Chapter 47 - The Girl Wants to Be M*rdered

Episode 47: 47. Seventeen. Blessing in disguise. What seems like a curse may, in fact, be a blessing. Seventeen curses. Seventeen blessings. Is this a blessing? Or an outrageous curse? "No one knows." --- "Just disappear... right in front of me!!" "What...?" The sunset painted the sky a fiery red, filling the classroom completely. At this moment, usually bringing about a sense of nostalgia for some, rekindling forgotten memories, I found myself listening to an untimely confession. Yet, it was unlike any confession I had ever heard. It was a hideously tainted, dirty confession. "Always winning like that, with that smirk on your face... What? 'I'll help you with anything you don't understand tomorrow'?" "Yeri...?" "If you've got it all with studies and sports, just shoot away to some high place! Don't bother with someone like me!!" She flung something from her hands. Sheets of paper, littered with numbers and words, danced chaotically in the air. With a soft flutter, the exam papers floated down before me like falling cherry blossom petals. There wasn't any specific trigger for it, really. A day just like any other ended with enjoyable interactions with my classmates. It was no different than any usual day. Always the same, so much so that it’s called a routine. So if there was any trigger between us, everything I had done up until now would be part of it. Yeah. This happened not due to a single "mistake," but because the dormant, dark emotions started surfacing. That realization is what left me dumbfounded. Neighbor, childhood friend, best friend. So many words could describe our relationship. From the moment we were born to standing here in this middle school classroom, we spent more time together than with anyone else, aside from family. Perhaps, even more than family. It’s possible that we forged a deeper bond than with them. So I boasted that our bond was stronger than any other label we had. Really, truly, I thought I could give my life for her. But, was that bond only one-sided? Jealousy and envy. I was deeply shocked to be facing such dark emotions from the friend I considered dearest in this life, leaving me speechless. I could only stare blankly at her face. The sounds reaching my ears held no meaning. Was I... better off gone? As I failed to even open my mouth, unable to speak, she pressed on more fiercely. It was about grades and scholarships. It was a grievance about the people surrounding us. More fundamentally, it was a critique of my mere existence. As she released her words one after another, my gaze gradually lowered to the ground. Eventually, her mouth uttered the words I dreaded to hear more than anything else. Sharp and pointed. Piercing through my heart— "Not once did you ever try." "......!!" "I worked so hard... and you ruined everything." I fell to my knees. In that posture, until the sun entirely hid itself on the horizon. I continued to bow my head. "........." Alone on the cold floor of the now-empty classroom, I knelt there as if nailed to the spot. Just by myself. Continuously— --- Understanding the world and making the right judgments. Even gods count it as the supreme among all virtues. The time too long to recall, now considered "wisdom" by the masses, was more than enough to gift my arms with something deserving of that title. It pertained to domestic matters, morals, and etiquette, and finally, it encompassed studies and mental discipline. Some may praise it as a product of talent and effort, but to me, it's nothing more than an outcome of sheer chance. Yet despite the grand pretenses, those very things proved futile in quelling the chaos now dwelling within my heart. "Why... why must I... be absent... place... meaning..." My mind was not functioning. With no coherent awareness, I was mumbling words that barely formed a sentence. Half-closed eyes replayed earlier’s shocking scene endlessly like an infinite video loop. Even when I frantically shook my head to clear my mind, the vivid scene lingered, filling my mind and refusing to fade. Condemning me. Cursing me. Each time Yeri's lips parted in my mind, my body jolted like it had been stabbed. Her last words compelled me to reach for my neck and squeeze. The climax of that memory showed my most trusted and cherished friend denying every path I had walked. I wanted to deny it. I didn't want to accept it. Yet, I couldn't utter a single excuse. Even if they seemed entirely baseless, every word she said was the undeniable truth. If I hadn’t been there, someone else would have taken my place. Not someone like me, but a genuine person with true effort and a beautiful obsession for life would have been there. So. "...Ah... Ah..." —So I had no choice but to punish myself. People always seem to live as if they’re being chased by something. This holds true even now, in a world where new transportation means have been