Please Don’t Die, My Lady

Chapter 33

Sena, who had been hunched over sobbing for a long time, finally straightened herself as the moon began to wane.

It might have been a relief if crying made her feel better, but judging by her expression, she seemed utterly hollow.

She looked like she had turned into a doll, just like I once had—spilling out everything, forcing herself to accept it all.

“…I’ll go in first. It’s cold, so don’t stay out too long.”

“Will you be okay? It’s been a while since you’ve seen him.”

“I’m fine. Besides, I think I’ll be seeing him often now.”

I see. It seems she has made up her mind. That’s a relief.

Though I can’t say I’m pleased about it.

If I could do what Sena is doing, life would be so much easier.

Even if we both became dolls, perhaps this is where the differences between us become apparent.

Her retreating figure wobbled, but her path remained straight, strangely radiant.

Perhaps that’s why I felt a pang of sadness.

Being misunderstood by everyone—it’s always like that.

I stayed by the fountain only until the warmth left the space Sena had vacated.

If something had never been there, it wouldn’t have mattered. But losing something that was—it’s always too cold.

The moon no longer provided any comfort.

The very notion that I had thought it could was absurd to begin with.

Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed.

I wasn’t particularly upset enough to spend the dawn in turmoil.

As soon as I closed my eyes, I quickly fell asleep.

***

When I woke up, my body felt strange.

That was my first thought.

At the same time, I felt weary.

It was a sensation I had grown far too familiar with.

A fever seemed to seep into my brain.

A sense of weakness, as if the cartilage and muscles between my joints had been torn apart.

Headache, nausea, chest pain, joint pain, stomach pain.

It was the aggravatingly familiar sensation of a body breaking down.

I experienced this at least once or twice a week.

The cause was obvious—it had to be last night’s walk.

I thought I’d covered myself with a blanket quickly enough, but my fragile body must not have been able to endure even that.

I raised an arm and covered my throbbing eyes.

It’s hot, yet cold. No matter how many times I experience this, I can’t get used to it.

“…Can I hide it? I don’t want anyone to worry.”

Even breathing through my nose felt a bit difficult.

It wasn’t that it was blocked—it was just too hot.

But breathing through my mouth felt like it would draw too much attention.

That would make me look like a patient, no matter who saw me.

Troublesome.

Every time my body was like this, I had similar worries.

Ariana always insisted she would stick by my side and nurse me whenever I was sick, which annoyed me.

I hated being under worried gazes, so I naturally ended up contemplating how to hide my condition.

When I refused her help, Ariana always looked even more concerned, and I would end up saying the same thing to her.

It’s not that I hated being cared for.

I just felt burdened by the idea of someone spending their time on me over something as trivial as a cold.

There are people far more ill than I am, and someone somewhere must desperately need that time more than I do.

I wished Ariana would use her time more meaningfully.

Just leave me alone in a corner.

Only help me when it truly seems like I’m dying.

It’s not a problem otherwise.

…But that’s just an excuse.

“It’s true, though.”

I don’t want to be worried over.

Maybe I just hate the version of myself that makes others worry.

If I could learn to like myself, would I accept others’ concern more easily?

If so—no, let’s stop here.

I shook my head a couple of times.

The feverish fog clouding my mind cleared just slightly.

When my temperature rises, my thoughts tend to wander excessively—a bad habit of mine.

Alright, open your eyes.

It’s time for school.

I can’t let anyone see me looking disheveled.

Cough.

As I pressed my hands against the floor and pushed myself up, a sharp pain spread through my chest.

Frowning instinctively, I brought my hand to my mouth, only for a cough to burst out.

At the same time, I felt something hot rise through my throat.

To quell the tightness in my chest, I tapped it with my free hand.

A more intense bout of coughing followed.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

Something seemed thoroughly stuck, as the pain lingered for a long time.

When I finally managed to stop coughing, I noticed a few dark spots of blood on my palm.

Suddenly?

I tilted my head, puzzled.

I hadn’t been hit, nor had I broken anything. So why was this happening?

“I- I should wash… Ugh?”

Trying to suppress my panic, I took a step forward, but now my stomach acted up.

The dizziness and nausea that had already been plaguing me surged uncontrollably.

It felt as though my stomach was being squeezed tightly.

Without the chance to do anything, I ended up vomiting on the floor.

“Ugh… Hrk…”

Having eaten nothing, only yellow bile should have come out, but even this was tinged with red.

This definitely wasn’t an ordinary cold.

Breathing heavily, with an unpleasant wheeze, I curled the corners of my mouth into a faint smile.

From the shortness of breath, I had sensed something was off.

Who would have thought it was my body’s warning signal?

“Hah… I hate this… Really.”

I staggered, pressing a hand over my mouth, and eventually slumped back down.

I tried to get up again, but my legs wouldn’t hold me.

