Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 61

Just like that. So simple.

It used to be terrifying. Even crossing the predetermined line just slightly was such a simple solution.

I didn’t even need to kill her.

I used to think people were smart, but in the face of a life-threatening situation, humans freeze up. A little threat was all it took to resolve things.

When I brought the still-hot muzzle of the gun, which had just fired a bullet, to Lydia’s cheek, she reacted just like I did when I was locked in a locker and screamed in terror in the darkness. Lydia began wetting herself.

Disgusting. No, extremely disgusting. Feeling revolted, I kicked away a trash bag on the floor, distancing myself from Lydia, who had collapsed onto her knees. Then, I kicked her in the solar plexus.

Though she coughed and writhed in pain, she was breathing fine, which only reminded me again of how fragile this body is.

“Haah, the cigarette tasted so good just a moment ago.

But because of you, I had to throw it away. What should I do about that?”

“P-please spare me!”

“Ah, I’m not going to kill you. But you’re not in a position to ask me for anything, are you?

Even though your family, the so-called great Mecklenburgs, has already crumbled, and you’re just the worthless offspring of some lowly earl. 

Who knows? Maybe the seed didn’t even come from the earl but some handsome gigolo instead. After all, you don’t resemble your father, do you?”

At my words mocking her lineage, Lydia flared up for a moment as if to retort but then lowered her gaze when she saw the gun in my hand.

Violence—wasn’t it the ultimate solution for everything?

There was a time I used to just sit quietly, hoping my situation would resolve itself with words or passive actions.

But no one ever listened to me. They were too busy ignoring me. And this insignificant creature before me was always busy tormenting me.

Overwhelmed with anger, I kicked Lydia in the face as she sat there. Her head hit the wall with a crack, a faint sound of bone fracturing, and blood started streaming from her nose.

Clutching her nose, she began sobbing softly, her shoulders trembling.

“That sniffling noise is giving me a headache, Lydia. What do you think will happen if I accidentally pull the trigger?”

Lydia immediately stopped her sniffling, clamping her mouth shut as she looked at me with terrified eyes, trembling all over.

“Don’t shake. Don’t shake. I’m not scary.

This guy is the scary one.”

Every time the muzzle grazed her face, Lydia flinched and trembled uncontrollably.

To ease the tension and make things more interesting, I decided to share a little story of mine.

After all, even teachers sometimes tell fun stories to lighten the mood during lessons.

As someone teaching Lydia a lesson in manners and propriety, I should ease the tension too, right?

“So, while being stuck in that room all day, I did some thinking.

And I realized something! Ah, if complicated communication doesn’t work, I can always resort to the most primitive form of communication.”

With that, I cocked the hammer of the gun.

The sound was enough to make Lydia tremble even more. She couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t react properly, couldn’t even listen to me properly. How boring.

“Don’t make a sound.”

I pressed the still-burning cigarette in my left hand against the spot on Lydia’s skin where the gun had touched.

The familiar smell of burning flesh and blood filled the air.

The girl in front of me, her body wracked with silent sobs, tried so hard to hold back her cries. I found it admirable, in a way.

If life was this precious to her, it would have been nice if she had realized the value of others’ lives as well.

“Lydia, don’t come looking for me again.

Bringing people to try and harm me might not be a bad idea, but at the very least, I’ll make sure to blow your head off before I go.”

“I… I under—stand…”

Understand? What nonsense.

Smack.

The grip of the gun met the bridge of her nose again.

“Don’t answer. I don’t particularly want to hear your voice.”

She didn’t answer.

How rude.

Isn’t it basic courtesy to answer politely when someone above you speaks?

A person who lacks etiquette, decorum, common sense, and principles is no better than an animal.

And animals only respond to being beaten.

So, with my already frail body, I dedicated myself to educating and disciplining Lydia.

Just a little punishment—a very light correction.

Civilizing those who wear the shape of humans but lack proper faith, understanding, or the ability to follow common sense and reason!

“I’m so tired. You’re always standing in my way and interfering with me.”

Kicking Lydia repeatedly for a while, she finally grabbed my leg with trembling hands, begging me to stop. So, I struck her face with the gun grip once more.

Blood splattered everywhere, staining my clothes a little, but I considered it a small sacrifice for Lydia’s sake.

