I Was Wrong... I'm Sorry
I Was Wrong... I'm Sorry
Wicked people deserve punishment.
That was the lesson of Rina Rosewell's childhood.
Before he passed, her strict father had never stopped telling her. The wicked deserve punishment, and the good deserve reward.
Even as a mischievous child, Rina had understood it instantly — it was that simple.
She'd hated it back then.
Her father was stern and scolded her for the smallest mistakes. Rina, more spirited than a young retriever, would promptly forget the scolding and race off to cause trouble somewhere else.
Had her father's firm discipline meant nothing at all?
The thought had crossed her mind.
"......"
But.
Now, after committing a wrong too heavy to easily forgive.
Only now did Rina Rosewell understand.
That if you do wrong, you must be punished.
She understood that only by receiving a punishment equal to your sin — and only when the other party accepts your apology — can you ever move forward.
That was why.
On the day of the disciplinary committee hearing.
Her behavior had been somewhat strange.
*
— ...Taking these circumstances into account, and considering the testimony of the direct victim, Cadet Mercy, who stated that "she was not a victim, the moment was enjoyable, and she would, if possible, even like to experience it again."
— Furthermore, with the related parties Sharon Pierce and Ian Blackangus also agreeing not to press charges, and in consideration of the petitions from students citing her usual good deeds, Rina Rosewell's punishment is hereby decided as one week of confinement prohibiting outside contact, and one month of volunteer service.
An unprecedented act of leniency in the history of Lichten Academy's disciplinary committee.
Rina Rosewell's punishment was determined based on the petitions of numerous students.
Everyone cheered, but Rina Rosewell's expression was complicated.
Apologies toward those she'd troubled. Gratitude toward the students who'd stood up for her.
And finally, Ian. Just thinking about him pained her enough to burst her heart.
What ultimately made Rina hesitate was her father's words.
— If you've sinned, you must receive punishment.
But.
Was the sin she had committed now, and the punishment she was to receive — was it really enough?
One week of confinement and one month of volunteer service.
She should obviously be grateful for the chance she'd been given, yet her heart stayed restless.
"Miss Rina. Do you have any further questions?"
The meeting room was now empty.
The professor chairing the committee addressed Rina, who stood there vacantly.
Rina flinched, her shoulders twitching as she barely parted her lips.
"U-um."
A thoroughly uncertain voice.
The very act of speaking was frightening. She felt endlessly worthless. It must have been because the psychological mask she'd worn had shattered.
But she held it in and had to ask.
She was that desperate.
"Is this the end of my punishment?"
"Of course. It's a final decision, after all."
"I-I mean. Isn't it too lenient?"
"Are you asking if your current punishment is too light?"
"...Yes."
A brief silence passed.
The chair, choosing his words carefully, spoke.
"Miss Rina. Are you aware of how many students and professors worked to reduce your punishment?"
"I-I know. I'm truly grateful, but still...!"
The chair asked, his eyes sunken.
"Cadet Rina."
"...Yes."
"If the cadet believes her punishment is too weak, then the place to ask for punishment is not here."
"Pardon?"
"You should know well enough. To whom you must apologize. To whom you must appeal for punishment."
"Th-that's."
"If you don't know, then think it over during your confinement. That is precisely the meaning of a confinement punishment."
That wasn't it.
It was completely obvious to her who she should be sorry toward, who she should apologize to. But...
"... He won't even look at me anymore."
Rina's mumbling faded and scattered into the air.
*
The memory of the disciplinary committee surfaced without warning.
Rina sank gently into her seat as if collapsing.
The temporary lodging where Rina was confined was excellent.
The size of the room, the bed, all the furniture — nothing was lacking.
Compared to something like a prison, it was dozens, hundreds of times better.
But.
None of that mattered.
Whether this place was a crumbling building, a noble's mansion, a prison, or a palace.
"...Ian."
The only thing that mattered was the fact that she couldn't meet Ian.
That fact made Rina endlessly lonely and anxious.
Staggering to her feet, Rina collapsed onto the sofa as if she'd fallen there.
"Hah..."
She felt utterly lost.
A sigh escaped her.
Where exactly had things begun to go wrong?
The him who'd gathered materials for her when she was troubled by a lack of supplies.
The Ian who'd noticed she was filling her stomach with nothing but water and started giving her packed lunches.
Why on earth had he done all that for her?
So much so that she'd unknowingly grown interested in him.
And so much so that she'd become disappointed seeing him be kind to others too.
"What did I even do to you......."
Why couldn't she express her feelings honestly?
Why did she pretend not to know his true feelings?
Why couldn't she refuse clearly, saying she couldn't accept his heart?
"Haaa......."
She had excuses.
It was hard.
She was hungry.
She needed his support.
She had used the kind and weak Ian as an outlet for her emotions.
