The Letter the Evil Woman Awaits -2-
With a slight headache, Olivia's eyes fluttered shut.
Viewing will begin in 10 minutes.
She slowly pried open the eyes she'd squeezed shut. The familiar ceiling greeted her.
"Ha...."
A deflated laugh escaped her lips. Was she really going insane?
The bed was adorned with cute dolls, the room dressed in pink curtains like any ordinary noble lady's—her room from the past. It was exactly the same. Even the ceiling plastered with photos of Mikhail. Even the attachment doll with a Mikhail photo stuck to the bear's head—it was unchanged from a year ago.
Her voice slipped out involuntarily amid the bewilderment.
"This is real?"
She cautiously reached out and picked up the bear doll beside her. The attachment doll that Ricardo had thrown away. The soft, musty scent hit her just as before. The vivid realism made her think her mental illness was severe.
A meaningless chuckle bubbled up, but she couldn't hide the strange thrill in one corner of her heart. Because she was excited for the future she was about to witness.
So what if it was insanity? She was already a madwoman.
Lying in bed, Olivia carefully examined her legs. Smooth legs. A cute bear bandage on her knee, courtesy of Ricardo. Olivia gave her toes a slight flex.
Let's see if they move.
Sudden fear gripped her. Her lower body, immobile for the past year by her own will. Memories overlapped of it feeling like it wasn't even hers anymore.
Her eyes squeezed shut.
It moves...! It moves!
But her worries were unfounded. Her toes wiggled perfectly, making a mockery of her tightly shut eyes. Olivia shot up from the bed and stood straight on her own.
"...!"
Tears welled up. The sensation of the floor supporting her after so long. Olivia couldn't suppress the leaking smile.
"Hiet..."
A foolish laugh spilled from her lips. In this moment, she was glad to be insane. If she could feel walking again, even briefly, they could call her a mad bitch all they wanted.
A strange sense of fulfillment filled her body. Olivia began to feel certain. What she was about to see wasn't a nightmare.
She was this happy now—what must her past self have been like, undisturbed by her butler? Probably too blissful to think straight.
See? I wasn't wrong.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. The clock hands filled the quiet room.
Olivia turned to check the time. 11:59 PM. She recognized this date and hour.
Probably right at midnight?
The day she used black magic. The time she entered the room.
In truth, Olivia's memory of that day was incomplete. She remembered entering the room, but nothing after. Just a sharp sting, excruciating pain. Then she'd lost consciousness.
What she clearly recalled was entering at midnight. And Ricardo bursting in to disrupt her black magic. Nothing else.
Was it because she was too excited? Or the aftermath of the failed black magic?
I'll see why it happened now.
Time flowed on, hitting exactly midnight.
Blue text appeared.
A familiar voice came from beyond the door.
"This is all I need."
A flushed, excited voice. Like a child promised a toy by doting parents, brimming with joy—it opened the door and entered.
She was prettier back then than now.
Unlike her current dry white hair, her past self at twenty had lustrous black locks and a vibrant smile. Overflowing with confident poise and elegance.
Yeah, there were times like that. Olivia reminisced fondly, eyes tinged with regret.
Time sped forward. Her past self lay on the floor, drawing magic circles on her body and the ground following a black magic book from the black market. The carefree, endlessly laughing version infected her with its energy. It was pleasant to watch. Her smile never faded throughout.
For exactly one hour, that is.
One hour after starting the circles, goosebumps prickled Olivia's arms.
"Mix the blood of the one I love with mine..."
"Almost done. It's all finished now."
"Heheheung...."
Was I making that face?
It was chilling. Her past self drawing circles with eyes swallowed by madness—like a fanatic cultist.
Was that me?
She wanted to deny it. She never had such an ugly face, was distant from obsession. She'd thought herself just a girl crushing like anyone else.
But she couldn't deny it was her because of the words from her lips.
"Mikhail. Mikhail. You're mine, so you'll understand, right?"
4:30 AM. The room was shrouded in darkness. Her past self illuminated it with her back, gazing at the completed circle. This was the end of Olivia's memories of that day. Pouring mana while thinking of Mikhail, feeling horrific pain. Then Ricardo slamming the door open—that was all.
Olivia clenched her fists. Whatever the process, this moment would prove she hadn't been wrong that day.
As long as the result is good.
The picture she desired. Not the one ruined by that damn butler.
After brief pain, the black magic succeeding, painting a happy future with Mikhail. Dating, embracing, warmly calling each other's names.
Thinking of it made her chest swell.
Yeah. As long as the result is good.
Olivia gripped her fists tight. Her past self stood in the center of the completed circle.
"Perfect."
Mana flowed. The circle rapidly absorbed her past self's power.
"Keeek.... Keegeegig."
An eerie sound echoed. The floor cracked. The drawn circle glowed black, the runes carved into her body reddening along her veins.
"Wha... wh-what?!"
She sensed it instantly. Something was wrong.
"What? Why is this happening?"
Her past self realized it too. Eyes widening, frozen in unexpected panic—Olivia screamed.
"Snap out of it, you fucking idiot! What the hell are you doing?!"
Her voice couldn't reach now. Olivia could only observe.
"What? Why? This shouldn't be happening?"
"The book said it would glow pink!"
