"Did you sleep well?"

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I stared blankly at his face for a moment before nodding slowly.

Aiden smiled broadly and stepped into the room.

“Aiden, can you believe the lady went to sleep wearing her outdoor dress?”

“What?”

Aiden, who had entered casually and started helping Jane as if it were nothing, suddenly turned to look at me.

I avoided his gaze like a guilty criminal. And immediately regretted it.

I shouldn’t have looked away.

“Your dress must’ve been soaked. Did you catch a cold?”

After a brief pause, his gentle voice asked with concern. I continued to stare into the air, nodding slowly.

“Yeah. I’m fine... Did you sleep okay?”

The air, the floor, and you.

My gaze shifted in that order.

Aiden’s gaze moved the opposite way.

Me, the floor, the air.

“...No.”

And that was his answer. I had nothing to say.

What could I possibly reply to someone who tells me they didn’t sleep well? Oh, that’s too bad? I’m not trying to mock anyone.

Only the soft rustle of blankets echoed in the light silence. His platinum hair from behind was beautiful, as if I were stealing a glance.

Silky strands, the faint red tips of his ears.

So pretty. You’re beautiful. It’s strange.

Maybe it’s because he told me he liked me, and I finally admitted that I liked him too... but now, no matter what you do, my heart aches. You’re precious. Isn’t it ridiculous? What is love, really?

I slowly closed my eyes. Committing your beautiful back to memory to the very end. And I whispered in my heart.

I, ever the selfish one, hope you'll keep coming to me, even if it hurts you.

Aiden left the room before Jane did.

I watched his back grow distant, and only turned my head after the door finally closed.

Seeing his back fade like that left a heaviness in my chest.

Even thinking about how awkward the morning had been made me feel the same way—dull and melancholic.

I was glad to see you... but that was all. You came, and then you left.

Not like usual.

We weren’t like this, normally. We’d talk naturally, look each other in the eye, and smile. What had made us like this?

Your confession? No, that’s not it.

What made us like this... was my death.

After Aiden left, I asked Jane to bring me my art supplies. She soon returned with them.

I thanked her for her help and gently pushed her toward the door.

It was a portrait for my funeral—who wouldn’t feel ridiculous drawing that with someone watching?

And so, alone in an empty room, I sat quietly before the blank canvas set up in front of the mirror.

My face reflected in the mirror looked pale.

I wasn’t sure if it looked that way because I knew I was sick, or if it truly was that pale.

Probably the former. One of the peculiarities of the Black Flower was that it made your skin glow faintly.

In the silent room, accompanied only by the crackle of the fireplace, I held the pencil in my hand.

But that was as far as I got. I couldn’t move past it.

I didn’t know where to start, where to draw the first line, how to fill in the space—I knew nothing.

My stiff hands trembled, and the pencil perched at my fingertips dropped with a small thud.

Thud. Roll...

“Ah.”

Letting out a quiet sigh, I watched dumbly as it rolled away, then finally bent down to pick it up.

The tip had snapped clean off from hitting the floor.

I rubbed the broken edge absentmindedly, then pressed my face to my knees. My breath burned hot.

No matter how much I resolved to live positively, to make the most of my remaining time... that was all it was. A resolution.

A meaningless promise. A futile determination.

I’m dying. I’ve lost everything, and I’m destined to turn to dust.

I can’t tell the person I love that I love him. I’ll never see the one friend I have again.

I won’t see the garden swaying in the spring breeze. I won’t be there for my brother’s wedding.

So how am I supposed to stay positive?

It was too much. The headaches that squeezed my skull every morning, the stomachaches that burned me from the inside, the ever-growing list of things I had to give up—

Everything... just felt like too much.

“Urgh...”

About every other day, our family would gather for a meal. It was the year-end, so we’d agreed on every other day rather than daily.

That meal time was always bittersweet.

Being together made me happy, but every moment I worried someone would notice how sick I was.

So afterward, my stomach was always in knots. Like I’d eaten a cake so sweet it numbed my tongue.

But today, it was worse. The nausea wouldn’t stop. My head spun. Maybe I’d eaten something bad, or maybe my failing body just couldn’t handle food anymore.

“Urgh...”

I lay sprawled on the bed, groaning as I fought the urge to vomit. Sweat poured from my body like rain, soaking me through.

Jane had warned me not to lie down in wet clothes. Sorry, Jane.

That evening, both Jane and Aiden came to my door one after the other.

But I couldn’t open it for either of them.

Clutching my blanket until the veins bulged in my hands, I focused only on holding back my breath and the whimpers of pain. That was all I could do.

Eventually, after knocking for a while and hearing no response, they each muttered something like, “She must’ve fallen asleep early...” and walked away.

I felt relief as their footsteps faded. But the moment I was alone in the room again, the silence was so suffocating... I could hardly breathe.

“...I want to live...”

The words burst from me, because I couldn’t bear the silence.

Last night’s nausea hadn’t been just indigestion.

No doubt, it was the symptom of the second petal.

I stared blankly at the lunch tray in front of me and came to that conclusion.

Just looking at the food, I knew.

I wouldn’t be able to eat properly anymore. My body wouldn’t accept it.

“Urgh...”

The moment I gagged in front of the untouched meal, Jane, who had been organizing the tray nearby, rushed over.

“My lady, are you all right?”

“Ah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look well. Should I fetch the doctor?”

