Chapter 9: CH 9

She’d been submerged in this pitch-black sea for over a hundred years. It was a dream where Carynne endlessly sunk down, a rope around her neck, the other end tied to a boulder. Just as the air for her to breathe had disappeared beneath the surface, her own sensitivity to emotions, philosophy, rationality—everything had diminished. Such was the illusory space wherein she stayed.

Even so, this was good. Under this supposition, it meant that nothing mattered to her anymore.

Whether everything began with an idea or not, whether the cat in the box was dead or not, whether there was a shadow or a sparrow¹ in the cave or not, nothing mattered!

A moment’s eternal restlessness, its suffocating despair. The possibility of a reality that all one hundred years of memories might just be delusions—it was a tight noose over her neck.

Thunk.

As the blood kept flowing, her head became clearer and her agitation subsided.

“Hiiic… hicc… fuck…”

Blood trickled down her forehead. Tears came out. As she trudged through the hallway, she shed both tears and blood.

Everyone. Just die.

Please.

I’ll kill everyone who can kill me.

Then no one will be able to kill me this time.

Let’s start a fire. Let’s burn them all. At any rate, let’s see if it continues just as it normally does, whether it’s a delusion, whether it’s a matter of course. What if I kill the entire household? Will the detectives and the law enforcers come for an investigation? I want to see that, but there could be someone who’ll interrupt me. Next time, I’ll kill Nancy and just stay in Isella’s room. That’s what I should have done. Ah, but if that’s going to happen, I can’t keep my promise to ‘die by Nancy’s hand’ next time.

“Milady?”

“……”

“You’re hurt?”

“…I tripped.”

Bowen, an attendant, was taken aback. Some time passed by as Carynne had inflicted harm towards herself. There should have been no one going through this hallway, but because Carynne met Bowen now, time must have passed.

Over the horizon outside the window, the sunrise could dimly be seen. Quite a bit of time had passed. Servants were now out and about. Annoying. Bowen caught hold of her, but she slapped the hand holding her. She just wanted to sleep.

“There’s blood, Milady.”

“I know.”

“…Your face is injured.”

Annoying, trying to score even like this!

With a blushing face, Bowen grabbed Carynne’s wrist. How impudent. Her brows furrowed. He was harboring this kind of interest for her, too. However, ‘right now’ she couldn’t care less about these people’s lust or love.

“…Ha, h…how clumsy.”

She heard a familiar stutter.

See, look at this. Annoying. Carynne shook off the stiffened Bowen. Dullan was on his way to prepare for mass at dawn. Bowen bowed down hurriedly.

“Miss Isella won’t be able to come out for breakfast, so bring her meal to her room. I would like to practice playing the harpsichord on my own this morning. Once Miss Isella rouses, bring her to the music room.”

Carynne succinctly gave these instructions to Bowen and sent him away. The longer he stayed, the longer Dullan’s dawdling time would be. It’s tiring. Carynne pressed her throbbing forehead with one hand.

“Y-You’re cov, ering for him, aren’t you?”

“Do you want me to do that?”

Pat.

Carynne tapped his shoulder once. If he wanted to be jealous, he should do it properly, but instead he was a man who just sighed. Ultimately, he knew that the attendant just grabbed Carynne’s wrist out of concern, however he couldn’t even say, ‘How dare you towards my fiancée!’ out of jealousy.

In the end, Dullan would wrongly aim the arrow towards Carynne. Rather than towards the attendant, he instead grumbled to his fiancée.

“Hurry up and go. I’ll look for a salve in your room and then sleep. Is your door locked?”

“N-No.”

“Alright.”

As Carynne was about to head towards Dullan’s room, he stopped her.

“I know where it is.”

“…I nev, er told you.”

She knew much more than he thought she did. Even so, Carynne didn’t speak up because she couldn’t prove it.

Dulland took Carynne’s wrist and headed for his room. Glancing at him, she couldn’t just say, ‘Why don’t you just go to your morning mass?’ since he decided to take care of his injured fiancée like this.

Carynne let out a small sigh. What to do? Looked like he wanted to score with her. Annoying.

“…I’m not doing it with you—”

“S-Shush.”

He’s flustered.

Carynne patted the embarrassed Dullan. How regrettable it was that she wasn’t planning to have a relationship with him in this iteration, but she couldn’t say that.

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“…It hurts.”

