The Secret of That Man She Sees -3-

The black spots that had covered her skin began crawling along Ricardo's hand. Up his arm and back. Legs and shoulders. Chest and abdomen. As the black spots slowly spread across Ricardo's body, the ones lingering on her own faded away.

...Is this it?

I muttered, entranced by the sight.

This is the secret you've been hiding...?

My breath quickened. The impossible was unfolding right before my eyes. Dark thoughts wouldn't stop swirling. My hands trembled. No nightmare could scare me more than this—not even the one where I'd died before.

Ricardo... what are you doing?

Ricardo pulled me tightly into his arms and began absorbing the rampaging mana. His shoulders shook violently as he gritted his teeth, sucking in the corrupted power.

Black magic was a convenient spell that produced powerful effects with just a single medium. Things superhuman strength couldn't achieve. Things regular magic couldn't touch. And devastating offensive capabilities. Unlike spells that required formulas, calculations, and mana, black magic simply needed a medium to unleash its might. That was its very purpose.

With immense mana or a sacrifice, black magic yielded overwhelming results. Back then, I'd used my own mana as collateral to activate it. If my twisted personality hadn't ruined everything, my vast reserves—enough to make me the next head of the Desmont family—wouldn't have been squandered on a spell just to win one man's heart.

But when that vast mana was corrupted and went berserk by black magic, it felt like a bomb exploding inside. Boom. Scorching the insides hot. Bang. Starting burns from within with excruciating agony. The necrotic skin would scar irreparably. And finally... death.

Anyone but a fool could see what Ricardo was doing. No, they had to see it. Like the Eastern cupping therapy that drew out stagnant blood, Ricardo was absorbing every last aftereffect of the black magic.

In this unbelievable scene, I stared at him and said,

"What... what are you doing...?"

I grabbed his shoulder, desperate to make him stop, but a blue window blocked my hand.

I couldn't touch him.

Don't block me...

I whined at the oblivious blue window, but as always, it just repeated the same message.

I bit my lip and said,

Don't block me...

I couldn't stop that idiot from what he was doing. All I could do was watch from the sidelines. Even as tears streamed down Ricardo's face while he endured the pain. Even as my heart pounded like mad.

I could only watch. It felt like salt rubbing into a torn wound. Seeing Ricardo's injury had already shattered my heart, and now a massive gash tore through it.

I screamed at him.

"What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the hell are you doing?!"

I knew my voice couldn't reach him, but I had to do something or I'd go insane. My voice shook, my legs gave out, my breath hitched. The darkening of Ricardo's arm and the pallor of his face loomed terrifyingly close.

The past me, cradled in his arms, buried her face in his shoulder.

"Mikhail."

"..."

"Mikhail... Your body's so hot."

"I'm sorry. It's just... I ran here in such a hurry..."

What right do I have to complain...?

I've done nothing for you. All I ever do is yell. What's so pretty about me that you'd act like this? If I were you... if I were in your place, I wouldn't do that.

If Ricardo had used black magic like me and collapsed... could I do what you're doing? No. I couldn't.

Tears poured endlessly.

So please... fuuuuck!

Stop. I wanted to believe it was just black magic residue. Like chocolate smeared on my hands—I wished I wasn't the direct cause. Even if it was my fault, I hoped it was just a tiny nuisance, a crumb. If it were only that, maybe I could lift my head a little.

But this... this was real.

"Haa... haa... There's no escaping it."

My legs buckled. In front of the gasping Ricardo, I buried my face in my knees and sobbed.

I couldn't look. I didn't want to. I knew how agonizing it was for him because I'd seen myself dying from it. I'd felt that pain briefly, and it was why my body was like this.

I couldn't bear to watch. The searing agony of flesh burning away. The horrific burns twisting my mana circuits, the pain ripping my body apart—it was relentlessly assaulting Ricardo now. And I knew it all too well.

"Don't do it, you idiot...!"

I crouched, shaking my head wildly.

"Hweeeeng... hwaaaang..."

Ricardo gritted his teeth, enduring. He stroked the head of his past self buried in his shoulder, speaking nonstop in a trembling voice.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"Yeah. It hurts a ton. But right now, it's just a little."

"That's a relief. Really."

I clenched my fists. Wiping endless tears and snot with my sleeve, I gritted my teeth and lifted my head. I had to see. I had to burn it into my eyes so I could go back and apologize. My heart felt like it would burst, tears blurred my vision, but in this moment, I had to face the truth. Only then could I beg forgiveness and know where it hurt.

