Back in high school, there was this poem my literature teacher kept emphasizing would be on the test.
The title was… yeah, “Nostalgia.”
It was a famous poem, known for expressing longing and sorrow for one’s hometown.
I just mindlessly memorized it back then.
I didn’t care about the deep meaning or anything.
Years later, I hadn’t thought about it even once, but suddenly, a line popped into my head.
“How could that place ever fade from my dreams?”
Maybe it’s because that line perfectly describes my current situation.
I guess I finally understood the poet’s feelings after experiencing them myself.
Or maybe it’s even worse for me.
At least the poet had a way to return.
Yeah, I must be suffering from some extreme nostalgia.
Actually, I’m forgetting things.
But at the same time, I can’t forget.
No matter how much time passes, even as everything about reality blurs, one thing becomes clearer and clearer.
I can’t even pinpoint what that one thing is.
I just guess—maybe this is what nostalgia feels like.
In the end, nostalgia isn’t just longing for your hometown.
It’s when a person, worn out by the hardships of being in a foreign place, gets hit hard by the bias of the good old days and deeply aches for a past that was happier and more comfortable—back when they were in their hometown.
Whether it was actually like that or just feels that way doesn’t really matter to someone suffering from nostalgia.
Older people often say things like, “Those were the good old days,” right?
If you can define a temporal hometown, not just a spatial one, that’s also nostalgia.
A mental escape to an idealized past called “youth” to run away from a tough reality.
So, at this point, it’s reasonable to wonder:
Was that ordinary life I’m longing for really my hometown?
Can I be sure that Remia Adelian isn’t just a delusion I created to escape reality?
It’s a bit mixed up, but even now, I can vaguely answer.
“Probably,” I’d say.
But if more time passes and I really can’t remember anything, will I even be able to answer then?
Then again, if I’m so immersed in this world that I forget everything, even if reality exists, it wouldn’t be any better than a delusion.
What’s the point of a refuge you can’t escape?
At that moment, escaping into a delusion might be the only option.
The “me” that existed before would disappear, leaving only a mere stand-in for Remia Adelian.
Maybe by then, we’ll have completely merged into one.
That might be better than this ambiguous, divided state.
No matter how much I try to spin the situation positively, the princess’s will keeps blocking me, driving me insane.
If we had been one from the start, things might’ve been a bit better.
At least not like this.
……I’m talking nonsense.
I know it, too.
I’m desperately trying to separate myself from the princess, but deep down, I already know.
I can’t tell where I end and where the princess begins.
And yet, I’m shamelessly shifting my flaws onto her, using her as a twisted form of self-comfort.
Calling her the root of all evil. What crime has this frail girl committed?
If anything, her only crime is being born this way.
It’s ugly, really.
How far am I willing to fall?
“……Let’s stop.”
I sighed deeply and pulled myself out of my own little world.
Repeating these thoughts is just another form of escapism.
A long, pointless stream of consciousness that doesn’t fit the situation at all.
Maybe I’m not suffering from nostalgia but delusions.
Lunchtime is almost over.
I don’t want to be seen with swollen eyes from crying, so I should leave before people start crowding around.
As for afternoon classes… I don’t care.
I’m not in the mood to think about that right now.
I grabbed my desk and pulled myself up.
A bit of strength returned, but just enough to make standing up a struggle.
The sudden movement made my head spin, and dizziness hit me.
My body feels heavy.
My head is hot and aching.
My whole body feels like it’s about to fall apart.
A groan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
“Hah… ugh…”
I hadn’t noticed until now, but my body was already burning up.
With every breath, I could feel the heat rising.
My throat felt scratchy, like I was catching a cold, and my nose was starting to itch.
The nausea and headache were just the icing on the cake.
Earlier, it was just a feeling, but now I’m sure.
I’m going to be really sick when I get back.
Well, considering the wounds from yesterday are still there, and I endured what felt like police-level torture twice in one day, it’s no wonder my body’s giving up.
If anything, I should be praised for not passing out yet.
Nice.
Praise me.
I tried my best.
Someone, please.
Hug me.
Pat my head.
Share some warmth with me.
That alone would be comforting.
I started walking, listing meaningless sentences in my head.
In the end, all the princess can do is run away to my room.
The person who would’ve done those things for me disappeared long ago.
