Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 22

The moment my hand was severed, I barely registered it. There was no sensation, almost as if it had vanished completely.

It was only after noticing something was off that I looked at my right hand and realized it was gone.

When I glanced down, I saw my hand—still clutching the revolver—lying on the classroom floor, perfectly intact but eerily detached from my arm.

Strangely, there was no blood spilling from the severed end.

It wasn’t just that I was too disoriented or numb to feel pain.

It felt like the hand had fallen into a completely different dimension.

While I was caught up in the oddity of it all, the blond man spoke up.

“Are you the daughter of Duke Mecklenburg?”

I didn’t care much about whatever he was saying, even as he stood there with a bewildered look on his face.

“Why doesn’t it hurt? And why isn’t it bleeding?”

Feeling a bit empty, I dragged a chair over with my left hand, sat down, and crossed my legs.

I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, I thought it would be nice to have a cigarette.

Unfortunately, I had nothing of the sort.

“Why did you try to shoot me?” he asked.

“Because I saw you,” I replied.

“‘Because you saw me’… what an astounding answer.

There’s not a single person in this country who wouldn’t recognize my face.”

I hadn’t seen his face, actually.

Sure, I’d glanced at him briefly, but I didn’t bother to take in the details.

Just because someone’s blond and tall doesn’t mean they’re a prince, does it?

He did look like he had a certain glow about him, though.

“Your face was too far away to see properly,” I said nonchalantly.

His eyebrows twitched, as if I’d annoyed him.

Then he started spitting out venomous words.

“If your family’s house crumbled under the weight of misfortune, and you’re left with no one around you, you should have just died quietly in your room.

Why cause such a big scene, and why, of all times, while I’m attending this academy?!”

He’s confused, but of course he wouldn’t understand.

This man has never been forced to live miserably.

Unlike me, he’s never suffered through the sheer absurdity of misfortune.

It’s only natural he wouldn’t get it.

I did try to die quietly, at first.

And I think I succeeded, but for some reason, it didn’t stick.

For this man to end up like me, this entire empire would have to collapse.

But in this prosperous, stable nation, it’s unlikely.

There are insurgents and fanatics here and there, but the nation’s too strong for them to make a difference.

Even the nobles can’t revolt.

The emperor can drag his sons and daughters back to the capital whenever he wants, so what can mere nobles do?

So I gave him a simple answer.

Thinking back to the time I lay in the bathtub, slowly, miserably, and absurdly dying, I said:

“I tried, but it didn’t work, Your Highness.”

He folded his arms and stood in place for a while.

The shock on his face from earlier, when he’d first seen the classroom, had vanished, as if a ghost had been exorcised.

Now, he looked calm to the point of eeriness—like someone incapable of showing surprise.

He barked some command into the air, seemingly at no one, and then walked over to pick up my severed hand.

The revolver was still gripped tightly in my hand, and as he pried each finger off it, I could hear each knuckle crack one by one.

“Should I ban these too? No, that’s not it.

This only happened because no one here knows how to properly wield a sword or magic.”

He tossed the revolver aside and brought my hand back to me.

As he pressed the severed edges of my hand and wrist together, it felt like two magnets snapping into place.

Suddenly, I could feel my hand again.

The sensation was so bizarre.

I’d never heard of a case where a severed arm reattached itself without even a hint of blood or redness.

There’s no magic I know of that could do this.

It’s probably some kind of secret spell known only to the imperial family.

“What was your name again?” he asked.

“Erica Mecklenburg,” I replied.

“Explain why you killed them.”

“Would it change anything if I told you?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said, shrugging.

Feeling a chill, I glanced around the room.

Lying there, along with Lydia’s body, were four other students—all dead.

I must have missed it earlier. Did someone come in and clean them up?

Or maybe this man did something strange while I wasn’t looking.

“Why did you kill these students?” he asked, gesturing toward the bodies.

Four in total.

Not a large number, but not a small one either.

I shrugged my shoulders, feigning ignorance.

Honestly, I’d expected to be dragged off to some underground prison by now, but here I was, having a one-on-one with the prince.

It’s hard to understand what’s going on.

“So, why did you do it?” he pressed again.

Persistent, isn’t he?

