Meeting the Earl of Crowfield was an unexpectedly strange experience.

I knew him well—not just from seeing his face but from actual conversations. There was the time I infiltrated the Crowfield estate disguised as a maid, and another when I attacked a brothel he frequented.

Particularly with the brothel, I had rewound time numerous times to deal with enemies and extract information.@@novelbin@@

Absorbing the intel stored there, I questioned whether the Earl truly deserved to die. I even spoke with him directly—perhaps he had been acting under duress.

But after a genuine conversation, punctuated by the language of bullets, I concluded that the Earl was, indeed, a wicked man.

And now, here he was, alive in this world.

“My daughter making such good friends at the academy is something I’m deeply grateful for,” the Earl said.

His voice was surprisingly calm—not tinged with fear, anger, or lust as I had often heard before. Despite his gaunt frame, his voice was low and measured, leaving a favorable first impression.

His appearance, however, wasn’t so endearing.

When I had assassinated him before, he had looked relatively healthy, even if his dark circles and slight thinness hinted at stress. Now, he was so emaciated that his bones were visible.

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