Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 49

Vivian stood by the classroom door, glancing around nervously as if searching for someone.

“Were you waiting for me?”

She shook her head but then stepped closer, her eyes scanning my face. 

She lightly touched the cheek Lydia had slapped moments ago.

I hated being touched, but it seemed I’d stopped caring about such things.

“…Miss Erica, your cheek is a little red. What happened?”

“I must’ve pressed my face against the desk while napping.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.”

Was that a plausible excuse?

Well, considering all I did in Vivian’s room was read novels and occasionally doze off, it made sense.

At least Lydia and her group were holding back for now.

They probably assumed that if Evan heard about them bullying me, he’d step in and do something.

And they were right to think I wouldn’t go to him and admit I was being tormented.

Geniuses, a lot of them.

If I cut my arms a few more times or tore away more of my skin, maybe I’d swallow my pride and speak up.

But confined to a room, slowly decaying, I couldn’t even manage the humiliation of tattling.

“Evan found a great restaurant recently,” Vivian said.

“Why don’t the two of you go without me?

It’d be awkward if I tagged along.”

“Then what will you eat?”

“I don’t know, maybe grab lunch at one of those places that give out free meals?”

Vivian bit her lip slightly at my words, then grabbed my arm and started pulling me along.

“Let go of me! That hurts!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

She let go of my arm, only to grab my hand instead and continue pulling.

“Do you have to drag me there to feed me?”

“Yes. If you went somewhere like that, unsavory people might approach you.

There are many people out there who hate nobles simply for being nobles.

And if they can get away with bothering one, they certainly will.”

“…I suppose so.”

I wasn’t convinced, but I answered anyway. If I didn’t, Vivian wouldn’t let me go.

At this point, I felt more like a cherished doll than a person.

No matter where I went, she took me along, disregarding my requests to be left alone or even my outright curses. 

If I tried to escape, she’d bind me with spells. She shadowed me during the commute to and from class, stopped me from choosing my own meals, and confiscated my gun, my only weapon, refusing to return it.

She wouldn’t even let me return to my room.

What was the point of keeping me alive if they were going to trap me like this?

“Erica. Erica!”

“Huh? What?”

“We’re here!”

Inside the restaurant, Evan was already seated, waiting for us.

He gave me an awkward smile and said he’d already ordered our meals. Judging by the fact that there was enough food for three, it was probably Evan’s idea to bring me along.

The server brought drinks: a fruity beverage for Evan, tea for Vivian (its fragrance wafting across the room), and an iced coffee for me.

The meal itself was simple—mushrooms and meat mixed together—and it came with exotic stir-fried noodles.

“Vivian, could you get me some spices?” I asked.

Vivian nodded and brought a spice blend that looked like a mix of pepper and rosemary.

Taking the container, I sprinkled the spices onto my noodles.

And kept sprinkling.

By the time I was done, the bright red powder had nearly buried the noodles. Vivian and Evan frowned, their expressions twisted as the strong aroma filled the air.

I ignored them and took a bite. It was slightly spicy, which was just what I needed.

Maybe I couldn’t taste much without overloading my food like this.

The two of them exchanged awkward glances but didn’t say anything.

I knew they wouldn’t touch my portion, so they could just split the rest between themselves.

The meal ended in silence, and I found myself dragged along on their date.

Dessert at a café, a walk through the academy’s garden, even watching them exchange sly smiles and gentle touches—it all grated on me.

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I sat on a bench near a pond full of darting fish and muttered aloud:

“How long do I have to keep this up?”

I knew I was ruining the mood again. Maybe it was just my own insecurities talking, but still.

“No matter how much you smile, joke, or buy me things, I don’t enjoy any of it.

If anything, it’s painful. I hate seeing you two laugh in front of me. I hate the way you act like there’s some sort of pink-tinted atmosphere between you.

And I hate myself for even thinking this way.

I also hate being trapped in Vivian’s room, sitting on that bed all day, doing nothing.”

They both fell silent.

I get it. You don’t want me to die.

Then at least make my surroundings bearable.

What do you even want from me, locking me up like this?

“I’m miserable.”

I stood up and started walking toward my room—or at least tried to.

