Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 32: Shedding Off

In the end, even the cookies I had left were all gone.

How did I endure all that time before?

Ah, right. I was barely holding on, slowly withering away because even eating was too much of a struggle.

Back then, I wasn’t filled with positivity and hope like I am now!

Anyway, even for someone as optimistic as I am about the future, the thought of having to leave for the classroom crept up on me, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit burdened.

Well, it’s because Lydia will be waiting for me.

Thinking up all sorts of creative, cruel ideas to torment me.

I need a way out.

Something to break free from this situation.

Or maybe… maybe letting myself break wouldn’t be so bad either.

Reeds, after all, have no backbone. When the wind blows, they simply bend, over and over again, avoiding the force of the wind.

If I stay cooped up in this cage-like room forever, I’ll forget how to fly. I’ll end up as nothing more than a flapping pet bird that knows nothing but how to thrash around.

Or maybe, even if I still remember how to fly, someone will come and pluck out all my feathers.

But here I am, abandoned in this wide world, unable to bow even if I want to.

What am I supposed to do?

Back when I only thought about dying, my mind was so at ease. I’d think about nothing else, only that one goal, and everything I did was for that.

But now, when I try to think about doing something for myself, it suddenly feels like I can’t breathe.

“When you were begging to be saved, you were so desperate.”

This useless stubbornness, this pride, clings to me like a second skin.

Polite speech, an inability to curse, and an almost obsessive need to act like I’m fine even when I’m in pain — they all cling to me unnervingly.

Maybe bringing a blade to my skin and lightly scratching it isn’t just a way to turn the uncertainty of my existence into something real.

Maybe it’s also a way of shedding these pointless habits that cling to this girl.

But then again, this girl and I… are we really separate?

Is there even a point to making that distinction?

Here I am, sitting here pretending I’m getting myself ready, but really, I’m just hiding in this place because I’m afraid of that classroom where Lydia is waiting.

So, I opened the door and stepped out.

It wasn’t morning, so I didn’t see any kids heading to class, but walking through this hallway after so long gave me a strangely fresh feeling.

When I took a breath of fresh air, I finally understood why Vivian and that audacious little maid had made those faces when they entered my room.

Breathing in clean air after being in a place filled with the faint scent of blood, the sticky, dried stench of old blood, and the strangely blended scent of chocolate is enough to make anyone feel queasy.

“Refreshing.”

To others, I probably looked the same as always, but I took lighter, easier steps toward the classroom.

By the time I got there, class was already over. The teacher was still at their desk, just sitting there to fill the spot. Some students were studying, while others were chatting or playing in groups.

The moment I entered, all eyes turned to me.

But I didn’t care. I just walked to an empty seat and sat down.

The teacher glanced at my face, checked attendance, and then left the classroom.

Teachers weren’t allowed to finish class until they used magic to check the students’ attendance.

Apparently, it was because, back in the day, kids like me — the kind from prominent families before they fell from grace — would threaten the teacher to mark them as present without actually attending.

So, they made a spell to prevent that.

After all, it would be a problem if a student’s attendance was marked, but the student wasn’t even in the city.

I suppose my absence must have been quite the hassle for them lately.

And, of course, as soon as I walked in, Lydia approached me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

It seemed she had already finished chatting with her friends because she stood squarely in my path, making sure I had no chance to escape.

“Erica, it’s been a while.”

“…Yeah, it has.”

“Looks like you’ve had a pretty rough time, huh?

I mean, the Duke of Mecklenburg — pfft — nobody would believe it, but an accidental death, huh? And your brother ended up like that too.”

At this point, it’s just tiresome.

When a tragic, miserable event happens once, it leaves a deep impact.

When it happens a second time, you start thinking, Is this just my fate?

But by the third time, it all just becomes boring.

Even if I want to say I’m tired of living, I can’t. Not when I can’t even die properly.

Honestly, these kinds of thoughts sometimes pop into my head.

Every time I die, time rolls back just a little. Sometimes 30 minutes, sometimes an hour.

If that’s the case, wouldn’t I be able to change everything if I just kept dying?

But if I get to that point, I’ll have crossed the line into complete madness, with no chance of recovery.

When someone becomes numb to pain, when their senses and emotions fade and vanish completely, can you even call that a human anymore?

“Yeah, sure.”

That’s why I try to hold onto my sadness.

Even though I’d gone through this experience countless times, I still forced myself to pull at the edges of sadness buried deep inside. I coaxed it out, dragging it to the surface, letting it soak my mood in melancholy.

I felt a slight heat behind my eyes, like they were reddening. But I didn’t let it show.

In the past, my face might have crumbled.

But now, I just let it pass with indifference.

