The cold floor beneath me felt strangely unfamiliar. To reach the sword in the light, I had to jump off the chair and crawl. I could just about reach into the light to grasp the sword. Thankfully, the sword shifted towards my hand as if accepting me, enabling me to grasp it.

It was neither warm nor cold.

I glanced at the blade, then tightened my grip. My palm was slick with sweat, and the sword nearly slipped from my grasp. I had always believed that I lived closer to death than anyone else. But now it was right in front of me, it felt so far away. A thousand thoughts surged through my mind at once. Countless faces flickered through my mind:

There were my parents, who saw me as nothing more than a source of income; The brothel owner who bought and sold me like meat. The women who shared my fate and showed me rare kindness within those walls. Verdian, who always left an incomprehensible jumble of feelings behind. And Lian Huriet, whom I hated with such intensity that it bordered on madness.

And Hailla.

Hailla.

Of all of them, I thought about Hailla for the longest time. I carefully retraced every step of my preparations for her.

Hailla wouldn’t use Neiora. She was too clever for that. She wouldn’t rely on anything I had left behind, especially something that could be a trap. The moment she chose not to use it, she would realise that I had never truly loved her.

That she had never truly loved me either. Once she realised this, she would know exactly what she was meant to cut away with the sword.

But would she be able to do it?

If she chose to wield the blade, she would be free, but she would have to become numb to guilt and turn into a monster. If she refused, she would be trapped forever, exploited and torn apart.

Even I don’t fully understand why I’m doing this. Hailla will suffer because of her choice.

I wanted to give her the gift of choice. My death would lie at the foot of that gift.

The gods never showed me what comes after death. I have no way of knowing. But now, I don’t care anymore.

Whatever happens, I’ve left something for you. That’s enough.

Shaking off all thoughts, I drove the blade into my left eye without hesitation.

“Hhkk…”

It felt as though fire had seared straight through my skull. But I couldn’t lose consciousness. Not yet.

With trembling hands, I pulled the sword free and began carving shallow and deep wounds all over my body. It had to look like Lian Huriet had done this to me. The blood gushed, heat rising to my skin like a fever consuming me.

Whether the sword succeeded or failed, I would surely die here. This body was never strong enough to survive wounds like these.

At last, I turned the sword toward my heart.

“Hailla.”

I called your name just as I always did, sitting on that bed, wasting away, clinging to the sound of you.

“Hailla, I… I truly, utterly hate you.”

To you… I must’ve always been like this.

My voice, thick with tears, melted into the darkness.

“How could you leave me? How could you abandon me? You said we were family! You said you loved me!”

You were all I had. Even after I lost everything, I convinced myself it was enough because you survived.

My voice, raw with resentment, scattered into the void. I hadn’t expected a response—yet tears kept falling, unstoppable. And then, at the very end, I blamed the gods.

“You should’ve just left me in ignorance. If you had…”

…then maybe I could’ve passed peacefully. Maybe, in that final moment, I would have truly understood Hailla and told her I loved her—fully, sincerely.

This was the tragedy of a person burdened with too much knowledge. The others… they’d never understand. They remained blissfully unaware—and in their ignorance, they were happy. Even if they didn’t know it.

Perhaps you’re the same. Maybe Hailla believes my misery began with her. But in truth—it all began with that cursed prophecy.

To know…

That was what dragged me into the abyss. That was the gods’ cruelty.

And now, I was a fool who couldn’t even understand her own emotions.

Did I love her? Did I hate her? I didn’t know anymore. I swayed from one to the other, moment by moment. It was almost laughable.

In my next life, I want to feel just one thing. Let it be love, or let it be hatred. But only one.

I tightened my grip on the sword. My vision blurred from blood loss. This was truly the end. And from here on… it was simple.

To use the sword, all I had to do was recite, deep within, the name of the person whose emotions I wished to erase—and the one absolute feeling I held for them.

The divine light shimmered around the blade. It trembled in my hand.

“Please…”

Erase my hatred for Hailla.

With a dull thud, the blade drove through my heart. I could feel it, cold and sharp, slicing through skin and bone with brutal clarity.

