Please Don’t Die, My Lady

Chapter 18

After finishing the bowl of porridge, I finally felt a semblance of vitality return to my body.

Of course, having been on the brink of starvation, it wasn’t as if my energy suddenly surged back in a dramatic way.

Still, there was a significant difference between having an empty stomach and having something to fill it.

I set the spoon down and turned my gaze to Sena.

Proper gratitude is important, isn’t it?

After all, I’m a good doll.

Besides, she’s essentially my savior at the moment.

Whether or not I wanted to be saved isn’t something I’m certain about, so maybe it’s best to leave that aside for now.

Recognizing how deeply contradictory I am is already progress in itself.

I shook my head lightly as if to clear away the unnecessary thoughts.

Focus. Just thank her.

“Thank you for the meal. It was good.”

Sena, who had been looking at me with pity, seemed surprised by my words.

She probably hadn’t expected me to express gratitude.

I wonder what kind of image I have in the eyes of others.

Her surprised expression quickly softened into one of relief.

Yes, relief is far better than pity.

“…I’m glad to hear that.

From now on, please come to me whenever you feel like eating.

It doesn’t matter how much it costs.”

“And if I don’t come to you?”

“Then I’ll come to you.

I’ll make sure you’re eating properly.”

“So, in the end, I don’t have a choice.”

She was essentially saying she’d force me to eat no matter what.

If she never intended to give me a choice, why bother phrasing it so vaguely?

If it’s to avoid coming across as too forceful, I wish she’d realize that her approach makes it feel all the more hypocritical.

Perhaps sensing the dissatisfaction in my tone, Sena added an explanation.

“…Please don’t take it the wrong way. My intentions are pure.”

“I know. You’re doing this out of goodwill.”

If it weren’t goodwill, what other motivation could there be?

She’s simply spending her own money to feed a poor, needy child nearby.

That’s what I am, after all.

A sickly, pitiable, unstable child who can’t be left alone.

Out of sympathy. Out of pity.

Because she doesn’t want me to die.

A saint, truly.

I mean that sincerely, not sarcastically.

After all, most people would turn a blind eye, or worse, actively torment someone like me, just like the trash around me.

From an objective standpoint, she’s undeniably a good person.

Just a little self-righteous, perhaps.

Enough to leave a deep wound on the crumbling pride of the duchess.

“I understand. I’ll rely on you for meals from now on.

That said, may I leave now?”

I watched her expression twist slightly before rising to my feet.

I worried for a moment that my legs might not cooperate, but it seemed I had recovered enough to stand, albeit a bit unsteadily.

I had no intention of arguing further.

If this was what she wanted, I’d go along with it.

My pride? It’s been shattered for so long that there’s no point in trying to salvage it.

If maintaining a connection with Sena meant shaving away at the duchess, then so be it.

Physically, mentally—whatever it takes.

“Then, goodbye. Until next time.”

“…Yes. Next time, for sure.”

After hesitating as if lost in thought, Sena reluctantly responded to my farewell.

I nodded politely, turned away, and left the dining hall at a pace that was neither hurried nor slow.

I could still feel some stares, but fortunately, they weren’t as blatant as the ones in the dining hall.

I made it back to my room without any major issues.

Compared to when I’d left, my condition was remarkably better—so much so that it was almost shocking how much one meal could improve things.

It felt as though a week’s worth of effort to wither away had been undone in a single indulgence.

Now, with external interference, starving myself to death was no longer an option.

Seeing this strange sense of regret surface within me, I couldn’t help but laugh.

I had longed for the bullying, missed the wound on my forehead I could scratch at whenever I pleased, and now, I was mourning the hunger I could no longer feel.

I must truly be insane.

Yes, that’s it. I’ve gone mad.

The moment you came into my life, it was no different from developing dissociative identity disorder.

The illness is commonly called split personality.

Even before you arrived, I had an unhealthy aversion to relationships.

Maybe I had some kind of mental illness I wasn’t aware of.

I know I’ve always been that kind of crazy. But what I’m talking about now is different.

Unlike before—when I could clearly distinguish between myself and you and resisted escaping through death—now everything’s so blended together that I don’t even know whose will I’m following anymore.

So.

Whose thought is this right now?

I don’t know.

It could just be me monologuing to myself. Or maybe my mind truly has split in two.

Which do you prefer?

Both are crazy. What’s there to prefer?

“Is that so.”

Yes, that must be it.

Even as I tossed and turned in bed, the ceaseless dialogue in my mind continued.

My body was utterly exhausted, yet my chaotic thoughts wouldn’t let me sleep.

First, it was my body. Now, it’s my mind.

Well, if I’m going to go insane, I might as well do it completely.

Nothing is more agonizing than staying in the gray area.

