Please Don’t Die, My Lady

Chapter 26

Right now, I…

Ariana only turned to face me after Sena had completely disappeared down the corridor.

The smile that had been so evident on her face vanished in an instant, leaving her expression devoid of emotion.

“Lady Remia, now…?

Why are you sitting there? And that red stuff—blood? No, why.”

That emotionless expression shattered the moment her gaze landed on me.

The look of shock widening her eyes was striking.

It stood out even more because I had never seen her look like that before.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant sight to behold.

A lady curled up, sitting on the floor, blood dripping steadily from her wrist—

Anyone would surely recoil in horror.

But you’ve seen this before, haven’t you?

I’ve bled countless times because of you.

Why are you suddenly reacting like this now?

Acting all serious, though it doesn’t suit you.

Why? Because you’ve changed, Ariana.

You never listened to anything before, and now, of all things, you cling to the very words I wish you wouldn’t hear.

Just like any common hypocrite, shamelessly.

You were like that.

It might’ve been easier if you’d remained oblivious.

But your behavior was so transparent, it annoyed me even more.

“It itched, so I scratched a little, and it bled.”

“…Do you think that makes any sense?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Remia…”

Murmuring my name as if sighing, she didn’t look the least bit convinced.

Ironically, that was the first time I had heard my name from her since arriving at the academy, aside from roll call.

It showed so clearly what kind of life she had been leading.

I slowly curved my lips upward and muttered,

“…It’s true.”

The itch was inside my head, but scratching my wrist to resist it was still the truth.

See? Again, you don’t believe me when I tell the truth.

You judge me on your own without even listening properly—how repulsive.

Even if it were a lie, shouldn’t you of all people react differently?

If you’d just mocked and tormented me as usual, I could’ve faced you without flinching.

Why… Why are you carefully lifting me as if handling a precious doll, tenderly stroking my wrist with emotions brimming in your eyes while gently treating my wounds?

Even if the whole world pities me, you—you shouldn’t be like this.

You shouldn’t suddenly act like a different person overnight.

What on earth did I say to you yesterday?

Under the influence of the drugs, what did I even tell you?

“…What’s troubling you so much? Please, tell me.

Don’t hurt yourself—just tell me, and I’ll change. So, please.”

You wouldn’t listen even if I did tell you.

Before I realized it, laughter slipped out.

Yeah, it’s not just you.

There’s no one in this world who truly sees me.

“Nothing.

There’s nothing about you, Ariana, that needs to change.”

So I told her.

After all, you won’t change, so, as always, I’ll adapt.

If I strip away and carve out parts of myself, I’ll manage somehow.

It’s only hard at the start. It won’t be as difficult the second time.

Where should I go next?

The wrist is always a good choice, isn’t it?

“Please, just tell me the truth, Lady Remia.

There’s no way you’d cut your wrist without a reason. Communication is crucial.”

“Shall we go?”

I deliberately cut her off mid-sentence and grabbed her hand to pull her along.

Fortunately, Ariana allowed herself to be led, her face still blank with bewilderment.

Whether she was too startled to move or simply didn’t want to provoke me further because I looked unstable, I couldn’t tell.

But it was the first moment where I had seized the upper hand.

Should I be glad?

I didn’t know.

From that day on, Ariana began sticking to me all day long.

She sat beside me as if it were the most natural thing in the world and followed me wherever I went.

During lunch, she would drag me to eat even if I tried to skip meals.

The group of commoners led by Jean didn’t dare to touch me because of her presence.

After all, they had been sternly warned just the day before.

No one in their right mind would approach me right away.

Even Sena, who had persistently approached me, stopped coming near after that day.

The sympathetic gazes that used to trail me also turned to Ariana instead, leaving me in the background.

Because of that, my life—once punctuated by violence, my only source of stimulation—became more peaceful and monotonous than ever.

The next day, and the day after that.

Even as weeks passed.

Aside from Ariana refusing to leave my side while in the classroom, aside from her sticking close even in personal spaces like restrooms or changing rooms, and aside from her attempting to follow me to my room after class ended, it was an ordinary routine that might seem mundane to others.

In a way, it might be the reality I had long wished for.

Life, back then, had also been peaceful and dull, a repetitive cycle.

After falling into this unfamiliar world, I had prayed endlessly for years for a tranquil life.

That the person ensuring my peace was Ariana, the one who tormented me the most, was a bit ironic.

Still, I wasn’t in a position to be picky, so I figured I should gratefully accept it.

In fact, I began to think the me from weeks ago, who overreacted to her hypocrisy, was strange.

Such a dramatic shift.

I must be happier now than ever before.

I’m living the ideal life I dreamed of.

I should be.

I must be.

I have to be.

Then why is it that…

“…it feels so hard to breathe?”

Muttering to myself, I brought the knife I had prepared that day to my left wrist.

My head ached all day long.

It was as if I were in a daze, like something had taken hold of me.

It feels like someone is choking me, leaving me breathless.

Violence, the pain that once tormented me but also made me feel alive— I find myself longing for it.

My mind must have gone completely off track.

