I Decided to Kidnap the Male Lead

CH. 6: Whims and Fancies (II)

— Imperial Calendar Year 588. April 19th.

Ophelia Bolsheik, the 14th of the third infinite regression.

"Your Highness, don't stick your head out."

Richard couldn't have responded to Ophelia's sharp words, for she was sitting on his legs and pressing with her whole body, or her words might change.

Under the dimly lit desk, Ophelia sat with Richard underneath, exerting all her might to press down on his needlessly firm chest and irritably broad shoulders.

Of course, Richard could easily push her away if he wanted to, but he let it be as she was desperate enough that she threw herself at him.

Furthermore...

"If my secret funds are blown away, I'll let you experience firsthand that there are more troublesome things than death in infinite regression."

It was not that scary, it was annoying. Wasn't that a pretty cute threat?

A few seconds later, Ophelia swallowed her saliva and counted backwards from ten.

"...four, three, two, one."

Unlike the very tense Ophelia, the impatient Richard muttered just one thing.

"It's a success, so breathe."

"Oh, uh-huh! Haah, haah."

Ophelia, who had been holding her breath for a while, closed her eyes tightly and opened them again.

"Last name."

"Last name?"

"Success! It succeeded! Aaaaah! Goddammit, we finally made it!"

As Ophelia slapped Richard on the shoulder and cheered, the corners of his lips subtly collapsed again.

He died over and over and over and over and over again.

And he returned to the way he was before he died, as if he hadn't been dead.

Therefore, for Richard, the fact that he survived or regression was over was no longer a pleasing fact.

Another infinite regression would begin anyway.

The very happy Ophelia right in front of his eyes, who had slammed him down with her body as heavy as a cotton bat, must also know.

That it was not the end.

"Your Highness, today is over!"

"Yes. It's done."

Still, it wasn't bad to see her so happy.

That's right. It was not bad.

At that moment, Richard's parched chest moved only very slightly.

It was like seeing an oasis in a mirage while drying out in the middle of an endless desert.

It was a whim.

Just like when he cut off the head of the assassin who cut off her throat when she grumbled that she didn't want to be decapitated.

This, too, was nothing. Like nipping a hangnail off with a nail clipper, it must be a whim of concern.

Ophelia leaned back to get up from Richard's body, but he pressed her head down.

"You're going to bump into it."

"Oh, my."

Having been hit several times already, Ophelia shrank her neck down like a tortoise.

As Richard reached up, Ophelia's gaze followed his hand.