Chapter 2: First (2)

The acrid smoke of cheap tobacco stung deep into my lungs.

The hazy smoke mixed with my exhaled breath brushed past a faint ray of light in the room, then scattered into the air as if it had never existed.

Everything was like that.

It flickered before my eyes, then disappeared.

Or I believed it had vanished, only for it to return to its original place.

Neither was a pleasant experience.

Because everything I had done living as Ravine for the past three years seemed like a futile effort, a mere mirage.

My temples throbbed.

The cold sensation just before pulling the trigger and the roaring sound that erupted felt as if they still lingered in my ears.

In this room, the sense of time didn’t seem to function very clearly.

I died.

Clearly.

Because my consciousness had gone black with the sensation of my head bursting.

So why was I still, yet again, sitting in this creaking chair in this dreadful room?

Whether it was hell or heaven, or at least purgatory, I should have been shoved into some other place.

Still, right before my eyes, a system message, now nauseating, floated clearly.

[Collect Endings. 1/?]

[Reward: Return to your original world.]

They acted as if they wanted to kill me, but it seems the sight of me dying, scattering blood before their eyes, was disgusting to them.

Of course, the noble and elegant Lady Edelgard would think so.

Continuing with useless thoughts wouldn’t improve anything.

I rummaged through the crumpled cigarette pack in my pocket and pulled out the last remaining stick, putting it in my mouth.

The one already in my hand had burned down to the filter, hot enough to scorch my fingers.

With a ‘click,’ a new flame ignited.

No matter how much I inhaled and exhaled the smoke, my confused mind simply wouldn’t settle.

Just then, a familiar envelope on the table caught my eye.

High-quality parchment that I had personally chosen, exuding a subtle fragrance.

A small lilac pattern, which Seraphina, that child, had said she uniquely liked, was embossed in the right corner of the envelope.

A letter I had written at least once a week, sometimes every three days.

It must have been one of the letters she had burned to ashes right before my eyes just a few days ago.

‘Now, anything you give me is just disgusting.’

The memory was vivid.

The burning flames, and my expressionless face watching them.

And her voice.

Everything was as clear as if it had just happened, yet the letter lay perfectly intact before me, as if nothing had occurred.

I stubbed out the cigarette butt I was holding in my mouth directly onto the lilac pattern of the envelope.

Hazy smoke rose from the cherished letter.

Black soot stained the purple petals.

Expulsion from the family, a broken engagement notice from my fiancée, and impulsive suicide.

That was the ending I had earned through my efforts.

Perhaps my efforts weren’t enough.

Or it might be my fault for overlooking the fact that this world was more unkind than any place I had ever seen.

It seems it was indeed a complacent desire to hope that everything would go smoothly by simply using my so-called original story knowledge.

It seemed this world didn’t want me to become a decent and good person.

The more I struggled to raise my head above the surface, the more an invisible hand grabbed my hair and pushed me deeper into the mire.

What was my original role again?

Right, I was supposed to cause every possible trouble, then pick a needless fight with the original protagonist whom I’d never met, be publicly humiliated, and then harbor petty resentment.

And as a consequence of that clumsy incident born of resentment, my fiancée, who was just one of the heroines in the original story, would abandon me and fall into the arms of the esteemed protagonist, while I would be expelled from both the family and the academy, wander the streets, and ultimately die by a nameless bandit’s knife.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bandit, but an assassin sent by the family, but at this point, what did it matter?

I had lived diligently because I hated such an ending.

Though all I realized was that even if a scoundrel reformed overnight and lived a decent life, perceptions wouldn’t change.

Should I once again expose my belly like a dog to Seraphina, begging her to love me, to please not abandon me?

‘I’m back, so this time it will be different’?

No way.

If that were the case, my situation should have improved, even just a little, long ago.

As thoughts spiraled, my mind strangely settled down.

It was a tranquility closer to resignation than anger or sorrow.

I blankly stared at the system message floating in the air, which might have been a hallucination created by my own brain.

[Collect Endings. 1/?]

[Reward: Return to your original world.]

Perhaps a suicide, more akin to a drunken performance in front of my sister, was an ending in its own right.

Or perhaps, after my death, everything in the world smoothly resolved, ending in a happy ending where everyone was content.

Either way, it was a story that had nothing to do with me.

Because far from returning, I was still stuck in this damn world.

I stared blankly at the letter stained with cigarette ash, then stood up.

I approached the old lamp tucked away in the corner of the room, shook it to check for oil, and lit the wick.

A small, flickering flame dimly illuminated the dark room.

Without hesitation, I held the sooty letter over the flame.

The edge of the parchment turned yellow, then ignited into a small blaze.

Crackling, crackling…

The distinct smell of parchment mixed with the scent of ash, rising nauseatingly.

I calmly looked down at the burning letter.

However, perhaps it wasn’t called high-quality parchment for nothing.

The flames lazily burned about half of the letter, then flickered out as if they had lost interest.

In the end, nothing went right.

