Resetting Lady

“Good work. You must have had a hard time.”

Even the trembling Tom did not disappear. And, his swelling had subsided a lot. Carynne touched the child’s skin, feeling that he was truly alive—that she was truly living in reality as she could touch his skin. She couldn’t believe her own senses, so she needed someone she could watch with, and for this task, Tom was the suitable individual.

“Thank you. I was afraid you’d disappear, too. I was scared.”

Carynne had brought with her some medicine to help Tom. She felt some sympathy for the child. Nine years old. What a terribly young age. It was so long ago for her that she couldn’t even remember.

While Carynne lived comfortably in a fief lord’s household, while chatting comfortably with Isella and Dullan, while meeting Raymond and the countess—this boy lived a life being trampled all over at the bottom of the pyramid in the village. On top of that, this little boy would die from all kinds of diseases about a month later.

That’s why Carynne had to kill him even more. To get rid of this sympathy.

If she wouldn’t kill him out of sympathy, then she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Nancy didn’t die because she had sinned. Those people in the circus tent did not die simply due to bad luck. Even Hans and Thomas, the boy’s father, were people who would not have died if Carynne had not interacted with them.

So, Carynne had to be fair and impartial. She should just move according to chance and interest. Here, Carynne had defined herself as an obligatory self-indulgent killer.

Her duty was pleasure. In this life, without pleasure, Carynne would have nothing to hold in her hands.

And Tom was such a good target to kill.

Carynne had a knife, some rope, and a pistol. The gun was a contentious choice from the beginning—the sound would ring out. Carynne tried to do away with Tom through drugs then, but she soon realized her mistake.

“Ah… Gosh, I forgot to bring a syringe.”

If she were to open his mouth, he’d scream, so she would have had no choice but to use a syringe. However, the syringe she used the first time had already become rusty.

After contemplating for a while, Carynne touched Tom’s neck. She felt his veins throbbing with a fluttering pulse on the young child’s slender neck.

People don’t die easily. The mortician had already drawn all of Thomas’ blood and had him sewn shut. For something like that to happen in this cellar, she’d have to cut his veins and let the blood trickle out all day long.

“Ah, you’re going to die anyway, so why should I.”

Carynne clicked her tongue. What did it matter if it was a rusty syringe? She tapped his neck and put morphine into the rusty syringe. If she wanted a lethal dose, she’d have to inject one dose at a time.

“Ugh, calm down… Stay still.”

Hearing what she was saying to herself, Tom thrashed. The bottle of morphine fell over. Sighing, Carynne picked up the syringe again. She could still inject him with it. After she took out a new bottle and inserted the rusty syringe, Tom thrashed again and tried to have the bottle dropped once more.

Thud.

Carynne grabbed Tom’s struggling body. And she became more distressed when she felt how thin Tom’s shoulders were in her hands. The nine-year-old’s body was much too small.

The feeling of thoroughly crushing the weak washed over her. This was also different from when she had killed Nancy. This child was too young. Feeling a weak sense of conflict, Carynne felt goosebumps over her skin.

“…It’s so distressing.”

Why the hell did kill her like that. Carynne pressed down the welling urge to cry.

It’s so disgusting to feel sympathy for herself while killing. She was already a murderer. One-sided violence and one-sided murder were too painful.

Even so, the more she hesitated here, the more painful it would be.

She picked up the syringe in a hurry.

Push.

The child’s thrashing subsided. Carynne caressed Tom. She couldn’t save him because he’s already seen too much. And Carynne knew that after killing this boy, it wouldn’t matter who she’d kill next.

Nine years old. A boy from the streets who was weaker than herself, a boy who would not be looked for. A child with much too many sides to be sympathetic about.

“It’ll be easier if it’s warmer here. The effect would be faster.”

The boy’s tremors weakened. Surrounded with blankets, Carynne approached the fireplace to light it. Summer had already come, but nevertheless, a basement with stone floors and stone walls was quite chilly.

It was a poorly used basement, but there were still piles of lumber stored in one corner of it. Carynne chose two large logs and walked towards the fireplace.

She tried to light them on fire, but it wouldn’t catch properly. She’d have to stoke the fire first with some paper or a few twigs. Carynne threw the log on its side while it still had that small flame that was about to die down, looking around to see if there were any twigs left inside the fireplace.

But then, she saw something strange.

“Huh?”

There was a black, burnt corpse inside the fireplace.

Carynne frowned.

Who’s this?

She searched through the scorched bones that were entirely black, and ash flew into her face.

“A-choo!”

She didn’t have time for this. Carynne would have to wash her face and come back to her room before Donna would go in. But things kept happening like this. Someone used this fireplace. She was sure that this was a place that no one used. Who did it? Whose body was this? When did this person die?

Questions arose. Carynne came closer to the burnt bones.

“Ugh!”

But fire erupted belatedly. Carynne took a step back. She’d have to check again later.

“…I’m sor…ry.”

“Goodness, the gag came loose. Do you have anything else to say?”

She pretended to be calm, but she was flustered for a moment. Fortunately, it seemed like the drugs were working because his voice was weak.

Echoes wouldn’t ring well in this basement, but if he were to scream, she wasn’t sure. Feeling a bit relieved, Carynne walked towards the boy to cover his mouth again.

“S-Spare me, please… I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Tom gasped as he looked up at Carynne. Tears trickled down.

“Hm? What did you do wrong?”

“Ah…”

“Was there anything you did wrong to me?”

“I carelessly spoke of Your Ladyship.”

Hearing Tom’s guess, Carynne laughed out loud.

“Is that a crime?”

“Y-Yes… I-I was wrong.”

“No. That wasn’t a crime. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Huh?”

Carynne’s eyes were blazing. However, even as her eyes were on him, she wasn’t looking at Tom.

“There’s no sin in the world that would make you deserve to die. Death happens when someone is killed. If a child steals, if a desiring man looks elsewhere, if a person’s business goes bankrupt—is any of this enough reason for anyone to die? To not be able to sleep well, to have fallen, to have somehow ended up in this place—is this a crime punishable by death?”

Carynne muttered. It was more of a monologue. Then, an angry murmur followed.

“Just like that… Comfortably… If there’s something to blame… If I did something wrong, if I said something wrong, if that was the case.”

Carynne chewed her lips as her eyes met with Tom’s.

“No. That’s not true. No matter what you’ve said, that’s not why you’re going to die. It’s alright, Tom. I’m not angry. Ah… Your father was definitely not good. And I definitely don’t think it’s right to do that out on the streets, but that’s not why he died. It’s just bad luck. I’m the unluckiest girl in the world. Yeah, and this unlucky girl has become a murderous girl. I’m going to keep being this way.”

“Then please save me… I won’t tell anyone at all.”

Ta-dak. Ta-dak. The small spark of fire flared.

“Save me… please.”

“I won’t.”

Carynne stroked Tom’s head as she said this. Her touch was gentle.

“You can’t live long anyway, Tom. It would be better for you to die now. Medicine is quite expensive, you know. You wouldn’t have been able to touch any with your hands. So it would be better to die now.”