Chapter Text
It is ridiculous, when Damian finds out too late what his arranged wife, who has been with him for more than three decades, has been planning behind him.
The moment he lets out his last breath, his hand shakes that grips the desk hardly to stable himself, but the toxic in the wine he has drunk is quickly killing him. And when his vision finally darkens, the only thing he can hear is the tinkling laughter of the woman next to him. Giselle Desmond, the wife his father chose as his arranged partner, has poisoned him to death.
"Goodbye, my dear husband. Wish you have a good journey after life."
Giselle's voice echoes cruelly. He feels his heart is shattered. How dare she betrays him like this! Is it because of that man whom she has been having a dalliance with?! He has kept his one eye shut, and minded his own work since they did not have love between them anyways.
He assumes that this is the end of everything. He has failed himself, failed his family, failed everyone who has known him in this life. He even failed Anya as well, it was one of his biggest regrets he would take it to his grave.
However, when he opens his eyes again, he finds himself travelled back in time. To the day when he was still 21-year-old university student that had just done something so serious that pushed Anya away for good.
"-mian. Damian Desmond! Desmond!"
He hears a voice, a voice that is so familiar and oddly relief to him that he has to ground himself again. In front of him, Rebecca "Becky" Blackbell is in a expensive but refined dress as the usual. Yet, she looks a bit younger? As far as he can remember, Becky in his memories is still a fashionable mature woman in her 60s, but solemnity lingers because of Anya's death 30 years ago. He has to blink his hazel eyes again, and looks around the environment he is currently staying in.
"Gosh. Desmond. Are you out of your mind?" Becky rolls her eyes with a much more younger anger. Next to her, Ewen and Emile, his old friends, also look uncomfortable with whatever he has done a few seconds ago. They are both in suits that are meant for important occassions. Are they in a summit or something? Why do they look much younger than he can remember?
"Desmond. Quit whatever you have in your mind." Becky snaps her fingers in front of him, trying to attract his attention with such impatience. "If you don't like my best friend much, then just stop talking, will you?"
"What…?" The name of Anya is echoed in his mind. Anya. His Anya.
"Boss, respectfully, your previous action was quite rude." Ewen says, and Emile nods. "Even if you don't like her dress much, at least you shouldn't tell it to her face and make her cry in the public." Emile replies, but his brow furrows when Damian still looks so disoriented.
Dress? Rude? Damian tries to remember. He feels such a nauseous crashing into him and he wants to vomit right here. But, he can not do that in the public. Each layer of memories, he is trying to dig everything out just to make sense the current situation. He does not understand why he is back at the Year End's ball of the second year in university, but he just hears Anya crying because of him, his blood goes cold.
Right.
"Hey- Desmond. DESMOND!"
Becky calls when Damian suddenly turns away and escapes this beautiful ballroom. Ewen and Emile look at each other, and then to Becky, they are still confused of what Damian Desmond has just thought and acted so sudden like that.
In the university's garden where it is now drowned in soft, cold white of the snow, Damian spots Anya behind the bushes. Her small frame in a beautiful gown in dark blue, her pink hair being let down and softly wavy because of her effort in making those curls before.
He watches her from the behind, and his heart is aching. How long did he last seen Anya again? Maybe 30 years ago, or even longer than that. He still remembered the day he received a report from one of his aide that Anya had passed away in the hospital. When he found out that Anya was one of the most potential subjects of Project Apple, and because of his authorization back then, he finally realized that he was the one who indirectly killed her.
Indirect or not, he was the one who had killed Anya back in the first life.
He steps closer, and Anya, his precious, endearing Anya, as if feels someone is coming behind her, turns around. Her mascara smudges a bit, her big expressive green eyes are filled with tears. Oh no. Oh no. No. no.
"Anya."
Damian steps towards to her, his hand instinctively reaches towards her. But Anya steps back, embraces herself. He in her eyes is a bastard that has just humiliated her in front of many people, in the university's ballroom.
"Anya, please-"
"Stop it, Desmond." Anya takes another step back. Her lower lip trembles.
"What? Are you going to insult me again, or use me to make your girlfriend jealous?" Damian's heart quietly tightens and his mind tries to dig in the deep layers of memories. Oh right, at this age, he did have a girlfriend. Charlotte von Brandt, not Giselle von Reinhardt. She was the first girlfriend he had, a heiress of an oil company and heir of a political dynasty would have been a perfect match.
But of course he had broken up with her in the first life, because he found out she was not his cup of tea.
"Anya, please listen to me-"
Damian pleads and reaches towards her, but Anya is agitated with the emotions. She steps away further and even squats his hand away. But he is being so desperate, so overwhelmed with the sudden time regression and the second chance and everything else. The snow and ice here are slippery, and he slips, makes himself falling into a kneeling position. His hand reaches to her, holds to her small hand, Anya yelps and startles at this sudden turn of event.
If he is in his 60 years old body right now, his knees would scream and he would have cried right now. But, his body is now a 21-year-old body of a young man that has too much vitality and strength inside, so his knee might be hurt a bit, but it is still alright.
