Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 52

Everyone was staring at me.

I wanted to shout something dramatic, like, “Erica was here!” but I wasn’t cool or dignified enough for that. Instead, I was miserable, disheveled, and utterly worthless. I kept my mouth shut.

I felt exhausted.

I asked Evan the same question I had asked before.

“Evan, if you were trapped in an endless cycle of repeating the same agonizing time, what would you do?

There’s no way out. The world isn’t that kind.”

Back then, Evan had said he would choose to die.

But now, he couldn’t bring himself to answer the same way.

“Vivian, you must be tired.

Thank you for enduring my hysteria all this time.”

I continued speaking calmly, as if bidding them farewell.

Even though I would end up meeting and entangling with Evan and Vivian again, at least for them, this was goodbye.

They wouldn’t remember me burning to death.

The means for me to end my life had long been stripped away by Evan and Vivian.

If I went mad and smashed my head against the floor, they would just knock me unconscious and heal me.

“Erica, I don’t understand why you’re acting like this all of a sudden.”

Maybe that’s why they didn’t bother stopping me.

Instead, they might even be relieved to have another excuse to lock me up and keep me.

“If you don’t know, that’s good. It means you don’t understand how much I’m suffering.

You, with your numbness and inability to recognize love—you’re amazing in your own way.

Then again, how could someone who grew up watching their father hang from a rope ever develop normally?

Especially when the person raising you wasn’t a knight but a thick-headed, brainless soldier.”

Ah, maybe I went too far.

I smiled faintly and wrapped up the conversation.

“Let’s just pretend none of this happened! Forget what I just said. Haha!”

To me, Evan and Vivian were endlessly cruel villains. But objectively, they were good people.

And I was the villain. For reasons unknown, I was born as a villain and destined to remain one.

Since I was born this way, there was no one to hear my grievances.

The world sees me as someone evil because I can commit acts others deem vile without hesitation or remorse.

Perhaps if the mixed-blood knight close to Vivian appeared before this girl, she’d be utterly baffled.

How could a “blackie” be a knight?

At least she wouldn’t whip or collar them outright—small mercies, I suppose.

But that’s beside the point. This is how I was born.

“Erica, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but let’s calm down and move somewhere else. How about an iced coffee? You like that, right?”

“I don’t ever want to drink that damn coffee with floating ice cubes again!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Evan shut his mouth.

The children, who had been staring at me for some time, eventually mistook it for a lover’s quarrel. They chatted away as they walked into their classrooms, leaving me behind.

I was sick of coffee.

I wanted tea.

Green tea, black tea, fermented tea—I was tired of all of it.

I wanted cheap oolong tea that tasted bitter but refreshing, paired with a cheap cigarette, while sitting on a bench watching people pass by.

“I just want a 2,000-won cheap oolong tea, a cheap cigarette, and to sit on a bench watching people!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?!”

“Screw you. You’ll never understand.

None of you will ever understand where I’m trapped, how much pain I’m in, or how much I envy you.

Damn it, just being able to die is a blessing!”

Before I could summon fire to my fingertips, I bit down hard on my tongue.

I wasn’t sure if the potion actually worked, but I felt no pain.

I spat out the foreign object from my mouth, and the tongue I’d been speaking with landed on the floor with a dull thud.

“This crazy woman…”

Evan cursed under his breath as he picked up the severed piece of my tongue and ran toward me, ready to use healing magic.

He really shouldn’t.

I pulled out the half-burnt cigar, or what was left of it, and bit down on it.

With fire sparked from my fingertips, it caught instantly, and flames spread across my body, igniting the cigar.

I didn’t feel any pain, thanks to the potion. However, I couldn’t even smell the distinctive scent of the cigar, which left me slightly disoriented.

I looked at Evan.

He stared back at me, his face filled with horror.

I tried to smile, but the fire must have burned through the muscles in my face, leaving it frozen in place.

My arms and hands contorted into a shape resembling a rabbit raising its front paws.

It was fortunate I wasn’t writhing in agony on the ground—it would’ve been grotesque.

The smell and sight would’ve been unbearable.

Even after seeing it multiple times, you never get used to it.

“Eh…heh…eh…”

I tried to say something, but all that came out was a wheezing sound, like air escaping a deflated balloon. I gave up.

