Memories of Notre Dame Cathedral
Just die or don't— I should have gone all out. —From Sirmiia's Regret Diary
Thud. The sword I swung sliced through empty air. At the same time, the blue blade stopped exactly two centimeters from my shoulder. Cold sweat poured down my back.
'Shit...'
The attack failed, and I nearly lost my arm. It all felt so pointless. I hadn't even managed to scratch Angelica. A wave of despair hit me as I wondered if this was really all I amounted to. I felt utterly pathetic.
'I still haven't used my attribute mana... I didn't go all out.'
If I'd enchanted my eyes with lightning mana, I would've seen it. If I'd circulated lightning mana through my body, I could've dodged. If I'd imbued my sword with lightning mana, I could've cut her. 'Don't let your pride as a swordsman get in the way. I'm a magic swordsman.'
I clung to that excuse, rationalizing it in the ugliest way possible. I convinced myself that if I'd gone all out, I could've won. Lifting my head, I looked at Angelica's face. She was still smiling. She didn't seem to care whether I dropped the act and cursed at her or attacked her with my sword. She simply watched me with that quiet, unchanging smile.
"Sirmiia, you'll be staying in my room for the time being."
'What the hell is wrong with you, you crazy bitch.'
Anger surged, but lashing out wouldn't help. Violence was already off the table. The only option left was to resolve this like a civilized person—through conversation.
"Angelica, as your friend, I'm giving you some advice. Let's settle this with a talk—"
Smack. I didn't even finish the sentence. It was the loudest slap I'd ever heard. My lip split, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.
'Why did you hit me?'
It hurt. And it was unfair. The curse should have been lifted, yet here I was again, feeling weak like some helpless girl. Tears welled up in my eyes.
"W-wait! Let's talk this out—"
Smack. Another slap to the right cheek. When I wiped my lip with my finger, dark red blood came away. A wave of misery crashed over me.
"Hic... ugh, sob..."
In the end, I cried again like some pathetic girl. I didn't even know why. Getting hit just made me feel weak. And a weak heart breaks easily. Angelica's sudden change from the caring, motherly figure I knew tore straight into my already fractured mind.
"Why are you doing this to me? Hic... Angelica. Let's just talk—"
Smack. My right cheek was so swollen that the skin had split open. Angelica clearly had no intention of talking.
"Sirmiia, you'll be staying in my room for the time being."
"...Yes. Hic."
In the end, I gave in without resistance. My mind had been completely ground down by the violence—I couldn't take it anymore. I still didn't understand why my heart had become so fragile. The moment I was hit, my brain simply told me not to resist, so I obeyed.
Seeming satisfied with my answer, Angelica slowly approached and pulled me into her arms.
"Our Sirmiia must have been in so much pain, right? It's all because I love you. I had no choice but to hit you because I care about you so much. You understand, don't you?"
There was only one answer I could give now.
"Yes..."
Back in Angelica's room, decorated with mismatched dolls, I received another round of healing with water droplets. My cheeks and lips returned to their pristine state as if they'd never been injured. But the throbbing, gouged-out feeling in my heart remained untouched.
Once my condition stabilized, reality came crashing down. Since things had come to this, I decided there was no point in keeping up the act. I might as well speak in my natural tone from now on. Angelica was already a lunatic, and after everything we'd been through, there was no need to pretend to be some innocent girl around her.
Of course, the moment I switched to casual speech, another slap came flying.
Smack.
"Ah...?"
I didn't understand why I'd been hit, but I stayed silent and lowered my eyes. Clasping my trembling hands together pitifully, I waited for Angelica's next words. After being slapped so many times, I'd learned through experience that whether my opinion was right or wrong, doing what Angelica wanted meant fewer hits.
"Sirmiia, speak in your natural tone."
"Even when I do, you hit me. Why—"
Smack. Another slap, right on cue. I couldn't understand it at all.
'I spoke normally, just like you asked.'
"Sirmiia, speak in your natural tone."
I didn't know what to do anymore. I simply lowered my head without saying anything. But apparently that wasn't allowed either. Angelica grabbed my chin and forced my head up, then slapped me again.
"Sirmiia. Speak in your natural tone. One more time."
'Am I some kind of toy to her?'
Anger boiled deep inside me. I'd cried, then gotten angry—my emotions were all over the place.
"No, seriously, what the fuck! I am speaking—"
Smack.
Ah. I got it. I finally understood what she didn't like.
"Sirmiia, speak in your natural tone."
"I'm sorry for joking around... Angelica."
Angelica smiled gently.
