"Let's get this over with before my maid notices I'm gone," I muttered, slipping on my black gloves with a soft snap.
The disguise wasn't anything extravagant just layers of shadow-colored fabric and a mask but it was enough.
I walked to the mirror.
Staring back at me was a tall, sharp-featured man draped in black from collar to boots. The mask concealed half my face, letting only my crimson ruby eyes show. Somehow, the disguise made me look even more striking mysterious, almost dangerous.
Perfect.
A nameless shadow slipping through the world.
"Good," I whispered to my reflection. "No one will recognize me like this."
With a final tug on my gloves, I stepped away from the mirror.
Seven days. A relic to claim.
And a world quietly turning toward destruction.
Time to move.
Just as I lifted the window latch—planning to slip out before anyone noticed—a set of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Light, quick, and unmistakably familiar.
No.
Not now.
"Young Master, are you awake? May I come in?"
Anastasia.
Of all people, it had to be her.
My personal maid assigned to me since childhood.
Sharp as a blade, loyal to a fault, and unfortunately… someone who could sniff out trouble from a mile away.
She had caught me escaping more times than I'd like to admit.
Regression didn't change that one bit.
I froze beside the window, one leg already halfway out.
If she entered now, she'd see me dressed like a criminal in full black, ready to vanish into the morning fog.
Terrible timing.
Truly, spectacularly terrible.
I pulled back from the window silently, heart pounding just a little as I pressed myself against the wall.
Anastasia's voice came again, softer this time, tinged with concern:
"Young Master… I heard sounds. Are you alright?"
Great.
She's suspicious already.
I clenched my jaw.
One wrong move and this entire morning plan could fall apart before it even starts.
I cleared my throat—soft enough to sound casual, loud enough for her to hear.
"Ahem… yeah, I'm awake. Don't come in yet!"
I winced.
There was a pause outside the door, long enough for me to imagine her raising a brow.
"Young Master… is something the matter?"
Alright Damian, time to improvise.
I glanced around the room—messy bed, open drawers, clothes scattered.
Perfect.
"I—I'm changing!" I called out, injecting just the right amount of embarrassment into my voice.
"Do you want to see your Young Master naked, Anastasia?"
Dead silence.
Then—
"I… I do not, Young Master!" she sputtered, flustered.
"If that is the case, I shall wait outside until you are decent!"
Hook, line, and sinker.
I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
But I wasn't done.
"Actually," I added before she could walk too far, "could you prepare some tea?
Something warm. My throat's a bit dry this morning."
A simple request.
Nothing in it to raise suspicion.
"Understood. I will prepare it immediately."
Her footsteps retreated—still brisk, but no longer suspicious.
The instant she turned the corner of the hallway, I sprang into action.
A sharp grin tugged at my lips.
Perfect.
The moment she rounded the corner, I moved.
Window up.
Gloves pulled snug against my fingers.
"Sorry, Anastasia," I whispered as I perched on the sill.
"I'll be long gone before the tea even finishes brewing."
And without wasting another second, I slipped out the window vanishing into the morning breeze before anyone could realize their Young Master had disappeared yet again.
---
I walked through the quiet halls of the Varrick mansion, the echo of my footsteps mixing with the soft rustle of the morning breeze slipping through the curtains.
Another day begins another routine in service to my Young Master~.
I've done this for years.
Waking him, preparing tea, checking his clothes, ensuring he eats properly…
A thousand little tasks that became the rhythm of my life.
And yet, something felt off today.
The way he spoke through the door hurried, almost strained.
Not his usual composed tone, not the lazy drawl he uses when he's half-asleep.
I tried to brush the feeling aside, but it lingered like a whisper at the back of my mind.
Still, my duty came first.
I smoothed my apron and continued walking, my fingers grazing the cool surface of the walls I'd memorized long ago.
The mansion was peaceful at this hour—sunlight barely touching the floors, servants still preparing for the day.
This was the life I knew.
Serving him.
Watching over him.
Protecting him from trouble even when he didn't ask for it.
But today… I couldn't shake the unease.
"Young Master…" I murmured quietly, more to myself than anyone else.
"I hope you're not planning something reckless again…"
I stepped into the kitchen to prepare his tea unaware that, at that very moment, the window of his room was swinging shut behind an empty room.
-----
I slipped past the estate's security with practiced ease, relying on knowledge etched into me from countless past lives. Patrol routes, blind spots, timing every detail replayed itself like muscle memory.
No hesitation.
No mistakes.
At last, I was beyond the mansion's walls.
I paused and turned back, taking one final look at the House of Varrick.
The manor stood tall and magnificent, its spires and arches woven with intricate craftsmanship, every stone reflecting wealth, history, and quiet authority. Lavish, elegant unchanged across every loop.
Despite this weak and frail body…
I was grateful.
Grateful to have been born into the Varrick family.
Grateful for the shelter, the name, the memories that remained constant even as everything else reset.
I lowered my gaze, then turned away.
No more lingering.
The path ahead waited and this time, I intended to walk it to the end.
pulled my hood lower and headed toward the road that led away from the estate, the early morning mist still clinging to the fields. The city wasn't far, but walking the entire distance would waste precious time—and time was the one thing I couldn't afford to squander.
Luck, or perhaps habit born from repetition, was on my side.
A carriage stood by the roadside, its wheels damp with dew, the coachman busy tightening the straps on his horse. He looked ordinary enough—middle-aged, broad-shouldered, half-asleep—but I'd seen this man before in other runs. A freelancer. No questions, as long as the coin was right.
I approached casually.
"Headed to the city?" I asked.
The coachman glanced at me, eyes lingering briefly on my attire before nodding. "Aye. Just about to leave."
"Good," I said, producing a few coins and letting them clink softly in my palm. "I'll pay extra for speed."
That earned me a grin.
"Climb in, then."
I stepped into the carriage, the door shutting behind me with a dull thud. As the wheels began to roll and the manor faded from view, I leaned back against the seat and exhaled.
The carriage rolled steadily along the open road, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against stone mixing with the soft snort of the horse. Fields stretched out on either side, still wrapped in the pale light of early morning.
The coachman glanced back, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.
"Road's quiet today," he said casually. "Makes the ride feel longer than it is."
I hummed in response, eyes fixed on the passing scenery.
He cleared his throat. "Heading into the city for work? Or pleasure?"
"Neither," I answered. "Just business."
"Ah," he nodded, as if that explained everything. "Most folks I carry say that. City's full of business—some good, some bad." He chuckled. "But it's always lively. Beats staring at farmland all day, I'll tell you that."
The horse trotted on, the breeze carrying the scent of grass and damp earth.
Familiar. Too familiar.
The coachman continued, undeterred. "You don't talk much. That's fine. Quiet passengers pay best anyway." He paused, then added, "Still… you've got that look."
"What look?" I asked.
He scratched his chin, eyes still on the road.
"The kind that belongs to someone who's tired. Real tired. Not the kind sleep fixes."
His words hit closer than I expected.
"Seen it plenty of times," he continued. "People leaving home, people running away, people chasing something they've lost. Same eyes. Like you've been walking for years without resting."
The carriage kept moving, wheels turning steadily toward the distant city.
I looked away, watching the horizon draw nearer.
…Yeah.
That sounds about right.
The city gates slowly came into focus ahead
and with them, the next chapter of this final run.