Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Really Save the Young Lady (4)
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Dia de Menesil.
She was alone. It hadn't been that way from the moment she was born—not continuously—but at some point, it definitely had become so.
Born with the label of Young Lady, she was confined to a prison called a room.
She would open her eyes, scream, pound on the door, and beg for drugs. That was how most of Dia's days began.
When did it start?
Yeah, when did it become like this?
There had certainly been happy moments as well. Something warm and soft lingered deep in her heart.
A mother and sister as warm as the sun. And a father as gentle and serene as the moon.
It felt like she had lived without ever knowing the concept of deprivation. If anything, there had been excess—never any lack.
The notion of fear was absent from Dia's mental dictionary, too. Everywhere had been warm and joyful.
'Abera... de Menesil.'
She quietly recalled the name in her mind.
What formed was the image of an endlessly warm sister. A sister as warm as a bonfire.
'You're such a lovable girl to be my little sister. I'm so happy.'
Abera had always whispered those words while rubbing her cheeks.
However, even that memory no longer felt certain.
It might have just been a pleasant dream—or merely a vision seen after an injection.
Inheritance.
Those two words had upended Abera and Dia's lives entirely.
Yes, the "when" probably split into before and after learning that cursed word: inheritance.
Suddenly, her sister started meeting throngs of people frantically.
Why? Isn't playing with me more fun?
People all agreed in praising Abera as a true Young Lady, but to Dia's eyes, it was nothing but an incomprehensible masquerade.
Unfortunately, it hadn't taken long to discover the reason.
From some point on, her sister had become overly conscious of her public image.
That was the day Dia's hell began.
Abera's gaze, now treating Dia as a rival, was so chillingly cold that it felt like hell to her.
Dia hadn't wanted anything. Not the inheritance, not becoming the real power behind the family.
She had only wanted to get along with her sister like before.
'Dia, you really look like a Young Lady.'
Abera's words still echoed in her ears even now.
Her sister's wary expression had been so cold, her tone so terrifying.
And so, Dia had learned a kind of survival skill. Even if it was fake, she wanted her sister's affection. She wanted to be hated just a little less.
To avoid that coldness, Dia acted as twisted as possible.
The first day she flipped the dining table over, tore books to shreds, and screamed like a madwoman.
The mansion's servants—even her parents—had looked at her with puzzled eyes, but Dia had felt a strange sense of relief.
Because Abera had smiled brightly upon seeing it.
'Mother! Father! Dia isn't really like this. You know that, right? I'll take good care of her! So please don't hate Dia!'
Even if it was another act, Abera had cried out like that and embraced Dia in front of everyone.
Even if it meant becoming a mere doll, Dia was simply glad.
Sister must hate me because she thinks I'm interested in the inheritance, that I'm greedy for power. That was what Dia believed.
So she kept trying to act twisted in front of others, over and over.
As Dia behaved that way, the sisters' dangerous friendship was barely maintained.
However, what she hadn't anticipated was that one day, Abera suddenly brought drugs.
'Dia. You'll do anything if it's for your sister's request... right?'
A myriad of worries flooded her mind, but before she could even finish judging them, she nodded first. She had to do what Abera wanted to stay close.
Dia was always watching her sister's mood, stiffening her body, trembling, and hesitating.
...And the drug Abera administered to her was a single 'curse'.
A curse named Sao.
At first, it was terrifying. The syringe needle was scary, and the sensation of her film of consciousness snapping was utterly horrifying.
Do you know how much terror comes from the alien feeling of moments you can't remember existing? When she came to, her body was always covered in wounds. Her back hurt the most.
'Dia. Don't be like that—just one more time. The more you do it, the better it feels. See.'
One more time.
The last one wasn't done right, so one more time.
This time it's a little different, so one more time.
This is really the last one. One more time. Just once.
Abera's demands had no end. Dia simply bit her lip and endured it quietly.
And that continued precisely until...
"Sister... can't you give me drugs?"
...until those words came from Dia's own mouth.
Abera had never smiled so brightly as she did then.
