Chapter 85.
<strong>Chapter 85. Break up? (3/6)</strong>
<span style="font-weight:400">I raised my left hand then covered my left eye and forehead with the palm of my hand. I took in another deep breath while I tilted my head up and to the right to look over my shoulder in her direction.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Rosa… can you at least try a bit to care more about yourself? I get you’ve been brought up that way, to not value your own life, that the values and duties instilled in you are different from normal everyday civilians, but you said you wanted to be a teacher, right? Teachers of normal civilians have to teach their students the value of life, how to care about their life, both present, and future. How can you do so when you don’t care and value your own life?”
<span style="font-weight:400">She was caught off guard when I told her that out of the blue.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Care about myself more?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“You don’t need to care about me, Rosa. I’m not worth it. I’m a terrible person with an atrociously bad personality. I have been, and always will be. That will never change about me. Even before I cheated on you, that was the case. After cheating… I’d say something like death is the only thing suitable for someone like me. If you were to kill me, I’d fully ept it. What I did, crossed a certain line. It’s a fine line I can’t ept I so easily crossed.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Even if it was because a moment of weakness I had was exploited, I believe I was level-headed enough at the time after I’d slept it off. I won’t ever make excuses for the things I’ve done.
<span style="font-weight:400">No matter the circumstances. I’m scum. Low-life scum. I never hated that about me though. I epted it. But if I ever sunk to a level even lower than that, I would hate myself at that point.
<span style="font-weight:400">To reach <i><span style="font-weight:400">that man’s </i><span style="font-weight:400">level… I didn’t want to be more like him. I didn’t want to resemble him, to be his spitting image. The type to do the sort of things he did. To use a woman as a convenient tool to satisfy your own desires, hurt and betray her, then throw her away when you’re done with her.
<span style="font-weight:400">That was why I never got close to women before, or anyone else. Deep down I felt since I was his son that exact sort of thing would happen. Blood runs deep. Born to such a man, it was only natural.
<span style="font-weight:400">Did I hate him though? No. Never. I wouldn’t allow him to upy my thoughts even as someone I hated. My revenge would be to simply forget his existence. If I ever ran into him, I’d simply walk by him like a stranger and never even acknowledge him. The only thing I truly hated was the idea of ending up like him. At this rate, it was exactly that path I was on and it was just a matter of time.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ran… if you’re trying to teach me about such a thing… don’t you think you should do the same too? You just told me you’re fine even if I killed you, is that something someone who values and cares about their own life would say? If you expect me to care about myself, show me how to do it properly and don’t do it in such a half-assed manner.”
<span style="font-weight:400">When she said that and saw through me, my head sunk down low.
<span style="font-weight:400">I let out a self-deprecatingugh and said, “Haha. I’m not the one who wants to be a teacher. I can’t teach you something I don’t know how to do myself.”
<span style="font-weight:400">As soon as I uttered those words a strong gust of wind blew against me while something in my brain clicked as a mystery suddenly unraveled in my head.
<span style="font-weight:400">The world momentarily came to a still as all the pieces fell into ce.
<span style="font-weight:400">I finally recalled the true reason I was assassinated and who had really killed me. I hadn’t been able to remember or figure it out up until now as my memories around that time were scattered and fragmented when I awoke here.
<span style="font-weight:400">In the life I previously led, my only objective had turned into a simple one, to live until I turned forty. I’d told myself that was all I wanted. I’d love life doing whatever I wanted to do with that deadline in mind.
<span style="font-weight:400">I didn’t want anyone but me to decide when I lived until or died, not even nature. So from a young age, I said I would die when I turned forty. And right on time, I died as intended.
<span style="font-weight:400">The one who killed me, an assassin, but at the same time, not quite.
<span style="font-weight:400">It was me.
<span style="font-weight:400">I’d taken my own life.
<span style="font-weight:400">Through an assassin''s hands.
<span style="font-weight:400">I’d put up a bounty online for someone to kill me on a specified date, time, and location. I’d given all the specifics. I didn’t like the idea of simplymitting suicide though, so I’d decided to hire an assassin to im my own life.
<span style="font-weight:400">Honestly, I hadn’t really expected much toe of it and if it didn’t work, I’d just reluctantly do the deed myself, but it seems it yed out the way I wanted. The only miscalction being, I’d returned to the past with all my knowledge, but my memories were fragmented, scattered, and iplete.
<span style="font-weight:400">The day I died was my birthday.
<span style="font-weight:400">I’d seated myself inside my empty apartment at the center of the living room in a single wooden chair I’d bought specifically for that day. On the ground, was a ck tarp I’did out to prevent my blood from seeping into the floor and ruining it. It would make cleaning up easier for whoever had to do so. I wouldn’t inconvenience anyone this way. I was trying to be considerate in my own twisted way.
<span style="font-weight:400">There wasn’t anyone who would mourn my death. I’d made sure of that all my life as I lived in solitude. I didn’t like to inconvenience others or cause a scene. I didn’t want to be remembered by anyone. I’d simply be forgotten like this.
<span style="font-weight:400">epting my life woulde to an end that day, I closed my eyes and fell asleep while seated in that lonely chair.
<span style="font-weight:400">Thest thing I remembered was opening my eyes from the pain with the only thing in sight being that knife. Then the final words that had been whispered to me by the unseen beautiful assassin who finished me off.
<span style="font-weight:400">The sigh she let out before the words left her mouth beside my ear, “Haaaaaah. If you’d made different choices in life and learned of love… maybe you wouldn’t have had to die all alone like this.” With nobody to remember you except me.
<span style="font-weight:400">Those were the final unspoken words of my assassin.
<span style="font-weight:400">If I wasn’t wrong… she’d been aware of me from high school and even recognized me. That was the only reason she would have said such a thing. She’d been the one who epted the request to assassinate me.
<span style="font-weight:400">Another w in my n. In my final moments, I’d been remembered by the very assassin I hired to reap my own life at my request. I’d wanted to disappear from the world unremembered by anyone, but in my final moments, someone had remembered me. I’d failed to depart the way I wanted to. And… it had all been this girl''s fault.
<span style="font-weight:400">Had a regret unconsciously been born at that final moment? The reason I’d returned to this time, was it because of that?
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haaaaaah.” I breathed out a small sigh as I closed my eyes and resigned myself.
<span style="font-weight:400">The world started to slowly move forward again.
<span style="font-weight:400">I was… about to die again.
<span style="font-weight:400">My assant, the gust of wind just a moment ago.
<span style="font-weight:400">I’d been near the edge of the roof the entire time after all.
<span style="font-weight:400">See? It was a stupid idea to stand there. It was so predictable I wanted tough derisively. The most tant foreshadowing. Story of my life. As a writer myself, I had the urge to rip up a manuscript out of rage from this development.