IVF 04

Chapter 04

Late at night.

After safely finishing her duties for the day, Lumina went up to the attic. In this vast mansion, the attic was the only space reserved for her.

It was unreasonable for her to live there—she wasn’t even an illegitimate child.

And yet, as if trying to erase all traces of the former wife, the count and countess had disposed of everything connected to her.

And since Lumina herself was not something they could throw away, she had been pushed into a corner instead.

Her once-spacious bedroom had grown smaller and smaller by the day, until at last she was moved to the attic.

This place is basically a trash bin meant for me.

Of course, there was a pretext.

Lumina was a lacking child who required discipline.

A few simple words like that were enough to justify everything.

Now, where did I put the paper and pen? It’s dark—I should light a candle too.

Even cleaning and tidying were Lumina’s responsibility, not a servant’s.

As a result, in an otherwise immaculate mansion, this room alone was cluttered.

After rummaging around, Lumina finally found paper and a pen.

She began organizing her plans for the future on the sheet.

The very first name she wrote was Duke Hart.

His full name was Lucius von Hart.

The most powerful living Legion—and the man who sat as duke.

And…

The one who once committed a massacre.

He was not someone an ordinary person would ever want to meet—nor should meet.

Yet meeting the man surrounded by such ominous rumors was her top priority.

“I said I could save his son.”

At some point, a butterfly made of light settled on the back of Lumina’s hand.

Since there was no wound, nothing happened—but the cluster of light moved according to her will.

When I was little, I thought I was useless—only capable of imitating a Legion.

Her birth mother had thought the same, and never even told Count Langshus that her daughter was a “defective Legion.”

Perhaps she had kept silent out of fear that her husband would resent her for giving birth to a flawed child.

Whatever the truth, it’s a secret only I know now.

As a child, she had summoned the butterfly a few times—but that was all.

Maybe…

It was because she had never truly wanted to save anyone until now.

A remarkably useful ability—one she herself hadn’t fully realized.

If she offered to stop the rampage of the Hart heir, the Hart family would do anything for her.

I could reveal to the imperial family that I’m a Legion—but that’s not the best method.

Ordinarily, when one awakened as a Legion, they reported it to the imperial palace.

They would then serve as a state-affiliated Legion, receiving the nation’s protection.

They would be granted a title—and even a pension.

But after that, life became considerably troublesome.

I’d have to devote my entire life to the country, wandering from battlefield to battlefield.

If one wanted money or fame, rushing to the imperial palace the moment they awakened was the better choice.

The number of Legions was enough to measure a nation’s military strength, so they were treated with utmost honor.

But Lumina needed neither fame nor fortune.

Well… I do need money. A little. Just a tiiiny bit.

She didn’t want to grow up to be the pathetic older sister who still begged her younger brother for support.

If she wanted to become independent safely, she needed to quietly save up personal funds.

I’m lucky I know at least a rough outline of the future.

Reliable information about the future could be turned into money.

As Lumina continued writing out her various plans, she noticed something strange.

Come to think of it…

It wasn’t strange that Endymion had come running after hearing from relatives and ended up saving her.

But why had Duke Hart been there?

She couldn’t understand it at all.

It wasn’t even somewhere he could’ve just been passing through. It was a remote forest road.

“Do you wish to live? If so…”

Suddenly, she remembered what he had said when she stood on the brink of death.

“Give me your heart.”

“The heart of a Legion…”

Lumina murmured unconsciously.

Perhaps returning to the past had something to do with Duke Hart.

She didn’t know for sure—but Legions were special. Maybe he had taken her heart and done something with it.

Was it possible that Duke Hart had turned back time? That he, too, remembered the future?

Various tangled assumptions filled her mind. She scribbled them down—then drew bold lines through them.

Whatever variables existed, what she had to do was clear.

Lumina brought the densely written paper to the candle flame.

Fwoosh.

The paper burned away without leaving a trace.

Later that afternoon, Lumina knocked on Endymion’s door.

“Endymion, may I come in?”

She had called for him—but instead, a sharp female voice rang out from beyond the door.

“Lumina?!”

So Aunt got here first.

She could roughly guess what the two had been discussing.

After receiving permission, Lumina opened the door.

“Very well. Don’t take my words lightly—think carefully while you recover.”

“Yes, I understand.”

With Lumina’s arrival, Aunt hurriedly concluded her conversation with Endymion.

Her aunt shot Lumina a sharp glare.

Then, as if she couldn’t bear to see her face any longer, she brushed past without giving her a chance to greet her.

Watching her leave, Lumina stepped inside with a bright smile.

“Did I interrupt?”