Why had Dia uttered those words herself? Even Dia was curious. But the reason came with just a little thought. Because that's how she made Abera seek her out.
After one shot, two, three more—now she truly craved the drugs.
When her memories blanked out, that stretch of time felt like it had flown by quickly.
Painful hours passed in the blink of an eye. Isn't this a good deal? Her brain was melting away. She was growing stupider.
Paradoxically, the stupider she got, the happier she became. Get stupid. Stupider.
What a wretched life. Living hooked on drugs, with "I want to die" perpetually on her lips.
Yet another paradox—after she had screamed "I want to die" over ten thousand times...
Dia realized it. The "I want to die" she had cried out so desperately was really "I don't want to live like this."
'Dia, you're really disqualified as a Young Lady. What are you going to do craving drugs like that?'
Liar.
Sister had tempted her first.
What a worthless life. She hadn't even minded becoming addicted to drugs just to impress her sister, but the moment she was hooked, Abera abandoned her.
She had wanted her sister in exchange for the drugs.
In the end, all she got was the drugs. No sister. Not by her side, and surely not in her heart either.
A bit more time passed, and Abera stopped showing her face entirely. Only the doctors came sporadically to inject her.
'Hell. A hellish life...'
She didn't have the courage to complain and demand that this cursed existence be changed somehow.
Just keep doing drugs and live. Forget everything through the drugs. When sister inherits everything in the Menesil family and becomes the real power, maybe something will get resolved.
She had been resigned to living with such pathetic thoughts.
Until...
"You... what the hell... are you."
Dia muttered unwittingly.
Toward the tall physician extending his large hand to her.
"I'm the Young Lady's personal physician. Not the other Young Lady—Dia Young Lady."
At those words, something surged up from the depths of her heart.
An inexplicable warmth emanated from Ganeghan's words, melting just a tiny bit of Dia's heart.
The melted ice inside her was forming massive waves in her heart.
"Then why... why did you only come now."
"It's not too late. If the Young Lady thinks she wants to change."
"As if I wouldn't want to change.... You... what... are you?"
As if I wouldn't want to change.
As if anyone would choose to live like this.
Why can you be so warm? Because it's not your problem? Or did it just look easy?
Dia gritted her teeth with an audible grind. Suddenly, everything felt infuriating.
It was a world that offered no warmth despite how desperately she craved it, and now this warmth approaching out of nowhere felt hateful—and something to guard against.
"Don't talk like it's so damn easy! What do you think you can change! I.... I! Sister told me to kick you out of this mansion. If I just do that, everything gets simple! You live, and I survive for now! Worry about staying alive before talking about changing lives, you idiot!"
"No. I can change it."
Ganeghan withdrew his hand and picked up the knife that had been thrown on the floor.
He wiped the blade with alcohol-soaked cotton, then suddenly began slashing at various parts of his own body.
On his arm, his wrist, the back of his hand—even his neck and under his eye, one cut each.
"Wha, wha, wha, what are you doing?!"
Dia cried out urgently, grabbing Ganeghan's arm with her bandage-wrapped hands.
But Ganeghan added more wounds to his body without hesitation.
"This gives you an alibi, Dia Young Lady. You did everything you could to drive me out."
"What....?"
"And even if Abera Young Lady dangles some condition, don't be tempted. I have more drugs."
"You...."
"And lastly, is this you holding my hand?"
"Ah, huh?"
Come to think of it, yes. Dia was clutching Ganeghan's hand tightly with both of hers.
If she wanted to deny it, she could just let go.
But she couldn't.
Dia had nothing. Nothing except the Menesil bloodline forced upon her from birth. Truly nothing.
But right now, it felt like she had gained one thing.
So, she couldn't let go. That small something gripped through the bandages.
"Just say you want to be saved. That's all it takes."
What's the difference from drugs? Dia muttered inwardly.
It was an illusion anyway.
A hallucination.
Nothing but sweet torture of false hope.
"....I, want to live."
Save me. Please.
Dia muttered.