Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 58

Neatly arranged teacups and a teapot.

I held a teacup filled with tea.

Why hadn’t I noticed this earlier?

My hand stung slightly—was it broken before?

Who knows? Maybe I threw it, and shards got stuck in my hand.

I’m not in my right mind.

Would Evan help me if I told him?

No, he wouldn’t. Neither would Vivian, nor my family.

I’m not the kind of person anyone would go out of their way to help.

I’d once entertained the idea of trying to use my charms on him, but I gave up quickly.

Not because of pride or because Evan was unappealing. It was because the opponent was Vivian.

There’s no way that could ever work.

If I hadn’t become this girl, would I still be smiling now?

Would I still be holed up in my room, reading whimsical stories as if playing with fancy dolls, giggling to myself? Showering when I felt itchy, slipping into my worn-out Crocs, and sitting in a modest park smoking cheap cigarettes while watching children run around?

That sounds… quite enjoyable.

The loneliness and boredom I’d feel back in my room could have been bearable.

Until that damned existence shoved me into this place, I’d thought I was unhappy.

But I wasn’t unhappy at all. On the contrary, I had a happy life.

Even if my body was a little inconvenient, it wasn’t people who tormented me, just memories.

The only thing pushing me toward death was cigarettes rotting my lungs—nothing else.

The problem with this world is people.

It’s not as though the world I used to live in was problem-free, but at least, damn it, even scum like me could cling to life and breathe.

I look in the mirror.

Outwardly, I’m nothing more than a girl.

A young, immature girl who’s bound to blossom into a beautiful flower.

A bit blunt in appearance, perhaps, and her speech a little stiff from formal education.

Still, she was a young, lovely girl.

So what was the problem?

Why did someone feel the need to shove me into this girl and make us both suffer?

Even if there was some fault, what crime could possibly justify this level of torment?

What reason could there be to trample on someone so thoroughly?

I want to sit here and breathe until I die.

I don’t want to do anything.

But if I just sit and wallow, I’ll never accomplish anything, will I?

Even if my legs are gone, I’ll crawl. Even if one arm is missing, I’ll drag myself forward.

Once it’s all over, I can collapse, waiting for death and passing the time in dull boredom.

“So what are you going to do? What are you even trying to finish?

Can you even escape this time loop?

I’m exhausted. I don’t want to do anything anymore.

I hate that I still feel lighthearted when I look at Evan. I hate that when the Crown Prince spouts his unbearable nonsense, all I can do is listen.

And I hate pain even more. What about you? Can you do anything?”

The girl asked.

Her voice had no rise or fall, no length or brevity—like a robot speaking.

“I can do it. Whatever it is. I can do it.

After all, we don’t die, even if we’re supposed to.”

At those words, the girl twisted her lips into a grotesque smile.

I was afraid. No, she was afraid of me.

We could feel each other’s emotions, each other’s thoughts.

“I’ll help you! But you need to start moving.”

“Ha, that’s not really my thing.”

“Usually, when someone has a voice in their head or splits into two personalities, one tries to eliminate the other.

But we’re just busy offering the body to each other.”

“Well, it’s better than constantly running at each other, hoping the other disappears.”

“Going forward, we probably won’t even have conversations like this.”

“Is that so.”

“You’ve realized it, haven’t you?

We met in a melted-down state.

We mixed together, blended perfectly.

Now that we’ve solidified, we’re one.

As you’ve thought to yourself, there’s no point in trying to separate us anymore.”

“Why am I suddenly having these thoughts?”

“Maybe you want to talk to yourself. Or maybe you want to reminisce about a time that was terrible but still a little better.”

“That’s not it.”

At that, the girl erased her grotesque smile and naturally sat in front of the mirror.

I crossed my legs, poured myself a cup of tea, and took a sip. 

She straightened her back and sat properly, staring into my eyes as she spoke.

It was her idea of helping.

Just organizing my thoughts and vaguely deciding what to do next.

It was enough that she did the thinking for me. I was grateful for that.

“Keep your back straight, and always walk with poise.

Even if your mind spits out all kinds of vile insults, and your thoughts are filled with crude language, always speak with decorum.

Even if you kill someone, even if filth splatters, even if you endure sadness and misery—always.”

I nodded.

