Chapter 17
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: The Urge to Slash My Wrist
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I want to grab the scissors and slice across my wrist lengthwise to see the blood flowing out from inside.
I open my eyes.
A familiar sight greets me.
A nightmare.
A goddamn nightmare.
Crash.
The sound of shattering glass rang out.
Familiar air, familiar atmosphere.
My childhood home, where my father and mother lived.
It wasn't my home.
A house is defined as a fixed space and structure built for people to eat, sleep, and live in.
A family circle. Or the living space, household, family itself.
My house wasn't a family. It wasn't a space where normal life was possible. We didn't even think of each other as family.
That's why I never called my house a home.
Ever since coming to this world, I've been having this dream I hadn't seen in ages far too often.
What does it feel like?
Obviously, like shit.
"You're always like that!"
"Like what?"
"You little shit! You goddamn bastard! How dare you glare at an adult like that? Who taught you to act that way!"
"You did. Ha."
I stood up from my seat.
The child I was trembled in fear every time I had this dream, but the adult I'd become shivered with excitement whenever it came.
Because I could settle old grudges from the past.
The child I was couldn't resist the violence of the parents who beat me in the dream.
But the adult I'd become was different.
I'd worked hard at exercise, built up muscle, gotten a solid enough build that no one could push me around.
I had one goal.
I wanted to beat the hell out of my parents, even if it was just in my dreams.
'Once I actually did it once, the dream stopped coming after that.'
Honestly, I was a little glad.
Before, the dream always cut off right when they threw the glass bottle at me, so I never got to enjoy it fully.
Seemed like I could finally get some revenge after all this time.
"You, you little shit! An adult's talking to you, and you're sassing back...!"
"You still think you're the boss? Huh?"
I stood up from my seat.
A laugh escaped me.
I'd wanted this moment over and over.
In reality, they were probably withered old wrecks by now, drained of strength from age and illness, or maybe they'd keeled over dead somewhere.
In my trauma, they were always giants in their prime, swinging their violence around.
But now?
They're smaller than me!
Confidence surged through me.
I clenched my fist tight.
The sensation of power filling my hand was vivid.
Then, I felt something off.
"...Huh?"
My line of sight was low. Unnaturally low.
I'd clearly stood up, but I wasn't looking down at my father—I was looking up at him.
I lowered my head to look at my body.
Smooth, pale skin. Academy uniform. Breasts swelling out like cliffs.
"Why...?"
A thin, high-pitched, terrified girl's voice struck my ears.
In the dream, I was Ivy Lane.
No time to panic—his palm filled my vision.
Slap!
My head whipped to the side.
"Kehk..."
This isn't a dream. This can't be a dream.
No, it has to be a dream.
Why? Why the hell?
What did I do wrong?
Riiiing—.
Tinnitus rang in my ears.
"How dare you! Glare! Like that!"
Violence punctuated every word, every syllable.
I raised my arms to resist, but I couldn't block the fist.
The moment it hit, I screamed as my arm bent backward.
"Ah, agh... It hurts, it hurts..."
My hair was grabbed.
My scalp tore.
Pain exploded as my body flew into the air, then slammed into the floor.
Thud.
Breath caught in my throat. I couldn't breathe.
My ribs stabbed into my lungs like spears, my chest throbbing sharply.
"Heok, kehk... Kuugh..."
A kick flew at me.
Stomach, chest, face.
The impacts landed without mercy.
My body curled into a shrimp shape.
Get up.
Fight back.
I'm an adult man, I have the strength to fight.
My body betrayed me.
My memories and mind betrayed me too.
The ingrained terror revived with every blow, paralyzing my entire body.
I'm scared.
So terrifying.
The father standing before me was a god in my house—and a demon at the same time.
"I'm sorry, I was wrong..."
My mouth moved on its own.
I don't want it to hurt less.
I don't want to die.
"Please spare me. Dad, I'm sorry. I won't do it again... Please..."
Tears flowed.
Snot, saliva, blood mixed on my face, a total mess.
I crawled on the floor, clinging to his pant leg.
"Don't hit me... It hurts... So much, it hurts so much..."
My voice trembled pathetically.
Miserable.
I cried.
I barked like a dog.
I begged.
Someone stop me.
Anyone.
He looked down at me and laughed.
Then, the broken glass bottle in his raised hand glinted.
The glass bottle punched a hole in my skull.
Drip, drip.
Something hot flowed from my head.
I don't want to die.
I forced my body up.
