and firmly shook her head.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You’re certain.”
“The chances are extremely—no, practically nonexistent.”
“I see.”
Alon felt a strange mix of relief and emptiness at her certainty.
Finding out there was nothing had indeed made him feel relieved.
But hearing it declared so bluntly somehow left him hollow.
“So, I guess I didn’t get close to any woman for thirteen years.”
At that mutter, Penia gave him an odd look.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, no, it’s just… how should I put it… In a way, that’s kind of impressive?”
“In what way?”
“The fact that you can still say things like that, given the situation…”
“Well, that’s because I don’t remember.”
Penia, her face unreadable, murmured quietly, “This doesn’t seem like a memory issue, though…”
Then she continued,
“Anyway, from the looks of it, there’s no longer any need for you to pretend you’ve lost your memory.”
“Right?”
“Yes, since you’ve already been found out, there’s no point. And besides, judging from the way things went today… it seems everyone who was supposed to come already knows.”
“So you’re saying their reactions were all different from usual.”
“Not so much different as…”
It felt more like they’d been waiting for this moment—like they had finally gotten what they wanted.
That was what Penia thought.
But she decided not to say it out loud.
“For now, just hold on a bit.”
Then, while Alon was lost in thought, he spoke up.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just realized there’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“…Do you remember what I told you? About Seolrang bringing the marriage registration form.”
“Ah…!”
Penia let out a quiet gasp, as if she’d just realized something important as well.
But only for a moment.
She soon resumed her calm composure and began organizing the papers on her desk.
“Well… don’t worry too much about that part.”
“…Don’t worry?”
“Yes.”
“But if Seolrang takes that marriage form and goes back to Colony, wouldn’t that make me married before I even realize it?”
“I don’t think that’ll happen.”
“Why not…?”
Unable to understand, Alon asked again.
At that, Penia gave a self-deprecating little smile and turned her gaze toward the window.
“…Because she’ll probably be torn apart before she even leaves the estate…”
Her voice drifted softly.
And just as Alon was about to ask what she meant—
Outside the Marquis of Palatio’s estate—
Yutia and Seolrang were facing each other.
***
When Seolrang heard from Magrina the day before that Alon had lost his memory, and began making her ambitious plans, she hadn’t been expecting much.
Sure, she wanted to get that marriage registration signed—but deep down, she knew it was a near-impossible task.
Even if the odds were better this time.
She hadn’t truly hoped for success.
Because she was certain someone would interfere.
That’s why Seolrang had gone to Alon with a light heart.
Lightly handed him the marriage form.
Lightly received his signature.
And lightly left.
Seolrang looked down at the marriage form in her hands.
She’d gotten it so easily that it almost felt empty—“So it actually worked?” she thought blankly.
Only after leaving the Marquis’ manor did she fully register the fact that she’d gotten his signature.
Without realizing, her lips curved into a satisfied smile.
Yes, they did—
And the reason that smile was past tense was because—
“Yutia.”
“Seolrang.”
It was because of Yutia.
Even though Seolrang had snuck out carefully, knowing she needed to be cautious—Yutia was standing there, blocking her path, as if she had been waiting all along.
With Yutia in her way, Seolrang knew she couldn’t protect the marriage form.
So she decided to try negotiating first.
“Let me pass, Yutia.”
“Hm? I never said I was stopping you.”
“Really!? So I can go?”
“Of course.”
Yutia nodded lightly with a smile.
Seolrang smiled back—
“Just leave that behind, though.”
“Ugh…”
Hearing Yutia’s next words, Seolrang’s face crumpled in despair.
Yutia, who had been watching her closely, suddenly—
“Pfft—”
—burst into a soft laugh and said,
“I’m kidding.”
“…Eh?”
Seolrang blinked in confusion, her eyes round.
But Yutia kept smiling as she said,
“I’m not really going to stop you.”
“R-really? You won’t take it from me either?”
“Of course not.”
She nodded again.
Still, Seolrang couldn’t help but glance at her suspiciously.
Yutia’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.
“Well? Aren’t you going?”
“Th-then I’ll be going…?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m really going?”
“Yes.”
Yutia confirmed once more.
Seolrang had no idea what Yutia was thinking—her intentions, her true feelings, nothing.
So she just stood there for a moment, staring blankly.
Crackle—!
Then, seizing the moment, she vanished in a flash of golden light.
Watching her disappear, Yutia’s smile deepened.
It was a meaningful smile.
***
After Seolrang darted away to escape Yutia, and the late afternoon began to set in—
To put it simply—
Alon met Ryanga.
And seeing her, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.
Unlike Magrina, Ryanga was someone he had actually met several times in Psychedelia as one of the Four Great Powers.
Moreover, since Alon knew Ryanga’s personality from the game, he found it strange—and fascinating—that she could hold a proper conversation with him.
But the part that Alon found hardest to get used to was—
“Why, Chief?”
“No, it’s just that—”
—that Ryanga was sitting on his lap.
“W-well, we used to do this all the time when it was just the two of us, right?”
She stammered as she replied, seeing him stare at her.
Of course, Alon could instantly tell she was lying.
Unlike the others, Ryanga sitting on his lap was just… wrong.
Her face was flushed bright red, like it was about to burst.
“C-come on, p-pet my head… l-like you usually do…”
She didn’t stop there—she even asked him to pat her head.
Alon hesitated, wondering what he was supposed to do.
Then carefully raised his hand.
At that exact moment—
“Good grief—”
Penia let out a heavy sigh as she entered the office.
“I did a little checking, and it seems like we were right—everyone already knows the Marquis has lost his memory. So everything that happened today was probably just them trying to take advantage—”
And then she saw it.
Ryanga, sitting on Alon’s lap, her face red as a beet.
“…You’re still at it, I see.”
The moment Penia said that with a blank expression—
Silence fell over the office.
A heavy silence.
