The Nightmare Walks In

Giselle opened the door without a word and stepped inside. No matter the situation, she never hurried. Her steps were calm and measured, as if it were only natural that she would follow me in. Before sitting on the sofa, she rummaged through the cabinet first. Thank fuck. There was still some liquor left. I grabbed a glass with its bottom scratched to hell along with the bottle and set them on the table. Giselle was already sitting exactly where I had been about to sit. The smile she'd shown earlier was gone, replaced by a blank, expressionless face as she stared vacantly into space. Since I'd rather die than sit next to her, I moved the drinking setup to the kitchen. Standing there, I poured the liquor into the glass. Until it overflowed. So the nightmares could never find me. But I'd already opened the door for the nightmare, welcomed it in as a guest.

“You're late. Must've been somewhere, huh?”

That casual tone scraped my insides raw like the bottom of the glass. My fingers trembled like I had Parkinson's. I pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in my mouth, hoping to calm down. But the match just wouldn't light. No matter how many times I struck it, the shaking in my hand sent sparks flying everywhere. As I muttered curses while staring at the match, a hand as white as porcelain reached out. A small orange flame bloomed in her palm like a tiny flower. I held the cigarette to the fire and blew smoke straight into Giselle's face. But her ruby eyes didn't even flinch as they stayed locked on mine.

“Feeling a little calmer now, Ain?”

Instead of answering, I knocked back the drink. The cold liquid sliding down my throat slowly set my chest and everything below it on fire. But it wasn't enough. I filled the glass again. Until the bottle ran dry. My hand started shaking like a damn cripple again. The frustration wouldn't go away, so I hurled the glass at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wall. The sound of shattering fragments and splashing liquor grated on my ears. Giselle didn't even glance in the direction of the thrown glass. She was still close to me, staring only at me. She turned, walked back to the sofa, and sat down without making a sound. That dress clinging to every curve of her body was something she wore only to show me. I hadn't forgotten a single thing—not her doll-like stiff gait, her hand movements, or that outfit.

“I guess you really didn't hear it back then.”

Giselle muttered something incomprehensible, then let out a small, rare sigh.

“Why the hell are you here….”

It seemed Iris's stuttering habit had infected me. Instead of answering my question, Giselle simply recited the lines she'd prepared.

“Let's talk, Ain. I came because I wanted to have a conversation with you.”

“Talk…? You want to talk…? You and me…?”

But I wasn't trailing off because I was shy like Iris. My words were slurring because I was so furious my teeth were practically chattering.

I buried my face in the rag that had been lying in the kitchen. It was the right choice. This rag that reeked of dishwater calmed me down more than the liquor or the cigarette. Once I pushed down the awareness that I was in the same space as Giselle, my head cooled off quickly.

“Talk, yeah, talking's great. But Giselle, why the fuck does it have to be right now?”

“I wanted to clear up a misunderstanding. I was certain you were misunderstanding me.”

“What kind of fucking misunderstanding? That cryptic way you talk has always been goddamn awful. I'm only remembering it clearly now.”

I still couldn't face her like a coward, so I kept talking while staring into the darkness the rag provided.

“The rumors aren't true, Ain. As always. Victor… His Grace the Grand Duke and I have no connection whatsoever. I've heard he already has someone he's promised to marry.”

My thoughts wouldn't connect properly. I only picked up the words 'Grand Duke' and 'marriage' and tried desperately to make sense of the situation.

…Was this bitch seriously making excuses to me right now, claiming she had nothing to do with that bastard from the North? Why? Why now, instead of when I was soaked and groveling like a dog begging her? But this body of Ain's obeyed Giselle's words whether I wanted it to or not. No matter how hard I tried to push the thoughts away, some part of my heart still felt relieved by her excuses.

“You even know his name. Looks like you're plenty close to me. People who don't know each other don't usually get escorted out of a carriage. Yeah. Looks real nice. If you were any closer, you'd probably get a room and start playing house.”

“I refused him at every turn. It must have been something the families arranged. They would have known it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would draw attention if it happened in the plaza.”

“Oh, is that so. But Giselle, there's one thing I don't understand.”

“Tell me, Ain.”

I lifted my head from the rag and looked at her. Even though our eyes met, thanks to her explanation, my mind wasn't as chaotic as before. I picked up the cigarette that had fallen to the floor, still lit, and took a drag.

“Why the hell did you have to come all the way to my house to make these excuses? What are we to each other? You ended everything, Giselle. You ended it all with your own hands, with that expression on your face.”

“Where is the ring?”

“…What?”

Giselle kept spitting out words that had nothing to do with mine. Her words scattered like broken glass, throwing my head into confusion.

“I'm talking about our ring, Ain. Are you keeping it safe?”

“Giselle, did you eat something fucked up? You have the nerve to ask for that with your own mouth?”

My fingers clenched so hard the cigarette snapped. The flame died as the ash that fell to the floor slowly turned gray. Giselle walked over with those same calm steps and began opening the drawers by the bed one by one.

“Ah, here it is. It's practically our portrait, isn't it, Ain? We went to the workshop together to have it made. We engraved each other's initials on the silver…”

“If you don't put that down right now, I might just twist your neck and kill you.”

