Chapter 8 : Alcoholic

I tend to have a strong desire to self-harm.

I want to break. I want to shatter into pieces.

I didn’t know how or when this desire took root in my heart.

But one thing was certain: this inherent urge exploded after my mother’s imprisonment.

To me, someone born incapable of generating self-esteem or confidence, she’d said kindly, “Titania, you’re a wonderful child. A beautiful and lovable child.”

It was perhaps natural that being suddenly separated from the person who constantly showered me with such affection would have this effect.

To cope with the cold nights and self-destructive urges, I first turned to self-harm.

The sight of blood welling up from my wrist, the feeling of pain, calmed me.

At first, it felt absurd.

I felt bad about wasting the blood from a shallow cut. The futility and self-loathing that followed made me avoid knives and my wrists for a while.

But years of living like that erased any trace of that initial innocence.

I came to my senses when
My wrists were so scarred that I couldn’t cut them anymore.

It doesn’t matter. There are plenty of other places to draw blood. As long as I can feel warm.

That was my rationale as I carved into my thighs. A mundane existence.

If it weren’t for that nosy doctor who, seeing my self-harm, introduced me to other “interests” as a distraction,
Perhaps my life wouldn’t have become so tumultuous.

“…”

I realized I was blaming Nadia and silently chastised myself.

I didn’t intend to blame her for introducing me to drugs.

I was the one who agreed, and I was the one who persistently sought her out for more, despite her warnings.

Regardless, using drugs was problematic.

It made it impossible to function normally. I’d lose myself and end up clinging to Nadia, following her around like a lost puppy. Even now, I cringed at the memory.

At least back then, I still had some semblance of reason.

The fact that I even considered quitting meant the drugs hadn’t completely melted my nervous system.

But if it were something I could quit and relapse at will,
People like me wouldn’t be labeled addicts and endlessly condemned.

To quit, I needed something else to fill the void.

The same logic that led me to choose drugs over self-harm.

I started searching for a replacement.

Looking back,
That was a mistake.

“…”

The gambling den was filled with all sorts of people.

The kind who’d flocked to the shadows, escaping the law and the light of day.

Like rats scurrying in back alleys, they all had one thing in common:
Addiction.

This subterranean world preyed on primal instincts.

Drugs, tobacco, gambling, women,
Every imaginable pleasure was available here.

And, of course, alcohol.

“Pretty girl, alcohol today?”
“As I always say, could you please stop with that weird nickname?”

As I sipped my drink,
The red-haired woman approached me, feigning familiarity.

She grumbled at my indifferent reply.

“You don’t mean that.”

It was just her usual banter.

I didn’t care what she called me.

Lately, I even preferred these condescending, sarcastic nicknames.

For a moment, pink hair flashed before my eyes.

Tanya. Tanya. Lucia’s sweet voice, calling my nickname, echoed in my mind.

And that was the reason I was drinking.

“Pretty girl, what’s wrong?”
“…”
“You seem off today. Something happen?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“How can I not worry when our pretty girl is whimpering like a puppy?”

Whimpering like a puppy?

I didn’t like her phrasing, but I was aware that my usual composure was shattered.

I recalled the horrible thing I’d done to Lucia in the infirmary earlier.

Dragging that innocent girl onto the bed,
Pinning her wrists, undressing her, molesting her, pressing my body against hers…

If it weren’t for Lucia’s inherent innocence,
I would have gone through with it.

And I would have regretted it for the rest of my life.

I almost tainted her. I almost did something unforgivable. To someone so kind, so radiant, so pure, someone I could only admire.

My chest tightened.
I downed the whiskey the bartender had brought.

“Whoa, hey, slow down.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Whatever it is, just don’t puke on the carpet again.”

Ah, that.

While I was generally indifferent to my surroundings,
I wasn’t oblivious to the trouble I caused.

I needed to calm down.

As I took deep breaths,
I felt the bartender’s gaze on us.

Her expression was a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

Everyone was like that.
They found it strange that the notoriously cold owner of the establishment was personally talking to me.

By the way, she was a new face. Recently hired?
She seemed skilled at mixing drinks.
And pretty.

As I looked at her, trying to distract myself,
Charlotte chuckled and started talking to the bartender.

“What do you think of her?”
“Excuse me? What do you mean?”
“Just tell me what you think.”
“I don’t know what to say…”
“Anything that comes to mind.”
“…She’s pretty.”

I scoffed at the forced compliment.
What was she trying to accomplish?

Even a three-year-old could tell it wasn’t sincere.
Those nervous eyes couldn’t lie.

Was that the best compliment she could come up with?

Charlotte was strange. What kind of answer did she expect from her employees?

“But hands off. Got it?”

It was a warning.

She did this every time someone new was hired,
Introducing me to the staff as if marking her territory.

I suddenly wanted to crack open her skull and steal her thoughts.

I knew she liked to show off, but still.

After threatening the bartender, Charlotte
Tried to stop me from drinking more.

“No.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“I just feel like it.”
“Stop drinking. You’re drunk.”
“So what?”
“Hmm. You really are strange today.”
“How so?”
“Usually, you either listen when I tell you to stop, or you just ignore me. It’s weird that you’re arguing back.”
“…”

She found everything I did strange.

Why was she so insistent when I just wanted to drink?

I simply stared at her.

And then, I said her name.

“Charlotte.”
“…”

Had I mentioned this before?
How to handle this woman.

Whenever I said her name in a calm voice,
She’d reluctantly grant my request.

I didn’t know why.
But it worked.

I got what I wanted.

Alcohol.

I drank until my throat burned.

But even then,
Strangely,
It wasn’t the same as when I’d pinned Lucia down.

Not even close.

Even this strong alcohol couldn’t compare. Just how aroused had I been back then?

Disgusting.

As I thought that,
The world spun,
And I blacked out.

…

…
…

…

…

“Shar, Shar.”
“Ugh, here we go again. I told you to stop drinking. You can’t even hold your liquor.”
“Am I… annoying you, Shar…?”
“A little? Ah, don’t make that face.”
“…”
“Fine. You’re not annoying. How could you be? My pretty girl.”
“Really…?”

…

“I… I want to… I think.”
“Want to what? What do you mean, ‘I think’?”
“Yeah, I did that… I shouldn’t have…”
“Speak clearly.”
“I think… I’m frustrated.”
“Pfft——”
“Don’t spit it out! That’s gross.”

…

“Shar, let’s do it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Tch. And you call yourself experienced.”
“Only with women.”
“Me too. I’m a woman…”
“Oh really?”
“Why not…?”
“You’re no fun. I’m not into obedient, easy women.”
“Then what?”
“I like them a little rebellious. Like you when you’re sober.”
“…”

…

“Shar, I can’t move…”
“Then stop clinging to me. Honestly, you get so clingy when you’re drunk. At least you’re entertaining when you’re high and acting cute. Tsk.”
“I messed up…”
“I know you did.”