“No. Our conversation was just ending. Please don’t worry.”

His overly formal tone was too stiff for a ten-year-old boy.

If someone said Endymion had died once and come back to life—not Lumina—she might believe it.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, I am. More importantly—”

“I don’t mind. Just relax.”

Endymion sat awkwardly on the bed. Somehow, he looked even more uncomfortable than when he had been with their aunt.

He was still being treated after the carriage accident.

He had regained consciousness before the funeral—but he still had difficulty moving.

Unlike Lumina, who avoided meddling relatives with nimble steps, Endymion had to receive each of their visits in person.

Silence fell between them.

Lumina glanced around the room.

So many relatives had come and gone that she worried the doorknob might wear out. Strange items were piled everywhere.

There were several vases filled with fresh flowers, along with toys and sweets that an ordinary ten-year-old might like.

Then she spotted a tin of cookies.

“May I have one?”

Her uncle Joseph had been eagerly seeking chances to speak with her.

Avoiding him had meant skipping proper meals.

Well… there were other reasons too.

Given the mountain of gifts, she figured one or two wouldn’t be noticed.

Endymion nodded.

Lumina took a bite of a chocolate chip cookie.

Ugh.

It was so sweet her tongue almost stung.

Now she understood why Endymion had merely piled them up without eating any.

“Aunt, and the other relatives—they seem to be paying you a lot of attention.”

“Yes. They visit often.”

Endymion answered neatly, without hesitation.

He had always been like that.

Even when they first met, he had been stoic and mature—almost emotionless.

Not that he was truly an adult.

Lumina stared at him.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask.

Why couldn’t you turn away from me?

I didn’t consider you family—so why did you risk your life to uphold your duty?

Countless questions flashed through her mind—questions ten-year-old Endymion could never answer.

But when she finally opened her mouth, something entirely different came out.

“Do you want to become head of the family?”

“…I’m not sure.”

Caught off guard by her bluntness, Endymion couldn’t hide his surprise.

“That’s fair. Everything’s still unsettled—you can’t answer right away.”

Lumina nodded, as if she understood completely.

He looked at her as though seeing something strange—the same look he had worn at the funeral.

“Still, the relatives must have urged you to become head. Didn’t you feel anything?”

Whether Lumina or Endymion became head, neither could fully escape their relatives’ influence.

If only I were fifteen, I could ignore them outright.

But twelve and ten.

Ages that clearly required guardians.

“How do you—”

“I received the same proposal from Uncle.”

“….”

“They’re busy calculating which of us to put forward as their puppet. Kids like us are easy to handle—good prey.”

It was a dark conversation for children averaging eleven years old.

But Lumina didn’t think Endymion would avoid the topic or gape blankly.

Everyone praised him as a genius.

“Oh—and I’m going to refuse Uncle’s proposal. Same goes if any other relative makes one.”

Endymion’s expression turned subtle.

He seemed to take it as silent pressure to reject Aunt’s offer as well.

“I’ll do that. So you can decide for yourself.”

“Are you telling me to accept Aunt’s proposal?”

“That’s your choice too.”

Lumina smiled faintly.

Even though Aunt already disliked her—she claimed she wouldn’t mind if Endymion sided with her.

Endymion seemed unable to read her intentions at all.

“Why are you telling me this? Don’t you dislike me, Sister?”

Since Lumina had spoken so directly, Endymion felt no need to circle around either.

For a moment, her throat tightened.

“If I were your real mother, would you still say that?”

Whenever Lumina tried to speak, her stepmother would shut her down like that.

“I can’t even speak freely to you. You twist every word.”

That nagging voice echoed in her mind.

Before she died the first time, that voice had surfaced at the funeral—leading her to mutter, Serves you right.

“I do dislike you.”

She didn’t trust family.

She had no good memories.

Not just her stepmother—her birth mother was no different.

“Lumina, even when I carried you, your father never stayed by my side. He crawled back to that filthy house instead.”

“….”

“He married me! How could he do that?!”

“M-Mother…”

“Those children always came first! Does that make sense? I gave birth to you first!”

While she was alive, her mother would grip Lumina’s shoulders hard enough to bruise them, shouting.

Then, exhausted, she would sob, “Why don’t you resemble him?”

Those memories had piled up over time.

And in the future, she was destined to be betrayed by her uncle and relatives.

She couldn’t help but become someone filled with distrust toward family.

“But…”

When the blindfold had come off—

She would never forget the moment light seeped into the darkness.

Even if that future no longer existed.

“We’re the only true family left in this world. So I decided not to hate you anymore.”

Lumina chose to trust her family one more time.