Evan shouted in despair as he poured water over me, but the flames only grew stronger.

Vivian screamed, frantically throwing dirt and water onto me, but to no avail.

The powder the crown prince had given me was as effective as the potion—it wouldn’t let the flames extinguish until I was completely reduced to ash.

As my body continued to burn, I felt myself shrink and wither away.

The horrific smell and the sensation of others vomiting around me, combined with the occasional splash of water, began to fade as I lost consciousness.

I was thirsty.

As thirsty as I was burning.

This is why I bit my tongue.

I once knew someone who had been engulfed in flames.

I couldn’t remember them clearly—or perhaps I didn’t want to—but I vaguely recalled their clothes and hair burning away, leaving behind a pitiful, naked body as they died in agony.

Their face had been twisted in torment, their tongue sticking out like a dog overturned with its paws curled inward.

That’s why I smiled.

Although white foam seemed to bubble up from within me, it didn’t hurt.

I wanted to stand up and savor the scent of the cigar, but that wasn’t allowed.

Instead, I collapsed to my knees.

Looking up at the sky, I felt as if I were cursing it.

I wondered if those who had been tied to stakes and burned at the pyre felt this way.

Staring at the heavens, choking on smoke, pleading with God.

Please save me, or perhaps, Please let me die.

And God must have refused them both.

Through blurred vision, I saw Evan kneeling before me, holding the piece of my tongue and still pouring water over me.

He was crying, clasping his hands together as if in prayer.

“‥‥‥‥‥‥‥!?”

He was saying something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

Still, he looked genuinely sorrowful.

For a moment, I thought about comforting him. The idea struck me to place a hand on his shoulder.

Then I remembered—my hand was on fire.

It didn’t even move properly, so when I tried to rest it on his shoulder, I accidentally brushed against his face as well.

It must have been unbearably hot and painful for Evan, yet he accepted my touch. Instead of pulling away, he let his shoulder begin to burn under my hand.

Maybe he was confident that his healing magic could undo the damage.

But what did it matter? The pain must have been immense.

Still, instead of crying out in pain, he simply kept apologizing.

Like a devout sinner confessing to a priest after mercilessly slaughtering someone, trembling from head to toe.

Burning to death is madness.

I still remember how excruciating it was when just one arm caught fire.

Yet, isn’t suffering intrinsic to life itself?

The agony of life is inevitable for those who possess profound understanding and great awareness.

Suffering is life. Without suffering, what else could bring meaning or satisfaction to existence?

That’s what someone I knew used to say. A man who always carried a book titled Notes from Underground and endlessly muttered those very words. He was the same man who had once burned alive.

In that sense, I was finally escaping the torment of this wretched existence, ending my life.

No amount of water or dirt, nor even gusts of wind scattering dust, could extinguish the flames.

I found great comfort in that unyielding fact.

In the distance, the crown prince stood, watching with a faintly conflicted expression.

So, he’s human after all.

The memory of our previous conversation floated into my mind.

After Lydia and her group had been taken down, there had been a brief pause. That’s when he had asked me to choose how I wanted to die.

At the time, I’d thought him insane.

But perhaps all he wanted was to share a few words with me before letting me go.

After all, he viewed the position of crown prince as nothing more than a job.

Vivian, emotionless, continued mechanically repeating her actions—pouring water and scattering dirt over me. Her face was frozen, as if she were projecting her own past onto me.

Evan had already realized it was useless but remained in front of me nonetheless.

Vivian, on the other hand, refused to give up, desperately trying to extinguish the flames.

I couldn’t feel much anymore. Either Vivian had stopped using her magic, or my body had entirely lost sensation.

My vision began to blur.

Perhaps my eyes had nearly burned away.

Dying slowly in front of others was certainly a novel experience.

Not one I would have willingly chosen, given how unpleasant it was. But seeing others watch me, experiencing my suffering and repulsion indirectly—that part wasn’t entirely bad.

My vision, which had been tinged red, finally turned dark.

I hoped my corpse wouldn’t be scrubbed away like a stain on the floor.

Let them remember my death as more than just the tragic end of a pet—let them recall it as the ridiculous death of a pathetic human being.

As always, at the very last moment, I found myself not wanting to die.

Light the way for me.

I don’t want to die in the dark.