Please Don’t Die, My Lady

Chapter 17

I silently stared at Sena.

Thoughts about Hans consumed most of my mind before suddenly subsiding.

It must be a defense mechanism of the duchess.

Hans, the very symbol of PTSD, was someone I didn’t want to think about, either in the past or now.

“…So.

Why do you care if I starve, Sena?

It’s not like I plan to starve to death, and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter to you.”

Even so, a faint sense of resentment crept up, and before I realized it, my words came out sharp.

Sena’s eyes widened, as though hurt, but she didn’t say anything in response.

Of course not.

Because I was right.

In reality, we’d barely known each other for two months, essentially making us strangers.

In fact, I couldn’t understand why Sena cared so much about me in the first place.

At first, I thought it was simple pity or kindness, but there was an odd obsessiveness to it that went beyond that.

Naturally, I found it unpleasant.

Though it was still far preferable to pure pity, so my resolve to act obediently didn’t waver.

Enough. Let’s not think about it anymore.

Sena is human, and I am a doll.

She shows kindness, and I obey.

That’s the only unchanging principle.

Her intentions—whether pure or not—don’t concern me.

After all, we’re strangers. Isn’t that right?

While I was lost in thought, Sena, still wearing that wounded expression, bit her lip and abruptly grabbed my wrist.

“…Let’s go eat.”

“I don’t have any money. I just spent the last of it.”

The meager food allowance the organization provided had just been spent on cheap tea, coffee, and cookies.

I couldn’t afford a meal, but at least I now had something to offer guests.

For someone like me—a soon-to-be corpse—entertaining guests was far more important than my health, wasn’t it?

I truly believed that.

But Sena didn’t seem willing to back down.

The grip of her hand on my wrist tightened.

Another bruise.

Go easier on me—it hurts.

“I’ll pay for it.

And I can keep paying for your meals in the future.

So please, don’t skip meals.

Especially when your health is already poor….”

No, absolutely not.

A duchess who has to mooch meals because she’s broke? How disgraceful.

But I didn’t feel strongly enough to reject her offer outright.

If this had been our first meeting, I might have screamed and lashed out, treating it like a landmine.

Or maybe I simply lacked the energy to refuse.

I was, after all, a patient who hadn’t eaten anything for a week.

Without waiting for my response, she began dragging me toward the dining hall.

I didn’t put up much resistance and let myself be pulled along.

My mind felt strangely light, as if floating.

I hadn’t wanted anyone to notice my condition because I knew it would only invite pity.

But now that someone had noticed, I couldn’t deny how objectively dire my state was.

It wasn’t like I wanted to starve to death.

If I were to die, I’d prefer a quick and certain method.

The long and excruciating process of starving didn’t appeal to me.

And yet, when asked why I hadn’t eaten for over a week, my only answer would be, just because.

That answer alone seemed to highlight just how broken I was.

At first, I could blame circumstances—being blocked from entering the dining hall.

But in recent days, there was no such excuse.

I was just… depressed.

Hollow and despondent.

I didn’t want to do anything.

I couldn’t do anything.

I didn’t even know what the duchess wanted anymore.

Or what I wanted.

It felt like everything had blurred together so thoroughly that there was no trace of the original.

I hated that the duchess’ memories grew clearer while my own reality faded.

I hated myself for missing Ariana’s bullying and the wound that had healed on my forehead.

I hated that I was alive.

I hated that I wanted to die.

And I hated that I couldn’t.

For that reason…

“──Duchess. Duchess!”

“…Oh, were you calling me?”

While lost in my own world, it seemed we’d arrived at the dining hall.

I snapped out of it and raised my head to acknowledge Sena, who had been shaking me.

I had no idea how long I’d been like that.

I hoped it hadn’t been too long.

Drawing unnecessary attention was the last thing I wanted.

“…Are you sure you’re okay? If you have any symptoms, I can get you some medicine.”

“I’m fine. I was just… lost in thought.”

“If you say so….”

Sena still looked worried, so I gestured as if to assure her I was okay.

She seemed convinced enough and led me to an empty seat before helping me sit down.

“Do you have anything you’d like to eat?”

“Anything is fine.”

“Then I’ll order something light.

You’ve gone so long without food, so you shouldn’t overeat.”

She immediately went to place the order.

I stayed seated, waiting quietly for her to return.

Suddenly, a thought flitted through my mind.

Should I run away now?

