My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 324
He first lifted the blanket to check the surgical area. His eyes involuntarily tightened in a painful grimace at the sight of the thigh, tightly wrapped in bandages, which was terribly swollen and pitiful. And what about his hollowed-out cheeks, evidence of the brutal fight with death?
The doctor had said the battle wasn’t over yet. Good fortune was still required.
Edwin took the four-leaf clover he had been holding in his hand like a rosary and placed it below Giselle’s neck, in the small hollow between her collarbones, before wrapping the necklace around her slender throat. The loop had broken, perhaps while she was evading the shelling, so he fastened the clasp onto the chain.
He could have removed his hand then, but the pulse beating beneath the rosy skin along the edge of her neck, where the chain lay slack, was a pleasant sight, so he gently stroked the spot with his fingertip.
—Ung…
At that moment, Giselle let out a low moan. Her eyelids fluttered as if about to open, and she pulled up a hand that had been weakly hanging limp. She was waking up.
There was a time when he would go to wake Giselle on the magnolia terrace in the morning. Even when he opened the bedroom door, pulled back the thick curtains, and opened the window to let the chill of dawn light and air into the room, this sleepyhead would remain fast asleep.
Giselle only ever woke up when Edwin crept under the same covers and touched her. She would moan, ‘Mmm,’ turn her head towards him just as she was doing now, and lift her heavy lids just a sliver, always ready to close them again.
Though the journey was far from complete, it felt as though he had retrieved those tranquil days that had almost been lost forever. Edwin leaned down towards Giselle, parting his faintly smiling lips, but he was cut off before he could utter the first word.
‘Get out of the way.’
Some lout had intruded. But for now, he was the savior who had rescued Giselle. Edwin backed away, warning him that this was the only time.
—Why did you seek m…..
Lorenz was likewise unable to finish his sentence. This was because Giselle suddenly embraced him with both arms, pulling him in and sealing his mouth with a kiss. Her dry, chapped lips clung to his hotly.
Natalia kissed me first.
Lorenz was afraid. He couldn’t even allow himself to tremble properly for fear of losing her. He held his breath, praying this kiss would never end.
—I love you, Edwin……
Yes, it shouldn’t have ended forever. Because, as expected, it wasn’t his. The lips that felt the kiss belonged to someone else, and even his heart, which ran wild and froze according to his emotions, was ultimately not his own.
This is maddening.
He could feel the strength draining from him. Like a sandcastle stubbornly holding its form, only to collapse with a single gust of wind, or a marionette slumping down when its master drops the strings.
Only an empty shell remained. No, since he never even had a shell to begin with, there was nothing left now. He was merely a mirage named Lorenz. And even that name would scatter into the wind the moment the mirage faded, to be forgotten forever.
Even if he were to greet another day, it couldn’t be called living. He couldn’t even exist. What, then, was the meaning of tomorrow?
All that remained for him was a final choice.
Lorenz confessed to the woman who had already fallen back asleep, lost to the medication.
Natalia, I’m sorry.
I was sorry.
The truth is, I was sorry from the very beginning, but I refused to admit it. I hated the people who possessed what I could never achieve, simply because they were born. I acted as if I, unblessed, was entitled to the right to curse them.
At the moment I crushed a person beneath my heel, a feeling of superiority would boil up inside me. It was the only way I could forget my inferiority.
When people acknowledged my existence, my chest would feel like it would burst with a joy that was both hotter and more fragile than anything else. I could only prove that I existed when an actual human being reacted to me in some way.
Yet, the human closest to me denied me. I was born from Edwin Eccleston. That is a truth even he shouldn’t be able to deny. Nevertheless, my creator never once acknowledged me.
Natalia, how would you have felt if your parents had told you that you were born by accident?
You must be sick of me blaming your lover again, aren’t you? I’m sick of it too.
In any case, even after tormenting people, the hatred never disappeared. Because the fact that the humans who hurt, went mad, and died at my word were still superior to me did not change.
So then I would find the next person to take my rage out on, and from that momentary superiority, I would feel an eternal inferiority, which would lead to more anger, which would lead to another outburst…
Like an addict plunging a needle into their own arm, knowing it will eventually kill them. I only think of it that way now; back then, I didn’t realize that pathetic act would eventually be the death of me.