When thinking about the valuable lesson and the manners she’d learn, this was a cheap price to pay.

I must be truly merciful.

Even when others beg for the torment to stop, I’ve realized that it doesn’t end. That realization came to me after dying twice.

Yes, it was a lesson learned by sacrificing my life. Sharing that wisdom with her made me quite the true teacher, didn’t it?

“Gu… gimme…”

Lydia, her face now unrecognizable, mangled and reshaped into a grotesque new form, grabbed onto my leg again.

But I didn’t allow her to touch me.

“Lydia, I’m very busy and have little time to spare for you.

Do you think I wouldn’t know why you came to see me? Or why you brought people along?”

So much to do.

I need to sit and space out, lean on the balcony railing to watch people passing by, smoke cigars, and sometimes play games like poking holes in my foot. So much to do.

“I… I was wrong!”

Lydia hurriedly said, her mouth full of blood, some of which splattered onto my face.

Disgusting.

When I moved to stomp on her again, I suddenly felt the presence of people gathering around.

Looking around, I saw a few kids whispering as they watched me.

Just as I was grinding my foot against Lydia’s head, someone with a sense of justice spoke up.

“I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but wouldn’t it be better to stop here for everyone’s sake?”

I didn’t bother turning toward the voice.

There was no value in speaking face-to-face.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Then I’ll have to use force to stop you.”

The sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard accompanied the man approaching me.

In the end, it’s always about power.

If you have power, you can do anything.

Dealing with the consequences afterward is another matter.

I mean, it’s not like I killed Lydia. I just got into a little scuffle and hit her a few times. Who would say anything about that?

The kids living in the Emperor’s fenced-off garden are so full of youthful vigor that they’re always fighting and bickering.

Because of that, the punishments are usually mild—cleaning somewhere or staying confined to a room for a few days.

It’s a world strangely lenient toward violence.

After all, in a place where even if a limb is severed, it can be roughly reattached, doused with some disinfectant, and healed with a spell, there’s no need to be strict about violence.

Caught up in these idle thoughts, I wondered if I might get stabbed in the back. I turned around and realized it wasn’t a person standing there.

“Wow, even livestock are dressing up and pretending to be knights these days.”

At those words, the figure holding a drawn sword frowned deeply.

I hadn’t meant to say it aloud—it just slipped out.

Me? No, not me. Erica? No, it’s still me in the end.

Yeah, I simply saw what was in front of me and blurted out my thoughts.

Looking at his face, with features surprisingly well-formed compared to his skin tone, I thought of that guy.

The half-blood knight who appeared to be close to Vivian.

“It’s just two foolish girls squabbling. Do you really need to draw your sword to intervene so violently?”

“But this isn’t a fight—it’s one-sided violence. Such unnecessary harassment of a defenseless person is cowardly.”

The man replied in a sharp tone, sounding utterly incredulous.

Why is he pretending to be human and showing emotions?

How absurd.

The being standing before me felt like one of those.

A sort of Minotaur, perhaps…

Maybe some crazy man had the idea of breeding with a cow and carried it out, or maybe some insane cow attacked a woman, resulting in this.

Each step this alien presence took toward me filled my mind with confusion.

But I didn’t show it.

“So, where’s your master?”

“What are you talking about, master?”

“The person who ordered you to do this.”

At my words, the man widened his eyes slightly as if offended, then raised his sword.

“Take your foot off her. Now.”

“Instead of delivering such a message, why don’t you bring your master here to—ugh.”

Before I could finish, he approached me and lightly pushed me aside, lifting Lydia to help her up.

He seemed slightly surprised that I fell backward and landed on my backside.

After a brief hesitation, he tried to help me up with unnecessarily refined manners.

I didn’t want him touching me, so I used the blood-soaked floor of the hallway, drenched with Lydia’s blood, to push myself up instead.

“Letting a blackie wield a sword and roam buildings instead of being on a cotton field?

Your master must be out of their mind. Let me know anytime you want to return to your rightful place.

I’ll send you back to the farm immediately.

How could someone include such filth as a male lead?

The author must be insane…”

I rushed into my room, retreating as if fleeing.

My thoughts, which had been spinning wildly, returned to their usual calm, orderly flow.