The fluorescent light, nearly at the end of its life, glowed dimly, as if about to go out. I knew this room. It was the place I used to stay—a single bed, an old desk, no television, just a space for sleep.

Even so, this room was the first place I got after escaping the small studio apartment. I felt a strange, nostalgic comfort in the musty scent of mold that permeated the air, a smell that clung no matter how much bleach was used—a scent that I associated with my hard-scrabble past.

But as soon as I took a step forward, a strange sense of discomfort hit me.

“Ah, this is…”

I couldn’t see anything but the hem of my dress, but I could clearly feel my shoes on the linoleum floor. It was an oddly realistic sensation, despite never having experienced it in reality. Even though I knew it was a dream, I felt compelled to take off my shoes.

These were shoes Ian had bought me during a trip. The dress, too, was from that trip. Glancing at the mirror hanging beside the front door, I saw a beautiful woman staring back at me, wide-eyed in surprise.

“…Hello?”

The face in the mirror, greeting me with an awkward smile, was undoubtedly Olivia Keppel. Self-consciousness surged through me. What am I even doing…?

I let out a sigh, scratching my head. Come to think of it, I’d kept my hair short for the entire trip, yet here, my hair was long again. It was only natural for things to be jumbled in dreams, but something about it felt odd.

In my dreams, I always appeared as my former self, and this was the first time I had entered a dream with my current face. Was it because I’d been reincarnated for so long? Or was it because it had been such a long time since I last dreamed that I couldn’t recall my past life’s face anymore?

Feeling unsettled, I looked around the room, and my attention fell on the desk.

“A… diary?”

A red, hardcover diary that I’d never seen before lay on the desk. I hadn’t kept a diary in my past life. I’d always wanted one, but I could never bring myself to buy one due to the cost.

“This is…”

As soon as I opened the cover, black letters emerged on the blank white pages.

[How To Give Up on You]

What’s this? I held my breath as I checked the author’s name.

[Olivia Keppel]

My name was written there. The shock hit me so suddenly that I froze. The pages began to turn by themselves, as if blown by a non-existent breeze, stopping where a red ribbon marked the page. More text appeared.

“If this were the final moment, he would have wanted her to resent him. He wished she’d think of him as an awful person to the very end. Ian deliberately chose words he knew she’d hate.

‘You were right. Maybe I never intended to let you go. I would have kept making excuses to hold onto you.’

It was all lies. He genuinely intended to let her go, no matter what. But as he spoke, he felt as though he was telling the truth. Perhaps he was lying to himself as well.

‘I’m sorry. I was selfish. I just wanted one more day, every day, to stay with you. I probably wouldn’t let you go, even if you died.’

He had planned to end it all within a year anyway. With the emperor opposed to the divorce, this was the only way he could release her. The moment had simply arrived sooner than expected. If she loathed him enough to undo the marriage, if she hated him to the point of wanting to die, then perhaps now was better.

‘This is how… I give you up.’

Before Olivia’s last breath slipped away, he kissed her.

He was sorry he couldn’t do it any better than this, but he hoped she would never see him—this awful, disgraceful sight…

What a contradiction. He wanted her to hate him enough to feel no sadness over his death, yet he also wished she’d forget his unsightly appearance.

Ian regretted that he couldn’t hold Olivia as she fell apart, and he stepped onto the ledge of the tower where his father had left in pursuit of freedom…”

“Ah!”

I stumbled back a step. What in the world was this? My trembling hand flipped to the next page, but it was blank. I turned back to the beginning, and it was blank as well.

“What? Where’s the rest of it?!”

I slapped my palm against the smooth, white pages, but the writing didn’t reappear. Whether I turned forward or back, the pages remained blank. Overcome with frustration, I shouted.

“Next chapter!”

***

“Ah!”

With a gasp, I awoke, my heart pounding. Ian’s worried face came into view as he approached me.

“Are you alright?”

This wasn’t a dream too, was it? I sat on the bed, gazing blankly at Ian as he gently pushed back my hair.

“Ian?”

“Yes?”

“…”

“What’s wrong?”

Ian was alive. I reached out to touch him, and he pressed his cheek into my hand, his face still etched with concern.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

The lukewarm temperature of his cheek brought me back to reality. I was in the midst of a recurring fever, and Ian had stayed by my side, nursing me tirelessly. I’d been told it wasn’t dangerous, yet the high fever had persisted for over a month.

“Liv…”

“I did have a dream.”

