A Collapsing Heart
You never should have been born into this world.
It was one of the things I heard most often in my previous life.
And it was only when those words left her mouth that any real feeling ever reached my former mother's eyes.
At first I would cry without end and cling to her. Hearing something like that from the person I loved and depended on more than anyone else in the world cut deeper than anything I could bear.
But I had been starving for affection for so long that, in the end, I always forced a smile back onto my face and crawled into her arms again. If even she abandoned me, there would be no one left at my side.
Every time, she would look down at me with eyes that held nothing but exhaustion. Contempt, disgust, rage — every emotion swimming in her gaze drove a dagger straight into my chest.
She called me repulsive. A monster so starved for love that I couldn't do a single thing on my own. And yet, if I was being honest, some part of it still felt unfair.
It wasn't as if I was asking for much. Just one warm embrace… or even just her hand in mine… and if that was too much, a single gentle smile would have been enough…
But the only affection that ever came back from her was violence and abuse dressed up as love.
Like a cockroach that kept crawling back no matter how many times you crushed it, fresh bruises always thronged across my arms and legs. Once I started thinking of them as a kind of affection my mother was giving me, they didn't hurt quite so much.
Being alone was a far greater agony than any of that.
My room was a narrow, lightless cell without a single window — but it had a mirror, so it was all right.
I would sit demurely and look into the glass. Inside it was a pretty little child who looked exactly like my mother, at least in the face.
When I smiled at the mirror, the child who so closely resembled her smiled back at me. It felt as though my mother herself were offering me a kind smile, and warmth would bloom in my chest.
When I reached out toward the glass, the child inside reached back and took my hand.
For as long as our hands met, the crushing loneliness couldn't quite reach me.
She was sick of me.
That was what Viviana had said.
From the moment those words landed, my mind went completely blank. I couldn't form a single coherent thought. Every scrap of my attention was consumed with hunting for the reason she had grown tired of me.
"Then… would it be all right if I touched your chest a little?"
I didn't even have the presence of mind to wonder why Viviana — who was nothing like that psycho lesbian Mardian — would want to touch my chest in the first place.
If I let her touch me, would she look at me with that tender gaze again? But what if she got sick of me all over again after that? And if she did — then what?
No. I don't want that.
If Viviana, after tasting every inch of my body for so long, looked down at me again with those bored, fed-up eyes… I genuinely did not believe I could endure it.
"M-my chest is… a little much, don't you think?"
I forced the words out through a strained smile.
"…Is that so?"
The faint spark of interest in Viviana's eyes snuffed out in an instant. All that remained in those violet irises was pure boredom.
Only yesterday she had still been cherishing me, and now she had flipped like this overnight — I resented her for it. And yet I couldn't bring myself to complain. On paper, I was the subordinate party to the contract, and Viviana held all the power.
"Th-then how about a walk together…? Or maybe a tea time would be nice…"
"I'm not the type who enjoys that sort of dull pastime."
I was too afraid to meet those indifferent eyes. I dropped my gaze so I wouldn't have to look at her any longer.
"I-is that so…"
"…"
Silence stretched on for a long time after that. Somewhere in the middle I thought I heard the sound of teeth grinding, but I told myself it was probably just a delusion born of my own anxiety.
"Are you truly certain about the chest?"
Viviana spoke again, a faint smile on her lips.
"…My chest is n—"
"In exchange, I'll send you two pictures this time."
On any other day, that would have delighted me. I might even have let her touch my chest for the reward of two pictures. But for some reason, her offer only dragged my spirits down further.
The way Viviana was speaking…
It felt as though… she was treating me like a whore.
It was a thought I never would have entertained under normal circumstances. But hearing that cold voice, and looking into eyes that had gone so thoroughly cold, I felt as if some part of me were calling out — as if I had become a prostitute who sold her smile and her body for money.
"…I'm sorry."
"…Fine."
With that single clipped word, Viviana rose to her feet. She looked down at me with those merciless eyes and spoke once more.
