As I turned back, my eyes caught Emilia's. They were tired, rimmed with shadows, the kind of eyes that spoke of a sleepless night.
The kind of eyes that had been crying. They were a raw, vulnerable confession, and for a brief, fleeting moment, a flicker of something close to pity sparked in my chest before I mercilessly snuffed it out.
"Evan…" her voice slipped out, soft and trembling. The moment she spotted me, she broke into a near-run, her usual graceful composure forgotten.
She moved with a desperate, clumsy urgency, as if she were a drowning woman reaching for the only piece of driftwood in the ocean.
Hash… here we go again. The thought was a weary sigh in my mind.
She finally reached me, breath uneven, her shoulders heaving...
"Evan," she said again, the single word a plea, a question, and an apology all at once.
I chuckled, tilting my head as I leaned casually against the desk. "Well, well… Lady Emilia herself. What brings you here, barging into my class like this? Don't tell me—" I grinned, a playful mischief lacing my tone, "—you missed me so badly you couldn't wait another second, huh?"
My voice was loud enough for the entire class to hear, a public performance of my feigned indifference.
Emilia faltered for a moment at my teasing, her lips parting before she steadied herself, composure snapping back into place like a fragile mask.
"Evan… please," she said softly, her voice carrying an uncharacteristic weight. "Can we talk? Just for a little while. Please, give me a chance." Her eyes darted to the curious faces of my classmates, a silent plea for discretion.
I raised a brow, smirking. "Why so desperate, my dear lady? You can talk to me whenever you want, right? So what's the rush? Lunch break, after school… plenty of time when the whole class isn't watching us like it's some kind of Korean drama." My words drew a ripple of muffled chuckles from the room, but my eyes never left hers.
She bit her lip, hesitating before answering. "W-we… I tried to talk to you this morning, but you weren't in your dorm. Not in the training yard either.
Nowhere. I thought…" her voice wavered just a little, a raw edge of hurt creeping in, "I thought you were avoiding me. So I chose here—because I couldn't wait any longer."
I clicked my tongue inwardly. Quite a desperate bitch, huh.
"Well, Lady Emilia," I drawled, spinning my pen between my fingers. "It's not like I was ignoring you or anything. I was just… preoccupied with the very important business of doing absolutely nothing."
The lie was easy, a familiar cloak I wore every day.
I leaned back in my chair, grinning wide. "But if you're really that desperate to talk, who am I to deny you? You know, I'm a generous man." I jabbed a thumb at Ryan, who groaned instantly. "Though, you'll have to compete. My loyal friend here is in the middle of giving me a full lecture on how my smile makes me look like some kind of horror movie extra. Honestly, I think he's just jealous. So, Lady Emilia, you'll have to fight him for my attention. Be warned—Ryan's quite the possessive type."
Emilia's eyes flicked toward Ryan, sharp enough to cut glass.
Ryan immediately threw his hands up. "H-Hey, don't look at me like that! Why am I suddenly being dragged into your love drama? We already changed the subject five minutes ago!"
He leaned back in his chair like he wanted the ground to swallow him. "Miss Emilia, please—take him. He's all yours. I don't even know this guy anymore. As far as I'm concerned, we've never met. Go ahead, save me the trouble."
I gasped theatrically, slapping a hand over my chest. "Ryan! How could you? Just giving me away like some unwanted stray? Where's all that possessive loyalty you promised me, huh?"
The class chuckled. Ryan groaned louder. Emilia, though, wasn't laughing—her gaze was still firmly locked on me.
"Evan, please…" Emilia's voice trembled, softer than before, but the weight behind it pressed against me harder than any glare could. "Are you really that against me? To not even spare me a moment… am I truly that unacceptable to you right now?"
Well, duh you are, I wanted to say out loud—but I bit back the words. No need to let the whole class watch our little tragedy unfold.
Instead, I flashed her a crooked smile. "My dear lady, I was just teasing. Why wouldn't I want to? You are, after all, my fiancée." I let out a low chuckle, deliberately leaning into the playful edge. "Oooh, did I tease you too much? Fufu, what a sinful man I am."