He looked flustered.
Blood covered my vision.
Strength drained away.
I gripped one of the large glass shards on the floor. I squeezed too hard—blood oozed from my hand.
"You...! You little shit! You sassing me now?"
I hesitated for a long time before opening my mouth.
"...Yes."
I charged.
A small girl's body lunging at a burly adult man.
I stabbed the blade in my hand—the glass shard—into the man's throat.
And twisted.
Blood spurted from his neck.
The two major blood vessels to the brain are on either side of the neck. Looked like I'd hit an artery.
Soon, the man's body went limp.
Thud.
The massive body collapsed.
I needed to confirm.
I gripped the shard embedded in his neck again.
When I pulled it out, the leftover blood trickled down his neckline.
Pale as death.
Eyes still open.
He might still be alive.
"See? There's still blood left."
A dead body has no blood. Don't be fooled by pale skin.
Blood was still pouring out.
I knew he wouldn't die this easily.
"Got something to say? Say it now, before you die for sure. Huh? Maybe I'll forgive you if you apologize."
I knew.
I knew my mind wasn't in a normal state right now, and that talking to myself like this wouldn't get a response.
But if I stayed in this dream any longer, I'd go insane.
I wanted out, fast.
And then, my father spoke.
His mouth twitched.
"You're selfish."
"I know. More importantly, how are you even talking? Must be because it's a dream, right?"
My dead father's eyes rolled around, searching for me.
"You can't save others. You're the kind of person who can't save anyone. It's because of you. Everything that happened was all because of you."
"...Mom ran away because you smashed her head with a liquor bottle."
"That bitch grabbed my head first!"
"I know."
I saw it. Of course I know.
But... you shouldn't have shown that mess to your kid. You bastard.
"Why are you at the academy?"
"...What?"
"This is a dream. You knew that from the start."
"......"
"I'll ask again. Why are you at the academy?"
I couldn't answer the question.
The reason I was at the academy was because that's how the original story went.
I'd vaguely judged that sticking by the protagonist was the safest bet.
"You don't know either?"
"I chose the safest path."
"No, you just chose the path you know. The easy one."
"Is that wrong?"
"You've got infinite chances now, and you plan to stick to the familiar path?"
Tsk.
I clicked my tongue.
"Die nicely. Mind your own business."
"You can't be a hero. Never. Someone who can't even protect themselves, saving others? Think you're something special just because you're by the protagonist?"
"...Shut up."
He bellowed loudly.
"You! You wanted to be like the protagonist! That's why you went to the academy!"
"I said shut up."
Ha ha ha!
He laughed.
My father never laughed once when I was around in life, so I don't even know if that's really his laugh.
What's important right now is that it pissed me off.
"Why do you care?"
"You're not Ivy Lane."
"...What are you talking about?"
"You're the kind who survives to the end, not the kind who saves others."
Selfish bastard.
Just die.
With those final words, I woke from the dream.
. . .
Time.
Status Window.
[Abnormal Status: Drug (Worsened)]
[Hallucinations / Nightmares / Mental Disorder / Other Side Effects May Occur]
[Action Failed]
[Periodic drug intake required. Without it, condition worsens rapidly. With intake, worsens slowly.]
Worsened...
Guess the syringe wasn't the answer after all.
'Both ways it worsens.'
My head throbbed.
I looked at my wrist.
There were scissors in the drawer.
Should I cut my hair now?
Anyway, the dorm room's a wreck. I must've trashed the place thinking it was a dream...
Shards of glass littered the floor.
'When am I gonna clean this up.'
Ah, even twitching a finger feels exhausting.
My body's soaked in sweat, stamina at rock bottom.
I got up.
Slowly walked toward my room's window.
I glanced at the desk.
There was a gaudy gift box that didn't suit the place at all.
'...Forgot to toss it.'
I opened the box.
[Congratulations on becoming a Heart Soul Academy student.]
[Check the enclosed letter for entrance ceremony time and location.]
Ha, haha...
A hollow laugh escaped me.
This world is a game, I'm a character in the game, my goal is escape.
I took a deep breath.
I looked at my wrist.
Pale white skin.
Pale as a corpse.
A dead body doesn't have blood flowing.
I want to grab the scissors and slice across my wrist lengthwise to see the blood flowing out from inside, the thought slipped into my mind unbidden.
I walked to the drawer.
Opened it, reached for the scissors.
At that moment, I heard footsteps at the dorm door.
Knock knock.
Someone knocked.