Chapter 25 - The Girl Wants to Be M*rdered

### Chapter 25 Chapter 25. While history may not entertain 'what ifs,' this place does. * * * **Last Side Story.** History doesn't entertain the word 'if.' So, the following story of 'what if' is not history. It's not someone's dream, an illusion, or hope. It's something in between. If. If the protagonist were reborn in the world of the prologue, not the original world. That 'what if' story. *** I believe that sadness is the most fundamental emotion. People who can't share in someone else's happiness are seen as pitiable, yet those who can't properly empathize with another's sorrow or failure aren't considered fully human. The reason is that every person's life, save a few rare exceptions, is not a comedy but a tragedy. Everyone carries their own sadness and worries. Even those rare exceptions, lacking sadness, are pitiful in a different way. Since everyone is a miserable being in this way, they reject those who do not understand them. Thus, among all emotions, I consider sadness to be supreme. There is no room for success to elevate one; only failure becomes a stepping stone that raises a person to great heights. For that reason, I only wanted to become their stepping stone. I never wanted to be someone who would hold them back...!! "—Isfa." "...Yuta." Her grip was so strong that my hand slowly turned white. I struggled to shake off her grip, but in the body of a child, I couldn't fend off her grown-up strength. The pain in my wrist felt as though it would shatter, but I had no time to be concerned over it. I had to escape. I needed to distance myself from these children... "Where do you think you're going, again?" "....!!" The prolonged struggle. In the end, I couldn't free my wrist. * * * I was tossed onto a bed, not given even a moment to feel the hard texture of the mattress as I looked around. The room, spacious enough for several people to live in, didn't have a single window. The sole exit, the door, was blocked by the person who had dragged me here. Click, something unknown was latched onto the door. “…Yuta.” “Isfa, right? Or rather, it can't be anyone else." The room was so dark without a single window. The candle that faintly lit the space flickered out as Yuta moved forward, casting the room into pure darkness. With no indication, the room became an embodiment of shadow, leaving nothing visible. Despite my determination to escape, creeping across the bed to move out of her sight, her grip was faster than mine. "Those eyes. That hair. That smile. There's no way I'd forget, Isfa." "...I'm—" "—I won't hear objections." No matter how much time I've spent training, honing my skills, I realized that the natural law of power can't be overturned by effort alone. "At first, I thought I was seeing things." "You saw wrong." Her left hand clasped my right. "But feeling it directly confirmed it." "I'm not that person..." Her right hand gripped my left. "Isfa. You’re alive." "I don’t know this person." "—That’s a lie." Both her legs coiled around my waist like a serpent. My body was utterly restrained. Escape was no longer an option. Was it wrong to think I could quietly observe their grown selves from afar, after being reborn in the same world with the same appearance? Was it a mistake to assume that my presence wouldn't be significant to them? Was it an error to smile instinctively as I heard about their remarkable rise to fame as the leader and co-leader of a renowned mercenary group, watching them pass by? Yuta spotted and caught me. "Isfa. Isfa. Isfa..." "Ugh... Let go. If word spreads that the deputy leader of the Silver Shade Mercenaries did something like this..." "—And what would you do?" "Ah—!?" Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through my shoulder. Her grip held my body captive, and the pitch-black darkness cloaked my vision, leaving me clueless as to what assaulted me. An unsettling sensation seeped in, draining my strength and making rational thought difficult. What’s happening? What on earth is happening? Her breaths echoed loudly next to my ear. “Isfa, you haven’t changed a bit.” "Ah, ha, what...!?" "Your hair, your height, your chest, your eyes, your scent, everything is just like before." Had she realized my resistance was weakening? Her hands, which had been restraining me, loosening their grip, began to explore my face gently, moving down slowly, as they started to search every inch of my body. As they reached my legs, her touch became impassioned, as if she were rediscovering an old treasure. "...!!" "Is this a dream?" Her grown body, years beyond mine, embraced me tightly. The suffocating pressure left me helpless, unable to muster any proper resistance. This is... dangerous...! "Even if it's a dream, it wouldn’t be so bad. Lately, you haven’t shown up in my dreams." "Get a... grip...!" "Believe me, I'm more rational than ever. Yes, more than ever." The sharp pain I felt earlier struck again, one after another. Even though I usually wouldn’t feel pain easily, this torment refused to abate. Stop. This is enough. Please, stop. “—Ha, haa… haa..." "Isfa. Why did you do it?" With a last surge of strength, I managed to break free from her hold, only to be swiftly caught by the ankle a few steps away. Pulled back into her embrace, I encountered those sapphire eyes, shining clearly in the darkness. The eyes I once praised as jewel-like stared at me, glowing through the darkness. "I'm...not this 'Isfa' person...!" "...…" "I really don't understand what the deputy leader of the mercenaries is saying...!!" "...…" Even though I was reborn, I didn't want to stand before them. Who pays mind to a step that's already been climbed? A step simply and silently serves to help others ascend. They have grown more than sufficiently and achieved remarkable feats. My satisfaction lies solely in having my name etched in the smallest corner of their success. A step is merely a tool for the user and must never become their burden. "So—!" Thus. "—Have you said all you need to, Isfa?" "...!!" It seems my words fell on deaf ears from the start. A strong pain flickered again at the ankle held tightly in her grip, akin to being seared by a hot iron. "Ahhhhh—!!?" "I can't fathom why you, who died before my eyes due to my mistake, are alive and standing here now." In the darkness, I'm forcefully dragged backward by an immense strength. My small hands fail to grip the floor. My body. Is being drawn. Backward. "Let me go...!" "It’s all incomprehensible. Maybe this is a dream. Or maybe, at last, I've gone mad." "Reall—!?" A searing pain, as if flesh were being cut, pierced my other ankle. All I could do was swallow my cries with both hands, hoping Yuta’s honor wouldn't be tarnished by allowing my screams to escape. "But it’s okay." 'Ha... ugh...!' "—Because you're here." Suddenly, her entire weight enveloped me, pressing from above. Ah, where did it all go wrong? Was it because I wished to see them grow so beautifully? Did I overlook the fact that they hadn't moved past their attachment to me? I can't say for sure. Her voice resonates by my ear. "So, until this dream ends." 'Ha... ha...' In the end, I had no choice but to accept it. "—Stay with me." This life was meant to be spent indulging her whims. A gift for the friend who had grown so well. It couldn’t be any other way. * * * A soft click sounded as the door was carefully closed. A considerate gesture to avoid waking me from sleep. But, in reality, I had already been awake for a while, merely keeping my eyes shut out of idleness, so I promptly rose. Although I couldn't help but appreciate the warm thoughtfulness it conveyed. As usual, I slowly crawled out of bed to greet my visitor to this room. With the clinking sounds of chains tethered to my neck and legs, I welcomed the master of the house. "Welcome back, Yuta." "—Yes. Isfa." Yuta gazed fondly down at me, and then effortlessly lifted me by the underarms like a beloved pet. With an air of resigned acceptance, I nuzzled my face against her cheek. I don't know where things went wrong. Yet, with this ultimately futile life. I chose to devote it to the childhood friend who had always been there for me. And that was enough. *** With this, the side story essentially concludes. Perhaps when Part 2 is crafted, I'll brainstorm other side stories. This portrays Isfa’s path as a pet, where they hold no particular regard for their own life. What transpired in the darkness, well, nobody truly knows. Observation requires light. In a space devoid of light, no one can say what truly happened. Not even the author. * * *