“...No, no. I think it’s just some indigestion from dinner last night. I went to bed early, but maybe it’s still lingering.

As for lunch...”

I trailed off, looking over the food. A potato dish with beef, asparagus grilled with butter, a salad with apple dressing.

“I’ll just have the salad.

You went through all this trouble, sorry.”

“It’s nothing, my lady. You’re what matters. I’ll just go get you some digestive medicine, okay?”

“...Yeah. Please.”

Jane nodded and quickly left the room. I stared after the closing door, then slowly picked up my fork.

Winter vegetables. Expensive. Money really is useful.

I distracted myself with pointless thoughts and took a bite of the salad.

The dressing was supposed to be tangy and sweet. It just tasted bitter.

That meat I ate yesterday—that was the last meat of my life, wasn’t it. Another piece of my life was gone.

After the short meal, Jane brought me the medicine.

“Tomorrow’s the trip... and you’re not feeling well...”

Jane looked worried, her face all scrunched up. That actually made me feel a bit better.

Being secretly sick, even the tiniest concern feels nice. Do I... want people to worry about me?

“It’s just a little indigestion. I’ll be fine by tomorrow. And thanks—for the medicine.”

I smiled as I spoke, and only then did her expression soften.

No—she didn’t just soften.

Her eyes rounded, and like someone about to burst with excitement, she tapped her toes against the floor.

“Oh, no need to thank me. But my lady! I set aside an outfit for tomorrow... do you want to take a look?”

I shook my head while sipping the medicine.

It was something she picked, so I trusted it without checking.

Maybe she understood how I felt, because she didn’t seem disappointed at all.

“I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.”

“You’ve been to the lake before.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Still! I’ve never seen a winter lake before. Oh, I hope it snows.”

Jane naturally tidied away the empty bottle as she chatted on.

Her tapping feet and her brighter-than-usual voice... she must be really excited.

“If it snows, it’ll be cold.”

“But it’ll be beautiful.”

Beautiful, huh. Yeah. It was terribly beautiful. I gave a bitter smile and nodded.

“Aren’t you excited, my lady?”

To her cheerful question, I just smiled. That was my way of saying yes.

After Jane left the room, I pulled out the art supplies I’d left in the corner.

Yesterday, I’d barely managed to draw a few lines. I really needed to get moving... I’d be away from home for four days starting tomorrow. And after that, who knows when I’d be able to draw again?

I sat down in front of the mirror just like yesterday and picked up my pencil.

My face in the reflection looked brighter than it did yesterday. That was good. Really good. It had to be good.

This was a portrait for my coffin—it should show me with a bright face. Let them remember me with rosy cheeks at the end.

Yes, of course.

I smiled. My stiff lips made it awkward.

But I still smiled. Tomorrow, I’ll keep smiling.

Be happy. Let myself be happy. Allow myself to feel it.

To push away this fear again with determination.

To once again cast everything off and enjoy a peaceful life in peace.

But even that small wish—God crushed without mercy.

And so, I was sure.

There is no God.

Or if there is, He must truly hate me.

The night before the trip, I went to bed early.

To be honest, I hadn’t been sleeping well for a while. I slept, but it never felt real.

Every day, my body was deteriorating. And with it, something else was lost.

The sense of loss was eating away at the resolve I’d made to live with a smile.

It felt like sinking into a dark, bottomless sea.

But not tonight.

Tonight, I fell asleep thinking only of tomorrow. Excited. Hugging that excitement close, I nestled into the soft blankets and closed my eyes.

Yes. Just thinking of the trip we’d be leaving for tomorrow at noon.

I opened my eyes before dawn—far before it.

In the pitch dark of night, only the shadow of the moon faintly filtered in through the thick curtains.

There hadn’t been a nightmare. No sleep paralysis. No warning signs.

The pain came suddenly, rising from my feet and choking my throat.

It felt like I was staring into the red eyes of a high priest in the darkness.

“You said you’d die.”

A whisper, full of mockery, seemed to ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) echo.

I couldn’t even thrash. I couldn’t move my eyes. I was frozen, forced to feel the pain like a living corpse.

“Ugh... hhh... hhhh...”

Only harsh, ragged groans broke through my burning throat.

My neck was slick with cold sweat.

My forehead was cold. My toes were burning.

“Ugh... ugh...”

Only after several long groans and sighs could I move.

Every bone and muscle screamed with agony as I twitched.

My eyes felt like they’d roll back.

Why is this happening to me? Why must I suffer this? Can’t I just die quietly three years from now?

Is this punishment? A punishment for taking life lightly?

A punishment for driving nails into my family’s hearts over and over again?

“Haah... haah... uh...”

I wanted to die.

Death felt preferable. If I died, at least the pain would stop.

The searing pain surged to my chest.

Even the beating of my heart hurt.

But—I couldn’t die.

Even though it hurt enough to kill me, even though death would be easier... I couldn’t die today.

Today is the day of the trip. My family’s excited. Jane was so happy. The lake will be beautiful. I’ll be happy. I’ll smile.

...Or will I?

The pain clouded my thoughts. My mind was spinning, like someone was kneading my brain—I couldn’t tell what I was thinking anymore.

The pain was so great, it erased thought itself.

With a blank mind, I clawed at the spot where the petal must be blooming—over my left chest—and thrashed on the bed.

And then, I fell off it.

Thud.

I hit the ground hard. My knees shook as I tried to push myself up.

At the same time, something clattered to the floor.