Chapter Thirty-Four: Shattering Ignorance
2255 Words
Reader’s discretion is advised; topics that some find sensitive have been touched upon in this chapter.
Azalea Oleander Cursix
Downing the rest of the bottle had been easy. The conversation was still at a stalemate, with me saying things that sound fictitious, while he on the defensive because his logic, however little, was inflexible.
I know I should do this sober. I should do this when I have the emotional capacity to handle his feelings but-
The letter opener meant to open yet another bottle of wine found its way easily and excruciatingly to my throat.
“Kff-!” despite the liquor blaring my senses, the pain was immense, leave alone the tickle in my lungs that forced me to cough blood.
Slicing my throat would have been easier than stabbing because, with slicing, I could at least keep breathing, I realized belatedly as the feeling of blood flooding down the wrong pipe grew more agonising.
I pulled the knife lodged in my throat out, and warm crimson liquid gushed from both my mouth and neck, washing easily over my chest.
In all my lives, there was always that one thing that I found particularly awe-striking.
The sound of tragedy. At least, that is what I called it. It does not really wholeheartedly deal with sound per se, but it is basically that moment where something that was not supposed to happen in a thousand years happens before you, and you feel nothing but powerless over it.
In theatre, whenever something like that happens, there was always background music to couple it. However, in reality, tragic instances are never coupled with a bitter symphony to tug at your heart and remind you that the ongoings are fiction, but rather by an immense sense of chaos that often leaves one hollow.
So, in a sense, the sound of tragedy is none other than bitter silence.
Even now, I was certain that the same bitter tune played in Henderson’s mind. I could see it in his eyes as they widened. I could pinpoint the instant his contempt had morphed to terror then…just before they glimpsed oblivion, hope.
Blood left his face. I know this because, so effortlessly, he turned blue.
“S-Simon?” he called shakily, then stood hurriedly to run to my side; however, his knees buckled halfway to me, and by the coffee table he fell, yet still his lips called his version of my name, “S-Simon.”
I hadn't moved a muscle. My legs were still crossed by the window seal, my wound long healed; however, it was his desperate actions that drew me into silence on my state.
His voice was weak, and as tears filled his eyes effortlessly, he crawled to my side.
He lifted himself, and all too easily, his hands cupped my bloody face, then fell to my neck. For a while, he applied pressure vaguely before gazing down once more to ensure that he was doing the correct thing.
“P-please. I- I am s-sorry…t-this, this is not th- the w-way!!” Henderson cried as he progressively moved the accumulated crimson liquid to the side to stare at the wound he was convinced was still there.
If I were to blame anything, it would be timing. For if I had been at my usual, I would have done this as carefully as possible. Now, the misery etched on his face could not be undone, and the pandora’s box in my chest could no longer be contained.
As helpless tears trickled down his face, the only cohesive thought in my mind was:
-Ah, here is a man, so beautifully unbroken…-
The emotion on my chest, though it should be, was not guilt, rather an amalgamated form of desire and envy, not for him or at him, but for his passion.
I want to be saddened by the loss of my life. I want to care who would mourn me. I want my death to matter. I want…I-
“B-but I s-saw.” His shakey emotion-laden voice jolted me from useless sentiments as I remembered where I was, and most importantly, who I was.
“I cannot sustain critical injuries. They will forcefully heal themselves.” I explained, pulling away from his touch.
“Wha-?” he gasped, then as though he had had his breathing on stand by, Henderson sighed heavily, then collapsed by my knees.
“Even diseases, I can't really get sick either.” I continued, “Basically, I am immortal until my role has been fulfilled.”
“Role?”
Henderson was in shock. I could see that, but now, passing on information would be easier as he would take anything I offered without much time to refute it.
“B-but in List? What, what was your role in List?”
“My role was to watch over the people.”
“S-so…when I took over, you caught the …” his eyes turned away from me as though he was finally linking every piece of information that I had ever shared with him.
“And your last life, and the one before that and the-,” he muttered to himself distantly. “But you died of an illness.”
“Yes, general roles leave my death vague, specific roles, leave my death…specific.” I finished leaving out the reward part, of which specific paid off more.
“So, basically, what you are saying is that when I put List under my protection, I triggered your illness?”
“Weeeelll…” I drawled.
“Please, just…” he breathed, his weariness evident in his voice.
“Just a little bit.”
“So I killed you?”
“You didn’t kill me.”
“Yes, I did. I completed your role thing, so-,”
“That was bound to happen, with or without your…help?” I sighed, “I mean, it is natural that children outgrow their parents. That is the circle of life.”
“If anything,” I continued, “I am very proud of your growth.”
“But if I hadn't-,”
‘Then someone else would have.” I answered, “How many of your peers now rival you in strength?”
“What…what about this time, what is your role? Is it specific?”
I hesitated, perhaps a moment too long.
“Simon?”
“It's nothing big, so….” I excused.
“Nothing big, you are the empress! I mean…come on, tell me?”
“I’d, I’d rather not.”
“Simon?”
“Pass.”
