There's one existence in life that can never be erased.
For me, that person was my wife.
It was so profound that even after being reborn centuries later, the memories hadn't faded in the slightest—to the point where I could only let out a wry chuckle.
I was originally the first emperor of the Habsburg-Lorraine dynasty of the Holy Roman Empire.
The title sounds impressive enough on paper, but in reality, I was just a son-in-law emperor. If anything, a bit of exaggeration might even call me a kept man.
Unless you're someone with a serious interest in history, most people have never even heard of my name, Franz I.
It's probably faster to introduce myself as the husband of Maria Theresa, the empress of the Holy Roman Empire and renowned as Europe's greatest beauty.
Embarrassing as that might be, what can you do?
Still, in my previous life, I had no regrets whatsoever.
It was the life I chose, and the woman I loved.
I became emperor in name only to support my wife, whose gender barred her from the throne of the Holy Roman Empire. Everyone around us knew full well that she was the true ruler.
It wasn't a position I could have claimed on my own anyway, so what reason would I have to covet it?
We loved and respected each other, and we left behind countless fruits of that love.
Of course, her personality could be a bit overwhelming at times, but there was never a moment when I didn't love my wife.
I was reminded of all this exactly in 2011.
It happened on the day of my elementary school entrance ceremony, the start of my second life as Lee Geon-woo.
"Hah, talk about a bizarre experience in my life."
I collapsed under the sudden flood of memories from my past life, they said. I suffered from a high fever for three straight days and nights.
It must have been because a child's body couldn't withstand the onslaught of memories all at once.
In any case, having leaped across centuries to regain my past life's memories, the first thing I did was...
"Hmm, yeah, the records on Franz I really are pretty sparse."
Search my own name online, naturally.
This era overflowed with knowledge beyond comparison to the past, but my body was that of a kid just starting elementary school.
I knew nothing about Franz I, let alone my wife, Maria Theresa.
But 2011 was the information age, where anyone could access facts with a few keystrokes.
Using my parents' laptop, I spent the whole night digging into records about myself and my family.
To be honest, I hoped my entire family had passed peacefully, just as I had closed my eyes in serenity.
But that was nothing more than a vain wish.
-Maria Theresa began stress-eating after Franz I's death. She gradually gained weight, her health declined, and her once cheerful personality turned increasingly pessimistic. She spent the rest of her life mourning her late husband.
What a foolish woman.
I was grateful that she remembered and mourned me for life, but she should have taken better care of herself too.
It was heartbreaking, yet deep down, I felt a flicker of pride.
The woman I'd devoted my life to loving had returned that love in kind.
But that wistful sentiment chilled the instant I read about my children.
-Marie Antoinette. Executed by guillotine at the age of 37.
"Executed? Antonia...?"
Not the familiar Maria Antonia, but the Frenchified Marie Antoinette.
Just from that, I knew where my daughter had been married off to.
Antonia—Antoinette—was our late blessing, born when her mother was already in her forties.
How could we not adore such a precious child?
Unlike the rigid French court, our daughter grew up freely at Schönbrunn Palace, running about, learning whatever arts caught her fancy.
Imagine how stifling life must have been for her in France, infamous for its suffocating etiquette.
And to think it ended with her facing hatred, humiliation, and the guillotine.
I couldn't believe it at first—I must have reread the documents a dozen times.
Maybe it's a namesake. Or some mistake.
"Theresa... Why France of all places...?"
I didn't need to ask why.
The Holy Roman Empire had aligned with France over long-time ally Britain, making a marriage alliance essential.
For a fleeting moment, I resented my wife, but I knew better than anyone it wasn't her fault.
If anything, it was my own failing—I hadn't helped her win the previous war.
"Theresa... She didn't live to see her daughter's end."
My wife died in 1780, while the revolution that doomed our daughter erupted in 1789. Quite the gap.
She passed without knowing her child's lonely, tragic fate. Was that a blessing or a curse?
Either way, that night, I wept until dawn.
For the guilt and pity toward my wife, who sent me off and lived in gloom ever after.
For the sorrow over my daughter's solitary life ending in tragedy, and my own powerlessness to stop it.
By the time the sun rose after my tears, something inside me had changed.
This must be the emptiness Theresa felt after letting me go.
From then on, my heart turned to ice.
Nothing ignited passion in me anymore, and no one made my heart race.
I had a near-certain premonition I'd live out my days like this.
And so, thirty years passed—time flowing mercilessly onward.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"So, taking leave during the last week of November again this year?"
"Yes, that's the plan."
"Off to Austria again?"
"Nowhere else to go."
The perks of living twice were greater than I'd imagined.
Perhaps because my memories were tuned to 18th-century civilization, everything in this world seemed wondrous.