Otherwise, why would I crave pain on my own?

Even during the darkest periods of despair, I only indulged in fleeting fantasies.

Yet now, living in an even duller reality, I’m actually doing it.

“How did it come to this, ugh….”

I ran the knife across my wrist.

Horizontally, shallowly.

For a moment, the scratched skin remained still. Then a crimson line appeared, and drops of blood began to fall.

As the sharp pain of the blade slicing through skin—hardly something one could call pleasant—surged through me, words spilled out of my mouth without my control.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?

How could anyone feel at ease living as a corpse rather than a person?”

The pain brought a surge of stimulation, numbing my mind and sharpening my awareness.

That day, the act of clawing at myself to suppress emotions had become something else entirely—a twisted ritual of carving myself to prove my existence, my reality.

I suppose I was adapting in a way.

Though whether this could be called adaptation, I’m not so sure.

Turning my wrist to examine the marks from various angles, I spoke back to the lady within me.

“So what should I do, then?

I already know I lack anything you could call an agency.

Telling someone who’s always lived as a corpse to regain their humanity is just baseless delusion.”

The horizontal lines etched across my wrist seemed monotonous.

Acting on impulse, I moved the knife again, this time creating a vertical line.

Bright red blood flowed steadily, pooling on the desk.

The pain came belatedly, clearing the fog in my head.

For a fleeting moment, it felt similar to the clarity I experienced when Ariana had administered the drug to me that day.

For someone as dulled to everything as I was, only this level of stimulation could make me feel anything.

This is why I can’t stop.

The cross-shaped mark on my wrist looked far more aesthetically pleasing than before.

Beautiful things are best, after all.

Especially if they’re something unpleasant, they should at least look good.

“At the very least, you shouldn’t do things like this.

What’s the point of continuing a life sustained by inflicting harm on yourself?”

The words spilled from my lips as I gazed at my wrist with a smile.

The fleeting improvement in my mood plummeted instantly.

Ah, please, stop it.

Just let me feel better for a moment.

Why am I so desperate to torment myself?

“I’m doing this because of you. Because you won’t let me end my life.

Because you won’t let me put an end to this filthy, hopeless story!

I had no choice but to find another way!

And yet, how could you—how could you say something like that to me?”

“I never stopped you.

How could I possibly stop something you’re so determined to do?

We’re practically the same person, after all.

But maybe it’s time you stop pushing everything onto me while pretending you don’t actually want to live.”

Her words made my head spin.

Was it because they weren’t true? Or because they struck a nerve?

I couldn’t tell.

But I, trembling with anger, spat out curses I hadn’t uttered even once since coming to this world.

“Shut up. Shut the hell up!”

“Please refrain from using such vulgar language.”

Right now, I am…

“Why? Why shouldn’t I say it?

It’s my body, my brain, my mouth.”

“It’s my body, my brain, my mouth too, isn’t it?

I told you—we’re practically the same.”

Right now, I am…

“Ah. Yeah, sure. One and the same, yet here I am, acting like a lunatic all by myself?

Fine, I’ve been crazy all along. From the start, I was perfectly broken.”

“Oh, don’t act like it’s news. You already knew.

Whether it’s schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, autism, dissociative identity disorder, or neurosis—whatever it is, this state can only be explained as madness.”

Right now, the lady is…

“Ah, yeah. I know. I know it all too well.

That’s why I’m carving up this garbage body of mine.

Because in this damn world, there’s no mental hospital.

Because the easiest solution of drowning my broken brain in medication is gone!”

“Do you really have to carve it up?

I don’t want to hurt anymore.

And deep down, neither do you. You don’t want to die, either.”

Right now, Remia Adelian is…

“I wanted to live. Yes. Who wants to die from the beginning?”

“Then live.

Throw the knife away, look around, find a way to endure this life.”

Right now, *** is…

“I can’t. That’s why I’m doing this.

Even if I manage to endure until I graduate from the academy, what changes? I’ll just return to the organization.

There’s no hope. Not even the faintest glimmer of it for me.

Living or dying, there’s no real difference! You know it all. Right now, I am…”

Right now, I am.

Right now, I am.

Who am I even fighting?

My wrist dripping blood, my gaze unfocused, staring at the void.

Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I go serious.

I raise my voice, then blush with anger.

I sob uncontrollably.

Now, I’m fighting alone.

Both the lady and ‘I’ are just me, after all.

Ah, I can’t even deny my madness anymore.

I’ve completely fallen apart, and there’s no pretending otherwise in front of others now.

Ariana will use this as an excuse to barge into my room, won’t she?

How absurd.

This situation is just so damn funny.

“…Ah, hahaha, hic.”

I need medication.

Enough of it to smother this brokenness.

Yes, medicine.

There’s one here too, isn’t there? A panacea.

“Help me, Ariana. Please, give me some medicine.”

Medicine, medicine, medicine.

Laughing, crying, screaming, I let out my hysteria.

My hysterical voice echoed in the dormitory room, where I was utterly alone.

Ah, really.

It’s unbearable to listen to.