Chapter 33 - The Girl Wants to Be M*rdered

**Chapter 33: Arrogance** ** I love observing something closely. Much more than merely glancing at the fleeting scenery around me. The autumnal charm encased in crimson leaves. Within each leaf we pass by indifferently might lie a profound history we can never fully comprehend. Isn't it fascinating? "Do you like it?" "Yeah! It's as lovely as Ellie's eyes when they change color!" "...If you say so, then I like it too." Inside the swiftly moving carriage. I lay with my head on Ellie’s lap, staring at the small maple leaf in my hand. Despite the carriage's bumpy ride, none of us complained. Complaining about such things would spoil the bliss of the moment. Once at the leaf, then at Ellie's eyes. The more I looked, the more they resembled each other. So beautiful, so striking. "Huh? Ellie, your face is turning red!" "...It's a misunderstanding." "Oh~? I don't think so~ Hehe." "...You truly are incorrigible." Even though Ellie wore her hood low to hide her face, looking up from her lap, I could still see her cheeks flushed red. She felt warmer than a moment ago, so I decided to stop teasing her. This sudden move. Ellie and I left our previous home to seek a new refuge. I didn't know why, but I'm sure she had her reasons. I merely followed Ellie's lead. Starting with her sudden confession, "I'm hiding something." She couldn't reveal it just yet, but when she passionately asked me to trust her once more, happiness overwhelmed me, and I nodded vigorously. How could I not trust her? How could I not be happy? She had awoken from a long slumber, taking her first steps as a human. I wanted to see the end of her journey. "Can you stroke my hair?" "...Alright. Please let me know if it hurts at all." "Hehe. Sure!" Gently, she started stroking my hair. Her touch, soft and cautious, was adorable as she concentrated intensely to avoid causing any pain or discomfort. For the first time in forever, I reveled in pure peace and happiness, slowly drifting into sleep. "By the way, Ellie, what was the name of the village we're headed to again?" "Oh, I must have forgotten to mention." Considering Ellie's uniqueness, the location was adjacent to where people lived, yet sufficiently secluded. It's our new haven. "It's called Syria Village." The carriage would soon reach its destination. While it was an endpoint, it also marked the beginning. I wondered what new encounters awaited me. With growing anticipation, I fell into a deep, comforting sleep. ** People often joke that if they could return to the distant past, they could use their 'superior' knowledge to succeed in all aspects of life. Literature, engineering, science, politics, entertainment. While this is merely hypothetical, they claim they could live that way if it were possible. So vainly presumptuous. "Well—that's how the world is." It's just a fantasy for people who struggle through each day to escape reality. Just like I used to. People want to believe they're superior to those in the past, at least. I am not the person meant for such endeavors. Others fail to recognize my talents. I am, just a little, better than the people around me. Yes. I might be a bit smarter. Unlike them, I know the world is round, that objects with mass attract each other, and that light has both particle and wave properties. Those who can't grasp even these simple concepts seemed inconsequential to me. Ha! —Yet we can't even properly explain why the sky is blue. "Ugh..." Thud, thud, thud. I strike the pestle with a steady rhythm. Though my arm ached, and my crouched legs trembled, I couldn't stop thinking about how each task translated into money. Splashes followed the rhythm of the pestle. "Why is there so much laundry today... I'm gonna die, Remi..." "Ha. Instead of complaining, how about moving your hands a little faster?" "Okay..." Waaah, Mama's being mean... I told you not to call me Mama. Ouch—!? Whack. "Ugh..." In all those similar stories, the protagonist was always seducing everyone with their looks, so why am I stuck doing this? Clutching my throbbing head, I recalled my past foolishness which ruined my finances. A time I barely remember now, long ago. I once marshaled all my knowledge to recreate a pen, the pinnacle of modern civilization. I thought it was going to be a hit. I tried to assemble the jumbled experiences of dismantling pens during class into a crude diagram for the blacksmith, collecting materials from everywhere. It was a plan for which I stupidly spent all the hard-earned money I'd painstakingly saved, helping with household chores despite my blistered fingers. To feel some change in this stagnant life. Or perhaps it was a gamble to maintain my identity in this stifling existence? But whatever it was, it's irrelevant now. I did my best within the limits of my abilities. And, of course, the conclusion was... Yep, it failed miserably. Completely. The ink wasn't what I expected, and the parts ordered from the blacksmith were mismatched, failing to come together. The smelting, the casting—everything was drastically different from the modern processes. Technology, it seems, doesn't advance due to a single genius. Or maybe, not a genius at all. More like a mediocre person emulating the technology observed from the sidelines of a genius. I ended up with a shoddy creation where ink oozed out from the seams and was too bulky to hold properly—a piece of junk that would have gone straight to the trash in the old days. A complete mess, not even worthy of a prototype. Naturally, all the funds I had saved for a trip to the imperial capital were utterly wasted. Poof, just like that. ...Damn it. "Ughhhhhhhhh—!!!" "...Another one of your usual outbursts?" Bang, bang, bang. I slammed the club with all my might, fueled by my anger. I heard a tsk tsk from beside me, but I was used to it, so I ignored it. At this moment, I was a Don Quixote. A knight battling monstrous beasts (laundry). This was my sworn enemy of wasted money! This too was my sworn enemy of wasted money! With a fury that didn’t match my abilities, I swung the club recklessly, thrashing the laundry. Once I started pounding with all my strength, the mountain of laundry began to shrink quickly. And naturally, I made a mistake. —Whack! A distinct sound, different from when hitting fabric, rang out as if striking something hard. In that instant, I instinctively realized it. I was in trouble. "Ahhhhh—!!! My hand!!!" "......" The club, swung with force, had hit my hand instead of the laundry, and I writhed on the ground in pain. Mama... it hurts... take care of me... ...This is seriously crazy. Watching me, exasperated and pathetic, was my friend Remi. In her eyes, barely hidden displeasure was evident. "Sigh." No, she wasn't even trying to hide it. She looked at me with an expression that screamed, "I can't believe this is my friend." With an overt contempt, like glaring at an unemployed person who's been cooped up indoors all day. Without a trace of sympathy or hesitation, Remi gathered up her finished laundry and slowly got up. "...I'm heading back first." And then, she left me. "Remi!? R-Remi!? You're really leaving me—!? Hey!!" "Bye-bye, Han. See you later—no, let's never see each other again. It's been fun." "Ehhh—!?" And thus, my only friend in this village, who had shown me any kindness, left me heartlessly. My fingers throbbed and ached. I wanted to follow Remi back, but the pile of laundry still left bound me in place. At last, I understood why washing machines weren't a thing in medieval times. If you could use people, why would you need washing machines? Either way, both cost money anyway. Ha ha. "Sob..." Faced with such harsh reality, all I could do was cry. Tears fell. But since they landed on my already soaked, pallid fingers, they left no trace and vanished. "......." Yeah. Much like me. Meaningless. Simply, gone. **