Chapter 76
"…What about your hand?"
"It seems like Julius doesn't like me very much."
Ethel looked at the faint bloodstains on the table and the blood marks on my clothes, then let out a shriek.
"Brother!? No matter what Ellen did, cutting off a finger is…."
"…I didn’t do anything. I just told her to hand over the weapon she was hiding."
"Since you're alone now, hurry up and call a priest!"
Alone.
Right, being alone wasn't much of a risk.
There was nothing I could do by myself anyway.
At those words, Julius seemed all too eager to go fetch a nearby priest.
Theo stopped him, though.
He took the finger from my pocket, placed it on the roughly severed stump, and began chanting a spell.
I wasn’t sure if it was because he was stingy or if he was just a crazy sadist who enjoyed my pain, but I couldn’t understand why he insisted on using a spell.
Sure, using a potion for this might seem a bit wasteful.
The finger started to reattach, very slowly and grotesquely.
During this, Ethel threw a question at Theo.
Her tone was resentful.
"…Everyone was worried since you didn’t show your face after the semester started, and you were with Ellen all along."
"Well, it just happened that way."
When Ethel stared at Theo with a probing look, he scratched the back of his head with his left hand, speaking as if he were making excuses.
"…Whenever I’m not around, she keeps trying to die. I couldn’t help it."
Trying to die all the time? That was a bit of a severe accusation.
I only tried to die when I felt the right mood, when I was certain it would be peaceful, and when I could disappear without bothering anyone.
Well, honestly, I always felt that way.
"So, you're saying that for almost ten days, an unmarried man and woman lived together under one roof?"
"Oh, even when I was bathing naked, he stayed right next to me."
Ethel's face turned bright red.
"…That's…"
"You can't really argue with that, can you?"
"Not really…."
I tried to lighten the mood with a simple joke, but I wasn’t sure if it worked.
It seemed my sense of humor was a bit off for others.
When I pointed a gun and told them to laugh, everyone laughed. After all, a gun seemed to be the most effective tool for communication.
"I was just joking. I guess it wasn’t funny. Sorry."
"…Yeah."
Theo’s expression was awkward.
After everything I’d been through, I thought I’d become indifferent to most situations, but this—this uneasy peacefulness—felt somewhat new.
In a negative way.
"Ethel, you haven’t asked why I came here."
"…It's obvious. You probably came to demand I hand over any hidden demons again.
Since you already killed all of them, I couldn’t think of any other reason for you to be here."
I remembered that when apologizing, you shouldn't justify yourself.
Excuses were even more forbidden.
You had to offer a sincere apology with a clean and satisfying compensation.
Since my finger was reattached perfectly, what should I say to Ethel?
"I came to apologize. I wanted to say I’m sorry."
I removed the cigar from my mouth.
I had been holding it out of habit, and without it, my mouth felt a bit empty.
Ethel’s face showed a mixture of confusion, surprise, and a touch of disbelief.
I was good at reading emotions and understanding how others felt, but I only knew one way to respond, so I had no idea what to do in a situation like this.
"…Now?"
After keeping her mouth shut with a complicated expression, Ethel finally spoke.
Her tone carried a dampened sigh.
I checked my watch. It took her eight minutes to say something, but it felt like eight hours had passed.
"Yeah."
Now?
What was I supposed to say?
Should I drop to the ground, bury my head, and keep repeating "I’m sorry" as if I truly meant it?
But Theo had said that an apology should be sincere.
And I didn’t regret killing those demons.
If I told Ethel that, I’d become a liar.
People might say it was absurd for someone who always lied and wore a mask in front of others to talk about sincerity, but if I kept lying to myself, I’d start to lose track of what was real.
I couldn't afford to regret it.
I shouldn't regret it.
It was something I’d already done, and denying it was meaningless. Even if I went back in time, I’d still kill those demons.
Alicia would still be killed by them in the end.
Alicia probably wouldn’t have wanted me to exterminate the demons, and Julian seemed a bit uneasy about it too. If it had been my parents, they’d have clapped their hands, telling me I did well.
The irony of being the person who resembled the parents I loathed the most.
"Do you remember the names of Mr. Hanton and his wife, the people who farmed wheat in front of our house, the children in the village, and the ones who grew fruits?"
"No."