Of course, Vivian followed me.

“Erica, let’s go to my room.”

“No.”

“But—”

“But what? Just leave me alone, for God’s sake!

Whether I live or die, I’ll figure it out on my own! Why are you so obsessed with keeping me here?

What, are you afraid I’ll hang myself like your father did?”

Vivian’s pupils widened, her face a mix of shock and trembling rage.

“That man? That useless fool only got kicked out because all he could do was spout ‘righteous’ nonsense!

Even Evan’s ridiculous family of circus-riding lunatics manages to churn out people who actually do something! So why wouldn’t a damn commoner who picks up a sword and acts all high and mighty get thrown out too?!

What, do I remind you of him? That pathetic man dangling from a rope?!”

Vivian’s hands shook as tears welled up in her eyes. But this wasn’t the sobbing of grief—it was a strange mix of fury and confusion.

“Maybe I’m jealous. At least that idiot gets to escape to heaven when he dies.

But me? I’m the one trapped in this miserable place!”

With a guttural scream, I began pounding my fists against a nearby tree.

The bark scraped my skin away, blood streaming down my hands, but the tree barely swayed.

Even the tree seemed to mock my weakness. Enraged, I hit harder, the force making an unfamiliar bone in my hand jut out awkwardly.

The pain wasn’t sharp, just a persistent, stinging ache.

Yes, if I could just die, it would be over.

But no. I was trapped in this prison of time, unable to escape.

Hell. Hell. Hell.

“Erica, please stop—”

“Evan, do you think this is normal?

Or has your brain finally cracked like the rest of your cursed family?

What, you can’t stand not being able to cage me, so you pull this shit?! Why?! Tell me why!”

Evan’s jaw tightened as he stared at me, his teeth clenched in anger.

“It’s all pointless!

Absolutely meaningless!”

I threw my arms out dramatically, as if I were an actor on a stage, looking up at the moon with mock reverence.

“Why do we do any of this? Why do we know what’s wrong but can’t fix it?

It’s just wasting emotions, searching for useless notions of honor and roots.

Like your family! A troupe of circus clowns! Neigh, neigh!”

I mimicked a horse with my fingers and laughed, making galloping motions as if I were riding one.

“For the love of—”

I cut him off, mocking his words.

“What’s the point, right?

You already know what’s wrong.

The problem isn’t anything else—it’s me.

I’m the problem.

I’m done. There’s no feud left to fuel, no grand plans. It’s all over.

There’s nothing. Nothing left!”

My head throbbed violently, and in a fit of frustration, I slammed it against the tree like a woodpecker.

The pain brought a moment of clarity, even relief.

“There’s nothing left for me.

So why don’t you go hold hands with Vivian and enjoy your happy little lives together?

You still have so much, Evan.

So leave me alone, for God’s sake.”

“Erica—”

“Shut up!”

Evan’s sleep spell hit me before I could finish my outburst.

The heaviness in my eyes made it clear: he’d cast a sleep spell to shut me down.

As my body began to give out, Evan stepped closer and caught me.

His arms wrapped around me, and a wave of revulsion washed over me.

I despised him.

And yet, at the same time, I was crushed by the realization that I still felt something for him.

I still liked him.

It was unbearable.

I looked into their eyes—Vivian’s and Evan’s.

Their expressions were wrong. Not kind or warm, but pitying.

They looked at me like I was broken, something to be protected or fixed.

Even after I had deliberately hurled barbs to drive them away.

The hypocrisy of it all was disgusting.

Kindness that offered no real help was cruel.

Their well-meaning gestures only made my misery worse.

I could barely breathe.

I clutched at my throat, wishing I had a fork to stab it.

I needed something sharp.

Something to scrape away this girl’s skin, to carve out her pride and leave nothing but a shell.

Other people are hell.

That man—the one who said our fate is in our own hands—was wrong.

“Bullshit,” I muttered bitterly.

If that were true, then I must not be human.

Even the addicts rotting in asylums for the insane were better off than me.

At least they weren’t livestock.

But I was.

Trapped, unable to choose even the time of my death, clinging to a life I didn’t want.

If this isn’t what it means to be livestock, then what is?