Chapter 60

I found the knife after a long time.

Lying in bed, fiddling with the cold blade, old memories suddenly came flooding back.

Honestly, it feels awkward to call something that happened just a few months ago “old times.”

It’s just that I hadn’t held a blade while being confined by Ariana, so it feels a bit unfamiliar now.

When I was hospitalized, I kept saying, “If I quit, I might die,” and made all sorts of excuses.

But when I was forced to quit, I found myself surviving by selling my body.

I guess it’s my habit to deny and avoid things I don’t like.

In the end, I adapt and get used to it, even if it means cutting myself down.

Anyway, change is painful, so I don’t plan to beat myself up over it.

It’s just that I feel like such a powerless human being.

Is this self-deprecation too?

Well, whatever.

I told myself to hold back, but today, for some reason, I feel like doing it.

There’s no special reason.

It’s just one of those days.

Lately, I’ve been eating well, so my period, which had stopped, has started again, and my hormones seem to be kicking in.

Because of that, there are days when I feel good, but also especially depressed days.

“It might be nice to do it again after so long.”

I pressed the knife against my wrist.

The chill from the sharp blade gave me goosebumps.

If I go just a little further, the thin skin will split, and what’s flowing inside will seep out.

Even after all this time, the vivid memory of the sharp pain and strange pleasure of cutting myself still swirls in my head.

If I revive that sensation of self-harm again, I’ll probably start putting the knife to my body every night without even thinking about it.

I rationalize that I hate pain, but in the end, there’s no easier way to erase the depression of the early hours than self-harm.

As long as I don’t have the courage to act, the only thing I can do is endure by using my own body.

At least, that’s how it was when I spent nights carving into my flesh.

Even now, it’s not much different.

Deciding to die properly has made my mind feel at ease, but fundamentally, the reason I made that decision is because I’m too powerless to live properly.

I’ll always be the same.

I’ll never be understood by anyone.

I mock and give up on myself before even trying.

Sometimes, I’ve told myself, after hearing my own self-deprecating thoughts, that understanding between people is impossible, so it’s enough to just figure out where I stand.

It’s not that hard, is it?

At the point when external pressure disappeared, I could have lived a normal life by this world’s standards with just a little effort.

I had more than enough conditions for it.

With a noble friend by my side, I was already in a realm unimaginable to commoners.

It’s all just the whining of someone who doesn’t want to change.

Yeah, I know.

Of course, I knew.

In the end, I only ever knew.

Because I knew, I, who hated change, would give up on moving forward before even trying to change.

Even if I changed, I’d still be the same.

Even if I changed, I’d still never be understood.

Before even thinking about changing, I mock and give up on myself.

It’s the same old story.

A stupid, endlessly repeating cycle.

I chuckled softly and adjusted the angle of the knife.

I wondered how I should cut to make it look prettier.

“Is that all? It can’t just be that.”

Of course, the reason I chose death wasn’t just that.

The time left in my body was too short to live a normal life.

Having no future is really tough.

Even now, with my mind in pain from the teacher’s medicine, if my body gets worse and I can’t even do the bare minimum as a human, won’t I just become a broken doll relying entirely on Sena?

The thought of not even being able to move properly, needing someone to help me eat, adjust my posture, or even go to the bathroom, is just horrifying.

Besides, imagining Sena staying by my side until I’m completely ruined is, from my pessimistic view, nothing more than a dream-like delusion.

She’s human too, and as a noble with nothing to lose, who knows when she’ll get tired and leave?

I thought about selling my body to bind her like I did with Ariana, but I hesitated, fearing it would only deepen my self-loathing.

I wonder how Sena would react if she knew I was thinking like this.

She’d probably spit in my face and never show up again.

Anyway, the conclusion is that I’m too scared of being hated or abandoned to do anything.

It’s a truly pathetic conclusion, but I can’t help it.

The worst outcome after being abandoned would be becoming a half-crippled beggar rolling in the streets with no clothes, dying dirty and miserable in a place where no one cares about me.

A death where no one cares, no one mourns, watched by countless people but lonelier than anyone.

It’s a very common form of ending on the streets of this world, something I’ve seen since I was young.

