When I Finished Playing the Terminally-Ill Villainous Omega C2

Chapter 2

I stared fixedly at the persistent mission window, bewildered. Then, after a long moment, realization dawned.

Could it be…?

“…Get out this instant. Who gave you permission to enter?”

I immediately recited the line the scenario had designated. And when my guess proved correct, I inwardly cheered.

[♥♥]

The flickering heart returned to normal— and even brought along a friend to celebrate mission success.

I found it. A way to survive in this novel!

The faint outline of a narrow path, once hidden by fog, had begun to reveal itself.

❖ ❖ ❖

A few days passed.

In order to minimize encounters with Locke, I spent yet another day holed up in my room, gazing out at the garden.

If I use the glitch well, I can survive.

The flaw I had discovered in the scenario’s mission system was this:

As long as the intent and direction of the action aligned, the system recognized it as success.

In other words, as long as the “intention to throw” was clear and it was perceived as an act aimed at Locke, the mission counted as complete.

And there was another truth:

If the target was not present when the system attempted to trigger a mission, the mission would not activate.

With the one precious heart I’d earned, I confirmed my theory was correct— one failure, one success.

Through that, I also learned that if the designated scene lacked the necessary character, the mission window never appeared. Thanks to my regression, I could deduce when missions were likely to trigger— a monumental discovery.

Avoid him as much as possible.

At present, I had two hearts. If I avoided Locke, it would be tight— but I could live.

Perhaps I should retreat to the villa outside the capital and claim I needed rest?

Lost in thought, I absentmindedly watched Locke in the distance, helping the gardener prune trees.

Considering the title is The Emperor’s Mistress, Locke must be the future emperor and thus the protagonist. No wonder— even from afar, he looks extraordinary.

As the saying goes, greatness shows even in the sprout— though he had yet to awaken, his broad shoulders were carved like a sculptor’s cherished masterpiece. His body, hardened from menial labor, held no excess. His sharply refined features cast striking shadows in the sunlight.

His high nose caught the light, creating a dramatic contrast— like a perfect painting come to life. It was an appearance unbelievable for anyone but a protagonist.

After exchanging a few words with the gardener, he began swinging a sickle with his left hand.

At that sight, the frost-cold expression he wore the night before my previous death— looking down on me like I were a pest— flashed in my mind.

Still… he’s scary.

I thought I had recovered somewhat in recent days, but merely recalling that night made my body shrink instinctively.

As I rubbed the goosebumps off my arms, Locke suddenly turned— as if sensing my gaze.

Startled, I dove behind the curtains— and promptly smacked my forehead into the window frame.

“Ow!”

A jolt shot through me.

What if he thought I was spying on him to torment him again? Or worse— what if he simply disliked being looked at by me?

While rubbing my throbbing forehead, I heard a distant neigh.

A carriage?

Cautiously peeking out from behind the curtain, I saw a beautiful, lotus-like carriage entering the garden.

I had seen it countless times in my previous life— the carriage of Countess Ravella’s household.

Inside, without a doubt, would be Éclat Béatrice Ravella.

Éclat— my sister’s dear friend, and once the wife of my eldest brother, Cassian.

In the past, she had visited to discuss ball gowns with my sister. Upon seeing Locke, she fell in love at first sight and plucked a red rose to offer him.

In the world of The Emperor’s Mistress, nobles expressed admiration for beauty with flowers.

Pink for beauty, red for sensuality, white for purity.

Right— that event should be around now… wait.

I quickly shifted my eyes to the garden. It was blanketed with roses.

“So it’s already that day?”

Startled, I dropped the curtain— and Locke, still looking up at my window, caught me in the most ridiculous state.

Why is he still staring?!

It felt as if I were stalking him, so I crouched below the window in embarrassment. My heart hammered.

I had reason to be alarmed.

In my previous life, the moment Locke accepted Éclat’s rose, the mission window appeared— and it was horrifying. I remembered the options vividly.

[Mission: Order your attendant Locke to pluck ten thousand thorned roses with his bare hands.

Choose one of the following lines:

1. “Feeling good after receiving flowers from a noble lady? I’ll make you feel even better. Pick every red rose in the garden with your bare hands. I’ll fill your room with them.”

2. “A slave, daring to covet above his station? Regret your foolishness. Bring me ten thousand roses plucked barehanded. If your hands remain intact, you’ll start over from the beginning.”]

Back then, with only one heart left, I had no choice but to follow the mission. Locke plucked roses until he was drenched in blood.

“…I am trash.”

I told myself it was to survive, but that was a flimsy excuse.

I could not repeat that stupidity in this life.

Still crouched, I brooded over my foolishness when—

Knock, knock. Someone rapped on the door.

“Cedric, it’s me— Éclat. May I come in?”

While I wallowed in misery, she must have arrived. I quickly stood and tidied myself.

“Come in.”

In my previous life, she was one of the few who pitied my terminal state and treated me with kindness— even more than my own siblings at times.

“Cedric! How have you been?”

The sweet girl with soft brown hair entered, smiling brightly, and handed me a silver tin.

“I came to give you this.”

Ah, right. These were delicious.

I couldn’t help but smile, remembering receiving the same gift in my past life.

“It’s a specialty of the Kingdom of Rivola. Father bought it and I immediately thought of you.”

Éclat had always brought sweets for me, since I had to take bitter medicine twice a day. She was truly warm-hearted. She had suffered greatly after marrying my brother.

Wait— I know the future now, don’t I?

Perhaps I could stop her from marrying him.

While sucking on one of the candies, I pondered, then spoke slowly.

“It’s sweet. Really good. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You should have one too.”

I offered the tin, but she shook her head with a smile.

“We have plenty at home. These are all for you.”

Then she stared at my face.

“But… why is your forehead so red?”

I couldn’t admit I head-butted a window while spying on my servant, so I touched it weakly and murmured,

“…My fever hasn’t gone down.”

“Oh dear, I disturbed your rest. I should go.”

“No, thanks to you I feel much better. By the way, what brings you here today?”

I asked knowingly.

“There’s a ball at the Marquis’ estate. I’m matching dresses with Ciel.”

“Right, I heard. Did you find an escort yet?”

Her cheeks reddened and she shook her head.

In my past life, she found none. She likely fancied Locke, but no noblewoman could attend with a mere attendant.

If Locke went as a servant, I would have to attend as his master. But she hadn’t asked— not wanting to burden a sick person. So she went with Cassian, and eventually married him.

Ugh… Cassian is the worst.

Even here, he was a wretched man— unfaithful, thoughtless, a scoundrel.

I could not let kind Éclat suffer again.

“Shall I accompany you?”

Her eyes bloomed like a sunflower.

“Really? Truly?”

She clasped my hands with delight— only to falter anxiously.

“But… you’re ill. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“No, really, I’m fine. Being cooped up indoors is worse.”

Her shoulders relaxed, relief softening her features. Then she asked shyly,

“Then… could you bring that Locke person as your servant?”

“I will.”

Once encouraged, her long-held feelings spilled forth.

Returning to the past was turning out to be far more wonderful than expected.

She had always been kind to me— through my suffering, without complaint. Seeing her happy warmed my heart.

“Yay! Thank you so much! Actually, I saw Cassian taking Locke earlier, so I thought he was his servant— but Ciel told me he was yours, so—!”

“Wait.”

I cut her off urgently.

In my previous life, the Hestian house was annihilated by Locke’s hand. Aside from my mother— who had sheltered him— every one of us died or became slaves.

To him, our family had been absolute evil. That memory was drenched in blood.

“Who took Locke?”