Giving up, I leaned against the bed.

I was definitely going to be late.

As I rested my head against the bedspread, a rush of blood surged upward.

My vision blurred, like it was swaying in waves.

Hah.

I’m not going to sleep.

I’ll go, so don’t rush me.

Just a moment.

I’m just taking a moment to rest.

“So….”

I stayed still with my eyes closed for a while, but I felt like I was about to black out entirely, so I forced them open.

I thought I might feel a bit better.

But instead, my vision rippled as if I were under the influence of opium.

As heat consumed me, an icy chill seeped deep into my bones.

I felt like dough being baked in an oven.

I couldn’t even move of my own volition.

It hurts.

It hurts.

My head. My stomach. My chest. My throat. My legs. My arms.

Everything hurts.

I probably need to take some medicine.

A painkiller—something, anything—to get up and function.

But all I had in this room were pills that numbed the mind.

Ah, should I just take those?

Since it was medicine, wasn’t it better to take it than not?

I reached out with trembling arms to grab the pill bottle I had left by my bedside.

Even that small act seemed too heavy for my shaking hands, causing me to drop it halfway. Still, I managed to spill its contents onto the floor.

Now, all that was left was to take them.

But since the pills had mixed together, I couldn’t tell which was which.

They all looked blue to me.

Well, wouldn’t it be fine to just take them randomly?

It’s not like I expected them to work anyway.

Thinking that, I grabbed whatever came to hand and put them in my mouth one by one.

I didn’t even have the energy to get water, so I simply forced them down my dry throat.

But even that proved to be too much for my parched mouth.

By the eighth swallow, I felt a choking sensation somewhere in my throat—esophagus or windpipe, I wasn’t sure.

Cough, hack! Wheeze! Gasp!

Damn it.

It’s stuck.

I curled into myself and coughed violently, but whatever was lodged didn’t show any sign of coming out.

Even as I gasped for air, my lungs didn’t feel like they were filling.

It was similar to my usual episodes, but this time there was no solution other than dislodging the obstruction, making it all the more dreadful.

Already, the edges of my vision began to darken.

At this rate, I didn’t need to see the ending to know how it would turn out.

Haha.

I really made a mess of things this time.

Doing something unnecessary, as always, and ending up like this.

I had wanted to die, but not like this.

I had hoped for a clean, dignified death, one that wouldn’t invite ridicule.

Dying from choking on pills? Absolutely not.

Then, I couldn’t die.

I forced my oxygen-starved brain to think.

What methods could I use in this situation?

Heimlich maneuver? I’d need someone else for that.

For a self-application… I didn’t know.

I could vaguely recall something about applying pressure to the chest, but it wasn’t clear.

Doing it alone seemed impossible. If I hit myself hard, maybe it would work somehow.

I braced myself against the bed and struggled to stand.

I worried I might not even manage to get up, but faced with the threat of death, my leg muscles decided to cooperate.

Somehow, I stood up.

And then I fell.

Without anything to cushion the impact, I hit the hard floor face- and chest-first.

Dizziness overwhelmed me as my head throbbed from where it had slammed into the ground.

My body felt impossibly heavy, as if I couldn’t lift it anymore.

It felt like stars were spinning around me.

Was that cartoonish depiction actually somewhat realistic?

A sticky, unpleasant liquid dripped steadily from my face. My nose might have been broken.

Ah, looking closely, it was also coming from my mouth. That must mean—

The pain in my chest had worsened, but the choking sensation was gone.

Perhaps the force of the impact had dislodged whatever was stuck. That’s good.

Though my head felt foggy and hurt, I hadn’t blacked out. It seemed I’d gotten away with a mild concussion.

As for my chest, it was probably just another rib fracture—nothing new for me.

Considering I’d avoided the humiliation of choking to death on pills, this was a fair trade.

Spitting out the blood pooling in my mouth, I let out a weak laugh.

The absurdity of my situation struck me.

“I… can’t go…”

Even my muttered words carried a metallic rasp.

Where could I possibly go, looking like this?

I’d rather die unnoticed in a corner somewhere.

Still, I couldn’t just lie here doing nothing.

I had to clean up the mess—the vomit, the blood, the spilled pills—before the maid found it all.

But right now, my body refused to move.

Maybe I should sleep a little first.

Since I’d already given up on school, I had plenty of time.

If I could wake up before the afternoon and clean everything up, it’d be fine.

Yeah. I’d manage somehow.

I would.

I closed my eyes in the same collapsed position.

Or rather, my eyes closed on their own.

It was practically beyond my control.

Too many things had piled up.

Everywhere hurt, and it felt like even my brain wanted a break, dropping me into unconsciousness.

It wasn’t like I’d done anything significant.

The whole situation was absurd enough to make me laugh until the moment I fell asleep.