EMDL 02

Episode 2

Céline’s pupils widened.

“This can’t be…!”

Even a thunderbolt from a clear sky wouldn’t have startled her this much.

Her hand trembled as she took a step back. She could feel her heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears.

“So you did something after all.”

The man’s face twisted into a cruel expression.

Céline wanted to hit her chest. She should have realized the moment she looked at him.

Jet-black hair like a raven’s wings, icy blue eyes that felt like a beast’s, and pale skin — he was the spitting image of Leonhart Bernuy from the game.

But a two-dimensional character walking around as a real person — and a breathtakingly handsome one at that — it wasn’t something you’d recognize right away…!

Leonhart Bernuy strode toward Céline. Without thinking, she turned and ran.

Leonhart was the single worst enemy for users. Forty-eight of the 109 dead ends in the game originated from him, so just seeing his silhouette made players shudder.

“The first stage hasn’t even started yet!”

It was still the tutorial.

In the original story, Leonhart had been the promising heir of the northern duke, but some incident twisted him into a bloodthirsty killer.

But for the darkened Leonhart to come and kill Céline Hunt, five more years had to pass.

“Why — why did you show up now? You’re not supposed to go dark for years!”

The questions Leonhart hurled meant nothing to Céline’s mind anymore.

All she could think was that she had to run from the leonine figure giving chase.

“Huff, huff…!”

Céline ran up the mansion stairs, careful to avoid the few steps that were rigged to throw you off balance and send you falling to your death.

“Stop, you black witch!”

For a moment she almost cried.

“I’m supposed to be a black witch?!”

If she were a real black witch, how nice — she could turn Leonhart into a toad on the spot.

She tore down the corridor without hesitation. Her countless deaths searching this maze-like mansion for money and food had finally paid off.

But Céline didn’t know that Leonhart had also experienced this mansion dozens of times.

Through the dreams where she died over and over.

Céline’s heart felt like it would burst from the fierce pace of his pursuit.

“Damn monster — are you sure this is your first time here? Even on hardcore he didn’t chase this well!”

At the end of the dead-end hallway was a narrow staircase. There was only one place left to go: the attic, which led up to the roof.

Céline licked her lips anxiously. Since becoming Céline she had never once climbed up there.

The roof was a place of death.

“But… better than getting caught.”

Unlike the game, dying here didn’t return you to a save point. If the merciless Leonhart caught her, she felt like she’d just be stuck in an endless loop of dying and reviving.

“If he confirms I revive, he might throw me into a furnace — melt me as soon as I come back…”

Céline ran up the stairs with legs trembling. She lifted the attic door and the hinges creaked; a blast of dusty air hit her face.

She dove into the dust pit. There was no time to think. When she scrambled to her feet she saw the window that led out to the roof.

“…Ugh!”

The attic floorboard door flew open and Leonhart’s chiseled face abruptly popped out.

Thump, thump, thump.

Her heart hammered so violently her whole body shook. Tears welled in Céline’s eyes.

She didn’t want to be caught.

Céline flung the window wide and wriggled out. The roof was only the size of a palm, but it seemed walkable.

“What are you doing?!”

Ignoring Leonhart’s protest, Céline put one foot on the roof.

Her legs wobbled.

The chance she would escape the roof alive was less than one percent.

But she couldn’t meekly be taken by Leonhart, so she clung to that tiny sliver of possibility.

Of course, luck was not on her side.

As she carefully took a step across the roof —

—Bang!

Pain struck Céline’s head.

In that brief instant tears flooded from her steel-gray eyes. She truly, truly did not want to die.

No matter how many times she died each day, she never grew used to death; the pain ate away at her sanity bit by bit.

What kept her from completely losing it was the idea that with effort she could at least die less.

But now Leonhart had appeared.

He had come five years earlier than expected.

Now any attempt she had been making to reduce her deaths would be useless.

Only endless agony awaited her.

“Please, please have mercy…!”

At last, Céline’s eyes closed.

“Insane…!”

Leonhart cursed aloud, his voice echoing through the dusty attic.

What did that witch do…!

He walked to the window and looked down: Céline Hunt lay sprawled on the floor with her neck grotesquely twisted. Her shining blonde hair was instantly matted with blood streaming from her head.

Leonhart bolted from the attic and hurried out of the mansion. The layout, seen in his dozens of dream runs, made it easy to find his way.

Céline Hunt didn’t move. Leonhart gently brought his hand to her nose. He felt no faint breath.

‘….’

The blood had cooled.

Céline Hunt was actually dead — because of Leonhart himself.