"Anya, please let me explain." Damian's chest heaves. It's been a while since he has had such strength like this. "I'm sorry. I truly truly apologize for whatever dumb things I have told you, even this recent insult to your dress."
Damian's words come out like flood. Anya blinks, her eyes are still prick with tears, but now are looking at him with such surprise, as if the Sy-on boy she used to know, the cruel boy has turned into a cruel young man. Who has just insulted her gown and pushed her away like usual, now becomes like this.
"I- Damian. Please stand up-"
"Please, Anya. I'm sorry. I want to apologize-"
"Damian. Stop."
Anya's firm voice stops him completely. The sound of cold winter wind blows through the windows with a tune of cold neutrality.
"I don't know what you are trying to do, Damian." Anya says as she steps away and pries his hand away, but he still clings to her. His strength as a young man is more than a young woman's strength like her.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean, Desmond. Are you using me again to make your girlfriend jealous? Because I am tired of this. Please let me go."
Damian has to rack up his brain again to really understand what she really means by that. His mushy brain of 60 years old, being subjected to a 20-something physical body, quickly catches whatever memories related to this.
And then he remembers he used to use Anya, or because of his indecision on how to handle his long time crush on Anya, he hurt her a lot. He was an asshole, a jerk that did not know how to be a proper man that had a very intense feelings towards a woman he always pushed away. Now? He would grovel so many times, just to get Anya smiles and chats to him again like they used to be.
Anya stays silent, her face is unreadable. She is confused. Of course she would be confused. If Damian was her at this moment, he would be confused as well. He can't blame her for that.
"Damian, let me go."
She says again, and he lets her go. He is still on his kneeling position, his hazel eyes look so earnest that he thinks this is the most pathetic and desperate moment he has pulled off in his lifetime. No, it's two lifetimes now, and he still doesn't know how and why he being regressed back like this.
He has already died. So what was the point of him being alive again in a body that was much more younger than he used to know?
"You need to, you know, go back to your girlfriend. I don't want to be attached to you in such a negative way. Please understand it for me."
Anya says, as she quickly walks away from him, leaving him alone with the kneeling position. He is zoning out. He definitely zones out, until Emile and Ewen come at him, asking if he is alright and what did he do to be in this position, on a cold ground like this.
"I am fine. It is just…"
Damian feels his voice trailing off. His brain is mushy as it is still adapting to the new timeline or some sort of thing. His memory of the past overlaps in this present, and it struggles to help him form a coherent sentence that is not exposing him as a insane young man who talks about something fictional.
But, he only has his actions, and his body knows what to do. Damian slowly stands up, murmurs an apology and an excuse to go home earlier than usual. Ewen and Emile have no choice to accept his excuses and let him go home, because Damian looks as pale and lost in somewhere as well.
"Peter, prepare me a paper and a pen. I want to write a letter."
Back at the Desmond Estate, he orders Peter, the loyal butler that always has been following him since his journey to race for the office, to be the Prime Minister. But, there is no familiar "yes sir" like the usual, but it is Jeeves, the old, familiar butler of the Desmond family before he has passed away in the first timeline at the age of 78. Jeeves watches his young master in silence, his eyebrow raised almost slightly.
"There is no Peter here, young master."
Jeeves replies, and Damian feels his brain throbbing again. He should take some medication and rest soon, but he will have to do this first.
"Apology. Jeeves, please prepare for me a paper and pen. I want to write a letter."
Damian says quickly before he goes back to his room, and not notice of how Jeeves is slightly surprised because of how formal and genuinity he is at this moment.
Once he finishes taking the bath and drying out himself with a clean tower, he already sees the paper and the pen with ink bottle prepared for him. He sits on the chair, the light from his nightlamp shines a gentle golden ray onto the table, onto the letter he is going to write soon.
Dearest Charlotte He writes. The endearment tastes like ashes in his mouth because he does not truly love her either.
Circumstances have compelled me to reflect deeply on our understanding and our futures. It has become clear to me that to continue would be a disservice to us both, and an impediment to the individual paths we must now follow.
Therefore, I must formally dissolve our arrangement. Please consider any and all expectations between our families, as pertaining to us, null and void.
I wish you every success and happiness.
Sincerely,
Damian Desmond
He signs his name in the way he always signs his documents, oh no, it is in the past tense now. He signs his name in the way he always used to sign his documents as a Prime Minister. He seals it, then Jeeves comes to him from the behind. From the shadow.
Oh how he misses the old butler that has been with him in everything in the first life. And now, looking at Jeeves again, he feels something constricts his throat.
"Jeeves. Please send this to Lady Charlotte von Brandt. Ensures it comes to her hand."
Damian orders, his mannerism is still like the one he has when he used to be a Prime Minister. Jeeves is carefully neutral in his mannerism and expression, but he can not help but to quietly cataloguing the sudden change in the young master like this.
He will send this letter like Damian has asked him too, but he also quietly takes note and makes an observation to Lady Melinda later.