prolog
I blinked slowly. My vision was blurry—maybe because of the blood on my eyelashes.
What has gone wrong?
Was it the moment I, someone who wasn’t in the original story, survived?
Or was it when I selfishly decided to keep him alive, just to use him?
I looked at the man standing in front of me. His face was twisted with anger, and he gripped my wrist so tightly it felt like it might break. His other hand was clenched as if he wanted to wrap it around my throat—tendons bulging.
I thought everything would be okay.
Not perfect, maybe, but I believed we could get through it somehow.
I thought he would eventually forget the little girl I once was. That he’d let go of his resentment toward me, and go on living as the military’s supreme commander. When everything was over, I imagined he’d find a good fiancée—someone fitting for his status.
That’s what I once believed.
I had spent half my life terrified that he would find out the truth about our past. So, we could never really be close. Still… I’d hoped—just a little—that maybe, from time to time, we could exchange a few words. Maybe I could ask him how he was doing.
But…
“Do you really… have to find someone who’s already dead, Sir Schloitz…?”
My voice came out rough and shaky.
“If she were truly dead, there’d be no need to look.”
I knew exactly who he meant by “she.”
He meant me.
“But she doesn’t seem dead.”
“……”
“She doesn’t seem dead at all.”
His voice hit me like heavy rain. I felt like I was being swept away.
He wanted to find “her” and kill her. Yes, he had said that once before. After years of obsessing over one person’s betrayal, he had started to wish he could just kill her and be done with it.
So he wanted to kill me—ever since the day I cruelly abandoned him. Even though I stayed near him, pretending, letting him save my life again and again…
“Answer me, my lady.”
My vision blurred more and more.
“Desperately try to deny my suspicions. Try to tell me I’m wrong.”
“I…”
“You’ve been doing it all this time, haven’t you? Blandea Lefevre.”
No words would come. I took a shaky step back. The wrist he was holding felt like it might shatter from the pain.
My long golden hair, once cut off, was soaked in blood. Strands fell to the floor with a wet thud.
