I Die After Chapter Three

The smell of mold came first.

It clung to the back of my throat, damp straw and stale oil folded into one another. When I opened my eyes, a cobweb hanging from a ceiling rafter was swaying in the dark. I was lying underneath it.

I tried to sit up, and my elbow buckled.

This was not my arm. More precisely, it was not the arm I knew. The wrist was thin, tendons stood out across the back of the hand, and dirt was packed beneath the nails. These were not the hands I had looked at for twenty-six years.

I caught my face in the water pooled in a brass basin beside the bed.

Black hair. A pale face. Hollowed cheeks and split lips. A face that looked eighteen, maybe nineteen, stared back at me from the water. I knew that face.

Kael Arden.

The man who dies three chapters into Lovers of the Constellations.

The memories came after that. Mine and this body's, tangled together, and it took a long time to sort out which belonged to whom.

Kael Arden. Third son of a fallen baron family. Qualified for the academy, but too broke to pay the tuition, holed up in an inn on the outskirts of the royal capital at nineteen. His only possession was a notebook left by his dead older brother, its pages packed tight with information on the Royal Capital Back Alleys.

In the game, this man's role had been exactly one thing. Right after the prologue, the main heroine Serena Valentine comes to buy that notebook. Kael takes the money and hands over the information. Three ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠days later, people looking to erase the source of that information cut his throat in a back alley.

The corpse flickers through the background of Chapter Three for a second. Not a single line of dialogue. His name never even appears. Serena walks past it and says,

"Someone dies in a place like this every day."

When I played, I skipped right past that scene without a second thought.

Now that someone was me.

I looked out the window. The sun had climbed about two rooftops high. The morning of the day the game began. The day Serena comes.

Which meant I had four days.

My legs trembled as I went down the stairs. This body had not eaten properly in a long time. With every step, my knees threatened to fold.

Three people were sitting in the hall on the first floor.

Not the innkeeper. The innkeeper was behind the counter with his eyes lowered, just wiping glasses. The ones sitting were two men in leather vests, and a big one standing behind them.

The man in the middle looked at me and smiled.

"Young Master Kael. Looking well, I see."

Memory filled in the rest. The notebook was not the only thing his brother had left behind. There was debt, too. Twelve silver coins. With interest, it was nineteen now.

"Until tomorrow," I said. My voice came out cracked. "I have a large transaction tomorrow. I'll pay you then."

"You said that yesterday."

The man stood up. It was this body's original owner who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had said that yesterday, not me, but there was no way to explain that.

The first fist drove into my solar plexus.

The air left my lungs in one piece. My knees hit the floor, and then it was my ribs, and then my back. I tried to scream and even that would not come out. The grain of the floorboards swam in front of my eyes.

Getting hit made everything strangely, terribly clear.

Ah. So this place is real.

Not the other side of a screen. A place that smells, that hurts, where saliva pools in your mouth.

"We'll ease up for three more days. Three."

The man crouched down and grabbed me by the hair.

"Three days. If you don't pay by then, we start counting the young master's fingers."

Even after they left, I could not get up for a while. The innkeeper paused mid-wipe and asked,

"When are you going to pay for the room?"

I crawled back up to my room and collapsed onto the bed.

My ribs rang. If I breathed deeply, my side felt like it would tear, so I kept it shallow. The cobweb on the ceiling was swaying at the same angle as before.

I'm going to die.

Whether the debt collectors take my fingers or someone cuts my throat in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back alley three days from now, the result is the same. This body's original owner died that way, and now I was the one sitting in his place.

That was the moment I thought I wanted to live.

Letters appeared in front of my eyes.

I sat up. My side screamed, but I did not care.

Strength 4. In the game, the Standard Academy Average was 30. Mana 2 was not even a hundredth of Serena's.

Only Resonance, at 71, was strangely high.

I pressed the message.

I stared at it for a long time.

A laugh came out of me. Laughing made my ribs hurt, which only made me laugh harder.

If you were going to give me a power like this, you might as well have given me a talent for the sword.

But as the laughter died, another thought surfaced.

Serena is coming today.

One of the finest talents in this world. Top student at the academy. S-rank in both sword and magic.

The stronger the target, the greater the increase.

I looked out the window again. The sun had climbed a handspan higher than before.

The knock came three times. Exactly three times, evenly spaced.

When I opened the door, silver hair appeared first.

