"Evan, look at this flower. Isn't it beautiful?" Emilia asked, her voice soft, her smile bright enough to shame the daylight. She held the small bouquet of violets.
I followed her gaze. A purple aster, delicate and vibrant, perfectly matching the hue of her dress. Its petals were flawless, a tiny piece of perfection in a world that felt so broken.
"Yes," I said, handing it to her after paying the shopkeeper. "Beautiful… just like you, Ema. Beautiful in the daylight."
But in the night—when the light fades—you wither.
"Fufu, glad you know," she laughed, the sound light and pure. I handed the coin to the shopkeeper and let the flower to her.
"Well, someone knows how to be a lady's man," she teased sweetly.
Her words were sweet, but they didn't land sweetly anymore. No, they only echoed with poison.
Because what I really heard… were her last words. The ones she cried out before I killed her in my eighteenth run. The ones that had been clawing at the edges of my sanity ever since.
"W-why, Ev– Evan… j-just… why?
A-am I… that unforgivable… t-to you?
D-did you… lie? When you said… you forgave me?"
Did you lie…?
The memory was a blade, twisting. Her fragile, cracked voice dragged up another memory I hated remembering. My mother's voice, trembling in the kitchen of my old life.
"Did you lie? You promised me you'd go to college. You said you'd make something of yourself. Instead, you're wasting everything on part-time jobs… after all I've sacrificed."
Her anger, her scolding… none of that hurt me. What truly destroyed me were her eyes—the betrayal in them, the way they told me I had shattered the trust she had poured her entire life into.
She had worked herself to the bone so that me and my little brother wouldn't have to. She carried all the burdens herself, just so we could graduate, just so we could have the future she never had.
And in one moment, I broke it. I lost everything she had given me in that gaze of disappointment and hurt.
And yet… even with that memory carved so deep into me, a wound that would never heal, I still repeated the same thing.
Again and again. I betrayed Emilia just like I betrayed her.
So what's the point? Why don't I just leave it all behind? Continuing like this—does it really bring me any closer to the answer I've been searching for?
Isn't it enough that I'm aware now? That I finally know myself? That I don't want to lose it again?
Or… am I starting to feel pleasure in tormenting Emilia? Is this all just a twisted form of power I've become addicted to? If so, then why does the guilt remain?
If there's still even the smallest piece of humanity inside me, then I'd rather cling to it… than truly become a monster.
"Evan? Hey, are you even listening?" Emilia's voice cut into my thoughts, pulling me from the crushing weight of my past. Her brows pinched, her tone laced with worry.
"Uh… yeah. Just lost in thought," I replied, the practiced lie slipping out with ease.
"Mou, don't be lost," she pouted, puffing her cheeks a little. "Focus on me, okay?"
A soft chuckle escaped me. That silly girl… still pure, still untainted. But what would happen if she knew the truth?
If she knew just how many times I had killed her… would she still smile at me the same way? The thought was a sickening, fascinating thing.
-----
--
The sun had begun to lose its golden shine, slowly melting into the mellow hues of evening.
A soft orange and purple light bled across the sky, painting the city in a gentle, melancholic glow. The air, crisp from the falling temperature, carried the distant smells of cooking food and damp earth.
"The evening looks quite lovely, doesn't it, Evan?" she said softly as we came to a quiet halt near a park bench, her voice a hushed whisper.
"Yeah… it sure does," I replied. The beauty of it felt like a final, ironic joke.
"It's a shame," she whispered, her voice laced with genuine regret.
"And what would that be?"
"That the day passes so quickly. Don't you think? If only it gave us just a little more time together…"
I let out a small laugh. "Well, you'll have to complain to God about that—he's the one who made the days too short, my lady."
She giggled. "Maybe I just might."
But unlike her, I couldn't agree. For me, this single day had already stretched far longer than I had energy for. I'd lived it a hundred times in my head, and I just wanted to end it—whether in my room or anywhere quiet enough to rest.
"Evan… you're drifting into your thoughts again, aren't you?"
"No, I wouldn't dare," I said with a crooked smile. "Just… wondering if I should give it or not."
"Give what? Hmm… a gift? Or maybe a proposal ring?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"We're already engaged," I answered dryly. "What's the point of proposing again?"
"Mou~ can't you just read the mood for once?"
"I did," I said, lips quirking as my fingers brushed against the cool surface of my dimension ring. A faint glow flickered, and from within, a folded white letter appeared.
Her eyes widened, a look of genuine surprise on her face. "Oooh~ what's that? Did you actually get shy and write your feelings in a letter?"
"Not exactly. Well… same thing, but a little different."
"And how so?"
"Rather than feelings… it's complaints."
"…What?"
I chuckled at her bewildered expression.
"Just listen. It's about the things I don't like, the things that make me uncomfortable—or jealous, sometimes. I figured if I wrote them down, and you read them, maybe things would be different. Maybe we wouldn't end up fighting or arguing like we did last time."
