***

A girl, seemingly 8-years-old, was treading alone down the corridors of what seemed to be a palace.

Her limbs were scrawny, her nails split, and her complexion pale. Still, her golden locks were dainty while her beauty was simply unmatched.

The girl in the white dress had no one to talk to.

She walked with two guards in tow, and they were careful not to let anyone approach her.

Her girlish countenance showed a hint of maturity, yet her expression itself was terribly hollow.

Her light blue eyes were murky. She truly looked as if she despised everything.

…Is she my younger self?

Charlotte watched on from behind the girl.

The girl eventually turned her gaze to the other side of the corridor.

It was but a whimsical gesture.

Despite that, the girl suddenly halted, taking in the figure at the end of the corridor.

“That’s…”

Charlotte followed the direction of the girl’s gaze.

At that moment, she saw a boy with black hair and red eyes.

…Lord Oswald!?

Charlotte couldn’t have mistaken the appearance of that 10-years-old boy.

The young boy, Oswald, wielded a sword made of ice and sparred with adults.

His gait was nimble, and his movement was impeccable. An elegant fighting style, one that incorporated magic into swordsmanship. Suffice to say, for a boy his age, it was unexpected.

Above all, the girl was captivated by his diligence.

“…”

A bright, child-like gleam flickered in her downcast eyes.

In the next moment, the priest covered her eyes.

“Saint Charlotte, we must make a hasty return to the temple.”

“…I understand.”

Thus, the girl resumed her walk.

She didn’t spare the boy another glance, nor did she ever looked back, and left.

…I see.

As she stared at the little girl, Charlotte placed her hand over her heart.

At that action, the scene in front of her changed, and various scenes intermingled.

“You’re no better than a slave. Ingrain in your heart that you won’t go against the royal family.”

The girl, who had grown to be around 10-years-old, was reprimanded by a silver-haired man. She was mistreated in the temple.

Because she had disobeyed an order, her entire body was racked with pain. Yet, not a sound escaped her lips. The girl only crouched down, desperately recalling someone.

On another occasion, the girl, who’d become 12-years-old, bowed quietly before the throne.

“Do not misuse your power. Not even someone like you has infinite magic.”

Although she seemed to have been listening attentively, deep down, she was about to burst into tears.

However, the girl continued to endure it, biting the inside of her cheeks so that no one would hear her cry.

“—If I’m not allowed to save people…”

The girl, now slightly grown-up, spoke to her reflection in the mirror.

“—Then at the very least, let me become an evil woman. A saint that is neither respected, cherished, nor revered by anyone… Acting like a villain shouldn’t be that difficult?”

Then, the girl extended her hand forward, reaching out to the mirror.

“…After all, I’m already one. Despite having power, I can’t save anyone.”

She spoke slowly, as if to convince herself.

Lastly, she added.

“—I’m the exact opposite of Lord Oswald.”

…As expected, before I lost memory, I used to—

—the moment Charlotte realized that, the vision began to get fragmented.

Before her was a battlefield, one with many people reaching out to the girl.

However, the girl was strictly advised against healing anyone that wasn’t royalty or nobility.

Even if none of the aforementioned were injured, she was still prohibited from healing anyone else. She couldn’t provide the most modest of medical treatments, let alone save those suffering from grievous wounds.

If she wasn’t allowed to protect the general soldiers, what was the point of defending or taking the offensive?

Seeking honor on the battlefield, all the princes and nobles graced the battlefield with their presences.

Despite that, they refused to go anywhere dangerous. Whenever they sustained even the slightest injury, they’d call out to the girl. That spectacle soon became normal to her.

Deep down, that girl was struggling with herself.

Nevertheless, on the surface, she maintained a cheerful façade, and paraded on as a villainess.

…I’m not good at lying, but I was able to pull off the villainess act at the evening ball because my body remembered it.

Even after losing her memories, Charlotte could do what she used to be able to do. From curtseying to crafting accessories embedded with protective stones.

—And, as the abominable saint.

…The scene I’m looking at now is very similar to the one shown in that diary, however—

—the girl treaded on a battlefield as injured people reached out to her.

The only difference was that tears were rolling down her face.

I wasn’t laughing… In truth, I was crying…

The former Charlotte tried to show false memories to her amnesic self.

Was it to convince me that I’m a true villain even without my memories?

Perhaps, that was why when she watched that scene from her gallery, she felt disconnected.

Before long, Charlotte stumbled across a lone person at the end of the battlefield.

She halted, not wanting to see him. Surrounded by those in need, Oswald was holding their hands, desperately trying to give them first aid.

Seeing him, her former self muttered.

“…I’m his enemy.”

She recalled the word ‘enemy’ that was written on the first page of her diary.

Just listening to her former monologue tore her apart.

The sensation was wholly different from when she was watching that scene in the diary. She was made aware that such was the reality she had experienced.

Before long, another scene unfolded.

Instead of a battlefield, she found herself at a certain lavish temple.

Charlotte received an order form the royal family, and she was in disbelief.

She was to become Oswald Ralph Langheim’s wife and her divine magic would be sealed.

The king had ordered her such.

…I’m unworthy to be his wife.

Her former self groaned in her room.

“—I couldn’t save anyone back then…! Those he wanted to protect, those he wanted to help—and yet—!!”

Her former self clenched her fist.

“—Despite being a saint, I can’t save anyone. …If I erase my memories, there might be a way!”

—Erase them.

Those words were written on the second page of the diary.

“—I’ll forget everything. If I forget, he can escape from me…!”

On the next page, the word ‘escape’ was written.

However, Charlotte wasn’t referring to herself at all, but Oswald.

She wanted to free him from herself, a deplorable villain.

“…Lord Oswald.”

The words she uttered must’ve been the name she’d been calling in her heart when she was suffering ever since back then.

—Thus, Charlotte was convinced.

…I was in love with Lord Oswald all along, even before losing my memory!

She realized that once again.

…That morning when I woke up with no memory, it wasn’t love at first sight!

Charlotte stared at her former self.

…I, I’ve been in love with Lord Oswald ever since I was young, when I saw how diligently he practiced swordsmanship!

She didn’t regain her memory.

However, she felt that what she was seeing was definitely her own past.

—Even if I lost my memory…

Charlotte reached out to the girl who used to be herself. Tears trickled down her face.

…I simply couldn’t forget my love for him.

---

***T/N: She erased her own memory :/ what will that solve

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