Lingering Embers (5)
Roselyn grabs my face, holding it tightly so that I can only look at her.
I have no idea where her other hand is heading.
If we stay like this, we will both drink the same thing and die together.
Would that be so bad?
Is dying like that really not allowed?
Dying at the exact same moment, sharing the same poison with a woman I once somewhat loved—it doesn't sound too terrible.
But I won't die.
No matter how many times I die, what could be more horrific than a life stripped of death?
It is a life no different from Sisyphus, condemned to roll a boulder for eternity.
What should I say first?
What action should I take?
Should I push her away first?
Or should I draw the dagger from my breast and slash Roselyn's wrists?
I have clearly left the battlefield, yet my mind still fails to conjure a single peaceful solution.
It is as if I am still trapped there.
When I refuse to meet her lips, Roselyn presses even closer.
"Do you hate it?"
The scent of her signature perfume rushes right up to my nose.
In this sealed room, breathing in the floral scent mingled with a woman's body heat makes my head spin.
Especially when that woman is the very one who just killed me, only to kill herself right after.
Space and atmosphere always dictate everything.
At first, she kisses me lightly out of nowhere. Then she pulls back slightly, cups the back of my neck with one hand to keep me from looking away, and... reaches behind her to grab a goblet.
She takes a sip, holding the liquid in her mouth, and approaches me once more.
Dying from poison wasn't as painful as I had expected.
Perhaps it was because Roselyn was the one who prepared it.
She absolutely detested pain.
She was the type of person who would choose heartache over physical agony.
Once again, her lips slowly draw near.
I grab Roselyn's face with one hand and shove her back, sealing her mouth shut.
Her pupils dilate.
As I push her while gripping her face, Roselyn falls backward helplessly.
The edge of the table catches her back. The bottles and glasses lined up on it crash down, shattering against the floor.
The sound of glass scattering in all directions sounds like someone gasping for breath.
I press down on her jaw to prevent her from opening her mouth, leaving the liquid she holds with nowhere to go.
Unable to spit it out or hold it in, her throat convulses on its own, forcing her to swallow.
A crimson streak leaks from the corner of her lips, trickling down her chin.
I don't know if she isn't resisting, or if she simply can't.
The alcohol spilled from the broken bottles pools beneath her back, her blue hair sticking to the wet wooden floorboards.
The scent of spilled wine, along with an indescribable odor underlying it, stings my nose.
And... in the end, the sound of Roselyn swallowing the poisoned wine is the clearest sound in the room.
Only then do I let her go.
"Ha, haah... Ugh, huff... Weren't you looking only at me just now?"
Even after swallowing the poison, Roselyn smiles faintly and continues speaking calmly.
"You will probably regret this for the rest of your life."
"...Regret it?"
"You just killed someone like me with your own hands... It would be stranger if you didn't regret it, wouldn't it?"
"Do you have any idea how many people I've killed? You think killing you is going to make me regretful?"
"I don't care about that. I just... think you'll be sad."
Blood begins to drip from Roselyn's nose.
She wipes her upper lip with the back of her hand, stares at the smeared blood, and lets out a soft, hollow chuckle.
Then, she collapses.
Even as she slumps onto the floor, she looks up at me from below, determined to keep eye contact.
"In times like this, shouldn't you look at least a little surprised...?"
Blood wells up with every word, slurring her pronunciation... but her voice doesn't just brush past my ears; it feels like a physical blow.
Roselyn collapses completely with those final words.
Lying on the floor, her eyes half-open and hazy, she vomits up crimson fluid.
The room reeks.
The scent of blood and the regurgitated wine mixed with it fills the air, creating a nauseating stench.
It feels like the fruity scent of her perfume, yet it also smells like a foul, metallic stench of blood.
The dying Roselyn weakly raises her hand, twitching her fingers, before they shudder and drop lifelessly to the floor.
Her arm splashes into the pooling blood.
As I stare blankly at the sight... I realize my eyes are trembling.
And that I do not want to look at this.
Before I know it, my hand has drawn my dagger.
The moment my eyes meet the blade, it plunges into my neck.
Just like always.
Just like when I was terrified on the front lines, or when I cowered before the family head, I drive the dagger into my throat.
I slice it open and pull the blade out.
Always, without even realizing it.
So... was Roselyn's death really something I feared?
