The Villain’s Ending

Chapter 19

Coloring (1)

The first thing I felt was the afterimage remaining on my neck.

The sensation of rough fabric digging into my skin.

The gradually constricting airway, and the unpleasant heat of blood rushing to my head.

The comical thrashing of my body, suspended in mid-air.

All those sensations were as vivid as if they had just happened.

Come to think of it, it might have just happened.

It just took quite a while to die.

Hanging myself was indeed a foolish idea. At least from now on, I vowed to myself that I would definitely jump or blow my brains out with a gun, rather than dying by being strangled by a blanket rope and drooling.

Getting out of bed, I walked to the table.On the table, I saw a half-empty pack of cigarettes, cheap matches, and an envelope.

First, I picked up the cigarette pack, took one out, and put it in my mouth.

When I struck the match, a small flame erupted with a smell.

I brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhaled deeply.

Pungent smoke pushed its way into my lungs.

I felt like coughing, but I forced myself to hold it in.

I walked to the window and exhaled the hazy smoke into the darkness.

[Collect the Ending! 2/?]

[Reward: Return to your original world.]

The number had changed.

From 1 to 2.

Should I call this progress?

It's only a single digit, so does that mean I just need to die 7 more times?

It would be nice if it told me something.

I wish someone would set the direction.

I’d move exactly as told, no matter who it was.

If I'm left without direction, I feel like I'll really do anything.

I stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.

Then, I walked back to the table drawer.

With a creaking sound, the drawer opened.

Inside, a heavy revolver lay.

I picked it up.

The cold metal’s touch familiarized itself with my palm.

I opened the cylinder and inserted the scattered bullets one by one.

Then, I tucked the revolver into my waistband.

Inside my shirt, the cold sensation touched my skin.

I probably won't leave it in the drawer anymore.

The memory of my gun being with Levina was much more terrible than I'd thought.

How should I put it, it felt like the only thing that was truly mine had disappeared.

I wasn't in my right mind then.

Instead of strangling Levina, it would have been fine if I had just said a few words and left.

Even so, to call her my sister, that's absurd. There's no way someone like that is family.

I felt the need to push 'Lavin' out of my head a bit.

Not only did hanging myself pollute my mind, but I also feel like I'm becoming an idiot.

Anyway, Seraphina will be here soon.

As always.

I sat on the sofa and lit another cigarette.

The room was thick with hazy smoke.

Without thinking, I just stared at the ceiling.

I wondered why I had so desperately wanted to smoke a cigarette when I was hanging and all my strength drained away.

How much time had passed?

Faint footsteps echoed from down the corridor.

Creak.

With a familiar sound, the door opened.

It was Seraphina.

As always, she carried a faint scent of lilac.

"You call me here, and then you're just smoking the cigarettes you said you quit?"

I didn't know when she'd entered, but she was leaning against the door, arms crossed, glaring at me.

Instead of answering, I slightly raised my right hand in a gesture of greeting. With the cigarette still hanging from my lips.

"Do you know you said that last time too?"

Seraphina wore an expression that seemed to say, "What nonsense are you spouting?"

"I don't remember."

Her distinctive footsteps echoed on the floor.

"By the way, the wall is bare." She said, looking around the room.

"Indeed."

At those words, Seraphina lightly bit her lower lip.

She must be thinking of the picture that used to hang there.

Was she stressed even on her way here? She must have bitten it hard, as a slight trickle of blood welled on her lower lip.

I had never before imagined she'd dislike meeting me this much.

Something is indeed changing.

It seems Seraphina had her own difficulties too, in her own way.

For me, it was always me who suffered the most in the world, every single day.

"Didn't you say… you quit those?"

"I felt like smoking again."

Our gazes met in the air.

As soon as her eyes met mine, she held her breath.

Silence flowed.

It wasn't particularly awkward.

Because Seraphina was the type of person who, when speechless or faced with something unpleasant, would glare while swallowing her words rather than opening her mouth to speak.

In the room, only the faint sound of the cigarette burning down in my hand could be heard.

Seraphina and I met eyes once more, and she trembled, biting her lower lip again.

"Seraphina?"