Then I met you.
At the time, you looked like a target so perfect that all my previous encounters seemed trivial. Not just a target, but a weapon as well.
If I tore you apart, my creator would be ripped to shreds, too. On the one hand, you were a leech like me, but you were loved by your creator. In that sense, I loved you to the point of madness and hated you enough to want to kill you.
But how did everything else vanish, leaving behind only this insane love…?
When I manipulated you and crushed you underfoot, I expected to feel only superiority or a thrill—just as I had with other people. Perhaps stronger and more lasting, but the essence of the emotion would be the same. I was wrong.
So this is what love feels like…
The only thing I ever learned about love was by tracing Edwin Eccleston’s memories. Like the sensation of ice cream melting on the tongue. But it wasn’t the ice cream I tasted, and it wasn’t the love I experienced.
Though you didn’t give me love, either.
No one is satisfied and believes they had a beautiful love just after turning the final page of a romance novel. They wish for the protagonists’ eternal happiness and hope that they will find such a love themselves.
It’s like how that tantalizing quenching tasted with saltwater only makes the thirst more unbearable.
How much worse would it be for me, who briefly became that protagonist? Once I experienced firsthand what it felt like to receive love from you, the ambition to be loved as myself—not as Edwin Eccleston—grew uncontrollably, ultimately consuming me.
I thought I didn’t have such a desire. It was simply that I had resigned myself to it from the start, knowing there was no hope.
But by the time I realized I wanted you—not as a target to break, nor as a tool to break others, but as a human being—I had already committed sins that made it impossible forever.
I know I was wrong. I did it because it was wrong. Not admitting it wasn’t because I didn’t know the sin.
I was wrong. I ruined everything. I am the only one I can trust, yet with my own hands, I cut the only lifeline thrown to me and trapped myself forever in this lonely pit. It was so incredibly difficult to admit this…
Because I hated myself enough to want to die. Everyone else hated me, and if I hated myself too, there would be no reason to live. I wanted to live, up until that point.
Natalia, if I had admitted it, could our relationship have been different?
Please tell me no.
Tell me I never had a chance from the beginning.
The suggestion that I had a chance is a poison now. And besides, it’s a lie.
Even when you acted as if you would give me love if I admitted my fault, I couldn’t do it because it felt like a trap. I felt that the moment I confessed my sin, you would issue a death sentence instead of a pardon. I had no faith that you would forgive me.
In the end, I suppose I was right about that.
I’m not blaming you. Nor am I playing the victim, begging for forgiveness.
Remorse and apology that are offered in the hope of forgiveness are inherently impure. That is why I am reflecting and apologizing now, without wishing for anything.
Actually, there is one thing I wish for: that you may be eternally free from the pain I caused you.
Pathetically, it was only after I suffered your retaliation that I felt how deep the wound inside you was. Of course, in that moment, I was so absorbed in my own pain that you didn’t matter. I realized it only later, reflecting on that day.
There is something else I noticed while watching you. Retaliation wasn’t entirely satisfying for you, was it? You think you’re a monster, don’t you? The very fact that you think that is proof that you are not entirely monstrous.
Since I saved you even after you told me to die, your heart must be uneasy, as if you owe me a debt.
Natalia, listen to me: you only gave back what you received. I deserved everything I got, and you did what was right. Why do you feel sorry for me?
Huh? Why would you feel sorry for a mentally twisted psychopath, a pathological liar who constantly enjoys sophistry and changing his story, a shameless wretch who harms others and feels no remorse, an incompetent good-for-nothing whose only skill is running his mouth to destroy people, and a loafer with no ambition or plan for the future?
It was absurd, wasn’t it, that I used you in my fight with Edwin Eccleston, used you again to relieve my loneliness and anger, and then felt wronged that you were only using me as an obstacle in your own love story—even though I treated you as a tool, not a person? I apologize.
I apologize for abusing you and saying I would kill anyone—and then myself—because I couldn’t stand my sense of injustice. You’ve suffered so much because of this madman.
But me trying to kill your brother…
I…
…was wrong. I am sorry.
Asure: Readers in general… the countdown begins… Only 10 chapters left and the work will be finished… I hope you enjoy the translation……..
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Alina 19
Thank you for your work and translation ❤️