As I stepped out of the classroom and into the hallway, I saw groups of students chatting and laughing after lunch.
The moment they noticed me staggering down the hallway, the usual barrage of harsh stares came my way.
Mockery, anger, contempt, pity, and…
A mix of emotions and thoughts that can’t be pinned down to just one thing.
A gaze that feels both familiar and strangely numb, as if I’ve grown desensitized to it.
No, this time too, I’ve pushed the pain onto the princess.
Even though I casually thought I was being watched, my steps gradually quickened.
The princess seems to be having a hard time enduring it.
I couldn’t even tell if I was moving properly, my mind was so hazy, but even then, the way I walked straight, mindful of others’ eyes, was truly befitting of a princess.
Of course, as always, it was my body that couldn’t keep up with the princess’s unwavering will.
While descending the dormitory stairs, my ankle finally gave out, and I tumbled forward.
Falling? More like collapsing.
The important thing is that this was a staircase, and I fell almost right after taking the first step.
I reflexively grabbed the handrail, but my arm couldn’t hold on, so I hit my head on the edge of the stairs and rolled down.
Clunk, clunk.
Thud, thud.
The rhythmic collision sounds felt a bit distant.
I didn’t even have the energy to scream or groan anymore.
Something hot and sticky was dripping from my forehead where I hit it.
For some reason, I felt like a third-party observer as I lay there in the spot where I fell. My body trembled uncontrollably, as if it couldn’t endure anymore, and I hugged my own shoulders.
The sensation of my “self” and my body drifting apart felt strange.
You’re hurting too, huh?
I get it.
After staring at the blurry ceiling for a while, I sat up.
The red liquid dripping from my forehead got into my right eye, stinging.
My left eye was already blurry, and now this just made things even more uncomfortable.
What a mess.
Nothing ever goes right.
Even something as simple as returning to my room seems too difficult for the princess.
Pathetic. How can someone be like this?
Ah, right. I promised not to do this.
No matter what happens, it’s my fault, I should just let it go.
But since the princess is me now, isn’t it okay to blame her?
I don’t know.
I’m sorry.
I’ll stop with the pointless thoughts.
I need to go back.
I got up.
The pain was gradually fading, so it was easier to stand up than before.
But the numbness spreading from my limbs didn’t seem like a good sign, no matter how I thought about it.
If I drag this out, I’ll probably collapse at any moment.
As I started dragging myself along, I heard footsteps from the other side of the stairs.
Even though I tried not to look, my gaze naturally shifted.
My vision wasn’t clear, but she seemed to be a girl with long black hair, about my size.
She looked flustered, staring at me silently for a moment before finally speaking and approaching.
“Are you okay…?”
Of course, I’m not okay.
How could I possibly be okay in this situation?
Words of concern I never imagined someone would say to me.
I clenched my mouth shut, stopping myself from answering naturally.
The concern I was hearing for the first time since coming to this world felt a bit bland.
And it hurt. More than any physical pain.
Even the pity conveyed through gazes was hard to endure, let alone someone approaching me with words, even offering to help. It felt like it was stripping away the value of “me” as a person.
It felt like someone else was throwing the self-deprecating thoughts I’ve always had back at me.
Pity is something you can only give to someone less fortunate than yourself, so from anyone’s perspective, the princess must look like the epitome of a pitiful person.
If I accept this pity-driven kindness here, Remia Adelian is done for.
I’ll no longer function as a human being.
I told the girl, who was reaching out to help me, in a voice cracked from dehydration:
“I’m fine, so move… aside.”
Then, I swatted her hand away.
The girl, rejected after offering kindness, just stared at me in confusion, and I walked past her.
To the only place in the academy that’s truly mine.
The only escape I have that isn’t just a delusion.
I walked.
Fell.
Got up.
Walked again.
Fell again.
Tried to get up.
Fell again.
Crawled.
Finally, just before losing consciousness, I reached my door.
I leaned my weight on the doorknob and barely managed to open it.
I’m dizzy.
I can’t breathe.
I feel like I’m going to die.
With the last of my strength, I took a few more steps and collapsed onto the bed.
Only then did I feel a sense of stability.
The gap between the anxiety I felt outside and this calm was so vast that it made my head go blank.
Reality? Whatever. I don’t know. From today, this room is my home.
My homesickness is resolved.
Hooray.
I let go of the thread of consciousness.