It was a completely impulsive idea, but it wasn’t something I could even attempt unless she was away, like now.

Yes, if I were to do it, now would be the time. But why?

She wasn’t hurting me or anything. She just wanted to buy me a meal.

I pressed a finger to my lips and tilted my head.

I wanted to bolt back to my room immediately.

But I couldn’t figure out why.

After a few seconds of deliberation, I gave up and shook my head.

I don’t know. There must be a reason.

It wasn’t the first time my instincts and logic worked against each other.

I put strength into my legs to stand up.

“…Ah, haha.”

Well, I tried to.

But my trembling legs wouldn’t support my weight.

I’d felt on edge before, but it seemed I’d truly reached my limit.

I couldn’t even stand anymore.

I found the situation absurdly funny and let out a dry laugh.

Just walking here had left me in this state. If I’d gone a few more days without eating, I might have died from heart failure or something.

And yet, just before reaching that point, I’d decided to step outside, run into Sena by chance, and collapse right when I could no longer escape.

When coincidences piled up this much, it started feeling like fate.

What a joke. Really.

Suddenly, my eyes grew hot, and I buried my face into the table.

I couldn’t let them see me cry. Those disgusting gazes—they didn’t deserve to witness it.

Ah, there it was again. The stares.

It didn’t matter that they weren’t physically touching me.

The most unbearable thing—those vile gazes—had only increased.

Malice, ridicule, pity, sympathy.

And that strange, sticky mixture of all those emotions.

Stop looking at me.

Stay out of my life.

This has nothing to do with any of you.

When are you coming back, Sena?

If you won’t let me escape, at least stay by my side.

At least when you’re here, I don’t notice their stares as much.

Hurry.

“I brought it, Duchess…? Are you alright?! You’re not feeling well, are you?!”

Ah.

The sound of her setting down the bowl snapped me back, and I quickly lifted my head.

Sena’s anxious expression blocked out the oppressive gazes boring into me, her emotions shining with such intensity that they overpowered everything else.

The weight pressing down on me gradually lifted, replaced by a strange sense of relief.

That girl unsettled me. I found her presence burdensome.

But it was still better than being under the scrutiny of the rest of this filth.

Maybe dolls really do gravitate toward humans.

With trembling hands, I wiped the moisture from my eyes and spoke to her.

“I was in pain until a moment ago, but now I’m fine. Strangely enough.”

“…Is that so.”

At my words, Sena’s expression darkened.

It wasn’t a look of relief.

If anything, she appeared deeply uneasy.

Did she have some bad experience in the past?

Not that I had any intention of prying.

I didn’t want to know more about her, nor did I want her to know more about me.

If I couldn’t push her away, the least we could do was maintain this level of distance—it would be better for both of us.

Instead of dwelling on her expression, I shifted my gaze to the bowl she had brought.

It contained a thin soup, still warm to the touch.

The ingredients were finely chopped, almost unnoticeable, making it clear that the dish had been prepared with care for my weakened stomach.

I picked up the spoon and carefully scooped a small amount of the soup.

Bringing it to my lips, I hesitated briefly before taking a sip.

It wasn’t hot enough to burn, and after a few gentle chews, I swallowed it without issue.

There wasn’t much flavor.

I couldn’t tell if that was because it had been intentionally bland or if there was something wrong with my sense of taste.

But I could feel the warmth as the soup slid down my throat, spreading heat through my stomach.

How should I describe it?

It felt like recovering a memory I had forgotten.

Since arriving at the academy, I had been subsisting on things that could barely be called food, eating only every few days.

Back with the organization, I had only ever consumed preserved rations that never left me feeling full.

It seemed I had forgotten what it felt like for my stomach to actually fill.

As I ate, I had to grip the table and force myself to eat slowly despite my trembling arms.

The duchess couldn’t be seen devouring food like a starving beggar.

But I couldn’t muster the effort to manage my expression, leaving me anxious about how I appeared to others.

Judging by Sena’s pitiful gaze, I could guess it wasn’t great.

Even so, I couldn’t stop.

Was I always this greedy for food?

Ah, it’s instinct. Survival instinct.

How ironic.

Humans are such contradictions.

Feeling satisfaction at my stomach filling.

Feeling joy at being alive.

And simultaneously feeling despair because I couldn’t die.

Disliking Sena Blomberg as a person.

Wanting to push her away.

Yet instinctively leaning on her.

I already knew it.

But it’s just… too much.