NOMAMWTM Chapter 22

"My Laaaaaaaaaaaadyyyyy...!"

A flash of red light.

Clang!

The dagger in Jeina's hand flew across the hall with a sharp sound.

"...F*ck."

A strange man stood before her.

But before Charlotte could process who he was or what had happened—

Behind Jeina, an enormous number of masses surged upward.

They attached themselves to every part of Jeina's body in an instant.

And then.

"My Lady, my Lady, my Laaaaaady?"

Jeina's head—covered in masses—turned with a sickening creak. Then, with pitch-black hands, she reached for her own... her stomach.

Squelch.

Splurch!

"My Laaaady..."

Thud.

The black masses swarmed around Jeina's fallen body.

Bright red blood flowed from beneath her, twisted in a grotesque position.

Charlotte blinked vacantly.

For a long while.

"...Ah."

At some point, the strength left her legs.

She collapsed, staring blankly at Jeina's corpse.

Jeina was dead.

In an instant.

And though what she'd witnessed looked like Jeina had killed herself—

Charlotte intuited something else.

In her ringing ears, chilling voices had begun to echo.

[...wrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrong]

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[myLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLady]

The masses.

Had killed a person.

And.

"So you killed her after all."

Michael stood there watching her with a pale face—when had he appeared?

"How long will you continue this? How long will you torment me before you're satisfied?"

Death didn't seem to surprise him.

Somehow, he didn't blame his familiars for what they'd done.

"Charlotte."

He spoke as if she had killed Jeina.

Pounding his chest, as if drowning in despair, yet with an expressionless face.

"Just kill me instead."

He painted her as a murderer.

Her head spun.

Her ears felt stuffed. A ringing sound—eeeeeee—grew louder.

Everything that had happened felt like a dream.

Everything she'd heard felt like a dream.

Everything she'd seen felt like a dream.

But it was real.

Her vision warped under the weight of an unbearable reality.

"...Your familiars... killed her."

The words stumbled out in a hoarse voice.

Terror crashed over her like waves—the fear that everything surrounding her had been a lie.

She was scared.

She couldn't understand anything, couldn't think anything.

Had she ever been this terrified, except for that day when she'd lost control?

"...Familiars?"

Michael asked dryly.

Charlotte's body trembled.

Then a quiet laugh echoed through the eerily still, blood-soaked corridor.

"What familiars do I have?"

Something was wrong. Severely wrong.

Eeeeeeeeeeeee—

The ringing that had been growing suddenly swelled, filling her skull.

Ah. This was her limit.

Charlotte swayed weakly.

Darkness rushed over her vision, her consciousness.

"...Tsk."

Someone clicked their tongue and caught her.

A solid embrace.

Who was it?

—...F*ck, seriously!

With that faint voice, her consciousness snapped off.

Five days. Less than five hours of sleep total.

Michael had repaired the magical formations throughout the west wing. Repaired and repaired and repaired and repaired them again.

His mana was depleted. His body was not normal.

But he couldn't stop.

If he let his guard down, someone might die.

Yet the more exhaustion accumulated, the more mana he poured into the formations, the more the crushing pressure built—and sometimes, actually quite often, he wanted to let everything go.

He'd endured for ten years since his father's death. Why did the urge to give up come so frequently now?

There were people who'd lasted thirty-six years in this place.

—But they're not the ones responsible.

—No one understands how maddening this feels, do they?

Devil-like hallucinations rang in his exhausted ears.

Well. That was true too.

He couldn't even freely converse with people.

[diediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediedie]

The grotesque curses of the aberrations always echoed in his ears.

And he had to manage that unpredictable monster, Charlotte, on top of it all.

Michael scraped together mana from the very bottom of his reserves—feeling like he'd crumble at a touch—and finished the repairs.

He stared vacantly at the last completed formation.

The thought that he could finally rest lasted only a moment before a sense of futility washed over him. Could he really rest?

He'd just return to Charlotte's side anyway.

Beside that beautiful woman, watching her again.

Trembling in fear of who might die next.

How long must I live like this?

The question that always surfaced when his mind was breaking consumed his thoughts.

Normally he'd grasp his rationality and swim out quickly. But he couldn't.

He stood there trying somehow to calm the savage waves churning inside.

But God didn't help him.

As always.

"Michael, Michael."

Blood-soaked Charlotte rushed toward him.

...Ah.

Something snapped.

Michael looked down vacantly at the beautiful woman.

The blood splattered across her dress. So vivid, too vivid a contrast against her pale skin.

Another innocent person dead somewhere.

He'd known the pause in deaths was her whim, that once her whim ended the deaths would start again—he'd known this clearly.

Yet now that death had returned before his eyes, he just felt...

Empty.

"Someone died, don't you understand? I'm not lying, someone—"

He'd tried so hard not to let go, not to give up, but at the cliff's edge the moment he turned to look back, he'd been shoved.

[myLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLadymyLady]

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[diediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediedie...]

His already-broken mind easily severed his rationality.

Her expression of fear was quite convincing—pretending to be a good person.

Yet that appearance, and the voices he heard now, pointed to something endlessly inhuman.

[IdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrong]

He let out a bitter laugh.

The mask slipped off smoothly and fell away.

It shattered with a crack.

"What reaction do you want from me?"

Letting go felt easy in that moment, at least.

She didn't like his response and ran off somewhere.

Left alone, he slowly followed.

Did he regret it?

Well.

His mind seemed to have broken.

He didn't know what that twisted creature would do next.

She'd dragged him into despair and toyed with him—perhaps she'd show him even deeper abysses now.

More people might die.

His mother might die.

The children in the annex might die.

Or she might kill him.

The thought alone was horrifying.

Yet right now, with his broken mind, he couldn't feel that horror properly. Only emptiness.

He didn't want to live catering to a monster's moods anymore.

Everything was just... hard.

He wanted to let it all go.

He walked slowly.

"...ady...!"

He found where the sound came from.

Who had died?

The ones sent by the imperial family?

Or someone who'd broken the rules?

He didn't know who, but if they'd been out at night, they'd broken the rules.

He had no energy left to mourn someone who'd broken the rules.

And then.

He witnessed the maid Jeina die grotesquely before his eyes.

In that scene of flowing blood, only the pale woman trembled.

The expression on that inhuman face was strangely human.

Yet still didn't feel human.

"So you killed her after all."

He asked.

The woman looked at him.

Her beautiful face was blank.

Suffocating.

How long must this continue?

What was the point?

Feeling blocked by an invisible wall, he pounded his chest. Thump, thump.

"Just kill me instead."

His throat felt strangled as he spat it out, but for some reason she collapsed.

A black-haired man he'd never seen before caught her and vanished.

He didn't even wonder who the man was.

Obviously one of her minions.

[diediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediediedie]

[IdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrongIdidwrong]

In the quiet yet noisy corridor, only the dead maid, the aberrations, and himself remained.

Darkness surged as if to swallow him.

Ah. What should he do now?

What would happen?

He didn't know.

He didn't want to know.

His head spun.

His vision flipped.

'But you can handle anything, right?'

Through his hazy consciousness, he seemed to hear words from ten years ago—from the girl who'd been his only salvation when he couldn't accept that he couldn't be with anyone.

Was he mocking his own despair now? He didn't know why he remembered this now, but Michael's mouth moved.

Well. There are some things I can't handle after all.

No voice came out.

Had that child—who'd said she was confined—gained freedom from her parents by now?

He'd finally fallen into the mire. He hoped she hadn't.

Michael swayed, then collapsed on the cold corridor floor.