Her past self frantically flipped pages, finding and scanning the brainwashing spell's page.
"Nothing's wrong. Nothing! I did it perfectly...."
"Mikhail's blood and mine. Both ready!"
Her voice sped up. The confident expression drowned in bewilderment long ago.
"The circle's perfect too...!"
"I got Mikhail's blood from the training ground!"
"What's wrong?!"
Flip... Flip.
Flip...
Flip...!
In the vision, after opening the last page, her past self's voice grew quieter.
"Huh?"
Olivia, reading over her shoulder, froze too upon seeing the text.
(The spell activates only if the direction of affection aligns even slightly.)
"No way?"
"Mikhail wouldn't... I'm Olivia, the flower of high society."
Her words said one thing, but her head drooped lower. Her voice shrank. Finally, her past self buried her face in the black magic book, fists clenched white-knuckled.
"This can't be... No, it can't!"
She sobbed desperately.
"This can't happen. It can't!"
Olivia was flustered, helpless. Everything was off—from the spell's failure to not meeting the activation condition.
It was unbelievable.
Was that me?
The trembling wouldn't stop. Her mind filled with denial: No.
Gradually, black mana enveloped her past self. White skin blackened, blood trickled from her nose. Omen of failed black magic.
"Kya啊啊啊啊啊!"
The ear-piercing scream. Olivia's arms prickled remembering that day's agony.
Stop it.
Olivia rushed forward, trying to yank her past self from the circle. She thrust out her hands desperately.
But they passed through harmlessly.
Observer's viewpoint. Cannot interfere with the target.
"Wake up, you fucking idiot! Wake up! Get out of there! Are you insane?!"
Against Olivia's pleas, her past self stayed rooted.
"No. My spell can't be wrong. It must have succeeded."
"My magic is perfect."
"Perfect, I say?"
"The academy's top student doesn't make mistakes."
Her past self gritted her teeth and endured.
"Maybe not enough activation time. Just hold on a bit longer."
Olivia was terrified. Of her moth-like past self.
"Please... come out."
Flesh rotting from black magic, yet stubbornly holding—it was horrific, terrifying. Olivia plugged her ears and shut her eyes.
*
How much time passed? A hoarse voice pierced her plugged ears.
"Kya啊啊啊啊啊!!! It hurts... It hurts... Hurts...!"
Her crumbling self, powerlessly breaking. She looked in such pain it hurt Olivia to watch.
Olivia clutched her chest.
"Someone help her."
No one would hear. Her past self had cast silence outside to focus fully.
Her past self screamed with a ruined throat.
"Kya啊啊啊啊啊.. Hurts... Hurts..! Mom... Mom!"
"Someone save her, she's in so much pain..."
Her past self tore at her hair, sobbing. The agony was palpable; it hurt Olivia just watching.
"No. This can't be."
Rotting flesh. Skin burning white. Olivia couldn't bear the sight anymore.
How had she believed the black magic would succeed? She couldn't pinpoint where it went wrong.
Right now, she just desperately wished someone would help her past self.
Olivia shouted.
"Anyone? She's in agony! She's dying from the pain! Someone come help her!"
Her past self was the same.
"Save me! Please save me!"
Clawing the floor, screaming. Pitiful beyond words. Smoke from searing flesh filled the room. Olivia covered her nose with her sleeve.
"Cough. Cough...."
"Save me...!"
Fading groans. To the end, her past self said:
"Mikhail... help me..."
"Mikhail, save me. I was wrong, please just save me."
Olivia reflexively cursed her past self.
"Snap out of it, you crazy bitch──!"
Yet she kept calling.
"Mikhail, help..."
As her final breath neared, her past Olivia uttered a familiar name.
"Ricardo. Save me."
Perspective shifts.
The familiar ceiling again. Time had passed slightly; the room was neatly tidied, Mikhail photos gone from the walls.
Half out of her mind, Olivia struggled to lift her head. A single frame sat on the bed. Olivia laughed hollowly.
"Ricardo was right."
A bright smile on a familiar face—herself. She'd died, that mad bitch. She'd thought she'd be happy without Ricardo's help, but she'd died.
"..."
A man sat on the bed, dusting the frame. Placing a humble chrysanthemum.
Olivia knew that back view. Red hair she'd mocked as cheap, skin whiter than hers. Her butler.
Ricardo wore a white shirt with sleeves rolled up, head bowed to hide his expression. He murmured softly.
"Why do something I told you not to."
His voice was wet.
"Do you know how hard I tried?"
He seemed on the verge of tears, like a child holding back sobs. One poke and he'd break.
Olivia stood silently behind him, lips pressed shut. Ricardo kept vigil by the bed until dawn.
Viewing stops.
Her forehead felt cold.
"What are you doing, miss."
A familiar voice. The red-haired butler pressing a damp cloth, face puzzled.
"Nightmare?"
"..."
"Making me feel awkward with your silence?"
"A dream?"
"Yes. You've slept the whole day."
He checked her fever with the back of his hand on her forehead.
Olivia tensed her legs. No movement. Back to reality.
Relief washed over her. Whether mental illness or reality, it was the worst nightmare. One she never wanted again.
Olivia eyed Ricardo. Long sleeves and pants as always. Smiling gently at her as always.
"Hungry?"
"Shut up."
Her butler. Ricardo.