I Am Troubled That My Fiance Is a Villain

Issue 3

I was in a stone tiny room with only a quintessential bed and a desk.

There is an apologetic degree of brightness far above the head, but now that even the moon, the only source of light, is covered in thick clouds, the room is filled with so much darkness that I can't even see my fingertips.

The water seemed to be staining out of somewhere, and the sound of pounding and dripping was intermittent. I've been listening to the other kind of sound I hear for a long time because it seems to make a difference even if I've been listening to that sound.

It forced me to breathe in a narrow airway, I can clearly tell the Lord of Breathing is suffering from terrible heat, the unpleasant sound of Hugh.

The Lord of Breath was lying in a crude bed, shaking his body in chills caused by heat rather than pure cold. I also felt the tremor of that body coming through to me without the entity sitting at his feet.

At first it was like a cold that would heal as soon as it was normal.

But he had no environment to cure it, no strength, no will.

I'm sure this guy wants to be dead already.

Since when did you realize that?

Strange or still a dream, the time I sleep in reality and the time in my dreams never correspond. Even after a few hours of napping, a week went by in my dreams. That's probably, and still is.

I hope you wake up soon, staring at the dark darkness.

I'm not physically tired, but I honestly find it hard.

Because there's nothing I can do.

I can't touch him, I can't talk to him, I just exist like a ghost. I understood that so badly in this recurring nightmare.

Despair, which I can't even do about his suffering, alternates with the joy that he's still alive, and his chest is about to rip open. But it is also true that death is salvation for him. When I came up with that, this time, I was attacked by a terrible sense of obstruction and nothingness as if I had been trapped in a box that wouldn't open and was no longer tiniest.

At the very least, the salvation must be without seeing his sickness fade thanks to the dark.

Soon, I guess he'll be dead.

And until that moment. I guess I'll keep having this nightmare until he holds his breath and gets completely cold.

There were no wonders and no tears.

Maybe that was because I knew this was a dream, or because I knew there was nothing I could do where I cried. Or maybe it's because my emotions were completely paralyzed by this long nightmare. Or was I a thinner person than I thought I was?

Soon, I guess he'll be dead.

I close my eyes gently.

Soon, I guess Bernhardt's life, which I didn't know, will be over.

My body passed on to guttan and hard shock and I was pulled back into reality.

I open my eyes in surprise, but for some reason I don't see it well interrupted by a fine, black mesh.

Hey, what's this!? and panicked for a moment, but soon remembered that he was playing vale to hide his face when it came to that. He startles the vale with his eyes and nose. For a moment, I wondered if my eyes went crazy because I had too many nightmares.

Then I regain some calm and also finally remember that I boarded a boat to go to the lonely island of mourning, and that instead of the seasickness I was worried about, I was about to crash into the waves.

Uh, I was trying not to sleep because I have bad dreams... You fell asleep after all...

Nonetheless, waking up from a dream and fully understanding where I was, I took a breath and pulled out the strength of my stretched body. Then my head gets firmer and firmer, and I realize that my whole body is wrapped in something warm.

What is this? Warm but a little stiff, like?

"Are you okay?"

When I was frowning, Bern, who was trying to hold me from the top of the blanket, noticed what had happened to me and called out.

Wow, or whatever, Bern returns a good morning to me for the missing scream while Uhicha is at it.

I wonder why I can snatch these things up. Isn't this man ashamed or something? Oh, but it's like he was blushing in a weird place. No, no, more than that now.

"How long have you been asleep?

"It's not a lot of time. I was about to wake you up. Here."

Turning to the point Bern pointed at, the island, which was the size of his thumb earlier when he left the port, was already much closer.

The surface of the island, which becomes apparent as it approaches, is covered with dark rocky skin and the greenery of the plants is almost invisible. It's more tight to be told that God was so stoned than a bump at the bottom of the sea.

The prison tower was like a giant tree that grew on a small island, firmly down the roots of the sea.

The root part, the small land that hits the scaffold, makes me feel uneasy watching. I had to go under a little cliff, especially to get around to the south side of the island by boat, but I felt terribly scared that I was still going to fall with my head.

As such, we took a tour of the tower and halfway around the island to the dock, which is still about to collapse, and called the pier on the south side.

In the form of having Bern hold him half up, he manages to move from a lazy and unstable ship to the pier.

I probably wore it until yesterday, I could have gone this far alone because the general travel outfit bundle makes it easy to move, but I wore a properly aristocratic dress today. That said, it's simple and decorative and minimal. Besides, I even have a veil to hide my face, so I'm all spirited and patient! I am the one who declares that.

Bern was more like me, weaving a plain but never cheap coat and wearing a deep hat. This brings the number of humans who are making a declaration of patience throughout their bodies to two.