I’d tried to get rid of this girl, cutting away flesh and causing chaos, but it was no use.

If swearing left me tongue-tied, it was better to just follow her advice.

“Well, for now, let’s try learning black magic!

There are plenty of dirty blacks and the mongrels mixed with them who infest this world. They’ll make perfect sacrifices!”

The girl hummed cheerfully as she spoke.

“I thought you said no swearing.”

“I said no swearing at people.”

Right, to this girl, black people weren’t people.

They were filthy, vile beasts pretending to be human and punished by the gods for their audacity.

Lately, her mindset seemed to be seeping into mine. The thought of that mixed-blood knight getting close to Vivian made me feel an irrational, violent rage.

“Since His Highness Johannes seems to wish for my death, Evan and… Vivian. Hmm.

Yes, let’s ask that great Vivian for help.

If I lower my head and beg, something might work out.

And if it doesn’t, I’ll just pull out a gun and try shooting again, like last time! Though it’ll probably fail again.”

The Crown Prince probably just wanted me to stay out of sight, to avoid causing any commotion in the Academy.

“And even if you dislike Evan, don’t let it turn into hatred.”

Maybe because of this girl’s influence, I didn’t truly hate him anymore.

He was an idiot who ignored me as I wasted away, only shedding tears when it was too late to save me.

A pathetic bookworm who was good at nothing but reading and studying theory.

“…Yeah.”

I hesitated for a long time, avoiding her gaze and refusing to answer. But in the end, our eyes met, and I gave her a response.

The moment I spoke, the girl in the mirror approached me, clasped my hands, and looked deeply into my eyes. Her voice was soft as she said,

“And, miss, stop committing suicide.”

Because it’s pointless.

Because it hurts. Is that why she was saying not to do it?

“…Then how would you have me die?” I asked. “Should I let Evan and Vivian catch me and live under their thumb? Or should I march to the gallows again and let my head float alone in the sky?”

Frustrated, I gulped down the freshly brewed tea. The scalding liquid burned my mouth, from the roof of it to my tongue.

“Well, if it’s possible,” she began, “but you know this as well as I do. We need to stop dying so much.

“If you grow numb to death, it becomes hard to remain yourself.

“And do we really have to die?”

She picked up an imaginary rifle, miming shooting someone, striking them with the butt of the gun, and repeatedly stabbing something immobile with a fixed bayonet.

“Killing someone else is one thing, but if you keep killing yourself over and over, you start seeing things, hearing things. Time loses meaning. You become stupid, filled only with hatred, stubbornness, arrogance, and boredom—until you’re not even human anymore.

“As my brother would say, you’d end up like a white-skinned black, or maybe a white mongrel.”

Ah, yes. A faint memory.

Racist, but there it was.

Not human… no, that wasn’t it.

Whenever common sense clashed in my mind, a sharp pain throbbed in my temples.

The girl stood up in the mirror.

I stayed seated, merely watching her.

When I glanced back into the mirror, nothing reflected.

“See? The fact that I can talk to you and that you can see me is proof that something’s wrong.”

“Let’s go back,” she said. “You said you could accomplish something, didn’t you? I’ll give you the body as a gift.”

Then she began walking deeper into the mirror.

“If it gets too hard, just load one bullet into the chamber and pull the trigger five times.”

So, she was telling me to die anyway.

The absurdity of her words sent me into fits of laughter.

It wasn’t funny at all, yet I laughed so hard I clutched my stomach.

When I looked at the mirror again, I saw myself laughing and crying at the same time.

Even so, the image of her walking away into the depths of the mirror remained.

I watched her back until it faded completely, then closed my eyes.

…

“Was it just a stupid dream?”

The side of my face was sore and red, as if it had been pressed against something hard.

The teacups and teapot lay broken and tossed aside, evidence that I’d thrown them away before collapsing face-down in sleep.

Now that I was awake, I returned to my routine. I opened the drawer, took out the gun and a few bullets, loaded the chamber, and tucked it into the back of my waistband, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.

Knock, knock, knock.

Someone was at the door.

But I didn’t want to answer.

I didn’t feel like facing anyone right now.

“Erica, it’s me.”

Evan’s voice.

The words of the girl from the dream came to mind, and I found myself walking to the door.

I opened it to see Evan, looking slightly altered, a bit haggard.