ILLYML 24.2 (Patreon)

I pretended not to hear it and keep walking.

".......Serina."

It's amazing. With only a voice and the absence of a physical form—you can still move the human body.

I kept walking without halting.

".......Serina, where are you going?"

Alastair did not leave me alone at this crucial moment.

He grasped my wrist as if he was clinging to me.

I peered down my arm.

I felt Alastair's embarrassment from my cold gaze, but I didn't want to pay attention to that.

"Let go."

Unintentionally, a sharp, icy voice came out of my mouth.

Surprised, I internally scrambled to remember the tone I usually addressed him with.

"Let me go, Alastair."

Yes, it was that soft tone.

I relaxed my stiff face and looked back at him, smiling tenderly.

I made up my expression like that.

Suddenly he had a question. About why I am hiding my expression.

"Alastair, don't make me say it twice. Your hands are sweet but cold."

I rejected him. But donned my mild, typical expression.

After forfeiting, I removed each finger one by one that held my wrist.

When I finally pulled it all off, his face cracked with pain as if the world collapsed.

"......why."

His lips, which were just being sweet, opened heavily.

"Did I... Did anything wrong?"

See.

You can't remember.

It was unfair, but I had to understand.

Alastair was impaired and I've been watching from the sidelines.

"No."

It's just two letters, but they have the ability to pierce the heart.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Alastair."

If there is anything wrong, if there is only one thing, it's that you can't remember.

It's a sin that only you get to escape from that memory and leave me to bear it alone.

"What's wrong?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"·······Ah." Alastair sighs out a fierce low exclamation.

That little breath was exceptionally loud to my ears.

Like the devil screaming in suffering.

"When I woke up, you weren't next to me -"

Yes, let's face it.

"Serina·····."

"Alastair, please don't cross the line."

I have always said that I understand and am emphatic towards Alastair. And that still remains the same.

"I am with you because I feel comfortable with you."

"..........."

"But if you think your presence will always be comfortable for me, that's a mistake."

I emphasize with him, but I can't sacrifice myself.

I need to protect myself.

I was hurt—there was an angry, sorrowful ache in my heart that made me spiteful and resentful. It leaked poison into my mouth, and I sought relief—and frantically searching for some medicine over it, some relief.

"I think I could abandon you now."

I know very well that I am using the wrong medication that doesn't fit my wounds.

Still, I couldn't stop applying it.

What I was doing to him now was purely venting my wrath on him.

"Did you know that?"

I stared at him coldly.

Unlike me, who stared at him coldly, Alastair's eyes had a variety of complex emotions.

Among the countless emotions, the one that was most clearly visible was a terrible grief.

Suddenly, I remembered a passage from the original novel describing Alastair.

He was portrayed as a man who had neither blood nor tears.

This man?

Really, at times like this, I realize once again that the original work was wrong.

Unlike the original description, the Alastair I know has many tears and bleeds red blood--not blue blood--just like everyone else.

"You are cruel."

What's even crueler is that I don't say a word of warmth or comfort even though I've read his feelings.

"...A very cruel person. You are."

"Maybe."

I took a step forward.

I passed him like that.

The feet I thought I didn't have the strength to lift, really easily stepped forward.

"...You don't want me to love you but can't I just stay by your side?"

Pretending not to hear his plea, I pulled the door to my room open. And disappeared inside.

A terrifying silence greeted me.

It was the first time that my room, that is, Agernia's room, felt so cold.

Is it because that's how I treated the owner of this place?

I finally felt that the room was rejecting me, and I was going crazy.

As if it were telling me to return to Melford.

I went straight to bed and jumped down. The bed shook violently at my collapse.

I covered myself under the blanket, hiding myself as I recited to myself—ordering myself to be okay.

But like a prophet, I already knew the truth.

I am not okay. Things are not alright.

If things are left the way they are now, it will not be okay in the future.

Why did you say something that you didn't even mean?

I regretted it terribly, but I couldn't turn back time.

Tick ​​Tick Tick.

The clock sounds many times, dozens of times, hundreds of times.

Another darkness came.

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