Even though I don’t value this life, I still don’t want that kind of death.

Besides, if Sena leaves, there are plenty of other endings I don’t want to face, not just the streets.

“For example, a death like Ariana’s.

A glorious death after a fierce battle…”

But all that was left to guard me was just a doll.

Now, I can’t even remember what emotions I felt back then.

Even the one person who remembers that moment is fading from memory.

I poked my chest with the tip of the knife.

A sharp pain followed, and a red dot bloomed beneath my clothes.

“Even though I’m somehow surviving here now, if I die like this, will it all just end for you too?”

Watching Ariana turn to dust before my eyes, I realized one thing.

I don’t want to die like that.

So, specifically, I think I hate the idea of a lonely death.

A final moment where no one mourns me, where I regret everything I’ve struggled to live for.

Realizing that death is the end, I wanted to leave a small piece of myself in this world.

Therefore, the death I desire is the complete opposite of hers.

I want someone to watch me close my eyes.

I want them to mourn me like they would for their closest friend.

I want them to cry and suffer, staying up for nights on end.

I want them to reflect on my life and regret their own actions.

I want them to not hold back the nausea rising from their pain.

Even after a year, even after ten years, I want them to keep a space for me in their heart.

Occasionally, I want them to dream of me, to talk to me. I want those dreams to be nightmares. I want them to wake up drenched in cold sweat and tears, only to suffer again.

I brought the blade back to my wrist.

With a slight pressure, I dragged it down, and a red line formed, bringing a familiar pain.

Soon, my foggy mind began to clear.

I smiled faintly and muttered.

“I want to die by the side of someone who will allow me into their heart for a lifetime.”

In the minutes after Ariana’s death, and the hours after rejecting the teacher’s proposal.

I reflected and realized that I was a disgusting attention-seeker.

I was a bothersome human who pushed away any kindness and attention directed at me, yet secretly hoped for someone to break through that barrier with pure goodwill.

Moreover, I was a despicable human who wanted to find meaning in my life through the tears shed at my death.

Coincidentally, there was one such person nearby.

When I immediately thought of Sena’s face, despite having pushed her away all this time, I almost vomited everything inside me.

Anyway, once I realized it, I no longer felt the need to deny it.

I just nodded, thinking, “So that’s why.”

Embarrassingly, I accepted it and even felt a slight satisfaction in understanding my own motives.

After accepting it, I made a decision.

If my life, already short, would only be filled with ugliness and loneliness, then choosing the form of death I desired would be cleaner.

Just that one cowardly thought helped me overcome my instinctive fear of death and make a decision.

I can’t tell if this is a brave choice or a cowardly one.

But it’s clear that the idea of intentionally leaving a burden on those left behind is disgusting.

I applied more pressure to the knife in my hand, creating a deeper cut.

A larger scar than before would likely remain.

I shook my wrist, feeling the air brush against the wound.

My eyes were drawn to the droplets of blood trickling down.

“I know what I’m doing.

I’m doing it because I know.

So what? I am disgusting.

I’m a contradictory human who wishes Maid Ai happiness but wants Sena to suffer.

And yet… in the name of consideration, I’m moving up the schedule?

Heh, hehehe… I’m really a crazy bitch…”

Whether it was the inertia from Ariana’s influence or the antidepressants mixed in the medicine the health teacher gave me.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been able to distance myself from self-harm.

And the morning sun that followed those nights strangely eased my depression.

Probably because after the sun rose and I went to school, Sena was always by my side.

Not only was she my support, but I also had to show her a better version of myself.

That way, when I die, she’ll be more shocked. She’ll regret more. She’ll hurt more.

…Still, I’m a bit curious.

What reaction will Sena have if she finds new self-harm scars?

Maybe she’ll grab me and plead like before, or maybe she’ll cry.

Honestly, I’m even looking forward to seeing her expression.

I want to be worried about.

I want to be pitied.

I want to be loved.

I want to torment the one who approaches me with pure goodwill and drink their overflowing tears.

Can Sena understand even someone like me?

I laughed self-deprecatingly and played with the knife again.

Of course not.