She had used him and played with him.
"Why on earth... did I......."
Rina bit her lip hard.
A bitter taste of blood rose, but she paid it no mind.
Because she was just that pathetic.
And the patheticness didn't end there.
The mask of kindness swallowed Rina even further.
The peak was when Ian, whom everyone believed had attempted suicide, returned.
It was when he had completely changed.
"...Ah."
She had liked that cold gaze.
Her heart had been stirred watching him walk silently, paying her no attention.
Seeing him like that, Rina had instead harbored insidious feelings.
Feeling inferior to the now-successful you.
Jealous of you, who had made other friends.
The jealousy grew into possessiveness.
And finally, attacking you when she couldn't have you.
Without her realizing it, her innermost thoughts had moved like this.
The stupid her, who had poured out all the suppressed, accumulated bitterness in her heart onto him, just to maintain her mask.
The her who wanted to grab the ankle of Ian, who seemed about to go far away, and make him stay in the same place as her.
"I'm really just trash..."
She hadn't known back then.
She hadn't known she was longing for Ian this much.
— Streamed down
Tears poured from eyes she'd thought had dried.
Only after all the piled-up, ugly emotions had burst out could she finally look back.
She hadn't predicted the dark side of her heart would be this severe.
That was when she realized.
'Ah, I was truly wicked.'
— Gripped
Rina grabbed the handkerchief wrapped around her neck.
The day Rina had rampaged and Ian subdued her.
It was the handkerchief Ian had given her.
Only when she touched this did her heart calm even a little.
That day.
— "Cover your neck. There are handprints."
Ian had said that as he handed her this black handkerchief.
Then he had turned his back.
That was the last time.
Why she had attacked you, Ian.
Whether she planned to apologize.
Whether she felt gratitude.
Ian had left as if he held no interest in any of that.
She had felt it instinctively.
That inside Ian's heart, Rina's share was infinitely small and insignificant.
But even in that moment.
"...You still gave this to me."
Yes. Ian had endlessly given her things.
If she were human, at the very least.
She should have been honest.
She should have said thank you.
She shouldn't have ignored him just because he was kind and weak.
"And when you changed... even then."
She should have told you she liked the changed you.
She should have told you she was jealous because of the other girl beside you.
She shouldn't have unleashed her inferiority complex on the successful you.
She was stupid. A fool. Pathetic.
She was wicked.
"Why does everyone... treat a wicked person like me this way."
I'm such a wicked, trash-like woman.
Why does everyone indulge me so.
"When I'm this wicked..."
And so, in the end.
Did that leave only Ian as the one to punish her?
"Ah..."
Rina's lips trembled.
She felt truly shameless and pathetic.
After endlessly receiving from Ian, clinging, being jealous, and attacking him.
Now she was even hoping for punishment from him.
"Ian......."
But she needed him.
He was the only one who had looked down on her coldly.
He was the first to strangle her neck.
"Ian, Ian......."
Perhaps a trace of Ian's scent still lingered?
Rina gripped the handkerchief around her neck tightly.
The harder she squeezed, the more her breath was blocked.
"Ha-ah..."
Then it surfaced.
The touch of Ian's hands, strangling the completely possessed her.
Her heart pounded.
She pulled the knot a little tighter.
She wished that man's fingers would punish her.
"Ughk......."
But that sensation wouldn't come at all.
That endlessly cold and indifferent gaze.
She needed Ian's gaze — the gaze that saw her as a trivial human, no, as something less than trash, a contaminant. She needed his firm, thick-veined forearms.
This wasn't enough.
With just this much, she couldn't be punished.
Her strength ebbed gently away.
"Ha-yup!"
A burst of breath as air flooded in.
Her oxygen-starved mind was hazy, but it was filled only with Ian.
She wanted him.
She longed for the touch of his hands to punish her wicked self.
Only he could punish her.
"......."
But at the same time, it surfaces.
Ian's back as he left, as if he held no interest in Rina.
What if he didn't permit it?
What if he absolutely never allowed her to approach?
What if, even when she went to him the moment her confinement was lifted, he refused to see her?
'It's no different from being trapped here forever.......'
Suddenly, her mind went pitch black.
All the despair in the world crashed down on her.
"Ah, no..."
Rina's fingers trembled.
She clenched her fist tight.
Blood trickled from where her nails had dug in, but she couldn't spare it any attention.
Her lips quivered.
"I'm sorry I'm this pathetic and useless. I'm sorry I'm leaning on you like this again. So please..."
Please.
Give me a chance to apologize.
I'll do anything.
"Please punish me. Ian."
This pathetic, stupid me — who only regrets things so late.
Punish me with your own hands.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry......."
— Drip, drop
Tears she was sure had dried streamed down relentlessly.