PT | Chapter 2.1

Clatter. The carriage came to a sudden stop with a jolt.

Aubrey, who had been dozing off with his legs crossed, opened his eyes but stayed still for a while. Only when the butler, tired of waiting, called out, “Young master,” did Aubrey slowly stir, muttering to himself. This isn’t a dream; it’s reality. He reminded himself once again that he was living his 25th life and rose to his feet.

“Young master, it’s been a while.”

As soon as he stepped out of the carriage, a greeting was thrown at him, making Aubrey roll his eyes.

“‘A while,’ you say? Didn’t we see each other ten days ago?”

“But that time, you only came for business and left immediately,” the butler responded calmly, unfazed by Aubrey’s rebuke.

Indeed, ten days ago, Aubrey had returned straight to the academy after finishing some business. That business had been a meal with Madeleine. The Marquis had insisted that he meet her at least once, so he reluctantly went, which ultimately led to this mess.

In just one meal, Madeleine became his fiancée and intentionally approached Lennock. Witnessing this, others concocted all sorts of crude rumors and spread them around. Aubrey managed to fabricate some excuse to clean up the mess, but eventually, the rumors reached the Marquis’s ears. That was how both Aubrey and Lennock ended up being summoned back to the Marquis’ estate.

Though attending the academy didn’t necessarily mean living in a dormitory, some students, prone to whining, commuted from home. Aubrey, however, preferred the cramped dormitories over his home and seldom returned unless absolutely necessary. Now he was hit with this unexpected summons.

Even if it wasn’t his fault, he felt certain he’d be the only one scolded. Grumbling to himself, he muttered, “Father is…?”

“The master is currently speaking with some guests.”

“Really?”

That meant he wouldn’t have to face him immediately.

“Then take my luggage to my room. I’ll be in the garden—”

Before he could finish, he noticed people emerging from the estate’s entrance.

Ranging from their 30s to 60s, the guests recognized Aubrey and greeted him with slight nods. Not wanting to appear impolite, Aubrey returned their greetings with a faint smile. Social etiquette dictated that you always returned a greeting with a smile, even if it wasn’t genuine. Thanks to the guests leaving at just the right time, it seemed Aubrey would be meeting his father after all.

If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve returned with Lennock.

Though the distance wasn’t far, he hated the idea of sharing a carriage with Lennock, so he’d arranged for separate ones. Now Lennock was nowhere to be seen. Did he end up wandering off somewhere else? Should I wait for him and then go in together?

Just then, the Marquis’ personal secretary, who had come out to see the guests off, noticed Aubrey and greeted him politely.

“Young master, you’ve arrived early. The Marquis has been expecting you.”

The secretary gestured toward the house, signaling him to go inside. Narrowing one eye slightly, Aubrey suppressed his irritation.

No matter how much he disliked the situation, he couldn’t show it, especially not to this oily-faced secretary. Being in a place he despised made him more irritable than usual. With deliberate steps, Aubrey walked past the secretary and into the mansion, raising his head to gaze at the massive chandelier hanging in the center of the staircase. Below it, his father’s oversized portrait loomed.

It projected an air of authority, as if he had owned this estate and its title for centuries. In truth, Johan Wiidin had been a commoner, a son-in-law taken in by the family, an ambitious businessman who shattered the barriers of status. Starting with nothing, he had built an empire with his bare hands, which was undeniably impressive—but not something Aubrey could respect.

Perhaps it was because of the way Johan treated him during the countless regressions. A father who showed no affection, only valuing his children based on their abilities and usefulness.

In a life where each death reset everything, Aubrey’s mind grew more fractured. He often felt terrified, wondering if he’d ever escape this endless cycle. Every time he regressed, he sought out the only family he had left: Marquis Johan.

Every regression brought him back as a seven-year-old, usually in a state of utter confusion. Despite others trying to stop him, he would run frantically to his father, clutching his leg. And then he’d… what was it he said?

He couldn’t quite remember, but he’d always blurt out fragments of what he’d learned in his repeated lives. At some point, he mentioned the great sin and how its resurrection would bring the world to ruin. That was when Johan nearly ripped out his hair.

The Marquis struck Aubrey hard across the face.

When Aubrey regained consciousness, he had been lying on the floor, blood dripping from his nose and lips. It was just a slap, yet his head spun, and his vision blurred from the pain. While Aubrey was too disoriented to think, the Marquis scolded him in a cold, heartless voice.

“You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you? What nonsense are you spewing this early in the morning? And you call yourself Johan’s son?”

Because he was his son. Because he thought of him as his father, Aubrey had run to him, seeking help.

Staring blankly at the bloodstained floor, Aubrey realized then that his father was not someone he could trust or rely on. In this endless cycle of regression, there was no one he could lean on. He would have to handle everything on his own.

