Episode-873
He spat at her feet.
"You," the Original Lloyd screamed. His voice was raw, a broken animal sound. "You did this! You left us to die!"
Rosa froze. The pain on her face was excruciating. It was the look of someone who had run through hell to get home, only to find the door barred.
"Lloyd, no," she stammered. "I... the invasion... it was a trick. I came back as fast as I could. I didn't know!"
"Liar!" Lloyd screamed. He picked up the bloody Siddik banner from the ground and threw it at her. It hit her in the chest and slid to the mud. "Your banner! Your men! They laughed while they butchered my mother! They said you sent your regards!"
Rosa stared at the banner. She looked at the faces of the survivors. They all looked at her with fear and loathing.
She tried to explain. She tried to tell them about the trap. But to a man who had just buried his parents, it sounded like the excuses of a politician covering her tracks.
"Mammon was watching," the Reflection said. "I didn't see him then, but I see him now."
Lloyd looked up. In the shadow of a ruined tower, high above the courtyard, the androgynous figure of Mammon stood. He was watching the scene with a look of pure, orgasmic delight. He was feeding on the misery. He was drinking the misunderstanding like fine wine.
"He takes delight in these subtle, world-breaking manipulations," the Reflection said. "He is the architect of my misery. He turned the one person who could have saved me into the object of my hatred. And I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker."
Lloyd watched as Rosa, rejected and accused, slowly lowered her hands. The hurt in her eyes was too much to bear. To survive the pain, she did the only thing she could.
Her expression hardened. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by a glaze of ice. She straightened her back. She looked at her husband—the man she had tried to protect—and realized he would never believe her.
She nodded once. It was a cold, stiff motion.
"If that is what you believe," she said, her voice dropping twenty degrees, "then I will leave you to your mourning."
She turned and walked away. She didn't look back. She isolated herself in a fortress of cold because the world had decided she was a monster.
"And that," Lloyd said, feeling a heavy weight settle in his gut, "is how the Ice Queen was born. Not from pride. But from being accused of a crime she didn't commit by the husband she failed to save."
"Exactly," the Reflection said, closing his eyes. "Mammon won that day. He didn't just take the North. He took the truth."
The dreamscape shifted again. The smoke and blood of the battlefield faded away, dissolved by the swirling colors of Lloyd’s subconscious. When the world formed again, it was quieter. It was a few years later in the timeline of the first life.
The setting was a small, cluttered room in the back of the Ferrum estate. It looked more like a storage closet than a laboratory. The shelves were packed with dried leaves, strange roots, and glass jars filled with murky liquids. The air smelled sharp and bitter, like crushed mint mixed with old paper.
The Original Lloyd sat at a wooden table, his head in his hands. He looked older than in the previous memory. The baby fat was gone from his face, replaced by the sharp angles of stress and sleepless nights. His eyes were red-rimmed. He looked like a man who was slowly drowning but trying to pretend he knew how to swim.
"I was so lost back then," the Reflection said. He stood beside the current Lloyd, watching his past self with a mixture of pity and disgust. "I had no spirit power. My mana channels were blocked. My 'Void' ability was asleep. In a world where strength was everything, I was a joke. A mistake."
Lloyd watched as his past self sat up and began to grind herbs in a stone bowl. The motion was rhythmic, almost desperate.
"So," the Reflection continued, "I tried to find another way. I couldn't be a mage, and I couldn't be a warrior. So, I tried to be a doctor. I didn't have the advanced medical knowledge you brought from Earth. I just had old books and desperation. I wanted to prove that I wasn't useless."
The scene changed. It was late at night. The moon was hidden behind thick, grey clouds. The Original Lloyd was walking through the hallways of the estate. He wasn't walking like the master of the house; he was creeping along the walls like a thief. He wore a dark cloak, and he clutched a small glass vial to his chest as if it were a diamond.
He reached the guest wing where the Siddik family was staying. He stopped in front of a large oak door. Inside, he could hear the sound of labored breathing. It was a wet, rattling sound, like air struggling to pass through water.
This was the room of Lady Nilufa, Rosa’s mother.
"She was dying," Lloyd whispered, remembering the history. "The curse. It paralyzed her and slowly shut down her organs."
"Yes," the Reflection said. "And no one could fix it. The best healers in the kingdom had failed. The priests had failed. Rosa was spending a fortune on magical remedies, but her mother was just fading away."
The Original Lloyd pushed the door open silently. The room was dark, lit only by a single dying candle. The smell of sickness was heavy in the air. Lady Nilufa lay in the bed. She looked like a skeleton covered in thin, pale skin. Her body was thrashing slightly, her muscles twitching in pain even while she slept.
The Original Lloyd approached the bed. His hands were shaking. He uncorked the vial he had brought. The liquid inside was a dull green color. It wasn't a magical elixir. It was a mixture of rare sedatives and muscle relaxants he had distilled from poisonous plants. It was dangerous. If he gave her too much, it would stop her heart.
"I was terrified," the Reflection admitted. "If I killed her, it would be war. The Siddik family would destroy us. But I couldn't just watch her suffer. I couldn't watch Rosa cry anymore."
Lloyd watched as his past self gently lifted the sick woman’s head. He tilted the vial against her lips.
"Just a little," the Original Lloyd whispered, his voice trembling. "Please work. Just give her some peace."
A drop of the green liquid slid into her mouth. Then another.
The reaction was almost instant. Lady Nilufa’s thrashing slowed down. The tension in her face relaxed. The rattling in her chest smoothed out into a steady, quiet rhythm. She wasn't cured—the curse was still there—but the pain was gone for the night. She settled into a deep, restful sleep.
The Original Lloyd let out a long breath he had been holding. He wiped sweat from his forehead. A small, weak smile appeared on his face. It was the smile of a man who had finally done something right.
Then, the floorboard creaked behind him.
The Original Lloyd froze. He spun around, hiding the vial behind his back.
Rosa stood in the doorway.
She was wearing a simple nightgown, and her silver hair was loose, cascading down her shoulders. She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her face was pale. She held a lamp in her hand, and the light cast long, dancing shadows on the walls.
She stared at Lloyd. Then she looked at her mother, who was sleeping peacefully for the first time in months. Then she looked back at Lloyd.
Her expression was unreadable. It was the famous "Ice Queen" mask.
"What are you doing?" Rosa asked. Her voice was quiet, but it was sharp, like cracking ice. "What did you give her?"
The Original Lloyd stammered. He stepped back, terrified. "I... I didn't hurt her! It's just... it's just herbs! Night-root and silver-leaf! It helps with the spasms! I swear, Rosa, I was just trying to help!"
He expected her to yell. He expected her to call the guards. He expected her to accuse him of trying to poison her mother.
But Rosa didn't yell. She walked past him to the bed. She placed her hand on her mother’s forehead. She checked her pulse. She listened to her breathing.
Slowly, the tension left Rosa’s shoulders. She realized the truth. Her mother wasn't in pain. The agony that had kept them both awake for weeks was gone.
Rosa turned back to Lloyd. The mask cracked. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she didn't look like a powerful mage or a political leader. She just looked like a daughter who was scared and grateful.
"You made this?" she asked, looking at the vial in his hand.