The Returning Spring
Roberta finally realized her misjudgment.
"I was wrong."
She had assumed, with prejudice, that the woman was neither immortal nor ageless, that she had lost her memories, and that she had simply lived a long life. She concluded that Moira was nothing more than a senile old woman.
But when she thought it over carefully, her judgment had several flaws. And there was someone else who could fill in those gaps.
"This person is Moira."
The middle-aged woman introduced as the younger sister of the villa's caretaker, Padnan—that woman was Moira.
Roberta had mistaken her for the old woman's caregiver, or perhaps her grown daughter. It was a complete misunderstanding.
The woman before her was the sister of Emperor Akean and one of the Eleven Knights. She was also someone who had pursued immortality, failed, and now lived on having lost her memories.
"Priest?"
"Ah… yes, my apologies."
When Roberta stared at her blankly, Moira called out to her.
"I got lost in thought for a moment."
Roberta forced an awkward smile and swallowed the question that had risen to her throat. She wanted to ask countless things, but it would be pointless.
Padnan had already said it—after Moira lost all her memories, her family had tried to teach her about her past, but she had asked them not to.
Because of that, Moira knew nothing of her past or her identity. No one told her.
"To live forever while losing one's memories…"
Strictly speaking, it wasn't true immortality. She could still die if injured. But in terms of lifespan alone, it could be considered eternal. Each time she regained her youth, her life extended.
It resembled reincarnation, but there was a crucial difference. Reincarnation meant the soul inhabiting a new body after death, whereas rejuvenation meant the body becoming young again before dying of old age.
"Can this really be called immortality?"
Moira gained youth at the cost of her memories. When she became an infant again, she had no recollection of her former self. Could someone without memory still be called the same person?
Perhaps. But it would be hard to say she was entirely the same as before. Her innate nature might remain, but the personality shaped by her experiences would vanish along with her memories.
Moira lived such a life. At regular intervals, she would grow young again, lose her memories, and become Moira—yet not Moira.
And while she herself did not know this truth, those around her did. Unlike reincarnation, where everything except the soul changes, in her case everything remained the same except her memories.
"What a strange life."
People knew her, yet she lived without knowing herself.
Roberta looked down at the abridged volume in her hands and asked,
"Aren't you curious about what's inside?"
"I am curious, but I don't want to read it."
"That's unusual. If you're curious, shouldn't you want to read it?"
Moira shook her head.
"It might sound strange, but I mean it. Ever since long ago, I've never felt inclined to go to the annex. And I don't like reading that book either."
When asked why, Moira gave vague answers—she felt frustrated, tired of it, the words wouldn't register—but she couldn't clearly define the reason.
"I see."
Roberta pondered the cause. Was it her innate nature? Or fragments of memory lingering deep within? If it was memory, then why would someone once so obsessed with it now act in the opposite way?
And could remnants of memory have some physical influence? She regretted not observing Moira more closely in the reception room. She wondered what kind of reaction Moira might have shown upon seeing Ulrich.
If any memory remained, there would surely have been a reaction. But her attention had been drawn to the old woman, and she had failed to properly observe Moira.
"It seems Mother is calling me. I should go."
Someone stepped out from the mansion and raised a hand high—it was Padnan. He began walking toward the shade where the two stood.
Moira smiled lightly, as if she already knew what it was about without hearing, and left the shade.
Padnan exchanged a few brief words with Moira and then took her place beneath the tree. Watching her enter the mansion, he took out a cigarette.
"Would you like one?" he offered, but Roberta declined.
The old man lit it and took a deep drag.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of tobacco far away. Roberta leaned against the tree, placing the abridged book on her lap.
"You may converse with her, but please avoid reminding Lady Moira of her past if possible."
"Do you have no intention of telling her the truth?"
"No. Not unless she seeks it out herself."
After a moment's thought, Roberta asked,
"As far as I know, Lady Moira lived nearly a thousand years ago. I heard she effectively ruled this land since then. Don't you wish for her to continue leading even now?"
"We do, but we cannot force her. Lady Moira herself told us not to teach her past to the version of herself that has lost her memories."
"Is that really the only reason? Each time she loses her memories, her personality might change slightly. Just as the original Moira was obsessed with her memories."
Padnan shook his head.
"Priest, you would not understand. You serve a master who lives unchanged for eternity."
Though it had not even been two years, Roberta chose not to point that out.
"Do you remember when I said Lady Moira was both my elder sister and my younger sister? I truly believed she was my older sister."
