As the Swordmaster Frederick looked upon the princess, he couldn’t help but feel a curiosity deepening within him.
“Then how have you managed to train this way until now? Why co to , specifically? It sounds like you already know how to ditate,” he asked.
“Because I’ve practiced it hundreds of tis,” the princess replied, her voice carrying, for the first ti, a tone of weariness, as if drained. But to Frederick’s trained eye, her condition was markedly improved since she first ascended the mountain; her inner energy seed more focused.
“When I first climbed this mountain, I knew nothing. And the first ti I learned ditation from you, I grasped only fragnts by rewinding ti, practicing repeatedly,” she explained.
“Is that so?”
The princess’s words felt odd to Frederick, the strangest of all her mysteries.
“After I had a feel for it, I started from the base of the mountain again, even before speaking to you each ti.”
“Hmm.”
Though her statents made little logical sense, both Jennifer and the Swordmaster listened calmly as the first rays of dawn stread through the window.
“Every ti I climbed, I cald my mind, strengthened my body, relearned ditation, and further improved myself. When I rewind, my body reverts to its original state, but my mories and sensations remain intact.”
“I see.” Frederick chuckled, realization dawning on him.
“That’s what was happening.”
“Master, you believe this story?” Jennifer asked, though her expression betrayed a knowing smile.
“If you don’t believe her, why does your face suggest otherwise?” Frederick responded, noting Jennifer’s amusent.
“Are you saying you can turn back ti?” Frederick asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he pulled a chair, gesturing for his guests to sit.
“Yes.”
“Interesting. But I have one minor disagreent,” he remarked as he settled into his chair.
“Disagreent?” the princess asked, taking a seat.
“Is this the first ti we’ve had this conversation?”
“Yes.”
Frederick gave her a nod. “Then think of it as foresight.”
“But I can turn back ti whenever I choose. Calling it foresight seems… inaccurate.”
“Then consider that you may be glimpsing what lies ahead, peering into a future you hadn’t yet experienced,” he proposed with a grin.
The princess tilted her head, uncertain.
“Well,” he continued, “whatever you experience directly is bound to be more accurate than anything I say.”
The scrape of a chair broke the silence as Jennifer took a seat.
“Ah, I regret not having any tea for such distinguished guests. My apologies; I ran out.”
“It’s quite alright,” the princess assured him.
“I might be much older than you think,” Frederick said, chuckling.
“I doubt it’s gone that far. I haven’t rewound ti to that extent.”
“A frog doesn’t recall its tadpole days.”
“What if a frog could rember the egg it ca from?”
“Everyone carries faint mories from childhood,” Frederick mused. “And human mory is frail; a small trigger can shatter it entirely. Just look at how many spells are designed to alter mory.”
“…”
As he watched her contemplate, Frederick asked gently, “Will you erase this mory, too, now that you’ve achieved what you ca for?”
The princess remained silent, but her expression betrayed a hint of discomfort. Perhaps, after facing him so many tis, she felt a strange familiarity with him.
Jennifer couldn’t help but comnt, “You’re making quite a face. Normally, you’re so expressionless.”
Frederick was sure she would rewind ti once again.
“What about our deal, then?” he asked with a hint of mischief. “If there’s no mory of it, there’s no debt to pay.”
“I’ll repay my debt in my own way,” she said firmly.
Jennifer chid in, “Isn’t it funny, though? Getting rewarded for sothing that never happened. It feels like we’re profiting unfairly.”
“…I’ve already gained sothing,” the princess replied softly.
“There’s no need to be so formal,” Frederick laughed.
At his age, he found this encounter a precious and rare experience. He didn’t care much for the original deal she had proposed. To witness soone who could turn back ti and gain whatever they sought was a treasure beyond any condition or deal.
“If you insist on repaying ,” he added, “visit once more before I die. Then, I’ll try to guess your true identity. Don’t spoil the mystery by giving too many hints; riddles are dull if the creator gives everything away.”
“….”
“You’re under no obligation to avoid rewinding ti because of us,” Frederick advised warmly. “You pursued this path, enduring countless loops under my guidance, didn’t you?”
Many had co to him without natural talent. Most left soon after, discouraged or worn out by the arduous training. Yet this girl was different. Even though she seemingly possessed the ability to turn back ti—a power she could have used to pursue fa, wealth, or influence—she chose a difficult path, a path with purpose.
And Frederick, a man who respected such unwavering purpose, had nothing but admiration for her. If he hadn’t, Jennifer would never have been allowed into his life.
“So, is that your final condition?” she asked.
“It is. Even if I don’t rember, I count you as my disciple after all this ti you’ve endured. Bear that title proudly; I don’t take on many disciples. Not that many seek out here,” he said with a chuckle.
The princess, Sylvia Fangriffon, looked at him with mild puzzlent. Frederick’s cheerful deanor lifted her spirits. Though he wouldn’t rember this encounter, she would carry his laughter with her.
Jennifer finally interjected, “Honestly, I’d like you to fulfill our agreent. I’m practical like that.”
“…”
Sylvia gazed at her teacher for a mont before nodding in agreent.
“If that’s your wish,” she replied.
“Not that I’d know if you didn’t,” Jennifer shrugged.
“Then, as we descend the mountain, tell what I need to do. I’ll rember.”
“Hmm.” Jennifer’s eyes sparkled with amusent. “If you want to. If you choose not to rewind, it’ll be a pleasant surprise for as well.”
Sylvia gave no reply, but Frederick imagined that, had she had a teacup before her, she would have quietly sipped from it—a gesture that would have suited her perfectly.
*
As his two disciples left to fulfill a portion of the agreent, Frederick remained seated in his tranquil cabin, murmuring to himself, “If you have business with , co on in.”
A red-haired young man opened the door and stepped in silently.
“Such a dazed look on you, young man,” Frederick chided with a click of his tongue.
The young man crossed the room, took a seat at the table, and shrugged. “I don’t care for such noble pastis.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Frederick said with a broad smile.
“You must be the swordsman the princess spoke of,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sized up the young man.
He was no ordinary talent, that much was clear.
It was possible this youth already surpassed Frederick in skill, despite his seventy years.
“Impressive. Care to cross swords with ?”
“…What’s the point if ti’s just going to rewind soon anyway?” the youth sighed.
Frederick burst out laughing. “You’re like a child who’s just found out a magician’s trick and doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge.”
The young man looked montarily sullen, but Frederick rose from his seat, walked to the wall, and began buckling on his katana.
“But when all is said and done,” Frederick said in a firm tone, cutting off the young man’s complaints, “we’re here, talking in this mont, are we not? I’d wager we have at least a few hours left.”
The young man fell silent.
“Even if the world ends tomorrow, the living have no choice but to carry on,” Frederick continued. “If our mory of today is real, no one can deny this mont existed, not even a god.”
Hand resting confidently on the hilt of his katana, Frederick exuded a presence of absolute certainty, an indomitable aura worthy of a Swordmaster.
“Co, young man. Wouldn’t you like to spar with in the ti we have left?”
The red-haired youth looked at him, mouth agape, before bursting into laughter.
“Wisdom really does co with age, huh, old man?”
All traces of earlier despondency had vanished from his face.
“Alright, then. Let’s have ourselves a hell of a match.”
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