How many mistakes had I made in the past?
One?
Two?
Three?
Or perhaps so many that even the act of counting had long since lost its aning.
No matter the number, the answer always circled back to the sa truth—mistakes were what defined humanity itself.
To stumble, to fail, to regret... these were not exceptions, but inevitabilities. So people learned to accept them.
So found peace in endings they never truly wanted, convincing themselves that closure was happiness.
They laid everything to rest, sealed their past behind closed doors, and moved on.
But I was never one of them.
I had failed across countless worlds.
Made choices, corrected them, made new ones—only to watch the sa conclusions unfold ti and ti again.
Progress was made, lessons were learned, yet the ending remained unchanged.
No matter how carefully I walked the path, no matter how much wisdom I accumulated, inevitability always waited at the end.
That was why this ti had to be different.
There would be no next cycle.
No regression.
No ti to nd old wounds or rewrite regrets.
Instead... this ti, I would create sothing new.
A path not born from correction, but from resolve.
Reality itself might change. I might forget who I truly am, lose fragnts of myself along the way, or beco soone unrecognizable even to my own mories.
But even if that happened—even if my past self faded into nothing—I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
As long as I remained bound to this world’s fate,
I would protect it.
For the laughter shared between friends.
For the warmth found in fleeting monts.
For the fragile happiness people fought so hard to preserve.
And... for myself as well.
That was why, when the ti finally ca—when the choice could no longer be avoided—I hoped my future self would understand.
That none of it was aningless. That none of it was betrayal.
It was all done for your sake.
For everyone’s happiness.
.....
Evelyn—my clone.
Born not rely from flesh or mana, but from the accumulated mories of countless ’s scattered across broken worlds.
Worlds where I failed. Worlds where I succeeded only to lose everything anyway.
She was ant to be the distilled answer to all of that—a perfect, wiser version of myself, refined through endless collapse and rebirth.
Her understanding was my understanding.
Her values were my values.
Her loyalty was absolute.
Betrayal was never an option.
After all, even if she was a clone shaped by my skill and molded by my will... she was still .
"What exactly would you like to know, Original?"
Her voice was calm, almost gentle, as if this were nothing more than a casual conversation between equals rather than a confrontation born from unease.
"..."
"Everything."
She blinked once, then smiled faintly.
"That is going to be quite a long story," she said lightly. "There are many things—I can relay to you. But it would take far too much ti." She tilted her head, blue eyes unwavering. "If you wish, I could simply kill myself and allow you to absorb my mories directly."
"...No need."
I sighed, rubbing my temple as I looked at her.
A quiet chuckle escaped despite myself.
Even knowing she was , it was still unsettling.
The way she carried herself.
The ease with which she wore that body—as if being transford into a woman was sothing she had accepted long ago.
You were once , you know...
Shaking off the thought, I t her gaze again, this ti more firmly.
"Evelyn," I said slowly, "I know—for a fact—that whatever you’re doing is for my sake."
She didn’t deny it.
"But keeping in the dark," I continued, my voice steady but cold, "and manipulating events beyond my awareness isn’t sothing I’m fond of."
So, I needed to know just how much of ... is she...
.....
Evelyn’s smile didn’t fade. If anything, it softened, carrying a tenderness that felt almost out of place against the tension between them.
"Whatever could you an, Original?"
Her tone was light, almost playful, but Riley didn’t miss the way her eyes sharpened—like a blade hidden beneath silk.
"First it was Janica," he said quietly.
"...."
"Then Stacia. And now Snow." His gaze didn’t waver as he continued. "All of them have been subtly interfered with by you. I didn’t notice it at first, but the runes I can faintly perceive in their souls aren’t normal. They aren’t harmful—I can tell that much—but there’s a clear layer of concealnt woven into them. It’s deliberate. So tell , Evelyn... what exactly are you planning?"
For the first ti since they’d t face to face, Evelyn fell silent.
Her eyes lowered, fingers slowly intertwining as if she were organizing thoughts too vast to be spoken lightly.
The wind brushed past them, stirring her hair, and in that brief stillness Riley felt the weight of everything he’d chosen to ignore until now.
He had sensed it for a long ti—those nagging inconsistencies, the monts that felt just a little too convenient.
He had brushed them aside, trusting her, because she was him.
Or at least, born from him.
But after what happened with Stacia... after his own ascension...
After becoming sothing that even the gods had begun to treat as an anomaly rather than a man—
Was that, too, part of her design?
Her interventions were subtle. Beneficial, even. Anyone else would have been grateful without question.
But if her plans involved Erebil...
If they risked Snow in any way—
Then that was a line he would not allow anyone to cross. Not even himself.
