Hollow Shell

I looked down at Arin, at the fingers at her tips trembling so violently they seemed about to fly apart.

I knew, at least, that there had been no need to go this far.

I knew that in my head.

And yet, as I cut her down, it felt as though something inside me had been sliced away with her.

That bastard who’d hung me from the ceiling, for one.

At last, I felt as if I’d been freed from Lihen.

It was like the weight of the collar I’d always worn was finally growing lighter every time I died.

Each death brought the memories flooding back, and each time they did, Lihen’s emotions dug deeper roots into me.

His memories always lingered in my head. His dream always remained in my chest. And little by little, my mind had begun to fill with them.

The noose that had never loosened, the one that had bound me ever since the day I woke in this place, finally seemed to slacken only after I cut Arin down.

Lihen had always tried to overlay me onto his dream.

I killed Arin to take away what remained of that dream.

The ties that still connected to Lihen were already overflowing.

Bad ties count as ties, too.

If I was going to sever everything Lihen had left behind for me, there was no other way.

Lihen had women around him.

Of course he did—he was the protagonist, so that part made sense. But I’d pushed them away and come to the capital, so there was no one left to be bound to now.

Arin was the light left in Lihen’s heart.

She was the reason Lihen had kept living.

So I erased her.

That goddamn bastard dumped everything on me and then died, leaving behind garbage like this.

Now that Arin was dead too, there was nothing left.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I shook the blood off my sword and slid it back into its scabbard.

“I could do it after all.”

And yet... maybe there hadn’t been any need to do even this.

There hadn’t been any need to kill her so cruelly.

But I was afraid that if I just stood there and did nothing, Lihen would devour me.

That even the way I thought, the way I remembered people, even my heart itself would be swallowed by Lihen, so I cut her down.

Just a girl who had been desperately trying to survive by any means she could.

How was I any different from the head of the house, or Lione, or Roseline, the very people I’d found so revolting?

I could only think that because I’d already severed myself from Lihen.

You only start judging food after you’re full.

Maybe I was having some absurd waking nightmare. I wished that were true, but I wasn’t waking up.

Arin was still breathing, each breath shallow and ragged.

Even with a wound that deep, she was still hanging on.

Was she tough, or was it simply not yet her time to die?

Every time she drew breath, a wet, bubbling sound gurgled in her throat.

That sound erased the silence in the room.

I looked down at her for a moment longer, then pulled out a cigarette and bit down on it.

My hand no longer shook.

But the match was soaked with blood and refused to catch.

Once, twice. The damp tip only scraped uselessly; no spark took hold.

On the third try, I hurled the entire matchbox to the floor and walked out with the unlit cigarette still clenched between my teeth.

I went down the stairs.

The wood creaked under my shoes.

With every step I took, the smell of the second floor faded and the scent of the first rose to meet me.

Cheap liquor, the acrid smoke of oil lamps, the damp stink of wooden floorboards.

It was the same smell I’d noticed on the way up, and yet now it felt like the air of some entirely different world.

I didn’t care whether the drunks watching me stared or not.

I came down slowly and took a seat at the counter.

“Give me something to drink. Make it strong.”

The bartender wore a different face from before.

With trembling hands, he took out a glass, poured the liquor, and set it before me.

The glass thudded and shivered against the wood.

That sound came from the bartender’s shaking hands.

With the cigarette still in my mouth, I jerked my chin at him.

He brought me a match with trembling fingers and lit it for me.

I drew in the smoke.

I filled my lungs, then exhaled slowly.

The smoke spread across the counter like something crawling, then scattered as it hit the lamplight.

After that, I swallowed down the liquor he’d poured for me.

The sensation sliding down my throat was exactly the same as before.

The same drink as the one I’d had before going upstairs. The same glass. The same counter.

Nothing had changed.

Lihen was the only thing that had disappeared.

I set the glass down.

A circular wet stain remained on the counter.

Then, all at once, a window rose in the air.

Unlike usual, the words surfaced slowly, one character at a time.

Had Arin finally died?

Without hesitation, I pressed no.

And yet why... why didn’t it end?

I didn’t understand.

Was this one of those cases where just seeing the ending wasn’t enough?

Right now, everything just felt unbearably tedious.

I didn’t want to care about anything.

Like after the war, when I’d holed up in the mansion and drunk myself stupid until Lione smashed my head in.

I’d waste a single day wallowing in pathetic sentiment and then shake it off.

Because I’d be leaving this world.

Because I’d die somehow.

Somehow, somehow......

So long as I’d already escaped the front lines, I ought to be able to escape this place too.

If I kept dying enough times, if I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kept doing something, anything—

Escape? Escape from what, when you’re still on the front lines?

When you can’t even think of a solution that doesn’t involve killing someone?

There had been no need to kill her...

And if I wasn’t Lihen, there was even less reason to have killed her.

She had been no one to me.

My body had escaped the battlefield, but my mind was still there.

I’d lost the ability to do anything except kill people.

I couldn’t even bring myself to think of anything else.

If not Arin, then at least some adventurer who had lost the will to fight and laid down their weapon could have been spared.

It was just... this space, this world, that was gnawing away at me.

Anyone would go crazy staying in a shithole like this.

Anyway, maybe I should call Adele over later, drag her into bed, pin her down for a while, and then see about having some half-assed wedding.

She was my fiancée, so I supposed something like that would be all right.

And if she died... well, that would be a pity too, in its own way.

If it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meant I could get out of here, what wouldn’t I do?

If a quest came down and the reward was getting out of this place, I’d peel my own skin off with a knife if I had to.

And honestly, Roseline and Lione both repulsed me on a bodily level.

Just... those disgusting, miserable bitches who were contemptible as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠people.

I had no interest in clinging to things that didn’t see me as me, only as a toy to be made to move however they pleased.

I rode the carriage back to the house Adele had given me.

The driver and the servants inside the mansion all looked startled by my clothes, soaked through with blood, but no one said a word.

At my instruction, the servants wordlessly heated water for the bath and then withdrew in silence.

Once they were gone, I took a dagger in hand and stepped into the bath, still fully clothed.

As the fabric soaked through, the blood clinging to it began to disperse into the water.

Red spread slowly through the tub until the entire surface was tinted a diluted shade of it.

No matter how many enemies you killed on the battlefield, no matter how many—none of that mattered.

But today... this wasn’t that.

It was monstrous.

It was funny to think of it only now.

When I actually swung the sword, I never even noticed what was wrong; only by chewing it over like this did I finally—fuck, only now did I finally—

At this rate, someday I’d kill everyone.

Anyone who even looked like a heroine, I’d kill them all.

I stared blankly at my wrist, then idly stirred the water with the sword before giving the dagger a light swing.

To kill the disgusting murderer.

To put down a madman who still hadn’t left the battlefield.

I sank myself deep into the water.

As the strength left my body, sleepiness began to creep over me.

Lying in the bath, I shoved a finger into my mouth like some clown from a movie and forced the corners of my lips upward.

Well.

Maybe because I’m not Lihen, I don’t feel any better, Mother.

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