I growled through gritted teeth. The smile on Giselle's lips that had been there a moment ago suddenly dropped like dead weight. She placed the ring back in the drawer, closed it, and returned to sit on the sofa.

“Has the misunderstanding been cleared up a little, Ain? I can sit here for hours if that's what it takes for your anger to subside.”

I never thought that old-fashioned, fairy-tale-princess way of speaking would make me nauseous. It used to be my gospel, my faith. Now I just wanted to gouge out my own cochlea so her words couldn't reach it.

“Will you talk to me once you've calmed down? Any time spent with you is never boring. But I don't want to worry my father by returning home too late, Ain.”

“Ain, Ain, every other word. Didn't I just tell you? That your way of talking has always been fucking awful. How about getting to the point and getting the hell out of my house?”

My curses didn't fluster her at all. Only then did she slowly turn her gaze around the room, observing it.

“The house we'll live in together will be far more beautiful than this. I want to grow lots of flowers. Oh, animals might be fine too. You've loved dogs ever since you were little, Ain.”

I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare as soon as possible. What if I killed Giselle right now? Grab a sword, stab her to death, then slit my own throat immediately.

'Fucking romantic. Absolutely not.'

Anyone would call that a lovers' suicide. Even if Giselle forgot everything after a regression, I was passing. I'd remember. It would only add one more shitty memory every time I saw her face.

“Giselle, maybe I've drunk too much and my brain's broken, so let me ask. Do you remember when I returned from the war, you threw the ring away right in front of my fucking eyes?”

“I can't forget a single memory of you, Ain. I remember everything as clearly as if it happened yesterday.”

“Do you realize that what you're doing now has absolutely no connection to what you did back then?”

“It's connected by love, Ain. I love you. Our souls are bound together.”

“Haha, Giselle. Mine's just been ripped to shreds. You ripped it. With those tiny, pretty hands of yours, without leaving a trace.”

The real relief was that I wasn't falling for her completely contextless confession of love. The thought that if I'd heard it even a day or an hour earlier, I might have knelt again and sworn my whole life to her made cold sweat break out all over me.

“But I saw you at the Academy, Ain.”

“Yeah, I saw you too. How could I miss those rat-like eyes of yours sparkling?”

“You got angry for my sake, didn't you?”

“…Say that again.”

Giselle approached me and pressed the back of her hand to my cheek. Her body temperature was always colder than her pale skin suggested.

“When Max was bothering you, you got angry for my sake, didn't you, Ain?”

I slapped her hand away so hard it made a sound. Her rejected hand floated in the air. But Giselle didn't care and came close again. The coldness radiating from her clinging shoulders and stomach touched my body. She grabbed her reddened hand with the other and whispered with a smile.

“I'm happy, Ain.”

There was no problem with any of it. Because I had only been faithful to Giselle. In the end, even her poisonous personality always came back to me. To her love for Ain.

Giselle's selfishness was something I could tolerate if I dismissed it as a child's tantrum. In the end, the blood and flesh that made up Giselle, her ingredient list, was Ain. The past tense is important. From the moment she abandoned me, everything that made her up stopped being any of my concern.

Her expressionless face only ever melted in front of Ain. Only Ain could see her cold demeanor crumble. Only Ain in the whole world never missed a single word she uttered. But I am no longer Ain Magnolia. I can stop throwing my body into her childish nonsense like a moth to a flame.

So, with maximum resistance, I grabbed Giselle's wrist and roughly dragged her out of my house.

“It hurts, Ain. My wrist is throbbing.”

“Shut your fucking mouth. Don't you dare come near my house again.”

“You seemed very close with that nun. She was a teacher invited to the Academy, wasn't she? I'm glad you made a friend, Ain. But I can't help wanting your interest in me to be greater.”

She always expressed jealousy in these long, roundabout ways. Now I understand you. The fact that you haven't grown even a little since the first time I met you. Despite claiming her wrist hurt, Giselle's face didn't crease in the slightest. Even when I practically threw her, as she collapsed in the yard she kept looking at me and continued speaking.

“Get lost. If you come again, I'll kill you.”

“I'll come again, Ain. As many times as it takes.”

Did this crazy bitch have a dick in her ear or something? Oh, right. She was still a virgin. Thankfully, I'd never stuck my dick in any of Giselle's holes. We'd only shared childish kisses every day. That was a relief. At least there was one less thing I'd given her.

BANG!

I slammed the door so hard it felt like it would fly off its hinges and rummaged through the cabinet. There was no more liquor. Goddamn it, that was the last of it. Fuck. I didn't want to go outside where Giselle might still be lingering. I collapsed onto the bare floor, stuck a cigarette between my teeth, and lit it while gnawing on it. I finally understood why this godforsaken world called itself a romance fantasy. The fact that you had to carefully cultivate romance with a crazy bitch whose head was a flower garden was the real fantasy. What greater delusion could there be?

I went to the bed and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. I picked up the pillow that reeked of stale sweat and pressed it to my face. So I wouldn't catch the lily-like perfume scent Giselle had left behind in the room. So I wouldn't chase after her lingering fragrance anymore.