Chapter 71
Everyone relies on something—someone, an object, or even something meaningless—to keep going.
I’m not saying anything profound. Even now, I’m living off the burning tip of this cigarette.
When the nicotine wears off, my brain flickers like a dying lightbulb.
Sometimes, I hate the way the thick smoke sticks in my mouth, but in the end, there’s nothing quite like it.
Alcohol makes me dizzy, shows me illusions, and fills my head with phantom voices.
Drugs? They just make my body sluggish before throwing me into some ridiculous hallucination.
Yeah. In the end, all I have is this cigarette.
Is that pathetic?
Locked in my room, brooding, with nothing but a cigar to comfort me?
No family, no friends, no one to rely on.
Just a world full of lunatics who think demons are people—or dying souls with nothing left.
Physically or mentally.
No, it’s just because I’m weak.
A person with nothing to rely on must be strong.
Take Theo, for example. Does he have anything?
Looking back, I’ve seen plenty of pathetic sides of him. But over time, what should I say?
He’s improved compared to the reckless fool he used to be.
Of course, others probably preferred his old self, when he was full of human emotion.
But I find his current numbness far more convenient.
Less exhausting.
Yes. If you call this growth, then he’s grown.
If witnessing countless deaths is what it takes to grow, maybe it’s better not to.
Anyway, why am I even thinking about this?
Just passing time, I guess.
It’s a luxury to sit around and get lost in thought.
What a joke.
Just meaningless rambling to distract myself from this awkward silence.
Theo keeps staring at me.
He never stops me, never interferes—except when I try to go back.
The demons are dead, my relationships are in shambles, and Julian, once again, has killed himself after failing to save his fiancée.
That woman was probably to Julian what Alicia is to me.
No matter how many times he tried, no matter what he did, she was someone he could never save.
"I want to go back. It’s been over a month since I last saw Alicia."
"You’re the only person who talks about dying so casually."
"Hmm, I can think of one other."
"Who?"
"Julian."
Theo’s eyebrow twitched.
Did I say something uncomfortable?
"He made quite a spectacle of it the first time, didn’t he?
I don’t remember the details, but I do remember how annoying it was to clean up."
"…Shut up."
"Skipping classes and spending a whole week with me like this, won’t rumors start flying?
A talented, handsome commoner comforting a noble lady who lost her family, plotting to take over her house."
Ethel and Isabel wouldn’t be visiting.
Theo had ordered me not to touch humans, so I hadn’t killed them—but I had done plenty else.
They were probably terrified, afraid that if I snapped, I’d kill their families too.
How could they visit me casually?
Unless they came as heroes to slay the villain, like before.
Theo didn’t respond.
You’re supposed to take a slow drag, savor the scent before exhaling—but with no conversation, I couldn’t even enjoy my cigarette properly.
I was talking to myself.
Might as well set up a stage, grab a mic, and start a comedy show.
Even if my stories weren’t funny, my face alone would make people laugh.
Everyone loves beautiful things.
Still, Alicia was much more beautiful than me.
"Let me rephrase my question.
What’s the longest I’ve ever stayed alive?"
"A year. I drugged you and locked you in a room.
I handled the authorities with your family’s money."
A year? Even drugged and imprisoned, I only lasted a year?
"Then how did I die?
You kept me alive, didn’t you?"
"When you were lucid enough, you bit your tongue and swallowed it on purpose. Choked yourself."
Well, yeah. Just losing a tongue doesn’t kill you.
Unless it rolls back and blocks your throat.
The first time I pulled that off, my father nearly beat me to death.
Then, in the end, he just tore my tongue out.
Of course, he had it reattached later.
"Ugh. Then you must have tried again.
You could have pulled out my teeth, gagged me—anything."
I didn’t understand.
Keeping someone alive wasn’t hard.
Especially someone as young as me.
"Tried that. Then you just smashed your head against a wall.
Or, when memories came back, you blew your brains out before I could stop you."
"Hmm. Funny, I don’t really remember that now."
Theo let out a dry chuckle.
Then he said, quite casually, that he hated me.
Conversation requires mutual effort—listening, responding, exchanging words.
This was a solid start.
Never mind the topic.
"That’s why I hate you.
You only remember what’s convenient.
I could lock you up again, drug you forever. Keep you alive until you die of old age.
But you have to live."
I smirked and crossed my legs.
Throwing away a cigar after just ten minutes felt like a waste.
I had stolen it from Julian’s drawer—it was hard to find good ones now.
Last time, it was soaked in blood, so I couldn’t even smoke it.
But this one? This was a good one.
I cut the end with a knife, tucked it into my cigar pouch, then pulled out my gun and walked toward Theo.
"Enough excuses. Just end it cleanly."
I pointed the barrel between his brows, but he didn’t even blink.
How could someone be so fearless?
Shooting an unresisting man felt wrong.
So, I turned the gun on myself, pressing the muzzle to my temple and pulling the trigger.
Unfortunately, the barrel bent before the bullet could fire.
"…How long do you think this can last?"
"And yet, you never just tied me down."
"Yeah. Might as well try everything I can. This time, it feels easier."
"What’s the point? What good comes from keeping me alive?"
"Like you said—it’s just childish revenge. Not even real revenge, just some petty way to lash out."
"Does keeping me alive feel like some kind of punishment to you?"
"Isn’t it? You’re still breathing even though you couldn’t save your sister."
"Hah. If you’d told me that a few dozen times ago, I would’ve snapped and attacked you."
"You say that, and yet, here you are—attacking me."
He was right.
I pulled out a dagger and drove it toward Theo’s heart, but he blocked it effortlessly.
Though, I did manage to pierce his palm.
"Lying with a smile, pretending nothing’s wrong—don’t you ever get tired of it?"
"Have I ever killed you?"
"No."
His answer was short, but there was emotion in it.
A hint of hatred, or maybe just exhaustion from repetition.
Boredom. Yeah, boredom seemed like the right word.
"Even when you were gasping for air, you always came back before you could die."
And with that, he grabbed my throat and lifted me into the air.
I started suffocating.
My body trembled violently—if I didn’t die from asphyxiation, my neck would snap first.
Why do I always have to live like this?
I know I have talents. I know I excel at many things, and I want to prove it.
I’m vile enough that I should be compared to Julian when it comes to sheer cruelty.
Even among family, Alicia is the most beautiful one.
I’m not stupid, but my mind only works in cunning ways—Julian is far smarter than me in every other sense.
Am I more ruthless than others?
No. Compared to my wretched parents, I’m practically fragile.
Am I stronger than others?
Maybe, more than most. But I can’t win against Theo in a fight.
And without a weapon, without a gun, I’m useless.
I can’t use magic, I can’t sense mana well, I can’t command spirits, and I certainly don’t have faith.
If there was a god who dropped me into this world, I wouldn’t worship them—I’d curse them, mock them, defy them.
Even before the demons ruined everything, my life had no value.
Why didn’t I just die back then?
Well, there was no reason.
None at all.
And even now, as I’m on the verge of death, I still want to live.
I’ll forget this feeling soon enough.
I’ll sink back into despair.
I’ll try to die again.
Not before pulling the trigger, but right after.
That’s why I laugh—or maybe cry.
Tears spill down my face.
And then—air floods my lungs.
"Ghaaah—! Hahh, haah, hehh—!"
"…And in the end, you always want to live. You liar."