Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 14

“I heard you slapped Vivian today.”

“Up until now, no matter what you did, at least you didn’t cross the line, so I let it slide…”

With his voice lowered in an uncharacteristically stern tone, Evan speaks with an air of anger.

I cut him off before he could finish.

I didn’t want to hear it.

Besides, he’s just a self-righteous scholar who knows nothing beyond magic. He’s not exactly scary.

“Yeah, today. Was it today?”

“Come in already. Stop lingering at the door like you’ve got nowhere to be.”

The word “lingering” must have struck a nerve.

The veins in Evan’s temple bulged, visibly pulsing with his rising anger.

But since he’s always mindful of “propriety”, he lowered his head slightly when I opened the door and stepped inside.

I pull out a guest chair for him and place a cup in front of it.

I grab a small white tea strainer and add just the right amount of tea leaves.

Oh, there’s tea here.

Strange how my hands move on their own like it’s a reflex.

After placing the strainer into the cup, I conjure some hot water using magic and pour it in.

A soft, grassy aroma rises as the water slowly turns a pale greenish-blue.

It’s kind of ironic.

Am I like that too?

The pristine white strainer clings tightly to the tea leaves, and the fresh, vibrant green of the leaves seeps out, leaving them dark, dull, and lifeless.

“Drink. It’s still hospitality, after all.”

“Do you think I came here to have tea with you?”

“If you enter someone’s room with their permission and they offer you something, basic courtesy dictates that you accept it with a smile and a thank you.”

“Wow, you’re full of good lines today. So, tell me — is it also proper etiquette to slap the face of a commoner you don’t like?”

“Technically speaking, Vivian isn’t a commoner. She’s the daughter of a knight.”

“That’s not the point. The point is that you used your status to crush her.”

The real issue is that she touched me first.

Touching someone’s body without consent isn’t just rude — if the genders were reversed, it would be a crime.

I remember thinking that back then.

But I didn’t bother to say it out loud this time.

Maybe it’s because I’ve experienced this conversation once before.

The first time, we argued like it was life or death, but now it feels like a worn-out script.

Evan, on the other hand, probably doesn’t feel the same way.

“So, what did you come here to do, Evan? To scold me? To preach to me about how I shouldn’t have done that to precious Vivian?”

“Not scold — criticize. Because no matter what I say, you won’t admit you’re wrong, nor will you try to change.”

And why should I?

I have no reason or justification to do so.

What’s strange is that, even though this is clearly the second time I’m experiencing this moment, nothing about the conversation feels any different.

If that’s the case, then won’t everything that happens from here on be the same too?

If so, am I just trapped in this loop of time forever?

I can’t even run away.

If that’s the case, I might as well savor what little I can get from it.

A cup of half-decent tea and a block of “luxury” chocolate that tastes so bitter I can’t even tell if it’s good — that’s all I can hope for.

But no, that’s not enough.

“You’re right.”

I raise my cup and take a sip of tea.

The warmth seeps into me, easing the coldness that’s been lodged in my chest.

I won’t change. No, I can’t change.

My body and mind were conditioned into this machine-like state by both the obsessive training I received from birth and the strict education that followed.

When I think back to when I was once a brawny man with no regard for etiquette, it’s almost laughable how deeply ingrained this obsession with “order” and “control” is in this girl’s body and mind.

“But still, Evan, do you really need to criticize me like this? Is it worth souring each other’s mood just to make a point?”

“Hah, you sound just like the Duke of Mecklenburg.”

‘Why bother with the lower classes?’ ‘Why bother controlling unscrupulous merchants?’

He’d say the same thing, even when it was obvious that the family would be in danger if we didn’t.

Hearing you now, you’re exactly like him.

“Father is a rational man.”

“And I’m the one who slapped your beloved Vivian, causing her pain and even upsetting you.”

If we’re playing the “personal attacks” game, is the best strategy to insult someone’s parents and family?

If so, Evan is a pro.

