Chapter 25 : I’m not a pervert

After being choked by Karen in the bathroom,
I headed to the infirmary.

Not to brag about being assaulted, but
To hide the marks on my throat.

Our school nurse, as always, was less than thrilled to see me.

“Just so you know, I don’t have any.”
“I’m not here for the medicine.”
“Now that’s a surprise… and what happened to your neck?”

Nadia, about to make a sarcastic remark,
Changed the subject upon seeing my condition.

Did she have sharp eyes, or
Were the marks that obvious?

“First your wrists, then your thighs, and now your neck… wait a minute.”
“…”
“That’s not an angle you could achieve by yourself.”
“Something happened.”
“Who did this?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who did that to your neck?”

What are you going to do if you find out? I replied cynically.

“Was it that pink-haired girl?”
“Huh?”

I was taken aback. She was clearly talking about Lucia.

Lucia? Strangling someone? She was too innocent for such an act.

I wondered if Nadia had some sort of grudge against her.

Probably not.

Despite my puzzled expression,
Nadia continued her speculation, unfazed.

“Hmm, so it wasn’t her.”
“Of course not.”
“Of course?”

She chuckled, a
Mocking sound.

What grudge did she have against Lucia?

I felt a surge of protectiveness, surprised by my own reaction.

And Nadia, perceptive as always, noticed it.

“You two seem to have gotten close.”
“…”
“You’re… not exactly a good influence on her.”

I couldn’t argue with that.
Lucia and I were worlds apart.

I knew that.

“Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“I told you I enjoy seeing you suffer.”

Her peculiar enjoyment of my misery didn’t bother me.

And I knew she wasn’t saying this out of concern.

“And don’t try to seduce me.”
“…Seduce?”

Was I trying to seduce her? I seriously doubted it.

I was sitting here, keeping my distance, just talking. Hardly seductive behavior.

Unless I was high on drugs.

Unsure of how to respond,
I simply walked over to her and offered my neck.

“Could you… take care of this?”

Nadia’s hand, touching my neck, was as cold as mine.
Perhaps even colder.

She applied a large bandage, and
I suddenly looked like a sickly patient.

Not that I was bragging about being frail. But it was better
Than having the bruise exposed.

“You can leave now.”
“Nadia.”
“Yes?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“…Me?”

Was it that surprising?

Well, I’d never confided in her before, so it was understandable.

Or rather, there was no need to confide, since Nadia always seemed to know what I was thinking.

“Why do I like pain?”
“Excuse me?”
“I like pain.”
“…”
“It makes my chest ache… in a… strange way…”
“…”
“Nadia?”

An awkward silence filled the infirmary.

Nadia, uncharacteristically, didn’t respond.

She just stared at me, frozen, as if
Asking if I was serious.

What about my statement had surprised her?

Or maybe she hadn’t heard me.

I repeated myself.

“I like pa…”
“I heard you, so stop.”
“You were listening.”
“Of course I was.”

She suddenly frowned,
Rubbing the wrinkles that formed on her forehead.

And finally, she said,

“…Maybe you’re just a masochist.”
“Excuse me?”

I’d never considered myself a masochist.
A hedonist, yes, but not a masochist.

I touched the bandage on my neck.

The bruise, where Karen’s hand had been, still throbbed.

Was it the chafing? The bruising? Or…

I lifted my skirt slightly.

The bruises on my thighs were worse than I thought.

A mottled mess. Probably from
Karen’s rough handling of my already scarred skin.

Nadia, after observing my self-inflicted wounds, said,

“That’s… something.”
“Is it that bad?”
“No. It’s… vulgar.”
“Excuse me?”
“Whatever. Come here. Let me treat that.”

Nadia rummaged through a drawer, pulled out some antiseptic and cotton swabs, and started cleaning my thighs.

“Eek…”
“Don’t get excited.”
“It hurts.”
“I thought you liked pain?”
“…”

I was speechless.

I’d made a mistake. I liked the ache in my chest when Karen touched me, not just any kind of pain. I wasn’t a masochist.

But I was too tired to explain. She could think what she wanted.

Anyway.
It really hurt.

“Hmm, ow…”
“Stop making those weird noises.”
“It hurts! What am I supposed to do…?”

Nadia, sensing an opportunity, started cleaning my wrists.

The antiseptic stung.

It hurt so much I almost cried. My face flushed.

I whispered to Nadia, my voice
Weaker than I intended,

“It hurts…”
“…”

That was strange.
Nadia would normally reply with a sarcastic “So what?”

And I was being strange too.
I could have easily endured the pain, yet I was complaining.

Why was I acting like a spoiled child? And why was Nadia indulging me?

I occasionally saw traces of my mother in Nadia,
Despite their completely different personalities and appearances.

Perhaps it was because she cared for me,
Despite me being nothing but a burden.

“Nadia.”
“Yes?”
“Just… saying your name.”

We weren’t close enough to exchange heartfelt thanks.

And that confused me even more.

I felt uneasy.
Afraid her kindness would disappear someday. It had appeared without reason, so it could disappear just as easily.

“I’ll give you some antiseptic and bandages. Take them with you.”
“Okay.”
“Change the bandages once a day.”
“Okay.”
“And try to cut down on the alcohol and cigarettes. And the drugs… well, it would be best if you quit those too.”
“Nadia, you sound like a real doctor.”
“I am a real doctor.”

Nadia sighed and continued.

“And try to stop… hurting yourself.”
“I’m planning on it.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.”

Why did she sound so skeptical?

Not that I’d actually stop just because she told me to.

Perhaps bothered by my uncharacteristically straightforward answer,
Nadia thought for a moment, then said,

“Titania, your expression has improved lately.”
“Really?”
“Your dead fish eyes are… less dead, I suppose.”
“Nothing happened…”

Nadia didn’t seem happy about it. She almost seemed
Disappointed.

Disappointed about what?

We sat there for a while,
Staring at each other, motionless.

Not to analyze each other’s intentions, but
Simply because we felt like it. I didn’t know if Nadia felt the same.

“Anyway, you should really go now.”
“…”

I should.
I had classes to attend.

I felt Nadia’s gaze following me.

As if she had something to say. But when I looked at her,
She quickly looked away.

Ah.
I was the one who had something to say.

“Nadia.”
“Yes?”
“I’m neither a masochist, nor a pervert.”
“What are you suddenly…”

I needed to clear up that misunderstanding.
While I didn’t feel the need to justify myself,
It was a little unfair.

My sudden declaration must have surprised her, because
Nadia looked bewildered.

“Then explain… that.”

Vulgar? What was so vulgar?
I realized I was still lifting my skirt, exposing my thighs.

She was changing the subject. What did my attire have to do with being a masochist?

Sometimes, I thought
Nadia was a strange woman.