The Heavy Downpour Returns
It’s a scene that feels so eerily familiar, I could swear I’ve seen it before. STRONG__HAPPY END reached at last.
But right before my life slipped away in Mace’s arms, I noticed something new. The rain wasn’t falling yet.
The poison hadn’t left me dizzy yet.
Right here in the middle of the tree-lined path, just like the day I died. The sky looked exactly like it did then, too.
I should be grateful the regression didn’t trigger the second she got poisoned.
The author’s personality would’ve made that story even messier.
I can still see Giselle’s old estate in the distance, the Evergreen Mansion, its manicured gardens and the stone steps I begged to be allowed back on.
If I walk just a little farther, Giselle’s relics will still be standing there, unchanged, in the downpour.
I turn around just like before.
But I have to go somewhere else first.
Even if Mace won’t meet me face to face, the beggars don’t matter.
I’ll only ruin what I touch anyway.
Just in case.
Maybe it’s simple spite.
The only feeling I have left is to slam it against someone.
My steps toward the bridge stayed steady.
My body had changed long ago, but the poison still lingered.
My heart still sat so cold inside me.
I finally understood I was the canary that had been flapping around in its cage, thinking it had freedom.
Giselle’s madness, Iris’s love for family over me, none of it was my fault.
I touched them, and they broke. My life was abandoned again.
Of course. The author would chew me up every single time I touched her creations.
I didn’t even feel resentment anymore. Just me, for once.
The rain started again, a downpour hammering my clothes and body like hail.
My body grew heavier, but my steps never slowed compared to the first time.
I ended up looking like a soaked rat in front of the solicitor under the bridge.
The yellow-toothed man mistook me for a customer and rushed over excitedly.
After shaking the rain off my hand, I punched straight into the center of his face.
Crack.
All kinds of fluid flew from his broken face.
Instead of cold rain, hot blood sprayed my fist.
Adrenaline hardened in the air like cream.
I had been drunk before, but my head didn’t split like a watermelon.
I stomped on him for a long time, then kicked and pounded with my fist.
A group of beggars started creeping closer to watch.
None of them tried to stop me.
My violence kept rising.
I didn’t stop until I felt the solicitor’s bones snap.
The man under the tent and the one gambling in the hole started crawling out.
It felt good to beat them while they screamed to be heard over the rain.
I crushed the still-breathing solicitor under my foot.
I stabbed my waist sword into the gravel and gave a warning.
Listen up, beggars. Stay away from that nun who comes here.
Deal drugs, sell, stab, suck, whatever. If you die, even better.
But talk to her and I’ll kill you. Beg for money and I’ll stab you. Take gifts and I’ll poke you to death.
My targets stayed completely silent.
My business was done. They’d figured it out.
If not, I could always kill myself.
Time to go home and lock myself away.
The ending of this tune was pure, and my plan had been perfect from the start.
I’d fill the bunker with liquor and cigarettes and just die right away.
I walked the riverside path up from the bridge.
Mud ruined my shoes and pants as I climbed the hill.
And fuck, her figure was still burned into my eyes. The woman before death.
There she was.
Under the eaves in front of a closed store.
Mace leaned against the wall, holding a Bible, shielding herself from the rain.
She looked just like she did when she went out for her hobbies.
If I told her I’d pulled that sprout out by the roots, would she be shocked?
Mace was dressed in her nun’s habit again. Not the one Iris bought. The one I knew so well.
Now she wouldn’t be chased out of the Academy or bullied.
As long as one bastard was gone, she’d live quietly even if she couldn’t mingle with people.
That was good. She looked best in that habit.
Mace’s eyes weren’t closed by drugs anymore.
She gazed at the sky with her usual bright eyes, admiring the clouds and the storm.
I passed by her, head down, heading home.
You bastard. Not beside Mace.
Stop pretending to shield her and just get lost where you belong.
Your home isn’t sunny. It’s way below that.
Ain, you must not be human.
Not even an hour had passed.
You ruined it yourself. You worthless bastard.
My fist was bruised from the punch. My wrist was swollen.
But I no longer felt pain.
I’d have to endure it nonstop now, so I should get used to it.