"But Tina — I paid off every last debt of your house, and I even promised you the support of our Ducal House, something every noble in the empire covets. I would appreciate it if you made it worth my while."
"Th…at's…"
"Rest well. I'll come again tomorrow."
She turned without a shred of lingering attachment and left the room. I couldn't lift my head until the sound of her footsteps had completely faded away.
Silence wrapped itself around the chamber, and a quiet loneliness began to coil around my body. Only then did I raise my head and look into the mirror.
Eyes like a rotting fish from which the light had fled. The same eyes my mother in my previous life had loathed. I hated those eyes so much.
At times like this, my childhood friend had always been the one to comfort me. I held no lingering attachment to that past life — but the knowledge that I would never see her again still left a cold ache in my chest.
I crawled forward on all fours until I reached the mirror and stretched out a hand to stroke the glass. A small, pure-white hand identical to my own met mine from the other side.
The solitude eased a little. My heart felt a touch lighter.
Then I pushed myself up, crossed to the bed, and collapsed onto it. I opened the book beside me and studied each of the pictures inside with careful attention.
In one of them, a man was weeping tears of blood, howling in agony. Looking at him, my own unhappiness seemed to lighten, and my mood improved a little.
Yeah. It's fine after all.
There's someone here suffering far worse than I am, right? His feet are torn open, his hands are torn open, half his skull is caved in — and I'm perfectly fine.
So it's okay.
How many people in this world are more miserable than I am? Compared to those poor souls, I'm practically happy. So there's no need to feel bad, is there?
I knew full well how ugly it was to take comfort in someone else's misfortune. But I also knew that was simply the kind of creature I was.
Whenever loneliness closed in, I looked at the mirror. Whenever depression settled over me, I stared at the pictures in the book. Over and over.
Perhaps those efforts were finally being rewarded. A slow peace began to settle over the tangled mess inside my heart.
I was just parting my lips with my fingers, trying to shape them into a smile, when the firmly shut door of my room suddenly opened.
For a moment I thought Viviana had returned — but the figure who appeared was none other than Iris.
"…Iris?"
Ordinarily she only entered when I rang the bell. Yet Iris had opened my door and walked in without being summoned at all.
"Is something the matter?"
"…"
What came back was a cold, unyielding silence.
If she wasn't going to say anything, why did she even come?
Still — having even one other person in the room had to be less lonely than being completely alone.
My heart was a little frayed, but I lifted a faint smile to my lips and looked at her.
"Did you know, Iris? Actually, today—"
"Did you tell me not to cross the line before?"
Neither high nor low — a deep, clear voice that was pleasant to hear. A cold tone that suited Iris's frigid features perfectly. My eyes flew wide open.
Did Iris just… speak? For a second I couldn't believe it.
Since our first meeting she had maintained nothing but silence — and now she was suddenly addressing me? I almost wondered if I had started hearing things, but the look in Iris's eyes as she watched me was different from usual.
But… what had she just said…?
"What did you…?"
"It seemed like some kind of warning. I found it absurd beyond belief."
Casual speech. A tone that bordered on condescension. The roughness of Iris's voice left me stunned.
Even as the young lady of a house in decline, I was still a proper noble. The only reason she could speak to me that way was if Iris herself was a noble as well.
"Iris… what on earth is this all of a sudden?"
"Mm… you're rather cute, in a way. And also thoroughly irritating."
Iris twisted her mouth into something like a sneer and stepped toward me. The ominous air rolling off her made me instinctively back away.
Before I knew it she had closed the distance, seized my wrist, and pinned me flat against the bed.
I tried to shove her off in the suddenness of it, but Iris didn't so much as flinch.
It was almost fascinating — that even between two women, the difference in strength could be this vast.
"…What is the meaning of this, out of nowhere?"
Iris answered with quiet eyes, and a voice sharper than any blade, carving straight into my insides.
"I'd like you to realize that a competent person like me is far better suited to House Merdelia than a woman who'll just be discarded once someone gets tired of her."
Her words were so abrupt — and at the same time, they gouged so deep into my chest.
At that, my heart sank once more, heavily, into the dark.