At that, Ethel’s expression crumpled.
"And you call that an apology?
You shot and killed every single one of them right before my eyes—kids, adults, all of them!
Why not say you don’t remember that either?"
Right.
I came to apologize for shooting you that day and for when Julius got beaten up by Marco.
But I didn’t realize I had to go as far as to admit that killing the demons was a mistake.
If I said I didn’t remember, would I get slapped?
I had killed them almost automatically, repeating the same motions dozens of times over.
"…I."
I no longer remembered what I said to those demons as they died, or what kind of expressions they had as they looked at me.
If I remembered all of that, I would have fallen apart.
I shouldn’t regret it, but should I?
Wasn’t I supposed to regret such a horrible thing?
It wouldn’t change the fact that the demons wouldn’t come back to life, but if I did, would Ethel at least be satisfied?
I had no idea.
It was too complicated to understand.
But maybe it wouldn’t be impossible.
There was no need to hold onto my flimsy pride or my sense of self when I couldn’t go back and see Alicia again.
Honestly, even if I couldn’t save Alicia, I just wanted to stop.
Like Theo said, maybe it was time to let go.
If I could, I’d want to just die, but if I said that out loud, I’d become an even more disgusting human being.
What would a normal Ellen say in this situation? The ordinary girl who went to the academy, loved books, and enjoyed chatting with Ethel.
I had no idea.
But I was certain of one thing: I deserved to die.
Until now, I had only died by suicide or at Theo’s hands.
I’d never died by Ethel’s hand.
Maybe this time it could really end.
Not just coming back, but truly, an end.
"I’m sorry. I’m sorry for breaking into your house, for hurting Julius, for pointing a gun at you, and for threatening your parents.
I thought demons shouldn’t be allowed to live."
I still thought that.
I hadn’t even considered why. It was just an unconditional belief.
"I’m sorry for killing all the demons.
I’m sorry for not remembering their names. I’m sorry for saying this to you now."
Ethel’s face, which had been holding a forced, angry expression, crumbled.
I didn’t understand.
Why was she crying?
If it were me, I’d have told me to shut up and blown my head off.
Yeah, I would’ve done that.
I pulled out my gun.
Then, I walked up to Ethel and calmly knelt before her.
I reloaded the empty chamber from when my finger had been blown off and pulled back the hammer.
Then, I took Ethel’s hand, placed the gun in it, and offered a clumsy smile.
When she hesitated to put her finger on the trigger, I gently pulled her index finger forward with my left hand, setting it against the trigger.
But I didn’t pull it.
Ethel had to pull it herself.
A trigger pulled by someone else always felt strangely empty.
"I know words won’t really convey much and won’t feel genuine.
No matter what I say, it’ll sound disgusting, and the only way to feel better would be to kill me. This is the only way I know. I’m sorry for that too."
Would it look a bit pathetic if I died with my eyes open?
I squeezed my eyes shut.
But instead of a bullet, what came was Ethel’s hand gripping the gun’s handle and smacking me in the head.
"You think I would—! You think I’d kill you?!"
Ethel started kicking me as I lay on the ground.
She didn’t put much strength into it, so it didn’t hurt.
"You think dying and running away will make everything better?
You hid away in your room, refusing to show your face, and then suddenly come out and think saying sorry makes it all okay?
And then you want me to kill you with my own hands!? Are you out of your mind?"
She straddled my stomach, grabbing my collar.
Her face was as red as a beet, tears streaming down her cheeks—a truly strange sight.
What could I even call this emotion?
It wasn’t quite hatred or love. It was something else.
"From now on, remember the names of the people you killed, and what their lives were like.
And you’re going to come with me every time I go to the cemetery to change the flowers!
You’ll come along, apologize to them, and take care of the weeds.
And when it’s hard, sometimes you’ll take me to a café and buy me a drink.
You’ll apologize to my parents, and every time you run into my brother, you’ll keep saying sorry.
I’m going to ask him if you’ve done it, so don’t even think about skipping it!"
"That’s…"
I couldn’t finish saying, "That’s not a punishment."
Before I could, she slapped me.
It didn’t hurt this time either.
Was she always this weak?
"And don’t even dream about dying.
If you die, I’ll bring you back and curse you out all over again."
I opened my mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.
I had no idea what to say.