My cigarette pack and matches were crumpled from the rain.
I put one in my mouth. The wet tobacco leaf and filter tasted disgusting.
I sucked on the taste that reminded me of my own spit.
I tried lighting wet matches against the closed store door again and again. Nothing happened.
Thank God Mace’s bangs were hanging over her face like a curtain, hiding it from me.
You’re not supposed to smoke on the street.
Her suddenly raspy voice and the words I knew well drained the strength from my hands.
The cigarette and match slipped from my mouth and sank into the puddle at my feet.
I turned my head and looked at her.
Her eyes were full of curiosity and sympathy for the weak, just like the first time we met in class.
Her mouth no longer stayed shut. She grinned as usual.
Oh my, you’re hurt.
Her gaze reached my hand, then my swollen wrist.
She stepped forward without hesitation and placed both hands on the swollen spot.
I wish she hadn’t closed her eyes. I’d been watching her like this for a while now.
It must have hurt. Please hold still a little longer?
The first Blessing I received from Mace was warm.
But it was much weaker than the warmth I knew. More like a slight fever.
The swelling in my wrist slowly subsided from that weak heat.
Mace finished her Blessing and looked at my face again.
It wasn’t the eyes closed that was the problem.
I simply couldn’t face her anymore.
I couldn’t express my gratitude for the healing and just stared at the puddle widening around me on the ground.
I could feel her gaze still fixed on me, not moving.
She was probably staring at my scarred face and empty sleeve.
Her hand, which had moved too quickly for me to react, lifted my wet bangs.
Her expression, looking up at my eyes that trembled harder than my wrist, was unusually serious.
The warmth her hand transmitted reached my cheek, not my scar.
You’ve seen this place before, haven’t you?
At this moment I had no memory of meeting Mace.
As I left the mansion and before that, Iris had shown me things that weren’t in the previous life.
Giselle’s clinging following me with some insignificant excuse.
Every loop, every regression, every death.
I wondered if something was left behind each time.
To that noisy voice asking me a question, I wanted to answer yes.
I nodded vigorously and wanted to take her warmth, her devotion, as my own.
Yes. I’ve seen it before. I love you, Mace.
Just saying that, maybe she’d come back to me.
Maybe she’d dig up the dirt spilled on my grave and blow light into it.
This time, together for the festival, for the future…
No, wake up from the dream.
A Bad Ending with a title full of deep malice and mockery would simply add one more death.
Did you remember the next ending title?
You didn’t. I get tricked again, you’re an accomplice.
I won’t connect with anyone from now on.
Enjoy yourself.
As Douglas said, if my life, worse than a bug, being cut off again and again is so enjoyable for you, I’ll show you as much as you want.
But I will never show you what it means to be abandoned again. Remember that.
You’ll only see one bastard dying in a matchbox-sized room drinking and smoking.
Enjoy it. The author really has a wonderful view of works.
I slowly pulled Mace’s hand away from my burning cheek and stepped back.
Each time I moved away, I saw her hand reaching out like she was sorry.
This time, I had definitely died.
Giselle hadn’t torn my love apart. She’d just left a scratch, right?
But this heartbreak I experienced was like putting my love in a coffin and reciting a eulogy.
Once I left the eaves, my body started getting wet again.
From now on I’d have to live my entire life in this cold.
Mace hesitated and tried to follow me out from under the eaves.
Don’t come… Please…
The bug’s cry begging the approaching sun trembled.
Mace’s eyes, hearing my words, started to tremble just like mine.
Her raised hand slowly lowered, and she stood there with a dazed expression in the rain.
I’d had many expressions I didn’t know about her.
She always smiled at me, so I never noticed.
I only wanted to see the face like the stained glass in the prayer room.
I might have learned more about Mace.
For example, that expression that was clearly tears, not rain, as she sniffled.
I turned my body away from Mace.
I forced my feet that wouldn’t stick to the ground to lift and started walking one step at a time.
I, I teach theology at the Academy. You can come find me anytime…
That was harsh.
Now I couldn’t go to the Academy.
Good. Ain. One more place disappeared.
As the sun got closer, the wings of the wax bug would surely melt.