He stiffened, then turned to face me, a frown on his face.
“It has something to do with that man from the theatre, doesn’t it?”
I flinched, and though I tried to cover it up by grabbing another wine bottle, he caught my hand in the act.
“It does, doesn’t it, Simon?” he questioned, “Do you know when you will die?”
I pulled my hand out of his grip and uncrossed my legs.
“I said pass.”
“You do.” He chuckled nervously, “Why won't you tell me? It’s not like I can stop you or get you to listen to me, can I?”
“I mean, what happens when you fail a role?” he proceeded.
The gods used to either take a few of my skills, isolate me for a few years, give me a crappy next life or… force me to relive any tragedy I experienced over and over. But, when I grew numb to that, as you can only torture someone to the point of a psychotic breakdown after which, things don’t quite affect you the same. Anyway, after that, they switched to a rewarding system.
“Nothing much now. I guess I just…miss out on a few things.”
“Then, then what's the point of fulfilling your role? Why can't, why can’t you just, I mean.” He sighed, then raked his blonde hair, “I don’t want to keep losing you!”
The thing is, Henderson, I have already gone through my rebellious phase, which may or may not have resulted in the extinction of a tribe the gods had favoured. Nevertheless, I’m tapped out.
“Hends, this is my last life.” I said as calmly as possible, “So I can-,”
“What?” he asked in such a dangerously low whisper that I doubted I had conveyed my message.
“This is my last-,”
“Okay, shhh!” he pressed his forefinger to his lips, interrupting my repetition.
-Okay…-
“So, so after this, what?”
-Should I answer?-
“Uh, I guess-,” I began; however, yet again, he interrupted me.
“Dead? Permanently, as in no more roles, no more-,” he murmured as though he was still processing the information that I had just provided.
“Yes.”
“And and when…when is this day that you are set to die?” he asked, chuckling nervously as though he was a few seconds away from a breakdown.
-I…shouldn’t be specific._
“A few years.”
“A few years…” he repeated.
He was silent for what felt like hours but was no doubt merely seconds. So to pass the time, I decided to finish up with at least one of my tasks, bloodletting.
All of my criticals heal instantly, but the none critical injuries, unless I activate divinity, they take a while because of the essence of realism, brought to you by the gods.
I took the letter opener. Now that I was tipsy enough to endure the pain and sober enough to know my way around the act, I slashed my left wrist.
“I GET IT! SIMON!!” he yelled, startling me a little, “I GET IT NOW SO STOP PROVING HOW INVINCIBLE YOU ARE BY HARMING YOURSELF!!”
-I…I just want to drain some blood; actually, I wanted to go to the bathtub to do this, but now I think I’d have to wait for him to leave.
“Oh, uh…”
“IS THIS FUN FOR YOU?” he frowned, “DO I MEAN SO LITTLE TO YOU THAT YOU CAN DO THIS BEFORE ME, AFTER TELLING ME THAT THIS IS YOUR-,”
“No! of course not, Henderson I cheri-,”
“Then stay, don’t leave or is are you just telling me this because I reacted poorly to your initial-,”
“It's not your reaction, though it certainly doesn’t help the matter. But, Hends … this is it, after this I-,”
“why not? Why can't you just stay a little longer, my lifespan isn’t as long as yours, plus I overeat meat and…I am practically an alcoholic, so I am clearly a shoo-in for gout!”
“THEN YOU WILL DIE AND LEAVE ME!!”I raised my voice more than I had intended; nevertheless, I was appalled by his suggestion.
He knew nothing of what I had gone through, absolutely nothing of the harrowing endlessness.
“Please….” He pleaded.
“No, this isn’t even up for debate. It’s a no, N.O.”
“THEN…” he yelled, then sighed a few seconds later, “Then you leave me no choice, I…I am going to kill the man we met at the theatre.”
There was nothing but silence that followed after, so as calmly as I could, I looked him in the eye without raising my voice.
“Henderson, if you ruin this for me, I swear to you.” I said, clearly without missing a beat, “I will kill your entire institution at the pub, everyone in List and anyone you will ever seek out for help, companionship or friendship.”
"I will make sure, no matter when, that you die a prolonged and lonely death. I mean, with only me by your side, of course."
“You wouldn’t-,”
With as much composure as I could muster, I bent to the floor to collect one of the wine’s cut off tips, pried out the cork embedded in them, then flicked the rubbery plug to him.
He didn’t move a muscle, and the cork did miss his face; however, the pressure that I had used to fire the rubbery stopper had been so immense that a deep crimson line cut across his upper jaw.
Rather than the cork bouncing off the wall, it blew a hole in the entire section causing a loud and violent tremor which erupted a few audible shrieks from the party.”
I understood that I had probably disrupted the banquet and that the knights would storm in a few seconds. However, I could not tear my gaze from Henderson’s.
*
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Present time
{Purification of toxins 100% complete}
-Activate divine healing for the wounds on my wrists-
{The Skill Divine healing has been activated by the system}
We can't have people knowing that the Empress is suicidal.
- Writer