It wasn’t exactly a nightmare, but I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him about the dream, before I suddenly blurted it out.

“That time, when you kissed me—was that just to make me pass out?”

Ian’s worried face turned to one of shock. So, I was right. He responded a beat too late.

“…Pardon?”

“Were you planning to jump after I collapsed?”

“…”

“Did ‘finding a way to let me go’ mean you were going to die?”

“…”

I shot up and slapped Ian on the back when he didn’t respond.

“You awful jerk!”

“Liv, that’s…”

“Terrible! You terrible man!”

Ian just took it in silence. When my palm started to hurt, I switched to my fist, but even that became painful, and tears spilled over.

“Liv, I’m sorry.”

“Hrrng…”

“It was wrong of me.”

Ian pulled me into a hug as I cried like a child, apologizing repeatedly. He seemed genuinely distressed, but I couldn’t bring myself to forgive him. Nor could I forgive myself. The thought that I had driven him to such despair was an unbearable ache in my chest.

“Liv, are you hurt? Does it hurt here?” he asked, touching his hand to my chest.

“Hnnng…”

“Hold on, I’ll call Benjamin.”

“No, don’t!” I stopped Ian in a hurry, snatching the pendant he used to call Benjamin and tossing it aside, finally able to exhale in relief.

“It’s not that. It doesn’t hurt… Ian, just hold me.”

In the past month, Ian had grown attentive, and without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around me. I leaned into his embrace, letting the hot tears flow until I’d calmed down. I thought about how lost I’d been in my own misery, oblivious to how much Ian was hurting.

‘Be the meaning in my life. Since you gave me this life, give it meaning. If you can’t do that, then take it back.’

I remembered those words, the words I’d coldly dismissed in the past. Looking back, Ian had always been teetering on the edge, yet I was so wrapped up in my own suffering that I hadn’t noticed. Perhaps even now…

I gently pushed against his chest and looked up at him. Ian was still watching me with that concerned expression, and it almost made me cry. The person who needed the most care wasn’t me—I’d awakened, I wasn’t in pain, and I wouldn’t die.

But Ian was still hurting, and that made me feel uneasy.

“You’re not going to do that again, are you?”

“What?”

“Not at the New Year’s Ball, not at the tower… What would have happened if I hadn’t held on…?”

“Liv.”

I silenced his apology with a kiss. It’s okay. I’ll hold onto you again if I have to. I silently vowed that I wouldn’t let him die. As the kiss grew deeper, I realized, oops, this isn’t good—I’m starting to feel sleepy again…

Blinking drowsily, I gave him a sleepy smile.

“Ian… Sorry, but… I’m so tired.”

“…Again? Liv, please, don’t fall asleep.”

I didn’t mean to worry him, but the fever was making me so drowsy. I’d heard that people with the awakening fever often lost consciousness, so I supposed I was fortunate to just be tired.

“Sorry…”

I held Ian’s hand tightly as he sighed, then closed my eyes. But before I drifted off, I couldn’t resist saying one last thing.

“If you’re not beside me when I wake up, you’re dead.”

In response, Ian gripped my hand tightly, which reassured me a bit.

I recalled how Ian had nearly lost his mind, unable to sleep out of worry since the day I attempted to awaken. Was this how he had felt then?

Every time I woke up, I needed reassurance of Ian’s love to feel at ease. I was convinced he wouldn’t harm himself as long as he loved me.

And when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the dream.

Since I’d just briefly woken up, the dream seemed to pick up from where it had left off. I was still wearing the dress from the trip, and the mysterious ‘book’ was open on the desk. As I looked down at the blank pages, I wondered what exactly this ‘book’ was.

Up until now, I’d thought I was in a novel I’d read in my past life. But now, I wasn’t even sure why I’d thought that; this book felt unfamiliar.

In the past, whenever I dreamt of my previous life, I was always reading a book. When I was young, I don’t think I even thought to check the title. I’d simply read whatever page was open, and when I woke, I would vaguely assume it had been a book I’d read in my past life.

The first time I’d actually checked the title was after my debut in society, on the day I first saw Ian in person. I’d wondered how someone so handsome wasn’t the main character, so I’d checked the title. It had been “I’ll Leave Because I Love You,”’, though I couldn’t remember the author.

Was it truly a novel?

No sooner had the question crossed my mind than letters began to appear on the blank pages as if ink were spreading across them. Mesmerized, I began to read.