"It's fine. You won't joke around anymore, right?"
"No..."
"Our Sirmiia must have been in so much pain, right? It's all because I love you. I had no choice but to hit you because I care about you so much. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes..."
In her eyes, this meek version of me was the real Sirmiia. She dismissed any behavior that wasn't demure as mere joking around. No matter how much I tried to explain, she wouldn't listen. It wasn't just a lack of empathy. Angelica was simply insane. It just hadn't shown on the surface until now.
I wondered if the Captain even knew about this side of her. No, there was a high chance he didn't. He wasn't the type to send someone like this to me. He must have sent her thinking of the Angelica he knew—the normal one.
My mind was in turmoil. I didn't know when the hero would leave, but I worried whether my sanity would survive until then. At first, there had been a clear reason—the curse. But now that the curse was gone, I couldn't understand why my heart had become so fragile, like some helpless girl's.
Right now, I was no different from a dead, withered tree. Everything inside me was rotten and decayed, and without something to lean on, I couldn't stand. Still... it was okay for now. I still had the Captain. He liked me, after all.
'It's still okay.'
Ten days had passed since I started living with Angelica. During that time, I hadn't been allowed to meet anyone, including the Captain. This wasn't simple overprotection. Who the hell protected someone like this? To Angelica, I was no longer a friend. I was just a toy she could play with whenever she wanted.
The entire time I stayed in her room, I was nothing more than a dress-up doll. Whatever clothes she told me to wear, I had to wear them. There was no option to refuse. If I didn't wear them, I'd get hit. But when she brought back a maid outfit, even I had to draw the line.
It wasn't a normal maid uniform. It was a French maid outfit. My male dignity was in danger. I wasn't even sure if that dignity still existed, but my instincts rejected it anyway. I tried to run, saying there was no way I'd wear it, but it was a pathetic attempt at rebellion. She caught me instantly, slapped me several times, and forced it on me anyway.
Whenever Angelica brought over some bizarre costume, the same routine repeated: I'd run, get caught, get slapped, and end up crying in her arms. No scars remained—because she used healing magic. With a benevolent expression, she'd treat me and repeat the same words every time.
"Our Sirmiia must have been in so much pain, right? It's all because I love you. I had no choice but to hit you because I care about you so much. You understand, don't you?"
And of course, my answer was always the same.
"Yes..."
My life was a mess. Why were all the people around me lunatics? Except for the Captain, of course. This suffocating lifestyle was exhausting, but without her permission, I couldn't even take a single step outside the room. I tried protesting once, timidly.
"Angelica, isn't this... basically imprisonment?"
She didn't answer. As always, her right hand simply rose.
There wasn't much to do in the room. Whenever Angelica went to the prayer room, I practiced my attribute mana in secret. Training inside the cathedral's barrier was incredibly effective. It demanded dozens of times more concentration than usual, which sharpened my mana control and significantly increased my mana reserves. But I had to be careful not to get caught. Angelica hated it when I practiced magic. No—she hated it when I used mana at all. So all my training had to happen while she was away.
I wanted to swing my sword too, but since I couldn't leave the room at all, sword training was impossible. The room was too small, and sneaking out was out of the question. Why was sneaking out impossible? Well, a few days ago, I'd tried to leave while she was gone to practice swordsmanship. The moment I stepped out, an alarm spell activated, and Angelica teleported after me and dragged me straight back. Her expression at the time had been so terrifying I couldn't even describe it. She slapped me for six straight hours until my skin nearly tore. Thanks to that, I now had trauma so severe that I couldn't take a single step outside the room alone.
As if that wasn't enough, she tried to carve a spell into my back. I'd resisted violently then. I wasn't a slave—what right did she have to brand a spell onto my body?
"Angelica, have you lost your mind?"
"This is a necessary choice for both Sirmiia's and my happiness."
Honestly, I thought she'd crossed a line. I wasn't even sure if a line had ever existed in the first place, but this definitely went too far. It was treating me like I wasn't even a person. I decided that this time, I would resist her properly. And this time, I used my attribute mana—the one I hadn't used before.
I could feel that my training inside the barrier hadn't been in vain. Not only was my precision when manifesting a sword with mana improved, but even moving mana within the barrier had become faster. In short, I'd adapted to this situation. However, what I'd been mistaken about was that Angelica hadn't gone all out last time either.
The moment she sensed my killing intent, she immediately made me an offer.
"You want to fight that badly? If we're doing this, let's do it properly. This place is too cramped. We'd better go somewhere more open."
It was the same thought I had, so I agreed without hesitation.