Chapter 4: What the World Tried to Erase
The estate never truly slept after the attack.
Lanterns burned through the night, casting long, restless shadows across the halls. Guards doubled their patrols. Doors that had once stood open were now sealed and warded. Whispers followed Delary wherever she went—careful, fearful murmurs that stopped the moment she looked up.
She was no longer just a noble daughter.
She was a target.
Delary sat at her desk, fingers clenched tightly around a teacup that had long since gone cold. Across the room, two maids pretended not to watch her too closely. Outside her window, she could hear the faint clang of armor and the murmured exchange of guards changing shifts.
And yet, the loudest noise was in her head.
*You weren't supposed to exist like this.*
Spencer's words repeated endlessly, carving deeper grooves into her thoughts.
She rose abruptly, startling the maids.
"Leave me," Delary said.
"My lady—"
"I said leave."
They bowed hurriedly and exited, closing the door behind them. The moment she was alone, Delary exhaled shakily and pressed her palms to her eyes.
She had died once already. She had accepted rebirth. She had accepted that this world followed rules different from the one she left behind.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Delary stiffened. "Who is it?"
"Someone who owes you an explanation."
Her breath caught.
"Spencer," she said quietly.
The door opened, and he stepped inside, closing it behind him with deliberate care. He looked worse than she remembered—dark circles beneath his eyes, shoulders tense, as if he had been carrying a weight far heavier than the attack itself.
"You shouldn't be here," Delary said, though her voice lacked conviction.
"I know," Spencer replied. "That's never stopped me before."
She turned to face him fully. "You disappeared."
His jaw tightened. "I was ensuring there wouldn't be a second attack tonight."
"Tonight?" she echoed. "You're saying there could still be more?"
"There always is," he said quietly.
Silence stretched between them, thick and fragile.
"You told me the timeline resisted," Delary said at last. "You told me this shouldn't have happened yet. Start explaining. Now."
Spencer studied her for a long moment, as if searching for the girl he remembered—or perhaps the one he had lost.
"You're not afraid," he said.
"I am," Delary replied. "I'm just tired of being lied to."
He nodded once. "Fair."
He moved toward the window, staring out into the darkness. "In the original timeline, this estate fell when you were seventeen. An internal betrayal. Clean. Efficient. You never even saw it coming."
Delary's chest tightened. "And me?"
Spencer's reflection in the glass hardened. "You died."
The word landed with terrifying finality.
"How?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
"Poison," he said. "Slow. Painless. You trusted the person who gave it to you."
Her hands trembled. "Then why am I alive now?"
"Because you weren't you," Spencer said, turning to her. "Not like this. You were kind. Sheltered. Unaware of the world's cruelty. This version of you—" His gaze sharpened. "—asks questions. Notices cracks. That wasn't supposed to happen."
Delary swallowed. "So my reincarnation changed everything."
"Yes," he said. "And it made you visible."
"To who?" she demanded.
Spencer hesitated.
"To those who watch the flow of time," he said finally. "To those who correct anomalies."
A chill crept up her spine. "You mean… gods?"
"Something like that," he replied. "They don't care about justice or mercy. Only balance."
Delary laughed softly, the sound brittle. "So I'm a mistake."
"No," Spencer said sharply. "You're a consequence."
She looked at him, eyes burning. "And what are you?"
His voice dropped. "A sinner."
The honesty of it stunned her.
"I regressed," he continued. "I died knowing every mistake I made. Every person I failed. I was given one chance to return—and I swore I wouldn't let the same ending repeat."
"You didn't mention me," Delary said.
"Because you weren't supposed to exist like this," he admitted. "You weren't part of my oath. And yet…"
"And yet?" she pressed.
"And yet you became the center of everything," he said. "Every deviation traces back to you."
Her heart pounded painfully. "Then why save me?"
Spencer stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Because in every version of this world where you died, everything fell apart."
She stared at him. "You're lying."
He shook his head. "I wish I were."
A knock interrupted them—sharp, urgent.
"Lady Delary," her father's voice called from the other side. "We need to speak."
Spencer cursed under his breath. "They're moving faster than I expected."
"They?" Delary asked.
"Those who benefit from your death," he replied. "And those who fear what you might become."
Her father knocked again, harder this time.
Spencer took a step back. "Listen to me carefully. From now on, nothing you do can be thoughtless. Every word matters. Every alliance matters."
"And you?" Delary asked. "What about you?"
His gaze softened, just for a moment. "I'll stay as long as I can."
"As long as what?" she demanded.
"As long as time allows me to," he said quietly.
The door began to open.
Spencer leaned in, his voice barely a breath. "Trust yourself. Not fate. Not prophecy. Yourself."
Then he was gone—slipping past her father as if he had never been there at all.
Delary turned to face her father, her expression composed, her heart anything but.
Outside, unseen and unwelcome, something ancient shifted its attention.
The anomaly had survived.
And time was preparing to collect its debt.