Ricardo wouldn't show it. Even if I begged and cried, he'd smile like an idiot and hide his wounds.

I gritted my teeth, uncrouched my legs, and moved closer. I had to see up close. That's the only way I'd know. When I reached him again, I took a deep breath. Don't miss a single detail. Etch it in. So I could return, apologize to Ricardo, promise to do better. I sniffled hard.

I can do this.

I'd seen my own wrecked body. Ricardo's pain too. I wouldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be shocked anymore. I resolved firmly.

But then the next scene hit, and like a film cutting out, my body jerked reflexively.

"Kuhk..."

What...?

Blood poured. From Ricardo's mouth. A small cough burst it forth like a dam breaking, trickling down his chin.

Ricardo's eyes widened. He hadn't expected this either; his shoulders heaved as he kept coughing.

"Kuhk... kuhk..."

I lost all reason.

"Ah... this is bad."

Ricardo clamped his hand over his mouth. Trembling from the pain, he coughed.

"Kuhk... kuhk... Ahk... Ah. Haa... haa..."

"Does it hurt, Mikhail?"

"No... kuhk... No. It's nothing."

As his past self tried to turn her head, Ricardo pressed her occiput with his right hand, forcing her face back into his shoulder. One hand held her head so she couldn't look back; the other blocked his mouth.

Watching this, I desperately grabbed the arm pressing her head. Even if it bounced off. Even if it passed through like a ghost. Like a madwoman, I strained to pry Ricardo's arm away.

"Let go...!"

"Let go!"

"You crazy bastard, let go... let go... let gooo... please...!"

"Let gooo... fuuuuck..!"

As time passed, Ricardo's face grew deathly pale. His whole body trembled like an aspen. His eyes lost focus.

If only that hand would let go. If he released the madwoman calling Mikhail's name from his arms, he wouldn't have to suffer like this. What was so pretty about her? What was good about a stubborn bitch who only spewed curses...?

My chest felt like it would explode. No answers came.

"Don't do it, you idiot...!"

He was rotting. His right hand lost vitality, turning black. The spreading spots left gashes across his body, scorching his flesh. His mana circuits twisted like tangled thread, a total ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mess.

Ricardo breaking down. It wasn't a pretty sight. I felt pathetic, helpless, stupid for being able to do nothing.

I hugged Ricardo and cried. Madly, endlessly.

"Don't... don't do it...!"

Ricardo bit his lip. He murmured in a voice too small for me to hear.

"This hurts a lot."

"It must hurt so much."

"Really... good thing I came."

No answers. My mind went blank; words failed. I just cried like an idiot. Every time I saw Ricardo's trembling hands, struggling to breathe, memories of what I'd done flooded back.

"You stink."

"Stink, you say?"

"Yeah, it's foul. Like rot."

Words from right after my legs failed—now stabbing back like daggers.

"Get out."

"I'll wash better."

"Filthy commoner."

I remembered Ricardo dousing himself in lilac perfume afterward, dizzyingly strong. Olivia clenched her fists at the memory.

Ah...

So that's why. The heavy perfume. The long shirts he always wore. Suddenly grabbing my wrist and dragging me out of the room.

All because of me.

I dropped to my knees, forehead slamming the floor. I bent over, clawing at my chest like a maniac.

"Huk... hwaaa. Hwa... it hurts... it hurts... my chest hurts so much..."

What is this? I had no idea it hurt this bad.

"It hurts too much..."

I couldn't lift my head.

"I'm sorry..."

I'm sorry I'm so worthless.

"I didn't know it'd be like this..."

I didn't know you'd hurt this much.

"I'm truly sorry..."

As I clutched my chest and wept, Ricardo's voice echoed through the room. Low and quiet. A soliloquy laced with faint doubt.

"I can survive this."

Not to himself. To his foolish, worthless master.

All I could do was cry silently.

Blood. My whole body was soaked in it. The past me slept evenly in Ricardo's arms, and he bowed his head, stroking my hair.

Blood dripped from his pajamas. His body drenched. His face gaunt with exhaustion. Lips ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cracked like desert sand. His right hand exposed bone, dripping red.

I said,

"You said you couldn't stand pain..."

Sobbing bitterly.

"You said you couldn't bear it."

I resented Ricardo so much for not screaming once while stroking his sleeping self. Veins bulging like they'd burst. Black mana covering him. Burns from mana backlash. Yet the butler endured silently, whispering it was fine.

I hated him.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

Ricardo poked his sleeping cheek and smiled faintly.

"Thank goodness you're alive."

With those words, the long nightmare ended.