Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 34: Left Behind

As usual, Lydia perched the headband on my head and let loose her usual torrent of words designed to chip away at me.

I let most of it pass through one ear and out the other, as always.

But then, she said something I couldn’t just let slide.

“Miss Erica, isn’t it getting a bit boring just wearing that headband all the time?”

To be honest, it wasn’t that I “couldn’t ignore” her words.

It’s just that the thing she was holding in her hand forced me to pay attention.

“I’m not bored at all.

Every time I wear it, it feels fresh.

A whole new experience in humiliation.”

So, please, put down whatever it is you’re holding.

It would be a great help.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, I suppose I have nothing to say.

But I’m getting a little tired of watching you sit there, trembling like a leaf every time you put it on.

That’s why I’ve prepared something new — something I’m sure you’ll hate even more.”

She pulled it out.

A dog collar.

Not just any dog collar.

It was the type with thick, sharp metal spikes all around it. The kind you’d expect to see on a vicious bulldog.

Anyone would recognize it as a dog collar at first glance.

“I’m going to have lunch now. While I’m gone, wear this and wait for me like a good dog.”

“…This?”

“Why are you looking up at me with those eyes?

No one takes their dog on a walk without a leash.

Honestly, I’m already being generous by letting you wear clothes at all.”

Lydia leaned forward and fastened the collar around my neck.

Her fingers moved carefully but deliberately.

It wasn’t just a dog collar.

There was a little bell attached to it.

It jingled with every slight movement I made.

She stared at me for a while, watching as I sat there, body trembling.

Her eyes narrowed, and I had a fleeting thought.

She’s going to hit me.

No… she wouldn’t.

But then again, “wouldn’t” has always been a foolish assumption.

“Collars and leashes… Hmm, it’s not as satisfying as I thought.”

She raised her head and looked around the room.

“Hey, you there. Lend me your gloves for a bit. Our dear Miss Erica’s hands seem to be cold.”

She approached a nameless student, plucked the gloves from their hands, and shoved them onto mine.

They were mittens.

Mittens, of all things.

“Well, of course. Dogs shouldn’t have fingers, right?

It might be uncomfortable, but just bear with it for a while, okay?

Once I’m back, I’ll reward you with a nice treat.”

With that, she took the leash attached to my collar, threaded it through the lock hole of a locker, and tied it off.

If I untied it, she’d definitely hit me.

She’d hit me so hard, I’d see stars.

But knowing that doesn’t change anything.

I don’t have the will to untie it anyway.

A friend like Lydia is nothing special.

But a person like me is even less than that.

Realizing that fact made the familiar feeling of self-loathing creep back in.

I swallowed it down and closed my eyes.

“…A treat?”

“Yup, a treat.

They say the people in the slums eat garbage for meals, but since you’re my pet, I’ll feed you something so delicious you’ll feel like you’re living the high life!”

Lydia grinned as she squeezed my arm, her fingers digging in just enough to open up the barely closed wounds.

It stung.

I kept my face blank.

To an outsider, I must have looked like a silly kid in a costume — dog ears on my head, a spiked collar, mittens, and a jingle bell on my neck.

Just sitting there with a dazed expression.

When your mind gets tired, things don’t go blurry like people think.

Instead, everything becomes sharper, clearer.

Your focus loosens bit by bit, like a camera lens slowly going out of alignment.

My eyes lost their focus, and I just stared ahead.

All the blurry figures around me became silhouettes that seemed to laugh at me.

Some kids passing by the classroom laughed outright.

Others glanced at me with pity.

The pity was worse.

The laughter? I could handle that.

But those gazes filled with sympathy were unbearable.

It felt like they were saying, “Look at you. How pathetic you’ve become.”

At least there weren’t too many people like Lydia who actively wanted to torment me.

From a bystander’s perspective, I’d been a “good girl” all my life.

I’d treated people with respect, regardless of status.

I always spoke politely, never once straying from the etiquette drilled into me.

I was, in every sense, a walking, talking manual of proper conduct.

In a world where status ruled everything, that kind of behavior was supposed to mean something.

But none of that mattered.

Not in a world that seemed to revolve around Vivian.

Everything I’d built crumbled.

My family, my relatives, my beloved, my servants, my wealth, my power, my status — all of it gone in an instant.

All I had left was a hollow shell.

A girl who desperately clung to the broken fragments of her “self.”

Even if it meant she’d eventually collapse from the weight of it.

Even if, in the end, she chose to throw her life away.

People often say, “If it gets too hard, you can just end it all.”

That’s something even a girl my age could understand.

She could end it.

She could.

If she could just find the right excuse or a way to justify it.

For me, who had always run away and hidden, it would be easy to support her in that choice.

But here we are.

She died.

Twice.

Both times, the pain was unbearable.

And yet, there was no reward.

No rest.

No peace.

How is that fair?

This girl had lived her life believing that effort brought rewards.

Do something right, and someone will praise you.

Do something ordinary, and even the servants look at you with awe.

