SHC12_C12 That Promised Moment

Chapter 12: That Promised Moment

My breath was ragged. My vision blurred with heat behind my eyes.

The echo of my heavy, graceless footsteps only reminded me of the weight and ugliness of my body.

A white pig is still just a white pig, no matter how many memories from a past life it gains, no matter how many magic skills it awakens.

Even if I had nearly died, even if I had survived… My parents only ever felt one thing toward me: contempt.

As I turned a hallway corner, I saw my room at the end—my safe haven.

I was desperate to reach it, to get away, when bam!

I collided with something solid.

I fell back and rolled onto the floor—so did someone else.

A woman’s startled gasp reached my ears, and I blinked to see Rottenmeier sitting on the floor just like me.

“Young Master…?”

Her voice was gentle, but I couldn’t even see her clearly anymore. My vision had started to blur.

Then the heat in my eyes spilled over, trailing down my cheeks.

A low, guttural sound rumbled up from my throat, like a wounded animal. And with it—tears. The tears were heavy and filled with shame.

My father looked at me like I was living proof of betrayal.

My mother didn’t even bother hiding her disgust.

Those were not the eyes of parents. Those were the eyes of people staring at an enemy.

They hated me. Clearly. Deeply.

And now I understood why I couldn’t remember their faces or their voices—it wasn’t because I was stupid. It was because they’d never given me anything to remember.

All this time, the adults around me—Rottenmeier and Professor Romanov—had been trying to protect me.

They hadn’t just kept me away from my parents out of convenience. They knew. They knew I was unloved, perhaps even hated, and they shielded me from that truth for as long as they could.

Even when Rottenmeier explained it to me recently, she did so kindly—so I wouldn’t cling to impossible hopes.

But I… I still hoped.

I held onto a small hope.

I thought, I’d gotten better. I’ve learned magic. Maybe now… maybe just a little…

I was such a fool.

I wiped at my face furiously, ashamed at how freely the tears kept falling.

I had to apologize—to Rottenmeier, to everyone who tried to spare me this pain.

“I-I’m… s-so s-sorry… y-you told me… I shouldn’t hope… I—hic—I knew… but still…”

“Young Master…!”

Stop crying. Stop crying!

I scrubbed at my face with my fists, trying to force the tears to stop.

Even my voice was trembling and uneven—absolutely pathetic.

“I… I’m sorry for crying…”

“Young Master…”

If I didn't bite down on my lip, the tears would resurface. I clenched my fists tight, driving my nails into my palms just to ground myself in that pain.

That’s enough. No more mistakes.

“I’m going to wash my face.”

I knew I should help Rottenmeier up. I should apologize properly.

But if I touched her right now… I’d fall apart again.

So instead, I turned and walked briskly away, heading downstairs to the washroom.

Here, water flowed from faucets just like in my old world, thanks to enchanted magic stones rigged to react to turning the tap.

Such mundane, mechanical details, when contemplated, served to ward off sadness.

Apparently, he (my past self) used to cope this way. When emotions got too overwhelming, he distracted himself with idle thoughts and questions.

I washed my face roughly, using the handkerchief I kept on me.

Using a knife to carve soap into small sculptures is something I'd like to attempt in the future.

My thoughts scattered like beads on a string as I climbed the stairs back to my room—again.

I don’t even know how many times I’ve walked back and forth today.

At the landing midway up, I saw a small figure sitting alone.

Regulus.

He tapped the stair rail absentmindedly, crouched, and started lifting the corner of the red carpet.

What kind of child is he, really?

He’s… my brother.

I’d have to walk past him to get to my room. I didn’t have to avoid him, but I instinctively angled myself so I’d stay out of his line of sight.

And then—someone appeared behind him.

That man—Sebastian, my mother’s servant.

From where I stood, hidden behind a staircase ornament, he couldn’t see me.

He looked around cautiously, his eyes oddly dark… And then he reached for Regulus’s back as the boy played near the edge of the stairs.

He’s going to stop him before he falls, I thought—

But no.

His gloved hand gave Regulus a push.

“Eh!?”

There was no time to scream. Regulus’s small body tipped forward.

Before I could think, my body moved.

“Kyaaa! Regulus-sama!?”

A maid’s scream echoed behind me, but I didn’t care.

There wasn’t time to be graceful—my clumsy, heavy steps thundered against the stairs, fueled only by the desperate thought: Please make it!

Just before Regulus slammed into the stairs, I wrapped myself around him—shielding his head and torso.

But it wasn’t enough to stop the fall.

I saw the tail of Sebastian’s coat vanish around a corner as the world spun. We rolled—me clutching Regulus tightly—slamming into walls, railings, and steps.

My body was beaten from every direction, the edges of the stairs tearing at my skin.

Finally—slam—we hit the floor with a sickening final thud.

The world tilted. My head was spinning.

Then I felt Regulus stir in my arms. His little head lifted from my stomach, and our eyes met.

Golden hair. Cool blue eyes. Bronze skin.

So much like Father.

Such a pretty child—destined to grow up handsome and strong.

I exhaled shakily—then, suddenly, my mind was consumed by blinding white.

And then—

“I refuse to call you brother, you filthy pig. Prepare yourself.”

A voice—deep, composed, filled with contempt.

I looked up.

The mansion was engulfed in flames.

A young man—tall, regal, and wearing an ornate military uniform—glared down at me.

Golden hair. Blue eyes.

So much like Father.

He raised a sword, ready to strike.

Ah.

I’m going to die by this child’s hand someday.

That vision—burned into my mind—was the last thing I saw before everything went dark.

EUNIE: Thanks for Reading!!

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