The face from the cover of Lovers of the Constellations was standing in front of me. There were things you could not tell from a screen, though. She was a little shorter than I was. And her eyes were not so much violet as nearly gray, turning purple only when the light caught them.

Serena Valentine swept the room once. The bed, the basin, the stains on the wall. Her expression did not change.

"Kael Arden."

"That's correct."

"I heard you have your brother's notebook."

She did not come inside. Standing outside the threshold, she drew out a pouch of silver coins and held it up. By the sound, roughly twenty pieces.

"This should be enough."

It was enough. Enough to pay the debt, cover the room, and eat for a few days.

And then die in three days.

In the game, Kael took this money. That was his last choice.

"It isn't enough."

Serena's eyebrow lifted, just slightly.

"What did you say?"

"I'm not selling the notebook."

"...You want me to raise the price."

"No."

I set my hand on the doorframe. I had just discovered that standing at this angle made my side hurt less.

"What you're looking for with that notebook isn't a smuggling route. It's a person. The children who vanished from the western merchant warehouse. Eleven of them."

The hand holding the pouch stopped.

"...How."

"Because I read the notebook."

It was a lie. It was the Chapter Three quest from the game.

"The notebook only has the routes. What you need isn't the route. It's someone who knows the route. If you take the notebook, you'll hit a wall within three days. And by then—"

I cut myself off.

"I'll already be dead."

The air in the hallway went still.

Serena looked at me for a long time. It was not a face that let you read emotion. But she pulled off her left glove, glanced at the bare hand, then drew it back on.

"Is this a threat?"

"It's a deal."

"And what exactly do you think you can give me?"

"Someone who knows the route. In a state that isn't dead."

"The terms."

"I don't need money."

That was the first time I looked her in the eye.

After the words ended, there was a fairly long silence.

Serena's expression barely changed. Barely, meaning it did change, just a little. Her eyelids dropped once and lifted.

"...Do you know what you just said?"

"I do."

"I'll say this on the name of House Valentine. If you shut that mouth right now, I'll still give you the twenty silver. And today never happened."

"I refuse."

"Why."

I could not tell her the reason. That there was a script in which I died in four days, and to tear it up I needed her right now. That she was the strongest talent in this world, and I had a strange device that turned that into power.

So I said something else.

"Because you put a price on me."

Serena's gaze wavered for the first time.

"If the value you set is twenty silver coins, I figured I was entitled to set a price of my own. A negotiation is supposed to go both ways, isn't it?"

"If you don't like it, you're free to leave. But you won't find those eleven children."

Serena hooked the pouch back at her waist.

Then she stepped over the threshold.

The door closed.

"Despicable."

"I know."

"Tomorrow morning, I won't remember a thing."

"As you wish."

She took off her gloves and set them on the headboard. This time she did not put them back on.

Her bare hands were exposed. A count's daughter's hands, but the palms were callused. That is what twelve years of holding a sword will do.

"This is a transaction," Serena said. It sounded like she was talking to herself.

"I know."

"Come tomorrow morning, I go back to being someone nothing happened to."

"I'm sure you will."

"So."

She took one step closer. The room was so small that one step closed the distance.

"Tonight I won't ask anything."

"Ask what, exactly?"

"How you know you're going to die. Why you won't take the money. Why you look at me like that."

Serena's hand came up. It stopped just short of my cheek, then touched it. Her fingertips were cold, and only then did I realize they had been trembling this whole time.

"I'll ask tomorrow."

"Yes."

"Just not tonight."

The evening bell rang outside the window. Neither of us moved while it tolled six times.

When the sixth bell faded, she was the one who put out the lamp.

In the dark, there was the sound of clothes coming off.

Serena's breath drew closer. Cold fingers brushed the nape of my neck, slid down my shoulder, and pushed against my chest. I lay back on the bed. My side twinged for a moment, then was forgotten.

Her thighs settled on either side of me. I felt the weight. Silver hair swept across my face as it fell, and a scent pricked my nose — cold and clean, sharp as a blade.

Serena bent at the waist. Her lips touched my throat. She bit down hard enough that her teeth nearly broke the skin, then immediately soothed it with her tongue. I swallowed a breath.

"Don't move."

A low voice. A command.

Her hand went down. She gripped the waist of my pants and yanked them down in one motion. What was already hard sprang free. Serena wrapped her hand around it. Her palm was cold. When she rubbed the tip with her thumb, I felt myself grow harder.

"Hah..."