Padnan let out a hollow laugh as he recalled the past. When he was born, Moira had already been older than his mother, yet she concealed that fact in front of the Padnan siblings.
In her previous life, unlike now, she had mastered magic and appeared extremely young. With her magically maintained youth, she looked no older than twenty, and Padnan believed her to be an older sister with a modest age gap.
"Imagine someone—say, a man now going by the name Ulrich—hiding his true identity and pretending to be your sibling. How could you not be deceived?"
The truth—that she was not his sister—was revealed only years after he had come of age. As her lifespan neared its limit, she found it harder to control mana and returned to her original form.
"I only learned the truth just before Lady Moira regained her youth. I had believed she was my sister for over twenty years, when my father told me… that among the Eleven Knights, the one who sought immortality and was punished was, in fact, still alive."
And that Padnan's family were merely her vassals—that she was their true master, and had protected their lineage for a very long time.
"It was hard to believe. That a human could live that long—and that such a person was someone I had believed to be my sister… So I shut myself inside the annex, where I had never been allowed before, and read the records Lady Moira had left behind."
While he read those records in the annex, Moira lay in a deep sleep upon her bed. A pale cocoon-like shell formed around her, enveloping her entire body as if she were a chrysalis wrapped in its husk.
Over the course of more than two months, her body moved backward through time. And when the shell finally cracked open, an infant was revealed inside.
"When I heard that my sister—no, Lady Moira—had opened her eyes, I went to the bedroom… and found a shed husk and a crying baby. My mother was holding the child, and she handed her to me, saying that this was Lady Moira—the one I had believed to be my sister."
Padnan mimed holding a baby in his arms. By then, he already knew that Moira lost her memories when she became an infant again. Still, he had held onto a faint hope, so he carefully watched the child's reaction as he faced her.
But the baby, newly awakened, simply cried from hunger at the sight of a stranger. Every memory of Padnan and his family had been completely erased.
She had become a babbling infant, devoid of all memory. Naturally, there was no way for her to recover them. It had happened many times before, and it would continue to happen again.
"Does her appearance change at all?"
"Other than becoming younger, everything remains the same. And as she grows, she gradually returns to her former appearance. It's… a very strange feeling. Someone who looks exactly like my sister comes to see me as an older brother."
That was why they served Moira, yet never forced her to remember.
"In a way, she's similar to His Highness Richard."
Roberta thought of Richard, the king of Osnover. Adopted by an immortal, he had been taken in at such a young age that he did not regard Ulrich's immortality as anything special.
To him, his father was simply someone who lived longer than anyone else and did not die—nothing more. He did not revere each of his father's extraordinary traits. Perhaps the feelings Padnan and his family held toward Moira were similar.
In the present day, Moira did not even know her own identity, let alone her accomplishments. Those who had once directly received her grace had long since turned to dust. Her knowledge remained in the annex, and unlike Ulrich, she possessed no extraordinary power.
If Count Roslayen wished, the ruler of this land could be replaced in an instant. Yet they did not do so. Because she was someone's sister, someone's younger sibling.
The woman who had once been the emperor's sister and one of the Eleven Knights now lived simply as an ordinary person, cared for by her family.
"..."
As Roberta reflected once more on Moira's tragic fate, a question arose in her mind.
"Do you know why she sought immortality?"
Every result has a cause. Moira would never have reached this outcome had she not pursued immortality.
"It was because of the one you serve."
"Ulrich?"
Padnan nodded.
"Yes. Though all we have are records, it's written throughout them. Lady Moira did not pursue immortality out of fear of death."
Roberta looked up at the old man. If not fear of death, then what emotion could drive such a desire for immortality? A fleeting expression of realization crossed her face, only to vanish just as quickly.
"There was a woman who entered the harem of a certain debauched emperor. She bore a child, and as she died, she entrusted that child to an old friend."
"I've already heard much about the birth of Moira and Akean."
"Then do you also know that, even before the Lord of the Dead rose, those two—born as the children of a wealthy farmer—had already met Ulrich?"
Roberta replied that she had suspected as much.
The Ulrich she knew was not the kind of person to entrust children to someone, no matter how reliable, without checking on them repeatedly. At the very least, he would have appeared from time to time to observe their growth.
"He was not merely an observer. He was the knight who protected them from their half-siblings, a teacher who guided them, and the leader of the Eleven Knights."
Crushing the cigarette beneath his foot, Padnan added quietly,
"And a man who did not age with time."
Then he looked at her.
"Think about it. If you were to stay beside someone like that… and your heart were to waver—what would you call that feeling?"
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