invented that are hundreds of times faster than a person running, where the time to send a heartfelt postcard is reduced by thousands of times. Chasing something elusive, being pursued by something intangible. Ask people why they work so hard for money, wealth, and fame, and you’ll get an array of different answers. But, look closely, and you’ll see it all boils down to one thing. Time. Or as we might call it, life and death. Because there is a limited span of life, perhaps people live so diligently to achieve something within that time. Some seek a family to accept them, some their own happiness, others a warm ending, clinging to life like a candle burning away. Even now, someone somewhere might be studying late into the night, earnestly dreaming of tomorrow. Yes, just like Yeri. "I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry..." But what have I done in front of them? I’ve sat idly where someone else should be, enjoyed privileges that should belong to another, and, as she had said, forcibly took away what rightfully belonged to someone who had lived their life diligently. I unjustly enjoyed things that others deserved, simply because of the countless lives I’ve pointlessly accumulated that are nothing worth boasting about. Yes, she was right. The ugly one wasn't anyone else but me. "Truly, I'm sorry...." —Creak. The pink scarf, weighted with my body, drew tight with a firm creaking sound, securely looped around the exposed rebar peering from the ceiling. A hole someone had accidentally made by kicking a soccer ball in class had been left unrepaired for a week. Though the sight of it had often irked me, revealing an unsightly structure, at this moment, I was nothing but grateful. As if it existed solely for this pathetic person that I am. "Really... I’m sorry, Yeri." I slowly slipped my head into the small noose. My trembling hands and the chair beneath me wobbled helplessly as though predicting the inevitable. The securely tied knot and the thick, long scarf could definitely bear the weight of someone as light as me, who’s often teased for still being small for a middle schooler. Everything was prepared. I was truly an uncontrollable piece of trash, an arrogant sinner who boasted and flaunted things I unjustly gained as if they were my own. I should never have been born. This life, which I had thought was a blessing, was indeed not a blessing but a curse. So, please. If there is such a thing as a next life, I hope I don’t exist in it. And let this meaningless death, this pain, serve as a small atonement for those I’ve wronged and taken from. May everything return to its rightful place. ".........." With such a wish. I slowly closed my eyes. Thinking one last time of the modest little letter left on my desk— Thud. I kicked the chair away. ** "Ugh... really...!!" A room and bed drenched in pink. A middle school girl in a blue pajama ill-matching her surroundings tossed and turned, kicking at the blankets. In her eyes, as if contemplating someone, small tears began to well up. "What do I do...!! Ugh... Aaah....!! Aaaaaa!!!" Thud, thud, thud. Kicking blankets seemed to serve little purpose, but the more she kicked, the stronger her movements grew, showing that the action had no calming effect. And yet, perhaps she couldn’t bear the guilt of having lashed out at her friend for jealousy over her abilities unless she vented like this. What she probably despised most at that moment was not congratulating her friend sincerely for her success but being jealous instead. "I should apologize when I see her tomorrow." Her precious friend, her other self, so to speak. The friend who was always kind and gentle, who, when indulging in a playful pout, would scold gently but help out anyway, who smiled and took her for cake after saying sorry, a proud connection of hers. Thus, she was slightly upset at the thought of her friend leaving her far behind. On the other hand, the brutal reality of being a shackle to her friend redirected her lost anger towards her. "Ngh... Tomorrow, go to school, a little earlier..." Pondering how to approach her friend the next day, Choi Yeri slowly closed her tearful eyes. Squeezing tightly her sky-blue pajama—the one they exchanged for her pink scarf one snowy Christmas. "...I’m sorry..." She thought, surely, if her friend, If she sincerely apologized, her friend would forgive her. Then, as always, with a smiling face, take her hand and go out for fun. Thinking so. "I should..." She closed her eyes. And the sun rose. The thick fog rolled in. Tomorrow came— ".....Huh?" "..........." Dangling, dangling. Hanged. ** 18. At a young age, fell from a window. ** 19. Drowned in a lake, never resurfaced. ** 20. At the battlefield. After victory, severed own neck. ** 21. 22. 23. ... .. 776. ** 777. "This was a blessing." I realized the truth of the world. The value of my life. The mission I must undertake. All of it. **