I’m Planning to be Killed by the Heroine

I opened my eyes.
It’s the sofa in the dimly lit living room. I widened my view while feeling the crumpled, noisy texture of the sofa.
Nothing particular is visible. It’s because my thinking was short-sighted. Repeating a daily routine of going out every night to swing metal blades and passing out as soon as I get home, I failed to judge that I couldn’t do normal things like turning on lights to brighten the house.
What an idiot.
When I first decorated the house, I foolishly thought that if I put in objects and furniture, it might look like a place where people live.
It’s dark. I can’t see. There might be something, but of course nothing is visible since no image can form on my retina.
Well, that’s to be expected, since it’s pitch black in front of me.
Someone who feels ecstasy from killing people doesn’t deserve to see light.
What I can touch is the sofa, and a blanket. There’s no pillow.
It’s narrow, cramped. The once spacious living room always feels narrow when I smell the scent of life.
The eerily quiet atmosphere endlessly plummets my mood.
“Bloody.”
Ah,
It’s not here.
It always enters subspace to sleep during the night hours.
Well, I didn’t particularly expect it. Having someone always by your side is nothing short of a blessing.
I lowered my arm and placed my palm on my thigh. It’s soft and smooth. I really am a woman. It feels a bit firmer than a baby’s cheek.
Sadistic urges boiled up.
“Ah.”
I pinched myself. It didn’t hurt much, but I made a sound on purpose.
If I don’t do this, I feel like I won’t feel alive.
My garbage mind seems about to have another fit.
I shook my head vigorously. I forcibly twisted my body to change from my lying position. My upper body rose, tilted, then straightened again.

Splat.
As I stood up on my creaking body and took a step, I touched something.
“Ah.”
Blood.
A sticky feast and a flower bed reeking of rot.
An invisible red puddle invading the everyday living room floor.
“It must be mine.”
For a fleeting moment, I wished it wasn’t mine.
The fact that I unknowingly spilled fresh blood meant that, like animals shedding their fur, I needed to inject burning red liquid again.
To not lose my sanity, that is.
You really want to tear this body apart, don’t you?
I rolled up my sleeve and exposed my upper arm. I pressed the device against the outer skin.
With a clicking noise, I felt something foreign, then a cool liquid seeped into my veins.
“····Ugh, haah.”
With trembling hands, I clutched my chest. My heart convulses and throbs.
My breathing has been rough for a while.
“Haah, huk, haah.”
Tick.
I see a clock.
A clock floating in the air, visible only to me.
Four sharp fangs that you might see on a beast.
An oval, antique frame surrounding them.
Just the right size to fit in my hand.
Crack.
Actually, I’ve been seeing it for a few days but I’ve been ignoring it.
Thinking it was due to this damn character’s mental illness, thinking if I ignore it, it would disappear.
But as always, as if harboring a grudge against me, it never yielded to my will despite being an inanimate object.
Tick tick tick tick tick tick.
Ignoring the consecutive noises, I pressed the device against my arm again.
Another foreign sensation, another coolness.
Blood is supplied to the heart, and after a few seconds of silence.
My heart bursts.
Crackle.
“Urp – Puwahak!”
At first, it hurt. It hurt so much I almost blew up the house.
But this amazing body of mine seems to have adapted even to that, dulling even this repeated pain.
Exactly the 86th, no, let me correct that.
Now that my 87th heart has burst, this is all I feel.
“Ah, ah.”
For a few seconds, a large amount of blood mixed with magic power churns and throbs through my body, and as the rapidly intensified magic and blood quality becomes too much for my body to handle, it stops functioning.
Tinnitus pierces my ears and my body screams.
Bloody tears flow from my eyes and my insides churn as a bonus.
Looking back, it really seems like a pathetically weak body.
No, is this normal when your heart bursts?
I don’t know. I’m not human after all.
Was I ever human to begin with?
Eerie blood-colored blades form around me, supposedly to protect my now sickly self.
It’s laughable.
Self-protection? Why don’t you just kill me? Cut through to my soul with those bloody blades.
Crack.
Again, it burst again.
The 88th heart.
When will I stop counting these meaningless numbers?
“Ha. Hahehe.”
Laughter and groans mix together.
In this moment of self-deprecation, even my mind reaches its limit.
It’s a funny story.
A body that loses sanity if it doesn’t drink blood.
If I grip a knife with trembling hands and stab someone’s heart.
If I absorb blood while watching their eyes grow cold as they die on the cold floor.
My body rejects it, saying it doesn’t match, that we’re different species.
That’s why.
My heart bursts and my limbs are crushed.
My nerves are severed and my blood vessels scream.
And so mechanically, this body regenerates again.
Little by little, forcibly, accumulating and accepting blood from a different species.
“Ha, haah. Hupeup.”
Tick, creak, tick.
They say vampires are mythical beings that die easily if they can’t drink blood.
Then why is a dhampir, who inherited that bloodline, an existence that never dies?
Why doesn’t it die even when blood dries up and the heart bursts?
Yet it still causes an unbearable urge to the point of endlessly committing murder?
I didn’t want to kill people either.
Three people a day.
Three people a day, you say?
I can only laugh hollowly.
The standard for not giving up on being human?
I must have gone mad.
My thoughts grow faint and my blood rages.
It wasn’t like this usually, but today seems particularly severe.
I need to smoke.
Where did I put the magic cigarettes?
Tick, tick.
I raised my head, crushing the noise.
I looked over the shelf but there was nothing.
Nothing, nothing.
Nothing at all.
It’s cold, lonely.
My heart aches.
It seems to have burst. No, it must have burst. Or not. I don’t know.
Still, it hurts a little.
My nerves scream and go berserk.
My powerless voice echoes in the quiet room, then disappears without reverberating.
The cool air dyes the invisible darkness even blacker.
What.
What I can do.
Like those in the past who became cold corpses in front of me with holes in their hearts.
Is to calmly accept the pain that constricts me while blaming my incompetent and helpless self.
To flounder in the red swamp stained with their blood, recalling memories of swinging the knife without sanity and abandoning victims.
“Haeuh.”
It’s been long since I cursed myself.
Myself, who plunged the world into a distant swamp.
It was natural that I couldn’t feel alive even while maintaining this wretched life.
Since the scent of life took root and the world was born, I alone have been observing death in solitude and committing massacres.
I couldn’t resist the urge. I couldn’t face the approaching fate.
If this is an unforgivable sin.
This must be punishment from the many people who feared me terribly and those who wanted my neck.
Repeated situations and fragmented repeated thoughts.
It was natural for problems to arise.
Anger wells up.
I see the clock. My nerves rapidly focus on it.
Tick.

