Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 36: Third Time

“Vivian, why did you bother coming to the classroom when we already saw each other yesterday evening?”

“I haven’t seen you at the dining street lately, so I thought I’d invite you to have a meal together.

But seeing you and Evan here, wearing matching necklaces, I can’t help but wonder—what exactly were you two doing?”

Does Vivian think Evan put the necklace on me?

Her slightly furrowed brow as she speaks is quite striking.

How can someone make such an expression and still be so beautiful?

Setting her face aside, her entire aura, her physique, her abilities—nothing about me is better than Vivian.

“Well, I don’t know either. Evan showed up out of nowhere.”

Feigning nonchalance, I asked with a blank expression, “Evan, why did you come here again?”

At my indifferent tone, Evan’s face hardened as he answered Vivian instead.

“Because you’re being bullied, and I came to help.”

Vivian, standing beside me, repeated, “Bullied?” in disbelief. But I ignored her and continued my conversation with Evan.

“Why now?”

“I was waiting for you to ask for help. Or at least tell Vivian about it.

Because if I stepped in first, you’d let your pride get in the way and end up like this.”

“True. That’s how I’ve been.”

So Evan had been trying to consider my feelings, in his own way.

But standing here with Vivian, his tone was much more gentlemanly than usual.

Lydia probably wouldn’t care.

She might enjoy tormenting me in secret, but she wouldn’t dare do it openly in front of Vivian and Evan.

That girl’s just a cowardly lowlife missing a few screws.

So I had decided to endure it somehow, despite how hard it was.

“By the way, Vivian, did you know this?

Evan and I once had an engagement arranged. We almost got married.

Our parents met, and fortunately for Evan, it only progressed to verbal discussions.”

Even when I recognized the consideration behind his actions, I no longer had the capacity to reciprocate.

Back when Evan came to me and stabbed me with his words, it had left scars. But now, the thought of not hearing such cruel remarks brought me a strange sense of calm.

Did Vivian catch on to what I was trying to say?

Her face darkened slightly, and her expression grew weary.

“But then, my family collapsed, and Evan decided he preferred you over me.

And I became someone with nothing—no assets, no abilities. Haha.

Let’s leave it at that.”

Anyway, could Evan still be called my ex-fiancé? Hmm. He wouldn’t think so.

It was just a promise made offhandedly by our families when we were five years old.

We spent so much time together, seeing each other so often, that until I came to the academy, I honestly thought there was no one else for me but Evan.

If only my family had stayed intact, Evan wouldn’t have been able to brush off that childhood promise so lightly, even if he liked Vivian.

But what benefit could anyone gain by marrying someone like me?

That’s why “what ifs” are just that—hypotheticals.

No matter how much I imagine different scenarios, my current situation won’t change.

Whenever I try to do something, it feels like everything conspires to deny me.

I thought I’d just live humiliated and subservient under Lydia, graduate, and then hide away somewhere quiet where no one could find me.

I guess it was all just a foolish dream.

Still, my belief in living with determination and hope hasn’t entirely disappeared.

“Why don’t we just say we were playing at being a passionate couple with these necklaces?”

“Erica, are you really trying to brush this off so casually?”

“Yes, I’m tired. Vivian, could you take Evan and go grab something to eat?”

“You don’t even realize how you look right now, do you?”

“And how do I look?”

I couldn’t even be bothered to use polite speech anymore.

It didn’t feel uncomfortable using informal speech—it felt more fitting, like I was some spoiled, ill-mannered villainess.

Instead of releasing my pent-up frustrations, it felt as though they had dropped into the depths of my heart, taking my strength with them.

“How do I look right now? Like an idiot? Is that what you see?”

Despite my sharp tone, Vivian met my gaze without flinching and answered confidently.

Her composure, even in moments like this, only made the jealousy simmering inside me rise even higher.

“You look exhausted, with hollow eyes. Your once vibrant white hair now looks brittle.

Your already pale skin has turned so ashen it could belong to a corpse.

And your eyes… it’s like they’ve lost all focus and are staring into the void.”