And then—
I knew.

I had failed.

The sword had not accepted me. It pierced my heart without mercy.

Tears slid down my cheeks, one after another. Tears of joy. I was certain of it. Only now, at the brink of death, did I realize—that even happiness could make someone cry.

Strangely… it felt like a blessing.

That this unyielding sword could bring me such a gentle end—how foolish.
How beautiful.

The darkness bled outward, gently pulling me in. Even knowing there would be no return, I didn’t resist. As the warmth faded from my limbs, my lips curved faintly. Silence fell. Light flickered out.

This… was death.

And within that cradle of death, something familiar embraced me.

A creaking old wooden bed. The damp smell of mold from a worn, thin blanket. The feel of your small hand in mine, as we played, giggling under the covers.

It flickered before my eyes—

And it was… peaceful.

***

IF_Parallel Line

At the base of a thickly wooded mountain trail, a woman walked with slow, weary steps. She wore several layers of tattered clothing and old, fraying shoes. Her rough, dry hands clutched tightly around the hilt of a crude blade.

“Haa… hhk…”

The woman was utterly exhausted. Soft groans slipped from her cracked lips, and her entire body trembled pitifully. Yet her eyes—her eyes were sharp with violent resolve, filled with nothing but one thought:
She kept repeating that she would k*ll them. Her grip never loosened on the rusted knife in her hand.

But clearly, her body could no longer support her will. Her thin legs, like they might snap at the slightest touch, buckled often. Eventually, she lost her balance and collapsed into the underbrush.

“Ah… ha…”

She had to k*ll them. Only then could she allow herself to die.

The image of her parents’ blood consumed her mind. After all, they were the ones who had sold her off to a brothel like livestock. The incurable disease she had contracted there had made her too disgusting for even the pimp who had once profited from her.

The only people left to answer for that were her parents. So she had to rise again. She had to… now.

Clack!

Someone grabbed her wrist. The knife clattered to the dirt. Her head was jerked around.

“Rethe.”

It was a man. A large man, with deep navy-blue eyes. His clothes were clearly made from expensive silk—undeniably a noble.

How did he know her name?

Rethe glared up at him like a cat with its fur standing on end.

“Rethe. Rethe.”

“Who the hell are you?”

She thought he was insane. He wasn’t like any of the eerie noblemen she used to deal with back at the brothel. And she had no idea how he could possibly know her name.

But she didn’t have time for this. She had to get up and finish it—
K*ll them, all of them. Her illness would soon freeze her body for good. There was no time to waste.

But this lunatic—he wouldn’t let go.

“Ah… finally, finally…”

He kept muttering nonsense, and then pulled her into a tight embrace. She struggled, but his strength was overwhelming.

“I don’t know you.”

No matter what she said, the man slowly, carefully ran his hands over her frail body—her bony shoulders, the sharp ridges of her spine, the thin curve of her waist. But there was nothing l*stful in his touch.

He wasn’t groping her. He was trying—desperately—to confirm that she existed. To make sure she was really here. He held on for a long time. Then, slowly, he pulled away.

“Yeah. You wouldn’t.”

When their eyes met, he was smiling—so wide his cheeks dimpled—but those gleaming eyes were flooded with an emotion Rethe couldn’t name.

“Are you messing with me?”

“If you knew what I had to do just to find you… you wouldn’t say that.”

He sighed as he hugged her again. There was no understanding between them. None.

“If you don’t let go, I’ll stab you.”

Rethe bent down, picking up the knife she’d dropped. He laughed brightly at that.

“Too late. I’ve already been stabbed—on the way here.”

He furrowed his brow as if the memory alone was painful. But it was clearly a lie. There was no sign of bandages on his abdomen where their bodies touched.

“Still, it’s fine. Because I found you again.”

“…”

Ignore him.

Rethe turned away as she stood up. He was crazy. If she got caught up in this, her revenge would be ruined.

“You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?”

He muttered bitterly.

Rethe shoved lightly against his chest and tried to push past him. Leaves crunched loudly under her feet.

“It means I love you.”