Without so much as glancing at the corpses, he sat down in a chair he’d pulled out at some point, legs crossed, tapping his foot incessantly.

“Answer,” he demanded.

I stayed silent, staring at my reattached hand for a while.

He pulled out an ornate smoking pipe from his coat.

Placing the pipe between his lips, he poured loose leaves from a small box into it and lit it with a small flame from his fingertip.

The white smoke swirled upward, like incense burning at a funeral, as if to guide wandering spirits to the afterlife.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled a stream of smoke.

“I reattached your hand for you, didn’t I?

Why not repay that favor with an answer?” he said, his voice smooth and unhurried.

“Ah…”

A favor, huh?

As if I’d be swayed by something like that.

Still, it’s better than being killed on the spot.

“Your Highness, as unlikely as it may be, imagine the empire suddenly collapsing.

Say, for example, the chancellor you’ve trusted suddenly turns on you and starts tormenting me.

To the point where living becomes unbearable.”

So I gave up on everything and just decided to die.

I wanted to run away by dying.

“But the only escape route I had was taken from me.

I don’t know who blocked it off, but it’s gone now.”

I took a slow, deep breath and exhaled.

My head felt a little dizzy.

“If there’s no hope for the future, if everyone who loves me leaves or dies in the midst of relentless suffering…

If Your Highness were put in that position, what choice would you make?”

It was a bold statement, but surely it wasn’t as insolent as crossing my legs next to corpses and flicking my fingers around.

“Would anything change if you told me?” he replied, sounding rather petty.

He’s the kind of person who’d stew in silence if someone badmouthed him behind his back, only to get them back tenfold later.

I bit my lip in frustration, drawing a little blood.

If biting my lip can make it bleed, then why didn’t my severed wrist bleed at all?

I had no idea.

Even if I figured it out, I doubted it’d bring any sense of closure.

“It’s not like it’ll change anything anyway.

Just think of it as a little rambling in front of a corpse.”

Hearing that, he let out a small laugh, like he’d heard something he found amusing.

“Not a bad excuse,” he admitted, taking the pipe out of his mouth for a moment.

“Well, if the chancellor orders me to bow and kiss his feet, I’d do it.

No matter how much he torments me, I’ll cling to life until the end—even if all that’s waiting at the end is an ugly death.”

There was such a sense of conviction in his words that I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath.

He paid no attention to me and kept talking with the air of a boy confessing his dream—simple and pure, yet steadfast.

“No matter who’s beside me or who I’ve lost, I wouldn’t care.

If the empire collapsed, I’d rebuild it with my own hands.

If the one I loved died, I’d bury them in my heart with a tinge of sadness and move on.

If a servant I trusted humiliated me and tried to control me, I’d endure it, keeping a dagger hidden in my heart until the time was right.

But I’d never choose to end everything like this.

If I had to, I’d hang myself alone in some corner of a room.”

Easy for him to say.

“So, what will you do?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about how you’re going to die.”

He laid it out for me with cold precision.

“Option one: You’ll be hung up for the crowd to see, your legs kicking the air as you dance at the end of a rope.”

Even if they hung me, I doubt I’d die right away.

They’d probably tighten the rope little by little, letting the angry crowd pelt me with stones and rotten tomatoes.

They’d leave the rope slack enough to make sure I’d struggle for 30 to 40 minutes before finally dying.

“Option two: You’re made to kneel, and an axe splits your head in half.”

That’s not the worst choice, I suppose.

If I’m unlucky, I might get an inexperienced executioner who’d botch the job and leave me conscious for hours.

“Or option three: You’re used as a living test subject for mages until you die.”

At this rate, he’s going to come up with a hundred different ways to kill me, so I cut him off.

“Just make it as painless as possible,” I said.

He sneered at me.

“Four students died in this room,” he said.

“Whenever something like this happens, people always point fingers at the emperor.

When a noble commits a crime, it’s only natural that they take responsibility, don’t you think?”

“Not much left for me to lose. Why should I?” I replied flatly.

“Well, thanks to you, it’ll be much easier to legally seize your family’s estate.

After all, the only bloodline left is that pathetic half-wit of a brother you have.”

He spoke with amusement, his grin never fading.

“Either way, you’ll have to die in a gruesome fashion.

Just like your brother did.”