Everyone loved and respected her.

Even if she knew deep down it was just the power of her family’s name, she still accepted it.

Because the feeling of being loved was real.

But it was that kind of thinking that led to this.

Here she is now, wearing a dog collar, dog ears, and mittens, tethered to a locker.

No one looks up to her.

No one fears her.

No one loves her.

And the saddest part?

This is when Evan showed up.

“Erica… what the hell are you doing?”

“Look and see for yourself.

I’m being bullied.”

Her voice was flat.

No trace of emotion.

But somehow, those four words sounded more powerful than a scream.

“Who did this?”

“Why? You gonna stop it or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why you? We’re nothing to each other.

Don’t go starting something and making it worse for both of us.

This is already pretty gentlemanly treatment, you know.”

It’s true.

This is better than being stuffed into a locker for hours, unable to move.

“Don’t untie it. She’ll go on a rampage when she gets back.”

“So what? What can the daughter of a measly count do about it?!”

I’m worse than that daughter of a count.

Vivian never has to deal with this.

No one touches her.

Even if they wanted to, they’d fail.

She always has people by her side — the crown prince, you, and even some northern duke whose name I don’t know.

If his name were Yi Seong-gye, that’d be hilarious.

But no, she’s got all these distinguished people constantly fawning over her without a moment’s rest.

But me?

There’s you, Vivian, and sometimes the little maid who comes to clean. That’s it.

No one else.

I can’t stand Vivian, but she’s the only one who brings me decent food and, in her own way, still worries about me.

You? You’re just halfway with everything.

You feel sorry for me but are too wrapped up in Vivian to do anything.

You stick close to her, under the excuse of magic lessons or whatever, always trying to stay by her side.

But Vivian’s already said it herself.

She’s not interested in love.

If anyone does make her care, it’ll probably be the protagonist of this story.

But right now, nobody’s been chosen yet.

Everyone else, including me, is just a side character.

I thought about that as I spoke in a low, dry voice — the kind of voice that’s flat but still carries hints of resentment and desperation.

But my stupid vocal cords trembled, betraying me.

“I’m… I’m worse than that daughter of a count.”

The words spilled out unevenly, my voice cracking partway through.

If the mood weren’t so heavy, I might’ve laughed at how pitiful it sounded.

Evan’s face was frozen, his body slightly trembling like mine.

He didn’t know what to say.

I don’t think I look like him anymore.

Just something unfamiliar.

“Look at me.

Look at me and tell me who in their right mind would think I’m the same person as before.

Tell me.

Who?

Who else is left but you and Vivian?

No one else comes looking for me but you two.”

“So you’re just gonna keep wearing that ridiculous dog collar?”

“Yeah.

If it were you, maybe you’d choose to die instead.

But I’m too attached to living.”

Though, if I’m being honest… it’s not that I don’t want to die.

It’s just that I’m terrified of that pain.

I’ve already gone through it twice.

Twice.

That unbearable agony that doesn’t even come with the reward of death.

I don’t know anymore.

I don’t know what I want to do, what I want to eat, or what I truly desire.

All that stuff you’d expect from a girl going through puberty.

Oh, wait. I am a girl going through puberty.

No one was here to point that out this time.

“Hey, Evan. Do you like me?”

His expression grew awkward.

His lips pressed together, and he bit down on them slightly.

“…Yeah. We’re childhood friends, aren’t we?”

Right.

Sure.

I’m not even human to you anymore, am I?

“You like me, huh?

Well, affection and love aren’t the same.

Just like liking someone and loving them aren’t the same either.

They sound similar, but they’re completely different things.”

Because of that difference, you can dodge questions like this.

But I wasn’t in the mood to let him dodge this one.

Maybe it’s just because I’m bitter.

I leaned on the only thing left — our old bond.

And like someone picking at a scab, I decided to poke at him.

“Then will you marry me?”

Haha. As if.

Evan bit down harder on his lip, but he wasn’t that troubled.

He didn’t even draw blood.

Whenever I bit my lip like that, it bled right away.

My lips were probably just weak, too.

Evan stayed quiet.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t even try to.

“…….”

He just stood there, looking like he might cry at any moment.

“See? That’s why I’m telling you — there’s no other way.

If someone else steals Vivian away, maybe something will change.

But right now, I’m worth less than a commoner.”

If I’d been born a commoner from the start, maybe I’d fit in with them.

But when someone who was once on top falls to the bottom, they don’t get welcomed by the crowd below.

There’s no admiration.

There’s only scorn.

The scorn of people who sneer at you for not even being able to hold your position.

“Like the kind of useless heroine you’d read about in some cheap novel sold in the streets.

The kind that can only become a noble by marrying a dashing nobleman.”

So, I stretched my hands forward and shoved Evan in the chest.

He didn’t fall, of course.

I couldn’t push him over even if I tried.

“Don’t bother.

Don’t go doing something stupid just because you’re feeling brave.

This is fine.

It’s already fine.

It’s not like I’m dying or anything”.