“……”

Why wouldn’t he ask where she was hurt or if she was fine. Tsk. Dullan was just applying the salve and some medicinal herbs onto Carynne’s forehead. Looked like he was going to use an entire pack.

With such clumsy romantic feelings, Carynne thought things might work out to be pretty fun. She had already dated many people over such a long time. It’s not something she planned on doing, but fostering a relationship with Dullan might just spice things up. It wouldn’t affect her old heart, but these clumsy feelings were enough to arouse her brain.

“You might g, et a scar… maybe.”

“Really?”

“……”

Would it be a problem when she was going to seduce Raymond? Carynne tilted her head to the side and looked into the mirror. She didn’t want to let go of her grand dream of ‘hacking at Raymond’s neck!’ He’s quite particular about the face, so they didn’t get together when she gained weight or got burned. As expected, a man was a man.

“Still, I’m still pretty, right?”

“…W-What?”

“No?”

“…Ha.”

There was no need for words.

Carynne tugged at Dullan’s clothes. Her lips overlapped with his thin lips. It’s quite cold.

“W-Why on earth…?”

“……”

Dullan still looked confused. She kissed him again. Licked him slightly with her tongue. While kissing him, she imagined him becoming a corpse. Aren’t you obsessed. If so, then steal me. Take me away from the male lead—from Raymond.

…And die for me.

“No?”

How nice it would be if you were to be enamored by me.

So dreadfully enamored.

* * *

“Oh my— Gracious, are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It’s because you returned too late at night… Goodness.”

Isella fussed over her.

However, due to her nature, instead of continuing to pay attention to others, she soon moved on to bragging about herself. On the harpsichord, Carynne changed the piece she was playing to one that didn’t require much technique for it to be background music.

Isella sat next to Carynne and talked her ear off. About the necklace she was reunited with, about the fiancé who gifted her the accessory. The morning air was refreshing, and Isella happily yapped away in relief after finding her necklace.

Raymond gave this to her. He gave her this one, too. The chattering girl’s voice sounded like a twittering bird today.

Right. How nice. I liked Raymond, too. Around a hundred years ago, I said the same words.

Carynne closed her eyes. There was once a time when she pitied Isella. But she didn’t matter, either. She was completely different from Dullan, with regards to their form, their way of speaking, their backstories. However, she also resembled Dullan. Restless.

“You must be very happy.”

“Of course. My father also couldn’t help but admire all of them, and he couldn’t believe how high the quality they had.”

It was a merchant-like compliment. Perhaps he didn’t want his daughter to notice, though Isella herself wouldn’t be able to come up with the realization either—the meaning of these gifts. Necklaces, dresses, fabrics. All of them were valuable, however there was no ring to signify the promise of matrimony.

The connection between Raymond and Isella was weak. Verdic, who had quite the acumen in the countryside, offered an engagement to Raymond’s financially troubled older brother, and so the baron family’s second son obediently followed the order.

To be more precise, it would be right to say that there was nothing said between them—no covenant was made and no rings were exchanged in the presence of witnesses. Even so, Isella and Verdic wouldn’t correct anyone who would assume that they were betrothed.

It was that kind of relationship.

Of course, it’s something that Carynne shouldn’t know at this time. Right now, all she was required to do was look at Isella as though she was envious of the young woman. Smiling or looking pathetic or both.

Regardless of what she felt, whenever their eyes would meet, whenever she looked at Isella’s clothes and accessories, whenever she blinked, whenever she sometimes opened her lips to speak. They were all thoroughly calculated expressions of envy.

“As expected, a barony is something else. I like the new item that Father gave me, but…”

Pitiful Isella. Nothing but a fool who sought affection from gifts, nothing but a woman who felt excitement through vanity. She was young, she was ignorant, and it was reflected in the way that she turned a blind eye to her own father’s corruption, his cruelty.

“Carynne—can I call you Carynne?”

She already was. Opening her fan, Carynne smiled with her eyes.

“Of course, Isella.”

And she recalled the memory of Isella being humiliated for asking the same thing towards a count’s daughter later on. Carynne was looking forward to that event.

Not being able to guess anything from Carynne’s smile, Isella was delighted, treating the other young woman candidly just the same.

¹ what Carynne actually says here is ‘a shadow or a pillow’ but in the original text, these two words sound very much alike, so I instead replaced ‘pillow’ with ‘sparrow’ to match the sentence’s tone

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