Chapter 173
How could he have done that. How dare he.
‘Go away, go away! I don’t want to die, no…!’
After seeing how Cynthia’s biological parents behaved, he had thought that human couples had to be like that to seem like a proper married couple, so he had pretended to be frail.
Because he wanted to become a harmless being who would wear a leash and follow behind her like a dog whenever she beckoned, who could roll over and pant as much as she wanted. Because he wanted to become the sort of being who melted in the sunlight, softened, and could be warmly embraced.
‘I trusted you, so how could you…! All this time, was all of that just, just acting? To deceive me? How could you do that? You even killed all my companions!’
A being who could end anyone’s life with his bare hands had deceived the woman who had met countless deaths in his grasp, all because he wanted to behave like an ordinary human husband in front of her.
‘Traitor, traitor! You, you deceived me. You deceived me! You’re… You’re a monster!’
He could never be that.
“…Ha ha.”
As he heard Cynthia’s screams echoing from the past, a hollow laugh slipped from Segleninde’s mouth.
A bastard like this was now daring to act as if he’s human?
Had he embraced and cherished the woman he loved with the same hands that had killed her countless times, whispering love to her?
He could not. He was a monster. He was nothing but an ugly mass that had killed his beloved again and again, trying to take her as nourishment. Something better off not existing. It would have been better if, when he was buried beneath the earth and sleeping, his roots had long since rotted away and crumbled.
Before he caused her pain, before he met her.
So if he could return to the past, he would have slept forever. So that he could never dare face Cynthia or point even the tip of a blade at her. He would have sustained a state like what living beings called death for eternity. So that she would not suffer. So that she could know nothing of death and enjoy only soft, gentle things.
Together, not with a deceptive monster like him, but with a human who could live at the same eye level as her…
“……”
But even if he had not existed, Cynthia would still have come to this world.
Thinking of Cynthia smiling with another man twisted his insides in its own way. Imagining some man with an unworthy face grinning foolishly at his lovely wife made nausea surge up. Holding her hand, receiving kisses from her soft lips, and then pressing their naked bodies together…
“F**k.”
He retched, trying to vomit up what surged into his throat.
Whether it was his heart or his organs, he felt as if he wanted to pinch out every bodily attachment inside this flesh and spit it out of his mouth. He wanted to drag in that bastard who didn’t even exist in this reality, bury him in this greenhouse, and turn him into a lump that endlessly regenerated and supplied food for those few who still occasionally missed human flesh.
To begin with, there was no reason Cynthia should be with someone inferior to him. There was someone by her side who stayed with her every single day, whispered tender words to her, kept her cool when it was hot and warm when it was cold, let her enjoy as much as she wanted, fed her plenty of delicious things, and whenever she wanted, filled her tight entrance completely and struck all the way to her cervix. So how could any other man possibly catch her eye?
Therefore, this was the best possible ending. Perfect for her, and perfect for him.
But was it really?
Even if Cynthia had said she forgave him, what if, deep inside, she still looked back on the past? What if she sometimes secretly shed tears somewhere even he did not know? What if, while reliving her past deaths in dreams, the husband who whispered love to her turned back into the monster who drove a blade into her body, and she woke with a scream from that nightmare…
“……”
Segleninde wanted to drive a blade into his own body.
What he had done in the world of consciousness was not enough. He had to tear off his limbs, strip away his skin, and carve out his heart. He had to boil his body, separate his bones, and simmer his flesh. He could not let Cynthia see that sight and make his soft-hearted woman cry. He had to go somewhere alone, where no one would know, and die away.
Even though he could not die, he wanted to die.
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