Without waiting for permission, I tugged her hand, ignoring Ryan's choking sounds in the background. "Come on then, let's go. Who cares about the next class anyway? We're not really here to study, are we?" My grin sharpened. "Let's just get our unfinished talk over with."
And with that, I dragged her out of the classroom, leaving behind a wave of bewildered silence.
-----
--
I tugged Emilia along the hallway, ignoring the curious looks of the few students still lingering around. My grip wasn't rough, but firm enough that she didn't slip away.
Her hand was cold in mine, trembling. Soon, I found us in one of those quiet classrooms—the kind I sometimes used to sneak into when I needed to be alone. The air inside was still and smelled faintly of chalk and dust.
Closing the door behind us, the silence pressed down, heavy and absolute.
I turned to her, a hint of a smirk still on my lips. "So… now that it's just the two of us, my dear Emilia, what exactly did you want to talk about?"
Her lips trembled before she spoke. "E–Evan… I think you already know. But still… I need to say it. I want to talk about yesterday. I—I can explain it all now. The first thing I want to say is… I'm sorry." Her voice cracked on the word, a fragile, broken sound.
"Emilia," I muttered, narrowing my eyes. The facade was starting to crack.
She took a shaky breath, clutching her hands together tightly. "I know I did wrong. I broke your trust. I did something… unspeakable. I have no excuses left. If you hate me for it, if you want to punish me, I'll accept it. I just—"
"Emilia." My voice was a low command.
She stopped, biting her lip.
I stepped closer, gently placing both of my hands on her cheeks, forcing her eyes to meet mine. My thumbs brushed against her dampening skin. Her pupils trembled, tears threatening to fall, but my gaze held her captive.
"Shh. Listen to me first. No more excuses. No more rambling. Just look into my eyes, nothing else."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
"I won't ask for much," I continued softly, my thumbs brushing against her skin. "Just answer me this—do you truly feel sorry for what you did back there? Yes or no."
Her body quivered, her breath uneven. "Y–Yes," she whispered.
I tilted my head, raising a brow. "Yes?"
Her voice grew louder, breaking. "Yes! I feel horrible, Evan. I'm truly, truly sorry for what I did. Please… forgive me. Don't push me away anymore."
By then, her tears spilled freely, trailing down her cheeks.
I chuckled lightly, wiping them with my thumb. "Shh… what's with these tears, hm? I only asked you to apologize, not to cry your heart out. Look at me, Emilia. You're making your dear fiancé look like a villain here."
"R–Really?" she asked, her voice trembling with a fragile hope.
"Really. I accept your apology. I'm not such a heartless man, you know. If you want, I'll even pinky swear on it."
Her lips curved faintly, though her eyes were still red. "No… your words are enough for me," she whispered, before slowly resting her head against my chest. Her warmth pressed against me, fragile and trembling.
I stroked her hair once, then let a grin creep back onto my face. "Since you're in such an honest mood, Emilia, let me ask you something too."
She looked up, hesitant but determined. "Anything. I'll answer you, Evan. No matter what."
"Hmm… quite the sweet response. Let's see then…" I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a whisper by her ear.
"Imagine a scenario where I just happen to, you know… kill your dear friend Lucas."
Her body froze. My tone lingered, playful yet chilling.
"…would you still love me?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"E–Evan… wh–what are you saying? You're joking, right?" Emilia's voice cracked as she tried to force out a shaky laugh, but her trembling fingers betrayed her.
I didn't smile. My gaze stayed fixed on her. "No, Emilia. This time I'm not joking." My tone was quiet, low—the kind that made her shoulders stiffen. "I've been thinking. All of this—the distance, the fights, the way you've been pulling away from me—every single root of it points back to one person. Lucas. Not anyone else."
Her lips parted, but no words came out. I lifted a hand slightly, silencing her before she could try. "Just… hear me out. Do you remember, Emilia? Do you remember the last time you and I ever fought? Really fought?"
