RAMHM Chapter 20

Most Cruelly and Miserably

"AHHHHHHH!!"

The diary escaped my hands, rolling mercilessly across the carpet. I glared at it as if it were my mortal enemy. If the fireplace had been lit, I would've thrown it in without a second thought!

"My lady! What's wrong?"

"My lady!!"

At the sudden scream, the maids began pounding on the door. The increasingly violent vibrations transmitted straight to my heart like kicks, trampling it to pulp.

"Novian Trovika!"

I couldn't hold back—I screamed. I raised my trembling hands and stared directly at them. With these hands, she must have written such things. Planned to kill me together with my husband!

"Novian Trovika, Novian Trovika!!"

My throat felt torn, blood rising. It wasn't just about keeping a mistress. Novian Trovika—the man I'd loved, who claimed to love me. That refined man who'd wept so much at my funeral... killed me! He, who knew better than anyone how desperately I'd wanted to live, how much I'd wanted to become healthy!

'I want to get healthy quickly too, so I can become your strength.'

'Adrienne, your very existence is my strength.'

How well he'd said such things...!

"My lady! My lady!!"

"Noah, Noah, Noah!!"

Overwhelmed by betrayal I couldn't bear, I threw whatever came to hand. The first violent act of my life. If I didn't do this, my heart would burst first. The vase blooming with pink roses—Bliea's taste—shattered without mercy.

Outside, the maids stomped their feet and pounded harder. That sound felt like drumbeats stoking my emotions higher. With my boot heel, I crushed the already-broken vase pieces. Crack! Crack! Until the fragments pulverized to powder.

"Novian, how could you! How could you!!"

Even the maids of this household, ignorant of high society—even Count Acacia, whose only territory was that tiny scrap of land in the borderlands—they'd all known and told me openly. That this Bliea Acacia was your mistress. That this body was your hidden love.

Until you told me directly, I refused to believe others' words. I tried to trust you—is this the price for that trust?

Gripping pink rose stems scattered throughout the bedroom, I beat them against the door the maids were pounding. Thwack! Thwack!

"All of you, get away! From me! Nobody come near!"

"My lady! What on earth is happening!"

"Go! Everyone get out!! Nobody come to me!!"

Thwack! Thwack-thwack! Rose petals scattered in all directions, crushed beneath my feet. If anyone opened that door, I felt I could do the same to them—destructive impulses surging.

The maids' noisy footsteps briefly retreated. I slid down, back against the door, slumping to the floor. The door against my back was so cold—goosebumps rising. Simultaneously, the hand that had gripped the rose stems so tightly stung.

"Ah... hic..."

Tears poured out like vomit, gushing in waves, yet I clutched the scattered roses tighter. Blood seeped gradually from my palm, deeply pierced by the sharply protruding thorns.

"Nnngh...!"

In the mistress's healthy body—the mistress my husband had hidden away—I freely injured myself. My heart boiled and seethed, my head turned entirely to mud, but with my bleeding hands I crawled across the floor to the full-length mirror. The cleanly polished mirror reflected Bliea Acacia. Sensually curling black hair tangled wildly, makeup smeared everywhere from crying. A woman identical in appearance but definitely not me—that's who stared back with such an expression.

"Bliea."

Naturally, this body didn't answer. It only gazed at me, howling like a wounded beast.

"Bliea. What even are you? What are you, what are you...!"

Looking at that wretched reflection, I wept again with madness. Sobbing as if vomiting my internal organs. Only after wailing until this healthy body was completely exhausted, only after hearing the worried maids finally searching for a key to open the bedroom door, did I feel the last shred of guilt I'd held toward her disappear.

"...You'll never return to this body."

Apart from Novian—that sliver of conscience about possessing this healthy flesh. I hadn't orchestrated this, didn't know by what means my soul had entered this body, but I'd vaguely thought about the real Bliea. Where was her soul now? Had she lost this healthy body and entered one like Adrienne's former body, living in terrible pain? But I decided to abandon such generous worries now.