Serena let out a short breath. Her fingers slid slowly up and down the shaft, slick as if wet with saliva. She held me upright and brought me toward her own crotch.

She was already wet.

Hot flesh wrapped around the tip. Serena lowered her hips just a little. The entrance parted and began to take me in. Tight. Clenching. The inside twitched as if convulsing.

"Kh..."

Serena's brow furrowed. Silver hair spilled over my face. She clenched her teeth and sank down further. All the way. A small sound of flesh meeting flesh.

The moment I was fully inside, Serena's hips shuddered hard. Her insides clenched around me like mad. Hot. Hot enough to feel a heartbeat.

She did not move for a while. Just breathed roughly. Her breasts rose and fell against my chest, and I could feel her nipples standing hard even with no cloth between us.

"Hah... hah..."

Serena lifted her hips. She pulled almost all the way off, then sank down deep again. A wet sound. The sound of flesh striking flesh. She began to repeat the motion, slow at first, then faster.

I raised my hands and gripped her waist. Her skin was slick with sweat. Serena did not shake my hands off. Instead she slammed her hips down harder.

"Ah... ahh..."

A moan slipped out. A sound she had tried and failed to hold back. Serena turned her face to the side. Even in the dark I could see her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ears flushed red.

I lifted my upper body slightly and brought my mouth to her breast. I took the nipple between my teeth and rolled it with my tongue. Serena's hips froze for an instant, then immediately began to rock harder.

"Don't... do that... hah... not there..."

The words were a refusal. The body was not. Inside she was getting hotter, tighter. Serena's nails dug into my shoulders. It hurt. That pain made the pleasure sharper.

I picked up the pace. I thrust up from below to meet her. Serena's body bounced hard, her breasts swaying as if they might slap my face. I grabbed one breast with one hand and gripped her ass with the other, driving in deeper.

"Aah...! There... too..."

Serena's voice cracked. Her hips started convulsing on their own. Inside, she contracted in waves, squeezing me, and hot fluid spilled out and wet our thighs.

Feeling that grip, I thrust hard through to the end. Serena's back arched like a bow. Silver hair scattered across my face. She tried to keep her mouth shut and swallow the sound, but a thin cry leaked out anyway.

At her climax, her insides clenched around me as if embracing me. I came deep inside just like that — the sensation of heat pouring out. Serena's body shuddered hard once more. Her insides kept convulsing, milking me.

For a long time, neither of us moved.

Serena's breath touched the nape of my neck. Hot. I could feel her heart racing through her chest. Her fingers slowly slid down from my shoulders.

"......Hah."

A short sigh. Not contempt, not anger. Just exhaustion.

Serena slowly lifted herself up. As we uncoupled, white fluid ran down her thigh. She stiffened briefly at the sensation, then wordlessly began picking up her clothes and putting them on.

The lamp stayed unlit.

The inn's lamp stayed unlit until morning.

When I opened my eyes, the window frame was pale.

The other side of the bed was empty. The sheet was shoved to one side, and the gloves from the headboard were gone. A splash mark from the basin water remained on the wall.

And letters were floating in front of my eyes.

I reread the numbers several times.

I sat up. Yesterday this one motion had torn my side open. Now it was nothing. I tried gripping the bedpost as a test. The wood creaked in my fist.

The Standard Academy Average was 30.

I had surpassed it in a single night.

I tried to hold back a laugh. I could not, so I just laughed. This time my ribs did not hurt.

Then the last message appeared.

I tried to ask what that meant, but the window had already closed.

I went downstairs. The innkeeper looked at me with a strange expression — the face of a man who was not sure he was looking at the same person as yesterday.

"I'll have the room paid by the end of today."

I pushed through the door.

The morning air was cold. A water-seller's cart was passing through the alley, and smoke was rising from a bakery chimney. The alley where my corpse was scheduled to be found in four days was two blocks from here.

That was when my steps stopped.

Someone was standing against the wall across from the inn.

Silver hair floated white in the morning light. Serena Valentine had her arms crossed, watching me in a posture that gave no hint of how long she had been there.

If she was going to leave, she should have left long ago.

I opened my mouth.

"My lady—"

"Don't come any closer."

Serena's voice was low.

"Stay there."

She raised a gloved hand and pointed at me. The fingertip was trembling, very slightly.

"What you did to me."

She took one step closer.

"Explain. Right now."

These were not the eyes that had put a price on me yesterday.