At the same time, she had proved her innocence. If she were a real black witch, she wouldn’t have died from such a fall.

Leonhart buried his face in his hands. Guilt pierced his chest.

He had never intended to harm her. He had only wanted to uncover the truth, but she had run the moment he spoke to her.

She behaved as if she must never be captured.

For a moment he suspected that she might be a black witch, or that she was the cause of the nightmares that tormented him.

Leonhart blinked anxiously. After all, a person had died because of him and he ought to report it to the authorities and accept whatever punishment was due…

“What the—?”

He could hardly believe his eyes.

Céline Hunt’s oddly broken neck straightened and her large steel-gray eyes stared right at him.

“What, what…?”

Leonhart instinctively reached for the sword he hadn’t drawn while chasing her in the mansion — Rashir — at his waist.

No matter how powerful the magic, death and revival couldn’t happen.

She must be faking death with some black magic trick.

“P-please don’t kill me!”

“A black witch! I, Leonhart Bernuy, the wielder of Rashir, shall execute you! Consider it an honor!”

Céline felt like crying.

That idiot was about to kill her again.

The fall had left her reeling in pain; if Rashir sliced her into seven pieces she would go mad.

The blade of Rashir began to blaze blue. Céline squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.

“Even if you cut me with Rashir, I’ll just come back to life!”

“What…?”

She felt no pain. Céline opened her eyes slightly. Leonhart’s gaze was sharp as ever, but he had already sheathed Rashir, so the situation wasn’t as dire as she feared.

“No matter how I die, I’ll come back.”

“But Rashir would be different.”

Leonhart’s reply was stubborn, but Céline answered confidently.

“It’s the same. I’ll die, and I’ll come back.”

Rashir might inflict pain unlike anything she had experienced, but it couldn’t end her life permanently.

“I can’t believe it. Did you really die just now? Were you playing dead?”

Céline swallowed.

‘He’ll only believe it if he sees me die and come back right in front of him.’

She walked home slowly.

“Follow me.”

Fortunately, Leonhart did not stop her with threats but followed obediently.

Céline stood at the front door and swallowed. The mounted stag head looked down at her lecherously.

If you pulled open the cabinet beneath the stag, a cloud of deadly poison powder would spill out.

‘…Well, it wasn’t a terribly painful death, at least.’

Since the death she’d experienced was a month ago, it might be romanticized in her memory, she thought with a shudder.

She reached to open the cabinet but failed to achieve what she wanted.

Suddenly her body floated off the ground. Leonhart had grabbed her and yanked her roughly.

“What are you doing?!”

“Let go. I’m not trying to do anything weird.”

Céline whined in annoyance, then froze.

Words that could never come from Leonhart’s mouth escaped him.

“You’re insane? You’re going to die again?”

Céline gaped, stunned. Her mind felt like it had been struck.

“How… how?”

“You got hit.”

Leonhart let out something like a groan rather than a word. His guess had been right.

The woman in front of him really had been trying to die.

Like in his dreams.

‘…!’

At once, realization hit him.

He shook the still-dazed woman gently.

“Snap out of it. Did you die from a snakebite once?”

“…Yesterday.”

“The day before? No, let me try. You were crushed when a rusty chandelier fell and broke your neck, right?”

“And I was killed two more times while trying to remove the chandeliers in the house.”

The woman still looked bewildered, but she answered Leonhart’s questions diligently.

“…Right. Right!”

Excitement flashed strangely through Leonhart’s voice.

“Ha! My gods, have I finally found my peace at last?”

Céline stared at Leonhart, who was flushed with excitement, with unease.

“Do you know you appear in my dreams?”

“Huh? Me?”

Céline almost bit her tongue in surprise. Now that he mentioned it, she vaguely remembered Leonhart saying something similar earlier.

Her head was too muddled to take it in properly.

“Yes. Every day… every day you show up. I can’t sleep at all.”

“Could it be….”

Céline’s gaze landed on Leonhart’s deep dark circles. Only then did she realize why he had come looking for her.

“You see me die in your dreams. That’s why you couldn’t sleep and came to find me.”

“They die over and over again.”

Céline answered bitterly.

“That’s because I really did. This is a curse — endless death and revival.”

“….”

Leonhart looked down at the woman who was a head shorter than him. She was thin and fragile up close, slimmer than she looked from a distance.

She looked like she hadn’t eaten properly and trembled in a dress too thin for the weather.

“…No wonder you keep dying.”

“What did you say?”

Leonhart cleared his throat and then pronounced solemnly:

“Céline Hunt, from now on you are forbidden to die.”