The night after returning from the picnic:
I pulled a green book out from the drawer, one I hadn’t seen—or thought about—for a very long ti.
Inside it were plans. Detailed, careful plans outlining how I was supposed to behave during the year after breaking up with Elena, before entering the academy, and even what steps I was ant to take after that.
"...No. Is this really a good thing?"
I muttered to myself as I flipped through the pages.
If I had to describe the plan sheet taphorically, it reminded of those overly neat vacation schedules adults make for children.
Every hour accounted for. Every destination chosen in advance. No space for wandering, no room for boredom, and certainly no freedom.
A plan so strict that, if followed perfectly, it would guarantee admission into a prestigious university—or in my case, a flawless future.
In truth, I had been living under a schedule like this long before the academy ever beca a real goal. Until I t Elena, at least.
No one had forced it on . No one stood over my shoulder with orders or threats. I had done it to myself. I trapped myself inside an endless hamster wheel and gave it a noble na—preparation for the future.
Study here. Train there. Network with this person. Avoid distractions. Optimize ti. Improve efficiency.
Day after day, I followed it faithfully.
And the result?
I beca soone perfectly suited to succeed Count Kraus’s family. A model heir. Reliable, disciplined, predictable. Exactly the kind of person I had once decided I needed to beco.
I closed the book halfway and let out a quiet breath.
Back then, I had believed that reaching that goal would naturally lead to happiness. That if I did everything right—if I sacrificed enough, endured enough—contentnt would simply be waiting for at the finish line.
But the incident with Alphonse shattered that illusion.
Following the plan hadn’t saved .
It hadn’t protected the people I cared about, and it certainly hadn’t brought the happiness I thought it would.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the book.
"So what was all of this for...?"
The version of who wrote this never questioned whether he wanted this life. He only cared about whether he could achieve it.
The reason I had made up my mind to beco a person worthy of this family—and not to be ruined like Damian in the original novel—was simple.
I wanted to live a happy life with my family.
That had always been the goal.
However, sowhere along the way, my efforts to beco better had ironically caused to neglect the very people I wanted to protect.
Even if those efforts made a better human being, if they created distance between and my family, then they were no longer necessary.
"Co to think of it... I haven’t taken this guy out much since I t Elena."
I muttered to myself while flipping through the book.
The words slipped out naturally, almost absentmindedly, as my fingers traced the worn edges of the pages.
The book was not rely a record of my daily schedule.
It contained events that had already happened in the novel, events unfolding in the present, and events that were yet to occur in the future.
So were trivial, while others were turning points that had once decided the fate of entire families.
The Kraus family was not an ordinary noble house.
It was an elder, prestigious family of the empire on this continent, a house that had ruled the South long before the empire itself was founded.
Though it held the title of count, it had refused elevation generation after generation.
Because of that, it could not be placed on the sa level as other count families.
As the successor to such a family, I had been exposed to information about events across the continent since childhood.
Political movents, noble conflicts, economic shifts—none of these were unfamiliar to .
That knowledge, accumulated over years, made it easy for to trust the information recorded in the book.
Everything had a cause.
What happens a few Chapters later only happens because of what is happening now.
I knew the future that followed from this point.
So when I heard new information, it naturally reinforced the future I already knew.
The present always served as proof of what was yet to co.
Because of that, I had found a strange sense of security in this book.
No matter how unstable the situation beca, knowing the future allowed to remain calm.
It was like holding a map while everyone else wandered blindly.
But that sense of security had also led down an unexpected path.
It resulted in my continued engagent with Elena.
The story of Damian Kraus and Elena Edelweiss was never written in the original novel.
It was a future I did not know.
A path that had not existed before I intervened.
And because of that, the book could no longer provide peace of mind.
For the first ti since my transmigration, the future in front of was blank.
I closed the book slowly and let out a quiet breath.
"...So this is the part where I actually have to live properly, huh?"
The answer, of course, did not co.
But unlike before, that uncertainty did not feel entirely unpleasant.
If the future could no longer be read, then perhaps it was ti to start choosing it myself.
After skimming through the book, I put it back in its original drawer.
Even so, the engagent with Elena did not completely rid of any lingering attachnts to the future I knew. The weight given by the word ’future’ was heavy. Even if it was uncertain, I couldn’t make a hasty judgnt because it might be helpful soday.
Unable to let go of my lingering attachnt to the book, I had no choice but to put it back in the drawer without tearing or burning it.
’Let’s stop thinking about it for now.’
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