“Looks like you’re pretty heartbroken.”

“Hmm, not the reaction I was expecting, though.”

Lydia watched me with a cold, expressionless face that could have belonged to a robot. Her gaze was detached, like she was examining a product on display.

Propping her chin on her fingers, she let out a soft “Hmmm,” like she was pondering something.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Then she smiled again — that bright smile of hers.

But it wasn’t a smile, was it?

Maybe it was supposed to look like one. It could have been joy, for all I knew.

“Since you seem so down, how about we play a fun game together?

The best way to shake off sadness is with a little fun, after all!”

She glanced around.

The students who were actually studying had their books open, pretending to focus while sneaking glances at us.

The kids encircling me, making sure I couldn’t escape, were whispering to each other and snickering.

As for Lydia, I had no idea what she was thinking, but she was clearly having fun.

When I nodded, she beamed as if genuinely pleased.

Her face was bright, but not her eyes.

“Good choice! I like obedient little puppies who listen to what I say.

And since the roles have flipped a bit, it looks like it’s your turn to be the cute little puppy, Miss Erica.”

Lydia stepped away and returned to her seat. She rummaged through her bag with exaggerated movements, sticking her tongue out and making a “Hmm, where is it?” face.

Was it all just a show to scare me?

Or maybe it was just her way of taunting me.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a dog leash she pulled out.

It was a headband with animal ears on it.

“Want to try it on?”

Lydia didn’t force it onto me. She just held it out, offering it to me.

She wanted me to take it and put it on myself.

I took the headband and, instead of properly putting it on, I just perched it loosely on top of my head.

“Miss Erica, it’s a gift, you know.

Shouldn’t you be saying thank you with a big smile on your face?”

“…Thanks.”

“I’ll let the smile slide this time!

I’ve never seen you smile before, so who’s to say you’re not smiling right now?

Telling a girl who doesn’t even know how to smile to show one…

That’s a bit cruel, don’t you think?

I’m sorry if I was being too harsh!”

What nonsense is she spouting now?

Just as I was wondering what her end goal was, she fired the next shot.

“Then again, who’d ever like a dull girl who doesn’t even know how to smile?”

She drove that comment right into my heart.

It wasn’t sharp or loud.

It was quiet but sure.

“Maybe high-ranking nobles really are built differently.

It’s my first time bullying someone who used to be higher than me, so I’m still figuring it out.”

With those words, Lydia raised her hand.

“When I bully the indecisive types, they’re always like, ‘How dare you?!’ or ‘You can’t do this!’

But not you. You know your place, and you follow along so well. Heh.”

I braced myself, thinking she was going to slap me.

But instead, she reached for my head like she was going to pat it.

Without even thinking, I slapped her hand away.

Her expression instantly hardened, her eyes narrowing as she stared at me with icy contempt.

Her gaze wasn’t one that saw me as a person.

It was the kind of look you’d give to something you were about to “deal with.”

Yeah.

It was just like the way that old man on the execution platform had looked at the boy standing next to me.

Now that I think about it, maybe Lydia’s ancestors were executioners who lopped off people’s heads for a living.

Lydia slowly touched her face, as if checking if her expression was still intact.

Then, she smiled again.

This time, it was that same, easy smile she’d use when talking with close friends.

“Well, maybe it’s not such a big deal.

Whatever. I think I’ll leave it at this for today! See you tomorrow, Miss Erica. Hehe.”

With that, Lydia led her group of followers out of the classroom.

As soon as they left, I muttered under my breath.

“Not looking forward to that.”

I pulled the headband off my head and tossed it aside.

The kids who’d been sneaking glances at me flinched like startled cats.

I didn’t feel like staying in the classroom, so I got up and left.

On my way back to my room, people who knew my face glanced at me.

Their eyes lingered for a second, but they quickly turned away.

There was no point talking to me anymore. I wasn’t worth it.

People like Evan, who used to constantly jab at me with words, comparing me to Vivian and pointing out that I had nothing on her.

That.

And Lydia’s constant bullying.

Those are the only things I’ve yet to grow used to.

If I keep bowing my head like this, maybe it’ll all end one day.

It was humiliating, sure.

But at least, unlike last time, they didn’t lock me inside a locker.

So maybe this wasn’t so bad.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Can’t smile, huh?

That’s not true.

I tried smiling.

But my lips only twitched and barely lifted, making it look more like a grimace.

I remembered a scene from a movie about a madman.

The main character had pulled his lips up with his fingers to make himself smile.

So, I put my fingers in my mouth and pulled my lips into a smile.

My facial muscles were stiff, and it hurt.

Yeah.

That’s why I cried.

Because it hurts.