When I spoke, Seraphina approached me.

With quite hurried steps.

This hadn't happened last time.

I didn't avoid her. I just stared blankly, watching her approach.

Seraphina stopped right in front of me.

And extended a trembling hand to cup my neck.

I flinched.

Cold fingers brushed my nape.

Her touch was careful. As if handling fragile pottery.

She slowly caressed my neck, as if checking for something.

Her fingers moved towards my lips.

A soft, faintly trembling sensation.

She then traced my lips, then my chin, and then my cheek in sequence.

Without showing much expression, I caught her wrist, gently pulled it away, and said in a low voice.

"Why are you suddenly like this? Doing things you don't usually do."

Seraphina stared blankly at her own hand for a long time, then flinched once.

And then, as if to herself, she murmured very softly.

"......Ah."

A short gasp.

She staggered back a step. As if all strength had drained from her body.

I stubbed out the finished cigarette in the ashtray.

The smoke rose like a thread, then soon dispersed.

"J-just. I was wondering if you were hurt. I don't know why I'm doing this either. S-sorry."

"Sit. Your legs will hurt if you stand." I said, gesturing towards the sofa with my chin.

My voice was huskier than I'd expected.

Seraphina sat on the sofa without a word, like a doll.

She still had a blank expression. Like someone wandering in a dream.

I remembered the Seraphina I'd met before hanging from the ceiling.

The girl who came every morning, cleaned, sometimes asked me various questions and told me daily stories, then grew despondent when I didn't answer.

Thinking about it now, I suppose it would have been fine to exchange a word or two with her, but I doubt much will change in the future either.

Because the broken engagement was much more terrible than I had imagined.

How should I put it, it felt like the world had collapsed.

Well, I don't want to string together grand rhetoric and poetic words, but it's certain that I felt so miserable I wanted to give up everything and just die.

Seraphina, the Seraphina I had grown up with since childhood, relied on, and told countless times I liked, who had made it possible for me to live each day just by the thought that we would marry someday.

Because the memory of some idiot that surfaced in my mind made me realize that someday she might forget me and live happily, smiling next to Kyle.

If only I hadn't known, no matter how many times I repeated this, I would have just gotten drunk and died quietly in an alley.

But I can't do that now.

"So why did you call me, Lavin?"

"Well, why did I call you? I don't quite remember. I probably intended to have dinner together." I said that, then picked up the letter on the table before putting it back down.

"I was going to give you something..."

Seraphina looked down at the letter and said in a low voice.

"This petty letter, no matter what you write and send, it evokes no emotion."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it was always like that. Nothing ever changed. You, Lavin…"

"That again. I'm tired of it."

I picked up the letter, pretended to hand it to her, but just as Seraphina reached out to take it, I put it back down on the table.

And then I placed the cigarette, still with an ember glowing, on top of that letter.

Sizzle.

With the sound of the cigarette butt being crushed, faint smoke rose.

The part of the patterned envelope where the cigarette ember touched shriveled up, turning black.

Seraphina just stared blankly at that sight.

Various emotions flickered across her face. Embarrassment, anger, and an incomprehensible confusion.

Yet, she said nothing.

She merely bit her lower lip and took the letter from the table.

As always.

However, I wished she hadn't taken it.

I didn't want to see it burn in front of me.

"You were going to throw it away anyway. If that's the case, don't take it. I wrote it with difficulty." I said casually.

Seraphina's lips moved ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly.

But no sound came out.

"And if you're not going to talk, please leave soon. I'm tired."

I leaned deeply against the sofa. And closed my eyes.

I had no energy to continue the conversation.

Seraphina remained silent for a long time.

Only her irregular breathing filled the silence of the room.

"......You."

She finally opened her mouth. Her voice was faint, as if submerged in water.

"Are you really okay?"

"About what?"

"Just everything. All of it."

I answered without opening my eyes.

"If I look okay, then I'm okay, and if not, then not."

"......"

She didn't answer. Not a word.

She just kept alternating her blank gaze between the letter with the cigarette burn and me.

Her blue eyes were sunken, as if tired.

But she didn't get up from her seat.