And the moment she took a single step forward—those were the last words she heard before everything went black.

The only thing she remembered was the sharp pain at the back of her neck.

***

“So, what I’m saying is… we’re fated to be.”

“There you go again with your crazy talk.”

“Yeah. I’ve gone crazy—over you.”

Shameless.

And yet, Rethe let out a laugh anyway. It was a clean, effortless smile, without the slightest trace of tension.

The man who called himself Verdian had stayed by Rethe’s side for five years—steadfast and unwavering.

She had asked him once, How do you even know me? But all he ever offered was a flimsy tale about an oracle from the temple declaring they were destined to be together. He never bothered to deny it was a lie, but he never told her the real story either.

From the day they first met, Rethe had been dragged—without any understanding of what was happening—into a life of luxurious captivity. That included treatment for the illness she’d contracted at the brothel.

“How do you feel today?”
Verdian asked, gently massaging her hand.

“Other than the fact you nearly tore me apart last night, just peachy.”

She frowned slightly, recalling how relentless he had been. It had been a particularly clingy night. Whether he understood her sarcasm or not, Verdian simply blushed and looked embarrassed.

“Then I’ll just lick today.”

“You’re insane.”

Lying side by side, the two exchanged their usual banter. Sleep tugged at their eyes, heavy from the post-meal lull. Rethe faintly remembered Hailla scolding her the other day—telling her to take walks after meals for her health.

“Why are you smiling?”

Verdian noticed it instantly. He knew how rare it was to see Rethe smile without reason. He also knew that she always smiled like that when she thought of Hailla.

His mood dimmed slightly. He was like that: transparent. Verdian was particularly wary of Hailla, although Rethe never understood why. She put it down to his possessiveness.

“Don’t think about anyone else.”

How childish. Like a sulking boy who wanted to be the only one in her world. And every time he acted like that, Rethe couldn’t help but find him… adorable.

“Okay. I won’t.”

Surprised, his eyes widened—then he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I’m glad. Really…”

He said it like he said it all the time. As naturally as breathing. Rethe buried her face into the curve of his neck. His familiar scent filled her lungs.

He was the man who had taken her in when she was at her lowest. The raider who made ruin feel like relief.

Sometimes…

Sometimes she was happier with him than she had ever been with Hailla. She felt guilty for thinking that, but she didn’t force herself to suppress the feeling. There was no need.

Enough time had passed for her to accept that she and Hailla now inhabited different worlds. The important thing was that they had once truly loved each other.

And now—
To confess it plainly—
She loved Verdian.

Of course, that didn’t mean she trusted him completely. After all, he had killed her parents. His constant presence was unpleasant, yet he had brought her peace. He had healed and cherished her.

Nevertheless, she always kept in mind that: One day, he might change his mind.

She believed their relationship would last forever. Because of this, however, their bond felt all the more fragile. Verdian could abandon her at any moment. And yet, this didn’t torment her.

Because, right now, there was no doubt: Verdian loved her. He loved her. The look in his eyes, the tenderness of his touch — everything was careful, gentle and deliberate. Rethe had never experienced a love like that before — one that was freely and unconditionally given, rather than demanded or forced.

So she chose to hold on to it. Not to the vague anxieties of the future, but to the vivid happiness of the present moment.

Rethe smiled faintly — a smile that Verdian might not have noticed. She wriggled slightly in his arms, then settled down quietly as sleep began to pull her under. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in that soft haze and savoured the sensation of his hand slowly running through her hair.

In the drowsy silence, she heard his voice.

“Sleep well, Rethe.”

“Mm,” she replied, still half-asleep. Without realising it, her thoughts wandered, wondering faintly how she had ever found peace. But even that thought soon melted away as she fell back asleep.

She never discovered the truth.

She never found out how Verdian knew her, nor why he had fallen so deeply in love with her. Nor did he ever find out why he had killed her parents instead of her. She never knew what her life might have become if he hadn’t intervened.

She never knew. And she never would. But that ignorance—that not knowing—was bliss.

It made her happy. She would remain that way.

***COMPLETED***