Science, administration, economics—name it.
From elementary school, I devoured books daily, obsessed with knowing everything this era had to offer.
My parents fretted, telling me to go play with friends or at least game a bit.
I hadn't shown such academic talent even in my past life—in fact, I'd been scolded as a kid—but I'm no fool.
Strictly speaking, the Habsburg emperors who succeeded me lived worry-free off the fortune I'd amassed, proof of my exceptional money-making skills.
So when a guy like that goes all-in on studies from childhood, what do you think happened?
I got into a top university anyone in Korea would recognize, breezed through a PhD, and climbed to lead researcher at a government institute.
Never married, I lived for work and earned solid evaluations at the job.
The only vacation I took? Once a year.
The last week of November including the 29th, and the first week of December.
"Europe has so many spots, yet you always pick Austria—and exactly this time of year."
"Someone I need to see."
"Oh, family or relatives?"
"You could say that."
November 29th.
The anniversary of my wife, Maria Theresa's, death.
Twenty years ago, I'd first visited her tomb.
The memory of scraping together part-time cash for a flight to Vienna is still vivid.
Never missed a year since—making this the twentieth.
At this point, I'd stack up against any die-hard romantic.
Some might say, why bother coming all this way every time?
I get it completely.
This could be seen as a curse from carrying my past life's memories intact.
At just eight years old, before my sense of self fully formed, I'd reclaimed fifty-six years of memories and personality.
Looking back, it wasn't a blessing—it was a curse.
For thirty years, I've been trapped in that past life.
Majoring in engineering, minoring in economics, dipping into Western history clubs for debates.
Not as 21st-century Lee Geon-woo, but as the 18th-century Holy Roman Emperor Franz I.
The empire lies in tatters, its mighty house reduced below even constitutional monarchy.
All my efforts amount to futile fantasies: if only I'd known this back then, things might've changed.
"I'm grateful for the mourning, but take care of your own life... I sure preached what I couldn't practice myself."
She couldn't have done it easily either.
Seeing her later years mirror my current state made coming here all the more imperative.
The Habsburg imperial crypt in Vienna, Austria.
Known as the Imperial Crypt or Kaisergruft, it lies beneath the Capuchin Monastery.
I'd visited several times in my past life, so twenty years ago, the emotions hit like a storm—indescribable.
Especially seeing our grand joint tomb at the crypt's heart. Shamefully, I struggled to hold back tears.
Most emperors and empresses have separate coffins, but per her will, ours were interred together in one.
I see it yearly now, yet each time, memories flood back of presiding over court ceremonies here beside her, as vivid as yesterday.
"Been well this past year? This makes the twentieth—you know that, right? Self-praise aside, husbands like me don't come around often."
As always, I gaze at the massive coffin and unload the year's events.
"Time drags endlessly, but dive into research, and suddenly it's time to visit you again."
My free time? Just the occasional Western history club meetup—no real hobbies.
"Folks used to set me up on blind dates... but honestly, no one matched your beauty in youth. Truth is, you wouldn't have wanted me marrying some other woman, right?"
Sure, she'd say to find my own happiness now that our time together ended—but hearts don't work that way.
If she'd remarried after my death, I'd have rolled in agony with jealousy.
Luckily, it was an era where that wasn't feasible.
In my past life, other women tempted me plenty, but alone now? All wandering eyes vanished.
That's where "cherish them while you have them" comes from.
"Still, as my knowledge grows and studies deepen daily, my regrets deepen too. What if I'd chosen differently then? What if I'd been better equipped to support you?"
Maybe that's why I stick with the history club.
To wash away these pointless regrets with idle fantasies.
"I wonder... are you out there somewhere, living like I am?"
Born to this prosperous, bustling era beyond the 18th century, I'm forever lonely.
"Maybe it's the twentieth... but today feels different somehow."
Get some rest.
Muttering that, I turned to head back to my lodging.
"I'll come tomorrow too—see you then."
Bathed in Austria's familiar, lonely wind, I returned to my room.
Under the covers, eyes closed, memories of our marriage surfaced uncannily.
"...It was tough... but looking back now..."
Yet tonight, my eyelids felt unusually heavy.
Even after three days sleeping just three hours for research, it never hit like this. Age catching up?
Or the wine I had to celebrate twenty visits?
As my mind fogged, I spotted the empty Tokay bottle—we'd loved sharing those.
"...Tasty, but not like back then."
-No more alcohol from now on. You need to take care of your health.
At consciousness's edge, her familiar nagging echoed.
Why is it?
Time erodes even my children's faces, yet yours grows ever clearer.
There's one existence in life that can never be erased.
For me, that person was my wife.
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