The Miserable End Of Fiction

"Hey, aren't you afraid of dying?"

That question again. I've lost count of how many times I've heard it. Everyone who learns about my illness asks the same thing. And each time, I give them the same answer.

"No, I'm not afraid."

I'm not afraid of death. I'm afraid of living—of enduring two more years trapped in this fragile, broken body. "If I just jump from here, my suffering would end. Wouldn't that be sweet?"

SLAP!

The sting on my cheek startled me.

"You idiot!"

The girl in front of me trembled, her hands clenched into fists. Tears welled in her eyes, glistening under the cold night sky. The wind carried them away before they could reach my face.

"You haven't even given me an answer to my confession, and here you are talking about dying? Ahh, you're such an idiot!"

I laughed softly, rubbing my stinging cheek.

"Hey, don't do that. I might actually fall," I muttered.

Dying doesn't scare me, but falling? That's a different story.

"And besides, I already rejected you. Why don't you move on and find someone else?"

Her lips quivered, her voice barely a whisper. "Am I not beautiful enough?"

I sighed, flicking away my cigarette. My gaze lingered on her—on the way the moonlight caught in her short brown hair, the way it carried a scent that tugged at something deep in my chest. Her pink lips, soft and inviting, made me want to—

But her face.

Why can't I remember her face?

Was she beautiful? Yes, she was.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," I admitted.

Her breath hitched.

"Then why won't you accept me?" Her voice broke. "And don't smoke here!"

She snatched my cigarette from the ground and stomped it out.

I smiled. "Because you can find someone better. Why waste your love on a childhood friend… on someone who won't even be around much longer?"

Something in me stirred. A memory I had long buried—no, a memory that had been taken from me.

This girl.

She wasn't just anyone.

She was my childhood friend.

"But I love you," she whispered. "So why would I need anyone else?"

I watched as the tips of her ears turned red.

I sighed. "Haah… If my parents find out, they'll transfer me to another school and cut all ties between us."

The chains around me never loosened. They wouldn't until I finally died.

But wait.

I have died already, haven't I?

Then what is this feeling?

"Ugh… your parents." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Then why don't you run away with me?"

My heart clenched.

A foolish dream—one I had once wished for.

Someone to free me.

But what's the point if my life is already fading?

I flicked her forehead. "You have your own home, dummy. If there's a next life, let's meet then."

She blinked.

Not that I want another life… but if it brings her peace, I'll say it.

"So… will you marry me in the next life?"

I smirked. "I'll think about it."

She pouted. "Why? You have to marry me! And did you even finish the book I gave you?"

I frowned. "What book?"

A flicker of sadness crossed her face.

"You forgot?" she murmured. "Oh… I see. You still don't remember everything."

Pain shot through my skull.

"What… What are you talking about?"

She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on my chest.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "You'll remember soon enough."

The world blurred.

"It seems our time is up." Her voice grew distant. "Now, go back, Lucy."

Lucy.

That name—my name. The name my mother gave me.

But how?

I remember now.

I died.

I was reincarnated.

Her voice was the last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me whole.

"And don't forget—you have to marry me."

---

"Ugh—"

I gasped, bolting upright.

What was that?

A dream?

No.

A memory.

Not complete. Not clear. But undeniably mine.

A dull ache pounded in my skull.

Who the hell did this to me? And what about the book?

I had too many questions, and no way to find the answers.

Then—

The poison.

The bastard last night… He poisoned me.

I remembered his laughter.

And—

"Little girl."

My stomach twisted.

I turned my head frantically, only to see darkness.

What?

I reached up, feeling rough bandages wrapped tightly around my eyes.

Did the poison affect my sight?

That bastard.

My fingers trembled as I unwrapped the bandages.

Light flooded my vision.

And then—

I saw her.

The little girl was curled up beside my bed, sleeping peacefully.

A shaky breath escaped me.

Relief.

Pure, overwhelming relief.

I reached out, gently placing a hand on her head. But as my fingers brushed her skin, my relief turned to ice.

Her cheeks.

Swollen.

Red.

Someone had hit her.

My grip tightened. My vision darkened.

I will kill them.

One by one.

"Click."

The door creaked open.

"Y-Young master!!"

"Carla," I breathed. "You're finally here. I really missed yo—"

Before I could finish, she ran toward me, throwing her arms around me.

She was shaking.

"I–I'm so sorry!" she sobbed. "I wasn't here when you needed me! I—I wasn't there!"

Her voice broke like shattered glass.

I sighed, letting her hold me.

"How's your daughter?" I asked softly.

She sniffled. "She's better now."

"That's good." I exhaled. "So don't blame yourself. You have a family, Carla. It's normal to worry about them."

Even though my family was a nightmare, I still had to keep my father alive—at least long enough to make him suffer.

"Now, let's eat breakfast," I said, stretching. "I'm starving—"

Before I could finish, tiny arms wrapped around me from behind.

"Sob Sob"

"Young master… you're alive?"

Her voice cracked, filled with raw emotion.

"I really thought you died back then. I was so scared. I… I'm so happy…"

I sighed, patting her head. "I'm alive, little girl."

She sniffled. "Then… can we eat breakfast now?"

I chuckled. "Yeah. Let's eat."

For the first time in a long time, warmth settled in my chest.

Maybe… just maybe…

I wasn't as alone as I thought.