She blinked, her brows furrowed as though searching her memory. A long silence filled the empty classroom. She didn't answer.
"Exactly." My voice softened, bitter but sad. "You can't remember, because there wasn't one. Not until he started coming between us."
I took a step closer, my voice lowering to a whisper only she could hear. "Emilia… I've always loved you. From the very first time I saw you standing in the Ravenshade gardens, sunlight catching your hair, your hands brushing over the roses as if you belonged there. From the very first moment you stepped into our estate… I was already gone. Already yours."
Her breath hitched. I could feel her pulse quickening beneath my fingers as I cupped her face gently, forcing her to look into my eyes. "But I never told you. Not properly. I'm not the kind of man who knows how to spill his heart with flowery words. So I kept it inside. I thought you understood… thought you could see it in the way I looked at you, in the way I stayed by your side, even when the world turned against me."
Her eyes were glistening now, tears threatening to fall. She opened her mouth, but I pressed my thumb softly against her lips. "Don't speak yet. Just listen."
My voice cracked on the last word, and I hated myself for it. But I couldn't stop now.
"Emilia… our engagement—it wasn't born out of love, not at first. We both know that. It was politics, convenience, two families binding us together. But even so…" I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the knot in my throat. "…I loved you. I tried to. Every single day, I convinced myself it didn't matter how it started. That maybe, if I held on long enough, my feelings would be enough for the both of us."
I let out a hollow laugh. "And maybe it was foolish. Because you—you were always ahead. Blessed, brilliant… untouchable. The chosen of the goddess. Do you even realize how people looked at you? You didn't need chants, didn't need effort, didn't need struggle. You could command magic like it was your birthright while the rest of us—while I—bled and sweated for a fraction of what you were given."
My hand tightened against my chest where the scar still throbbed beneath the fabric. My breathing grew uneven, but I forced myself to meet her eyes. "And yet… despite knowing all that, I still admired you. I still cared. I still—" My voice faltered. "…loved you."
The silence that followed was unbearable, so I broke it, my tone sharpening like a blade. "But the day—when you used your blessing on me, when your spell struck my chest and sent my weapon flying—I bled, Emilia. Not just here—" I pressed harder against my chest, feeling the phantom sting flare. "—but here." My other hand trembled as I touched my heart.
"You could've chosen another way. You could've spoken. You could've trusted me enough to stop without force. But instead… you made me bleed. You—my fiancée, the one person I swore I would never raise a hand against—gave me a wound I can't erase."
My lips curled into a bitter smile, though my eyes burned with something dangerously close to tears. "Do you know what that feels like? To realize the person you love most is also the one who scarred you the deepest?" The words hung between us, heavy and raw, leaving no room for excuses.
I stepped closer, brushing her cheek with my fingertips. My eyes locked onto hers, unblinking.
"So, Emilia… I'm not asking this out of hatred, or vengeance. I'm not that pitiful. I'm asking for us. For me and you. Let me kill Lucas. Let me erase him, and everything will return to how it should be. He's crossed the line, Emilia. He tried to break the bond our parents tied between us. Every time I wanted to close the distance with you, he was there—whispering, prying, cursing us apart."
My hand lingered against her skin, almost trembling. "You know it too. So tell me… yes or no?"
Silence. Her lips parted, quivering, her eyes darting as though searching for air. Seconds dragged, until at last, her voice broke through—fragile, trembling.
"N-No."
I froze. The world seemed to collapse inward. My smile wavered.
"No?" I repeated, softly.
She swallowed, her voice barely holding. "Evan, I… I can't let you do that. I won't let you stain yourself with blood. You're not a murderer. We can face this together, in a new light. I'll talk to Lucas. I'll make him step aside. And maybe—" she faltered, cheeks reddening, eyes glistening, "maybe then… we can start our love, together. Because I… I also lo—"
"Emilia," I cut in, both my hands cupping her cheeks now, my face drawn into a hollow smile. My thumbs stroked her trembling skin. "Did you just say no?"