"Original," Evelyn finally said, her voice quieter now, stripped of its playful lilt. "How many of the other worlds have you truly seen?"
"..."
"How many failures?" she continued gently. "How many endings where you fought, struggled, sacrificed—only to watch everything crumble anyway? How many tis did you stand at the very end, knowing you’d done everything you could... and still lost?"
Her words pressed down on him like invisible weight.
"I’m sure there were many," she went on, lifting her gaze to et his. There was no mockery there—only certainty. "After all, you walked the sa trials as all of us. The sa paths. The sa despair."
She took a step closer.
"Only this ti," Evelyn said softly, almost reverently, "you haven’t failed yet."
Her smile returned, no longer mischievous, but warm—devoted.
"Because you are our most beloved star."
The wind fell silent.
And Riley realized that whatever Evelyn was doing, it wasn’t born of malice or ambition—but of sothing far more dangerous.
Conviction.
"You want to ask what I’m planning?"
Evelyn moved closer, her footsteps silent, deliberate.
When she stood before Riley, she placed her hand gently over his chest, right above his heart.
Her touch was warm—familiar in a way that unsettled him more than hostility ever could.
"I’m planning on lightening your burden, Original," she said softly. "For everyone’s sake."
Riley’s eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in quiet understanding.
"...Is it because you can’t fully say it?" he asked.
Evelyn’s lips curved upward just a little. Not a smug smile—no, it was sothing far gentler, almost proud.
"I like how perceptive you are," she replied. "Yes. Let’s leave it at that—for now."
She stepped past him, her gaze drifting toward the distant horizon, where the academy towers cut into the sky.
"Don’t worry," she continued. "All of us want the sa future you do. We simply... want to reach a happy ending this ti."
She turned back to him, blue eyes eting his without wavering.
"My interference has limits. I’ve already exploited every loophole I could safely touch. From here on, everything rests in the hands of those with potential."
Her voice softened further.
"So don’t worry, Original. I won’t do anything extre—anything that would harm the people we love."
Riley frowned faintly at her words, then exhaled a quiet sigh, shaking his head as if trying to dispel a lingering tension.
"...Do I really talk like this?" he muttered, half-amused, half-exasperated. "No wonder they hate it when I keep things from them."
Evelyn let out a light, lodic laugh.
"Fufu~"
The sound echoed gently in the air, carrying both affection and sothing deeper—sothing heavy with mories Riley couldn’t see, but could feel pressing just beneath the surface.
And for the first ti since she appeared before him, Riley understood one undeniable truth:
Evelyn wasn’t lying.
....
When morning ca—
Snow slowly opened her eyes and sat up in bed.
She looked around the quiet room, and a faint light ford on her beautiful face.
Again...
The sa dream.
How long had it been now?
Ever since that demon incident, these lucid dreams kept returning, almost daily.
Always vivid.
Always too real.
The scenery would burn itself into her mind, then collapse right before she could grasp its aning.
This place...
It was her room in the imperial palace.
Snow turned her head toward the large mirror standing beside the wall.
Its surface reflected her familiar figure, yet her chest felt tight for reasons she couldn’t explain.
"What are you trying to show this ti?"
At first, there was no response.
Then—slowly—the face in the mirror moved on its own.
It smiled.
"Fufu..."
The reflection let out a quiet chuckle, cold and mature, nothing like Snow’s usual gentle presence.
The air shifted.
Cold spread through the room, crawling across the floor and walls like frost breathing alive. Before Snow could react, the reflection vanished from the mirror.
And then—
She was there.
Sitting beside Snow on the bed.
Snow froze, unable to move as the woman—who looked exactly like her—spoke softly.
"There are many things in this world that will try to stain you," she said calmly. "But you must remain true to your will and desire."
Her voice was smooth, yet sharp.
"Let your beauty be dazzling... yet cold. As sharp as crystal ice."
Snow’s breath caught as the woman continued.
"When you walk your path forward, do not forget the light you chose. Overco it. Accept it."
She lifted her hand, extending a single finger.
"And rember... sotis all it takes is one finger to decide a cold judgnt."
The mont the words settled—
Snow jolted awake.
Her eyes widened as reality rushed back in.
"W-Winner—Snow Luvenitia White Germonia Leven!!!!"
The announcer’s voice thundered across the arena.
The crowd erupted into wild cheers.
Snow blinked, her mind still hazy as she looked forward.
What she saw made her breath stop.
The battlefield was gone.
In its place stood a frozen landscape—jagged crystal ice piercing the ground in every direction.
At the center of it all was where her opponent once stood, now completely entombed.
Her arm was raised.
Her finger pointed forward.
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