"Even if you somehow return... there's no vessel left to hold your soul. Understand?"

I spat words so venomous they surprised even me, speaking directly to her face. Poison-filled pale green eyes stared straight at my reflection in the mirror, utterly disheveled.

"From now on, you... are truly me."

I haven't become some possession by fraudulent conjurers from books. God took pity on me—dying ignorant of this shit situation—and punished you, Bliea. I've been reborn exactly as I'm meant to be. So this is reincarnation. An opportunity.

"This is... reincarnation."

I ground out the words. Bliea Acacia stared back with demon eyes.

"Your body now... is truly mine."

I'm Bliea now. However she might see me, I spoke whatever came. And I smiled defiantly, letting tears flow like an open faucet. Even if no one would call it a smile, if even a fragment of Bliea Acacia's soul could see this state and go mad, that would be enough.

The time for useless wandering and confusion was over. I still couldn't believe Novian's betrayal—my whole body trembling—yet simultaneously I thought about how to betray and wound him just as deeply. I wanted him hurting like me. Not merely hurt by me leaving him or lying about loving someone else—I wanted him truly in pain. Like me. Despairing like me. Sobbing until vomiting his internal organs like me.

Though I'd quit the Academy midway, though my grades hadn't been particularly good—if the professors had set such a problem, wouldn't I have scored quite well?

<How can one kill a person most cruelly and wretchedly?>

Though much earlier than their scheduled meeting time, Rhodness leaned against the entrance to Ristorante Gendica. When the Acacia estate carriage appeared far earlier than usual, he blinked in surprise before opening the carriage door for her. But she wouldn't emerge, no matter how he extended his hand. Was it because work had delayed him, making their meeting later than planned? Like the darkening exterior, the carriage interior was dark.

"My lady."

He called out, frowning slightly. Bliea Acacia didn't answer. Rhodness peered deeper into the carriage. Countess Bliea Acacia sat properly, hands folded on her lap—trembling.

"My lady?"

Alarmed by the strange atmosphere, he glanced around before climbing fully into the carriage. When he closed the door, aide Vincento, standing at a distance, took position guarding the entrance.

Bliea, eyes downcast, finally lifted her face slightly. An expression seemingly no different from usual—except those sparkling pale green eyes had died completely black. Rhodness found himself unable to speak, caught in an unfamiliar feeling, simply staring at her.

As the cold silence continued, he narrowed his eyes and began examining her—the atmosphere was far from ordinary. Hastily arranged hair. Slightly disheveled appearance. Slender hands trembling intermittently, slowly staining her lap with blood where they rested. He forgot about asking permission, simply grasping her hand and lifting it. Bliea Acacia resisted weakly, then finally showed her palm, realizing she couldn't win by strength.

"What is this?"

He asked in a slightly angry voice. Upon closer inspection, Bliea's face, lit by sunset, was entirely wet. Hands pricked by something sharp, cut by something keen—not even basically treated, bleeding freely.

"What happened? What occurred at the estate?"

Had the elderly Count Acacia suddenly changed his mind about divorce and treated his wife this cruelly? Or had Novian Trovika learned Bliea was seeking divorce and sent someone? Perhaps the estate's impudent maids were tormenting Bliea for her common origins.

All manner of thoughts arose, yet the person in question, having given him her hand, gazed down at it as if looking at someone else's.

"Do you need my help? Please speak."

Seeing Bliea's pallor on a face identical to Adrienne's stirred impatient feelings. Rhodness hastily pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped the small, wounded hand. Then from Bliea's full, pale lips came a single name.

"Novian..."

"...Did he do this to you?"

Suddenly, Bliea Acacia's eyes met his crimson gaze directly.

"I want to kill Novian Trovika."

"!"

For some reason, Rhodness saw despair in those eyes.

"How can I..."

And from within Bliea Acacia's eyes, a single thick teardrop fell like a lie. Plop.

"...kill him most cruelly and wretchedly?"