“Yeah, I look like a mess. Sorry. Compared to you, I’m a disaster.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Erica, you need to rest—whether it’s your mind or your body. You need peace.”

“If I could do that, do you think I’d be like this right now?!”

I slammed the desk with all my strength.

I thought the healing magic Evan had used earlier had completely healed the wounds on my arm, but it seemed they had only closed on the surface. The impact caused them to reopen, and blood began to flow.

After I shouted, Vivian closed her mouth, her words left unsaid.

I stared at her for a long time, noticing how she seemed to see someone else in me.

Perhaps she was comparing me to her father.

The difference was that her father had ascended to the heavens, while I could not.

Evan, standing beside her, clenched his fist tightly, his hand trembling as he tried to suppress his emotions.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

“Evan, what do you think about stepping back into the past for a brighter future?”

“Stop saying weird things.

Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

The charred necklace around my neck irritated me.

I tried to tear it off but ended up choking myself. After struggling for a moment, I managed to find the clasp and unfasten it.

“Don’t they have novels about things like this in the marketplace?

You know, waking up after dying, finding yourself young again, or restarting your life?”

At the mention of death, Evan flinched and spoke quickly.

“That’s ridiculous…”

“Exactly. It’s ridiculous.

Completely absurd.”

After all, the idea of dying and not dying at the same time doesn’t make sense.

Maybe this is all just a dream.

And perhaps I’ve been trapped in this same thought cycle, over and over again.

“But even if I went back to the past, there wouldn’t be an answer for me.”

“I think I’m someone deliberately created to die.”

Before Lydia fastened a dog collar around my neck, I had spent a long time thinking.

Not about why these things were happening to me—self-pity is exhausting—but rather about how my family had collapsed.

Looking back, it became clear: the Mecklenburg family was nothing short of a purely evil house. A den of villains, through and through.

If anyone at the academy asked what evil deeds I had committed, I could only answer that I once slapped Vivian.

I hadn’t personally participated in or defended my family’s dealings, but I had enjoyed a life of wealth and comfort while the family thrived.

My brother, who was branded a traitor and executed, had been exceptionally talented.

In a rather cruel way, too.

It was my brother who suggested to my father that if the slaves in the orchards or cotton fields failed to meet their quotas, it would be better to cut off their hands or feet rather than kill them outright.

I had pushed those unpleasant memories deep into the recesses of my mind.

Now that I recall them, they feel distant, almost surreal.

Maybe my brother will come back someday as a zombie-like creature to wreak havoc. There had always been hints of such a possibility, as if it were foreshadowed in a novel.

But it never actually happened.

Perhaps the writer had forgotten that storyline. Or maybe it was meant for the climax, where he’d return, cause chaos, and then be dealt with.

“My brother—the brilliant, handsome, dignified brother—why did he have to die?

I think I understand now.

He was too talented. Even the ruthless Emperor must have found him too cruel.

He probably found my brother uncomfortable to keep alive, so he fabricated some charges and, as you said, Evan, took his head without even giving him time to plead his case or say goodbye to his family.

And just like that, the future of our family disappeared in an instant.”

I murmured to myself.

And there was no one who could take his place.

Me? Ha, not a chance.

Unless I killed every last one of those half-wits and the family elders…

“Why did Father die, I wonder?

Perhaps because news of Mother’s scandalous affairs spread like wildfire, and he realized there was no way to save the family.

And if he didn’t end his own life, the Emperor would have twisted the narrative into a disgraceful death and handled it himself.

Yes, it wasn’t an accident. He must have jumped off a cliff somewhere. Or hung himself.”

Evan frowned deeply, his voice carrying a low growl as he spoke.

“Erica, stop it. That’s enough.”

But his words weren’t particularly impactful.

When I die, time moves forward a little.

Just a little.

Only a tiny bit.

But it feels like it could repeat infinitely.

And honestly, death feels like a relief.

At the end of suffering comes rest.

I could think of it as following Father.

Being killed by someone else, though—that’s terrifying. Painful, too.

It might just be my imagination, but I feel like I’ll encounter that inept executioner again.