The lie felt so easy, so effortless. I was a master of them now.
She blinked at me, then smiled warmly. "That's… very thoughtful."
"You think so?" I laughed lightly. "Then I hope you do the same. Write down what bothers you and give it to me. That way, we'll understand each other a little better."
"So we can avoid hurting each other," she added, finishing my sentence.
"Exactly." I smiled, a cold, empty thing, as I passed the letter into her hands. The paper was crisp, the words inside a poison of my own design.
"Do I read it now?" she asked, her curiosity bubbling over.
"No. Please… read it when you get home."
"Why? Are you embarrassed?"
"…Both embarrassed and shy, actually," I admitted, a final layer of fake vulnerability.
Fufu—she only chuckled, as if seeing me flustered was some small victory of hers.
We walked back the way we came, the path familiar yet changed. The same fountain greeted us, but the broad daylight had already surrendered to the hush of night.
Her carriage stood there patiently, waiting in silence.
"Well… it's time," I said softly, the words feeling like a final verdict.
"Yes, it is." She gave a quiet nod, her voice carrying a trace of reluctance.
"It was a wonderful date, Evan. Truly, it was."
"I'm just glad you liked it—that's all that matters."
Her cheeks colored faintly as she nodded again. Then, gathering her courage, she leaned forward, her lips brushing my cheek in a shy, fleeting touch.
"...Then, bye," she whispered before dashing off toward her carriage, too embarrassed to meet my gaze.
I just stood there, smiling as I watched her retreat.
Her maid—tall, composed, with long legs I couldn't help but notice—bowed politely to acknowledge me. I returned the gesture with a simple nod. The carriage wheels creaked, rolling away into the night, and I was left standing before the fountain's soft glow.
Only then did the smile fade from my face. The mask I had worn all day felt heavy and suffocating.
I wasn't sure what kind of expression I wore now. The only thought that pressed against my mind was this:
"…She'll probably cry when she reads that letter," I said, my tone flat, cruel, a self-satisfied whisper into the empty air. "Cry the way Taylor Swift did when she wrote her breakup songs."
I turned back, heading toward my own carriage.
This was it—the end. The final tie between us, cut clean. Let her be free, and let myself be free too.
I remembered something my senior once told me, back in my old life. He had a girl he loved. She cheated on him for a man more handsome. He didn't fight back, didn't rage—he just let her go. He watched from a distance.
But time is cruel. That man turned into nothing but a leech, jobless, abusive, leaving her to work herself raw while still carrying his weight.
When my senior heard, he went to her. Offered his shoulder, listened to her complaints, let her vent out years of regret. He teased her, joked with her, smiled the same way he had back when they were lovers.
Slowly, she began to compare. What she had… and what she lost. What she left… and what she got.
Her boyfriend grew violent, broke her down further. And my senior? He tended her wounds gently, like nothing had changed.
Until the day she finally broke, sobbing about her guilt, her stupidity, her regret.
She begged him to take her back. Again and again, she begged. And all he did was smile. Silent. Then walk away.
He left her shattered, torn apart by regret. He never raised a hand, but he destroyed her far more deeply than any blow could. Cruel. That's what he was.
And I… I followed in his steps. Not to his extreme, but close enough.
I gave her one last date. A gentle one. Not the kind nobles usually do—grand and cold—but something simple, warm, human. Whispering sweet words.
Sharing small moments. A day that felt like we were truly lovers.
Only to end it with a letter that would tear her apart.
That was my goodbye to her. My farewell… and my release.
I transmigrated to this world of magic, mana, beasts, and fantasy—a world straight out of a novel. But my existence here has been limited. My world revolved around only a few people: some acquaintances, a few so-called friends, and her. That was all. So much so that I barely let this world feel alive.
But now…
Now it's time. To meet different people, to see different places, to breathe in a world that actually exists beyond the tiny cage I've made for myself. To finally be me again. Or at least, to be someone else entirely.
"Welcome back, young master," Roselyn greeted as I approached. "Did you enjoy your date with Lady Emilia?"
"Yes," I said. "It was… pleasant. Like the final line of a poem."
"Fufu, quite the way to put it."
"Yes. Let's head back."
"As you wish, young master," she said as we rode off in the carriage.
The night had fallen. The day had ended. And so had the chapter between me and her.
What do I feel about it? Nothing. Not anymore. The guilt is a low ache, a ghost pain, but the consuming rage, the endless torment of the loop—it was gone.
From here on… what am I supposed to do?
Keep playing the role I was given? Or just watch quietly from the sidelines? My part as a minor villain is over.
So what's left?
Just another extra, forgotten in the crowd?
Or maybe… just another side villain. One whose story is just beginning.
I'll let time decide.
For now, I'll let my thoughts rest. For now, I'm free.