"Sometimes I wondered if someone like you even suited me... But other men who might suit me... they're too outstanding to listen to me the way you do. Is that a compliment? Of course it is. So, Lihen. Don't even bring up joining the knights. Even if you go, you lack the skills, so you'll only be ignored. Not that any place would accept you anyway. I think it's best for trash to just live like trash. Why are you looking at me like that? Did you think I'd cheer you on?"
"Hey, Lihen. Now that I think about it... do you realize we've never kissed properly? All we've ever done is press our lips together."
"......Roselyn."
No matter how hard I think, I can't come up with a way to stop her.
But then... have I ever stopped anything or held anyone back in my entire life?
I either crushed whatever stood in my way, or I was always the one leading the charge.
I loathe being swayed by others.
Whether it's 'Lihen', Gryan, or the woman standing right in front of me.
Though, for someone who claims to hate it, I have always been dragged around.
Honestly, in my heart... I wish Roselyn would just die.
How wonderful would it be if she died somewhere out of my sight, where no one would ever know?
To the point where no matter how many times I slit my throat to turn back time, she could never be saved.
I didn't even love her that much to begin with, did I?
It was just an arrangement set up by our parents.
She looked down on me every time we met, and though she let me near her... she only did so while keeping me on a tight leash. Do I really want to save a woman like that?
After killing so many people.
After slaughtering enemies begging for their lives on the front lines... men who didn't even have weapons in their hands.
After turning my back on comrades I might have saved if I had died just once more, dismissing them as simply fated to die.
A fucking selfish, parasitic son of a bitch.
Lihen is a bastard.
There is no other way to describe him.
Roselyn slowly approaches.
Once again, she slowly brings her lips close.
So this time, I cup the back of her head with my left hand to support it, grip her arm tightly with my right hand so she cannot move, and press my lips to hers.
She freezes in surprise, so I slowly part her lips and slide my tongue inside.
A sweet fragrance fills my senses.
They say mages never smell bad.
I suppose the same goes for Roselyn, who was said to have a talent for alchemy.
Even her body odor carries only the distinct scent of wine and the fragrance of some nameless wildflower.
Though Roselyn remained still at first when I grabbed her, she begins to squirm the moment my tongue enters.
But pinned down as she is, she cannot move an inch.
I cover her mouth so she can barely breathe, holding her close for a long moment before slowly pulling away.
I wipe my mouth and stand up.
I end up looking down at Roselyn from above.
"Wh-what... wait! Lihen, I-I didn't come here to do this... Ah, mm... This... Nngh..."
Roselyn, breathing heavily with flushed cheeks, tries to speak again, but I immediately cut her off.
I drag her to the bed and toss her onto it.
As I slide my hand behind her back and begin to grope her, Roselyn pushes me away slightly.
I let myself be pushed back without resistance.
She pretends to voice her complaints.
Honestly, I wish she would just flee the room.
I have no desire to stay in a room alone with the woman who just killed me.
Even if we were to roll around in bed, I feel like I would lie awake all night.
"What? You're the one who seduced me first."
"No... I, I didn't come here hoping for this..."
"Didn't you say we should act like the broken engagement never happened? Yet you hate it when I make the first move... You just wanted the value of the Gryan name."
"That's not it...!"
"If that's not it, then why stop? What, did I ruin the mood?"
Roselyn blushes and averts her gaze.
Her fingertips tremble slightly.
This is the first time I've seen Roselyn like this.
She was always the one standing above me, looking down and scolding me.
"Do you even have the right to call me a male whore?"
"I only said that in the heat of the moment..."
"I listen to everything you say as if it's only natural, yet you push me away when I draw close, and now you're acting like this?"
"......"
"There's no way I could love someone like you."
"...I don't want to hear it."
"You know damn well that no man could ever love a woman who acts like this... That's why you came to me, grasping at straws. You thought about it and realized I was your best option. Not because you love me, but because I'm the most convenient."
"I said I don't want to hear it!"
"Then leave, Roselyn. Don't do this here."
"......"
Roselyn stares at me, her eyes welling with tears as if she is throwing a tantrum.
What more is there to say?
Though she is sniffling and wiping her eyes, she shows no intention of getting off the bed.
I adjust my coat and look in the mirror.
Seeing the redness around my lips, I wipe it away roughly and walk out of the room.
I want to look back, but I force myself not to.
Roselyn still doesn't try to stop me.
Because, as it has always been, Lihen had to be the one to make the move.