If only he had asked me what was wrong… just once.

Even now, reflecting on it, Aubrey knew his father wasn’t the type to ask such things, and the thought left a bitter taste.

“Academy life seems to suit you well.”

“…”

As he walked toward where his father awaited, Aubrey turned his head.

There stood Dalton, the Marquis’ personal secretary, smiling warmly. To anyone else, it might seem like a casual inquiry about his well-being. But Aubrey knew the secretary looked down on him.

In this life, Aubrey had adopted a middle-of-the-road approach. He didn’t push himself to excel at everything, nor did he strive to outshine his elder siblings. But neither did he act like a complete fool. He struck a balance—appearing capable but unmotivated, living each day as if he were a carefree loafer. Over time, this caused the Marquis to lose interest in him. Now, his father was so indifferent that he was willing to sell his son into a marriage for business gains.

And the secretary, working closely with the Marquis, surely saw Aubrey as a joke.

“…”

Aubrey ignored Dalton’s drawn-on smile and stopped in front of the door. Despite being ignored, Dalton didn’t seem to mind; he was simply performing his duties.

“Young master Aubrey has arrived,” he announced.

“Let him in,” came the reply.

Dalton opened the door and bowed. “Please, go ahead.”

The first thing Aubrey noticed as he entered was the enormous desk.

The Marquis used it for little more than signing a few documents, but its size was unnecessarily extravagant. Still, the sheer distance it created between them offered a strange sense of comfort. Aubrey approached the desk and spoke in an even tone.

“You called for me?”

Only then did the man seated at the desk, Johan Wiidin, lift his head.

At fifty years old, the Marquis appeared at least a decade younger. Despite working tirelessly with little sleep, he showed no signs of fatigue. He was the same man Aubrey had known as a child, with an unchanging expression of disapproval for his son. This was Johan Wiidin, the Marquis.

Even now, he looked at Aubrey as if expecting him to confess to some crime, his eyes cold and judgmental. Not fond of such treatment, Aubrey broke the silence.

“This incident was caused by a simple misunderstanding. I’ve already spoken with the academy headmaster and resolved things with Lady Madeleine. There’s no need for you to worry.”

“Is that what you truly believe?”

“Do you think I’d lie to you about something so trivial?”

Frankly, it was more Lady Madeleine’s fault. She must have known about the rumors labeling her as Aubrey Wiidin’s fiancée, yet she still approached Lennock. Who knew what she was thinking? Regardless, Aubrey had made things clear to her, so she wouldn’t try anything unnecessary again.

The reason his father had summoned him was likely because of the rumors surrounding Madeleine and Lennock. However, since Aubrey considered the issue resolved, he didn’t take it too seriously. He figured he’d endure some scolding and be done with it.

But Johan’s displeasure became evident as he set down his pen with a sharp sound and raised his head.

“When something like this happens, isn’t it your duty to use every means to protect your fiancée’s honor? I hear Madeleine has locked herself in her room, refusing to eat and crying incessantly. Her father is deeply concerned that he might lose his only daughter.”

“That’s odd. I don’t recall any reason for her to cry and skip meals. More importantly…”

Aubrey trailed off, hesitating for a moment before continuing.

“Was she truly my fiancée in the first place?”

One day, out of nowhere, I was told to have dinner with someone. That was the first and only time we met. Yet, after that brief meal, I suddenly found myself with a fiancée.

It was so absurd that I just brushed it off. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Aubrey lightly regretted that decision as he looked down at his father.

“Madeleine’s father and I have been business partners for many years. And now, because of you, that strong relationship is on the verge of breaking. Do you even realize that?”

“Then why did you send me in the first place? You have my elder brothers. Surely they would’ve been more fitting, considering they’re legitimate heirs of this family. Better than an illegitimate child or an orphan.”

Johan’s eyes changed in an instant.

Aubrey winced inwardly, realizing he’d said something unnecessary out of irritation. Johan wasn’t the kind of person to let comments like that slide.

Sure enough, the Marquis stood from his seat and walked toward him. Aubrey clenched his teeth, bracing himself, and was rewarded with a stinging slap across his face.

Slap!!

The sharpness of Johan’s hand hadn’t dulled over the years. On top of that, he had a way of hitting that left only a brief red mark before it completely disappeared in a couple of days.

Aubrey instinctively opened his eyes and stared at his father.

“How insolent. It seems your tongue has become vulgar during your time away.”

“…”

Vulgar, huh? If I really decided to speak my mind, you’d probably faint in shock, Aubrey thought as he pressed his sore cheek with his tongue. He didn’t bother dodging—his father only got angrier if he did—and as a result, he tasted blood. The metallic tang pooling on his tongue made his expression stiffen. Johan raised his hand again, but this time he didn’t strike.