It floats quietly next to me as I sit slumped on the floor, coughing.
What exactly are you?
What do you want from me? Are you trying to harm me? To kill me?
At least answer this.
Why do you only appear on days like this, when my mental illness reaches its peak?
When those clock hands point to 12 o’clock, will my heart burst again?

Creak, thud, creak, thud.
Tell me.
What should I do?
To break this vicious cycle of pain, what should I do?
Answer me.
I said answer me.
Starting with stopping that damn clock hand sound.
“……”
Despite my plea, nothing changed.
Just, in the vast living room that made my head ache.
Only my small groans continued to echo.
───Thud, crackle.
With the noise of something falling from the shelf, in the moment my vision abnormally brightened.
My consciousness faded.
I opened my eyes.
That damn clock from earlier was long gone, and instead, a dim digital clock was visible.
Morning was breaking.
“Cough, cough!”
The first thought that came to mind was that I needed to clean all this up.
It was my small principle that Bloody should never find out until it came out of subspace after sleeping.
I couldn’t worry it.
Soon, it would tear through the spatial rift and face me.
I turned on and set up a small lantern.
First, I roughly wet a mop from the bathroom and started sweeping the floor.
The condition of my body after fainting wasn’t great, but anyway, my usual self was accustomed to being steeped in fatigue, so it wasn’t a problem.
I repeated the action of sweeping the floor with small arms and hands. The dark red blood and smell gradually faded and disappeared.
The fortunate thing was that things didn’t unfold as vividly as at the hunting scene.
I wiped the table and tidied up the sofa. The blanket wasn’t dirty, so I roughly folded it and placed it on the floor.
Around the time when “clean” seemed to fit, something out of place caught my eye.
“What’s this.”
Letters shimmered.
『 Origin 』
It’s a book with a sharp blue cover.
From the day the world changed and my life fell into an unfathomable hell,
My book, which I’ve been compiling and writing about the vampire race day by day.
But in the end, I couldn’t find or record the content I wanted.
Rustle.
The pages of the book turn.
Heading towards the last chapter.
Yes, that page.
About Death.
But nothing was written. Well, of course..
Flash.
Light burst out from that very page.
The oval-shaped clock appeared again.
What?
What is it?
The frame of a crown formed in the air and red liquid started to fill it.
I felt it instinctively.
It’s needed.
The blood to dye that crown red.
Crackle.
And a rift formed in the air.
I hurriedly swung my arm to cut through space and hid the book and the crown in the air.
It can’t be discovered.
The spirit’s intelligence and abilities are excellent.
There’s no way it wouldn’t smell my blood stained red on that book and the scent of flesh that writhed in pain.
I felt anxious. Not only killing someone, but also hurting the spirit, the closest being to me.
The rift opened and purple light burst out. A small red sphere twisted its body and emerged.
Snow-white eyes and a dark cloak shone.
“Did you sleep well?”
My eyes met Bloody’s. I unconsciously clenched my fist tightly.
Silence flowed.