“By now, he’s probably already dead, haha.”

“Rational? Please. He’s so stuck in the past that he never even considered changing anything. That’s why the whole disaster at the mine happened.”

Even after I asked him to only insult me directly and not drag others into it, Evan ignored me.

He always does.

He crosses the line so easily, trampling over it like it’s nothing.

I thought that after all these years of friendship — or maybe I was the only one who saw it that way — that we had built something.

Trust, maybe. Or perhaps, love.

But was it all just a delusion on my part?

Or was I just blinded by love in the most literal sense?

“What’s your plan, Evan? You’re gonna marry me or something? If you love Vivian so much, you should marry her. If not, then stay out of my family’s business.”

Evan lets out a short, dry laugh, followed by a sneer.

“How could I stay out of it? We’re tied up in too many ways.”

“Well, you’re the one clinging to it. The rest of us could do just fine without you. Isn’t it about time to get rid of that circus act you call the Order of Knights? Those gluttonous money-eaters are still around, forcing the commoners to break their backs to maintain that ridiculous sideshow. If our trade network collapses, I guess you’ll finally have to shut down your precious circus.”

Evan grits his teeth.

He glares at me with eyes so sharp it feels like he might leap up and strangle me on the spot.

But unlike that day, his voice doesn’t rise.

No screaming, no slapping, no crying.

Instead, we sit like this, calmly strangling each other with words.

“I know it’s a problem. But I also know that we can’t lose sight of our roots, nor can we abandon our honor. If it becomes too much, then we’ll just downsize it. Simple.”

“Spoken like the Duke of Strelitz. He always says that, doesn’t he? ‘Oh, yes, it’s a problem, but if it gets worse, we’ll just reduce it.’ And look where that got him.”

“Don’t compare me to my father.”

Evan despises his father.

When most people picture an insufferable old geezer, Evan pictures his father.

“I’m not comparing you to him. I’m saying you’re acting just like him.”

A brief silence settles over us.

I close my eyes.

Evan clenches his fists, his hands trembling as he fights to contain his anger.

Eventually, he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his forehead.

Despite his efforts, the red flush on his face deepens as blood rushes to his head.

After downing a cup of tea, he opens his mouth again.

“Maybe it’s in your blood. You complain about your father all the time, but you follow in his footsteps just the same. You look down on others, create cliques, and stir up trouble for no reason.”

I stare at him, my expression as blank as ever, and I refill his empty cup with fresh tea.

“I love my father. He’s a good man. But I’m not sure about ‘following in his footsteps’ like you say.”

“Oh, right. Your good old father — too ‘dignified’ to ever lay a hand on a commoner’s face, wasn’t he?”

Considering my father’s personality, that might actually be true.

Not because of morals or respect, but because he wouldn’t want to dirty himself by touching them.

He wouldn’t touch you either, Evan.

He’d avoid you like a plague victim.

He’s practically a germophobe — so much so that it’s tempting to call him a “patient” instead of a “duke.”

“A slap, huh? Well, Vivian grabbed me first. But I guess that little detail doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

It was a muttered thought more than anything, but Evan catches it.

His face twists into a scowl.

“If you’re going to say something, then say it properly.”

“Instead of using words like ‘criticism’ or ‘reprimand,’ how about you just admit you’re here to ‘mess with me’? We both know it. No matter what happens, no matter how many problems there are, we both know why they can’t be fixed. We’re just wasting each other’s time, draining each other’s energy. Like chasing after pointless concepts like ‘honor’ and ‘legacy’ that don’t mean a damn thing anymore.”

“How dare you say that. You know why our family has to act this way.”

“Of course I do. I almost had to attach that ‘useless family name’ to my own. I know it all too well.”

“You…!”

“You look like your beautiful, late mother. I’ll give you that. You also look like your father. And, at times, you remind me of my own father too.”

“Whenever I met you as a child, I used to think you were like some terrifying fusion of the three. A collection of all their worst traits rolled into one person.”