Once you cross the line, it’s strangely liberating.

I forced a smile, even as cold sweat soaked my skin.

That night, I never managed to fall asleep.

***

By the time morning arrived, after a night of twisting and writhing, my mind had finally quieted down.

I took advantage of the reprieve to get ready for school.

Going to school seemed like the better option right now.

The stares of those around me would help suppress the duchess, who constantly tried to rear her head.

As they always had.

That was what I thought as I left my room several minutes earlier than usual.

Walking through the crowded hallways, trembling under everyone’s stares, I felt the effectiveness of my decision.

As unpleasant as it was, it wasn’t the wrong choice.

By the time I arrived in the classroom, I was feeling somewhat reassured.

That reassurance shattered the moment I stepped inside.

A sense of foreboding hit me immediately.

“…?”

The atmosphere around Ariana’s group, which had been relatively quiet for the past few days, had shifted.

It was… nastier than usual.

Like a dam on the verge of bursting after being held back for too long.

Ariana herself was nowhere to be seen, though.

So now it was just a pack of unleashed attack dogs, with no master to rein them in.

Ah.

Today is going to be rough.

The thought hit me instinctively.

That ominous sense of foreboding I had never once been wrong about earned another victory today.

The moment the morning assembly ended, a large male student approached me.

He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, irritation practically radiating from his expression.

It was Jean, the boy who had seemed to act as a leader for the commoner students before.

From what I’d heard, he was a martial arts prodigy, and his family was wealthy enough to rival nobles.

Why his hostility was focused solely on me, I didn’t understand.

Did the Adelian family wrong him in some way?

Even if they had, it had nothing to do with me.

This isn’t the kind of world where guilt is inherited—

Ah, right.

This is another world.

One where destroying entire noble families is commonplace.

In that case, I guess it is my fault.

I’m sorry.

It’s my fault.

Everything is my fault.

I don’t know what unforgivable crime Adelian committed against your still-thriving family, but yes, it’s all my fault.

Still, shouldn’t I at least get credit for one thing?

It was me, after all, who ruined Adelian by sending Hans to his death that day.

You hate nobles, don’t you?

Doesn’t that make me your ally? I mean, I destroyed a whole ducal family.

Am I crazy?

Jean hadn’t said anything, but the words echoed in my mind as if someone had.

Ah, you’re the one who said it.

Yes. I’m crazy.

I pressed my hands against my head, forcing the duchess back into her box.

Stop it. Please.

Jean’s increasingly sour expression was terrifying enough as it was.

“Just thinking about it pisses me off,” Jean growled, finally taking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling a plume of smoke.

“We’re the ones who started this, so why the hell are we letting that bitch call the shots?”

My eyes flicked downward at his words, but for a moment, I almost nodded along.

Exactly. Why are you being controlled?

Ariana’s a noble too, but you don’t seem to have any issue with her.

You’re pathetic—groveling in front of her and puffing up your chest now that she’s gone.

If you’re going to bow, do it completely.

If you’re going to resist, then resist properly.

Being a spineless bat, doing neither—how revolting.

I bit my lip and stayed silent, though my mind seethed.

Yes, bow completely.

Like that…

But you’re worse, you know.

Shut up.

Jean’s eyes narrowed as his voice grew louder.

“What the hell does ‘don’t hurt her’ even mean? Torture? That lukewarm crap doesn’t even count as torture.

People need scars they can’t erase. Something they’ll regret and suffer from for the rest of their lives.

Something fleeting like that doesn’t do shit!”

“……Ah. Uh, ngh—!”

Just as his emotions reached their peak, Jean snubbed out his cigarette.

On the back of my hand.

The sharp hiss of burning flesh echoed unnervingly close.

Pain seared through the center of my hand as the glowing end of the cigarette melted my skin.

The sensation of it burning, digging into me, was horrifically vivid before it dulled into numbness.

I barely managed to stifle the scream that tried to escape my lips.

Drawing attention now wouldn’t end well for me.

My mind began to go blank, everything turning white.

Surely, this wasn’t as bad as the pain I’d felt before. Yet it seemed I had become weaker in just a few days.

Jean sneered, his face twisting into the now-familiar expression of derision.

“Ah, see that? You’re well-trained, aren’t you, Duchess?

Not even a scream in a situation like this. How impressive.”

He leaned down, resting a heavy hand on my head as though I were a toy.

The way he treated me reminded me of some loathsome insect crawling across my skin.

I hated him.

He disgusted me.

He was the worst.

I was certain of that.

And yet.

“Seems like that bitch won’t be coming in until later today.

Let’s enjoy the morning thoroughly, shall we? Got it?”

Hearing that, the gloom I’d felt vanished.

Ahaha.