"E-evan, why are you so fixated on this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't let you kill him. I won't see you become a murderer. I—"
CRACK.
Her sentence broke with the sound of her neck snapping beneath my hands.
Her body collapsed with a dull thud, sprawled across the floor, eyes wide but lifeless.
I stood above her, staring. My chest heaved, my fingers tingled from the sudden release of pressure. The silence was deafening.
"You should have said yes," I murmured, my voice hoarse, shaking. Then louder, venom dripping with every syllable: "You should've said YES, you bitch. Why… why the fuck did you keep defending that filthy commoner? Why couldn't you just listen? Just trust me? Just love me?"
My voice cracked, my hands clenched. But she didn't answer. She never would again.
All I could do was stare at her broken body, and wonder… if she had only whispered 'yes,' would I have done that to her?
"Who the fuck asked for your opinion? It's mine to decide. All you had to do was listen—just shut up and obey. But you didn't."
My voice came out raw, feral, like I wasn't even me anymore. And then—silence.
Fuck. I actually did it.
Her body lay crumpled in front of me. Emilia. The heroine. The shining star of this damned story. And now? Just a corpse cooling on the floor, a smear of red spreading under her head as she had fallen hard.
When… when did I start losing myself like this? When did my hands become weapons that move on their own? Was it me who killed her? Or was it him—the real Evan—gnawing at my skull until he finally slipped through my cracks?
No. Stop. Don't think. Don't think.
But I can't tear my eyes away. I see her chest refusing to rise, her glassy stare locked on the ceiling, and bile scorches my throat.
This is it. I'm finished. There's no covering this up. I didn't just break the rules—I ripped the whole damn script to shreds.
My father… maybe he could bury it. He's buried worse, hasn't he? Pulled strings, silenced whispers, twisted the truth until it bled into something convenient.
But this? Even he can't scrub this clean. Not when I murdered a noble. Not when I gutted the story's future with my own hands.
My heart slams against my ribs, every beat a nail driving deeper. My mind hisses, clawing for an escape, for anything.
A solution. Think. A way out.
And then it hits me.
Heh. Suicide. Of course. That's the only path left for monsters.
If I die here, beside her, they'll spin it into some pitiful tragedy. Two lovers, swallowed by despair, leaving behind a corpse-stained fairytale. They'll cry, they'll rage—but at least I won't rot in chains, stripped of everything, reduced to a husk.
Yes. That's it. A fitting curtain call. The perfect ending for a villain who strayed too far.
A laugh tears its way out of my throat, jagged and cracked, as if even my lungs mock me for thinking there's still beauty in death.
And then—
Ding.
The sound cleaves through the air like a blade.
I freeze. My blood runs cold as my eyes drag toward it.
A screen. Massive. Pulsing red like an open wound, lettering carved across it in jagged crimson strokes.
WARNING. WARNING.
THE SCENARIO IS BROKEN.
THE MAIN HEROINE IS DEAD.
Over and over, pounding into my skull, each flash like a hammer smashing bone.
And then—larger, screaming:
EMERGENCY PROTOCOL INITIATED.
TIME IS REVERSING.
"What the fuck does that even mean—"
I don't finish. I can't.
The world shatters.
Everything—everything—stops. The air freezes in my lungs. The drip of blood from her body halts mid-fall. My heartbeat is stolen. My own flesh turns alien, weightless.
I'm unmade. Stripped down to nothing but a shadow in a void that doesn't even want me.
And then the cord snaps.
Darkness.
…
When sight returns, I'm staring at her face.
Alive.
Emilia. Breathing. Crying. Her trembling lips spill desperate words into the space between us.
"Yes…! I feel horrible, Evan. I'm truly, truly sorry for what I did. Please… forgive me. Don't push me away anymore."
Her tears streak down, catching the light like shattered glass.
And then I realize—my own hand is already there, pressed against her cheek, tender, gentle. Like I hadn't just strangled the life out of her moments ago.
"…What the fuck."