Evan’s face turns red, then pale, then back to red.

His mouth twists into a sneer, and his voice rises.

“Must have been so hard for you, huh? Sharing space with this ‘collection of flaws’ for all those years.”

“Of course it was hard. In the beginning, I only met you because Father told me to.”

“Right, your family’s so high and mighty. So high and mighty that your dear brother is probably just counting down the days until his head gets chopped off in prison.”

The first time I heard those words, I snapped.

I screamed. I cried. I fought with Evan like a wild animal.

I had no idea what had happened back then — just that my brother was locked up somewhere.
Not knowing drove me mad with anxiety.

And when I heard Evan say that, it felt like the thread holding all my tangled emotions together had finally snapped.

But hearing it for the second time now…

There’s no rage.

No tears, no desperate screams.

All I feel is this dull, hollow emptiness.

My mind goes blank.

It feels like the focus in my eyes is fading, like my pupils have lost their anchor.

Everything in front of me blurs.

I stare vaguely in Evan’s direction and speak.

“Is that so? I don’t know. Anyway, Evan, how about you stop wasting time and get out of my room.”

“Erica. I only came here because you slapped Vivian. All you had to do was apologize. That’s it. Just walk up to her and say, ‘I’m sorry for slapping you.’ If you’d done that, we wouldn’t be here having this stupid argument. The three of us used to get along so well. What the hell happened to you? Why did you change so much?”

Change?

Really?

Me?

I’m the one who changed?

How ridiculous.

If anyone changed, it was Evan.

He fell in love with Vivian, and now it’s like nothing else exists for him. Doesn’t matter what’s beside him or behind him — he doesn’t see it anymore.

“Stop pretending you don’t know.”

“…”

“You know exactly what’s wrong. You know it better than anyone.”

“It’s me. I’m the problem. I’m just… tired of it all.”

“Don’t worry, though. I’m not going to drag our families into this mess. It’s already over. Everything’s over. There’s nothing left.”

“There’s nothing left for me, and you… You should just hold hands with Vivian and go have a nice, happy life together. You still have so much, after all.”

He doesn’t know.

Evan doesn’t know.

He doesn’t realize that, by now, my family has probably already crumbled into a pile of dust.

He probably just thinks I’m spouting the shallow, melodramatic nonsense of a naive, emotional girl. He’ll brush it off as childish whining.

It would be nice if that were true.

But I know what comes next.

I’ll be isolated.

The kids who used to flatter me and cling to me will start tossing trash and spit in my direction.

Living from here on out will be like walking on broken glass.

No support. No reason. No purpose.

“No reason, huh…”

I mumble to myself, feeling the words linger in the air.

Evan twitches.

His eyes narrow, and he steps back like he just saw something unsettling.

“Erica, about your family… I didn’t mean—”

“Evan, get out. It’s not exactly good for your reputation to be hanging around a girl’s dorm this late at night, is it?”

“….”

“We got carried away with our words. I’m sorry for bringing up family matters, and I’m sorry for saying things that went too far.”

“I’ll apologize to Vivian. If it’s possible, I’ll apologize to her properly.”

“So just… leave. Please.”

I let out a long, slow sigh at the end, my voice dragging as I finished the sentence.

Evan stares at me for a moment, his face twisted with hesitation and something close to guilt.

Then, he bites his lower lip hard. So hard it looks like he might draw blood.

With heavy, stomping footsteps, he finally leaves the room.

The sound of the door closing echoes sharply, followed by the fading thud of his steps down the hall.

I glance at the table.

There’s the half-empty teacup and the scraps of chocolate left behind.

I start cleaning it up, wiping the table and tidying up the cups.

My eyes flick toward the mirror on the wall.

A girl with a blank, emotionless face stares back at me.

Her face is cold, expressionless.

But tears are streaming down her cheeks.

I rub a hand across my face, dragging it down slowly as if to wipe away my exhaustion.

The tears have stopped.