Seraphina’s contemptuous face, Levina’s disgusted expression, the cold gazes of the family members.

No matter what I did, they only saw me as ‘Edelgard’s Scoundrel.’

In truth, it was probably a softened term like ‘scoundrel’ due to fear of the Edelgard family’s power, as calling me a ‘disgusting bastard’ would be too direct.

But it wasn’t my concern.

It seems I don’t particularly like the regression genre.

Perhaps it’s because it feels like I’m branded a failure who can’t change anything, even with a second chance.

“You said you quit smoking, so why are you smoking now?”

A cold voice came from behind me.

It was Seraphina.

I didn’t know when she had entered, but she was leaning against the door, arms crossed, glaring at me.

Instead of answering, I stubbed out the cigarette I was holding in my mouth on the pile of butts in the ashtray.

“The wall looks bare.”

She said, looking around the room.

Previously, a landscape painting by an unknown artist, which she had tossed to me as a birthday gift, had hung there.

I quite liked that painting, but she wouldn’t know that.

Now, only a nail mark remained there, like a scar.

“There’s nothing much to hang, you see.”

At my words, Seraphina bit her lower lip slightly.

It was her habit whenever she suppressed displeasure.

“That… didn’t you say you quit?”

Seraphina said, gesturing with her chin towards the mountain of cigarette butts piled on the table.

Her gaze briefly paused on the half-burnt letter I had just failed to incinerate.

“Ah, well.

It seems nothing changes anyway.”

I shrugged and replied.

She wouldn’t understand what I meant.

It seems I really did come back.

Judging by how the words are exactly the same as that day, without a single change.

Seraphina sighed.

That sigh contained many things: disappointment, weariness, and a slight hint of resignation.

“You said we’d meet today, Ravine.”

“I did, didn’t I?

Though I wonder if it matters now.”

I nudged a piece of the letter lying on the floor with the tip of my foot.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.

I also have something to say today.

Ravine, I heard the story.

You caused trouble in the restricted library this time, didn’t you?”

“Then you must have heard the result too.

That it ended cleanly with no charges.”

“That day, sealed monsters were released from the restricted library, and you, who went into the restricted library that very day, even using the family’s name, have no charges?

Do you think that makes sense?”

It doesn’t make sense, does it?

I even wonder if my situation itself makes any sense.

Perhaps it’s my fault for not memorizing every detailed setting of a game I didn’t even find that enjoyable.

The fact that no one would believe anything I said no longer pained me after a certain point.

It just was.

Whether I did something or not, I sometimes wondered if people just needed someone to point fingers at and blame after a certain point.

“You might not care, but someone died.

One of your classmates died.”

“I know.”

“Is that all?”

“Enough.

How much more do I have to care?

It wasn’t my doing, nor my problem.”

Even when I said this, her eyes didn’t waver in the slightest.

‘You truly are that kind of person.’

Because no matter what happened, in this esteemed fiancée’s mind, every incident’s premise began with ‘Ravine did it.’

Seraphina gnashed her teeth and said quietly.

“……It’s a problem connected to you, Ravine.”

She sighed, approached me, then roughly pulled back the curtains and threw the window wide open.

The afternoon sunlight poured into the dusty room.

As if it were her own room, she familiarly nudged a rolling liquor bottle on the floor with her foot, pushing it aside, and began roughly folding the scattered clothes draped over the chair.

“I probably thought it might be like this from a long time ago.”

“Of course, you always act as if you know everything.”

“Yes.

We always grew up together since we were children, didn’t we?”

Seraphina replied, biting her lip slightly.

Her hands were folding clothes, but her gaze was fixed somewhere in the air.

She picked up the half-burnt letter that had fallen to the floor.

After staring at it blankly for a long time, she finally opened her mouth.

Her voice was strangely calm.

And the words she spoke were no different from that day either.

“I told Father that we should break off the engagement after all.

He readily accepted, and I suppose our families will soon arrange a suitable date to coordinate.”

She neatly placed the sooty letter in her hand on top of the other intact letters on the table.

It was a detached and businesslike gesture, as if she were organizing obituaries.

A few days ago, when I had the exact same conversation with Seraphina, I had inadvertently gotten emotional and argued with her.

What I got in return was the sight of the letter burning spectacularly before my eyes, but today, perhaps because I had burned it first, Seraphina did not burn the letter.

“Alright then.

Goodbye, Seraphina.

Though I’m not sure if I’ll see your face again.”

I shrugged and replied.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“…Is that all?”

“Or would you prefer if I knelt at your feet right now and begged?

Promising I won’t do it again, asking for just one more chance?”

“No!

At least… at least say something!

Try to make an excuse!”

Even if I did, she wouldn’t listen anyway.

“Alright, a story.

Since you asked for it, I’ll give it.”

I looked her straight in the eye.

For a very long time, perhaps three minutes, a suffocating silence fell between us, where only our breaths could be heard.

We simply exchanged glances without a word.

I was the first to speak.

“But I don’t know how to start.

You’ve already decided everything, haven’t you?”