But where do I even start? I've definitely never done something like this in a dream before.
I licked my lips, sadly realizing they were too pale, with a scab in the corner.
I looked so bad that just thinking about that girl made me want to compare her to a ghost—or even something worse. Probably the most elaborate nightmare designed to throw me into confusion.
"Let's see where to begin…" I muttered, covering my mouth with my hand, clutching my face.
"Die, die, die…" I repeated under a trance, going over the best ways to kill myself.
Even if this body had already tried to die, I had to try myself.
Who knows what might happen if he dies before me? Maybe I'd really die, drowning in the sea, on that cursed cliff.
"And how do I do it…"
"Better not dream about suicide."
"I know it's not the best outcome," I nodded.
"Huh…?"
"If you try and fail, you'll suffer for the rest of your days."
I shuddered.
I froze, thinking maybe I just imagined it. I turned to the man and saw his eyelids twitching. Then he looked at me.
He's not breathing, right?
Not really—not at all.
"I can't die, even if I want to? What a terrible life…" I grimaced, feeling offended and realizing he was right.
I shifted my gaze to the stranger.
Surprisingly, he was handsome. No, he was so handsome that such beauty simply couldn't exist in the real world. Another proof of this silly illusion.
His hair was silver-white, cascading from his shoulders to his waist.
And his eyelashes… I envied them.
"But even if I'm not allowed to risk it like that, there's still a way out."
"Hm?" The handsome stranger, who seemed about to leave, tilted his head with interest.
"This place is full of killers—I don't have to try killing myself."
I crossed my arms over my chest. I'd thought about this option from the start, but couldn't quite accept it.
"Our thoughts coincide."
He chuckled.
I saw the stranger smile.
(Wow… he really is a handsome guy.)
Can someone with such a face exist in a place like this?
Yeah, I forgot again that this is all the same absurd reality.
My breath caught from his sparkling golden gaze locked on me.
I was so stunned I kept looking at him for a while.
"You have a beautiful face."
"Really? I hear that a lot. And you have a charming smile."
"Really? I hear that just as often."
Exchanging pleasantries with sly, satisfied smiles, I realized I needed to leave immediately.
I had to finish this quickly.
So why was I still standing and talking to him?
I wanted to take one last look at the dazzling stranger, but when I turned my head, I saw no one.
(Thinking about it, he wasn't wearing prison clothes and looked way too good for a worker here.)
"Already gone?" I raised an eyebrow, not giving it much thought.
He's not real anyway.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled slowly. Scanning the mess hall, my eyes stopped on a huge man with scars on his face.
My body seemed so fragile, like it could break from a mere breeze. But even so, I wanted everything to go perfectly.
"Hey, mister," I addressed the intimidating criminal, leaning over him.
"...?" He barely lifted his head.
"Can you kill me?"
"What? You want to die?"
He seemed stunned, but I could understand how he felt.
But even so, I didn't care.
Maybe at that moment, I was too obsessed with "reality" and ignoring all the "realism" of what was happening.
"Ha-ah… so tiring. Didn't I ask you clearly? I was so polite, huh."
There was a crack.
Or better said—a crunch?
With one move, I knocked over the tray with his food. Then I hit him hard on the head with it, making him bend slightly.
"Crazy bitch!"
The consequences were immediate.
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, frowning.
You could feel the fabric of his shirt tighten as he grabbed me by the collar.
As soon as that happened, I rolled on the ground. At first, it was hard to figure out why I had fallen.
(Hmm… looks like I was thrown as easily as a sack of potatoes. Um… but can you really throw a sack of potatoes that easily?)
Raising myself on my elbows, I skillfully grabbed the fallen tray, armed with it like a bat.
Crack.
I swung wildly. Again.
And again.
And again.
When only broken pieces of the tray remained, I threw them aside.
Kicking the stranger, the slippery food on the floor made him slip. Unable to keep balance, he fell, hitting his head on the corner of the table.
Ha! Looks like I made him angry.
Quickly getting up, he stretched out his hand as if trying to do something. Then, looking at the chain on his neck, he snarled angrily.
Come to think of it, everyone here had those strange chains—except the angry healer and that white-haired stranger.
"Tch! You…!"
Clenching his fists, he was about to attack me.
But…
(Hold on)
I froze, stunned.
"...cough, cough… heart, heart… cough-rr…"
Grabbing his chest, he fell to his knees. His underlings and others who had seen this and never thought he could lose caught him.
"...the leader of the assassins guild has been defeated!…"
"God, did that girl really do it? How is this possible…"
"Wasn't he strong? And she… blah-blah-blah…"
"...leader of the assassins… sh-sh-sh…"
The crowd buzzed, gathering more people around me, shouting more phrases. But in my head, it was all noise.
The prisoner lost consciousness.
A wave of excitement swept over me.
"Looks like something went wrong," I bit my lip.