In other words, we landed on an island of mourning, appealing from appearance that we were in an unbearable capacity visiting the prison tower for some reason.

That was because of Bern's idea that this was better without extra prying or intrusion.

It looked like a tight island when I was looking from afar, but when I landed, I felt out of sight. No, well, it's obvious because people live there.

The dock and the main entrance to the prison were connected, and the gatekeeper immediately called out.

If I'm not going to interact with the gatekeeper, and I probably won't let him, I finally look up at the prison tower that I've come to smudge.

You wouldn't be high at the end of the tower, but from your feet like this, you can't see it to the top without bending your neck at right angles.

It wasn't black from the beginning, it would have mossed and discolored even over the years. The stones on the surface of the tower were always damp and glowing like reptiles because of the wind blowing from the sea. It's as if the tower itself is of a single willing creature...

Pocahontas and I opened my mouth and looked up, they called me by my name.

I hear you talked to the gatekeeper. Bern's asking you to come.

There was no reason to go against it or anything else, and I was finally to step into this shady and somewhat horrible prison tower with a viola I thought I would never face to face in my lifetime.

What happened in the first place, as you all know, was that yesterday I sprinkled an anger against Bern that I hadn't even noticed myself in the port of Marquis Territory.

He gave it back to me when I was angry, crying and excusing myself, but it felt like a huge business line. Um, if you think calmly overnight, you're a little angry. Well, leave that alone.

What Bern suggested to solve my problem was to meet Viola in the prison tower.

[]/(v5k, vi) (uk) (uk) (uk) (uk)

"Probably can't tell me what I can do to get rid of Lizzie's problems."

They say it's from.

Well. No, you might, but am I the only one who feels a little quick to give up?

Then for what he suggested from himself, don't take it personally.

"And assuming there's really something about that past life,"

"It's hypothetical?

"I don't care how I check."

"Eh..."

You hardheaded bastard!

and evil, but I feel like I'm glad you're taking me so seriously, that I can't wait a little bit.

"Anyway, Viola will be a very valuable talker. And luckily, we're not in a hurry, and the island of mourning is just around the corner."

When they say that, they do seem to have no choice but to go.

Even if I didn't think about it, I gave up on talking to Viola for the rest of my life, and I felt like a loss to that viola on my own.

But does talking to her change anything?

I don't want any clear answers. Still, can we get something that this spider that builds up in our minds will solve?

I don't know.

I don't know, I just have to go.

Isn't that what always happened? I can't help but think alone. I don't know what it is, but I'll try to act anyway. I'll jump in.

That's why I decided to go to the mourning island to meet Viola.

"But it was surprising."

We were taken over by the guard from the gatekeeper and taken to the greatest person here, that is, the prison room where we manage here.

The room turns away from the inorganic and cold feel of the jail that came through, and the furniture is quite expensive, and the fireplace is covered with fire.

While waiting for the prison to come, Bern returned what to me that brought the word above.

"I never thought you'd talk to Viola from Bern"

If I were alone, I wouldn't be very, but yes! Visit Viola on the lonely island of mourning! I wouldn't have done anything about it, and it's something I never thought of.

The side of Bern, which was slightly overwhelmed, was still slightly blue and white even when lit by the fire in the fireplace, but looks even healthier. He looked a little disgusted by my words.

So I feel his painful breath fading from the sickness I hear in my ear, and for a moment I'm zoomed like I've been stroked in the spine with an icy hand.

A dream is a dream. Though I intend to cut it off...

than I think myself. Maybe it's going on.

"I really don't like it. 'Cause if you talk to Viola, Lizzie's bound to get hurt. And the lonely island of mourning stinks, and no one likes to come or do anything."

I was waving the topic from myself to come up with something else, and I returned it to me all the time. And I look up at Bern, startled and closing my eyes.

Somehow, I was surprised that the word "shady" came out of Bern's mouth.

'Cause you, you'd be surprised if you came out of a graveyard that seemed like you could have a picnic if you needed one, you stink and you don't like it. No, I'm talking about a picnic if you need anything at the graveyard.

I don't know how he got my surprise, but he blurted out and said he wasn't sure.

"I probably don't quite understand why Lizzie's angry yet. Besides, as I said yesterday, I'll probably never see Viola again if I miss this opportunity. Even though I know that, I wonder if my choice not to let you see Viola here would be to ignore your feelings..."

He seems to think a lot harder than I think he is.

And I wonder if it's actually amazing that someone is so worried for me and thinks about it. That thought sprang up, and I was ashamed of myself for clinging to it as if I wasn't quick to give up or something, and I shrugged as if it were small.

The prison was still a man who seemed to be better at paperwork than flesh, to the extent that it would reach the early ages or not.

I thought there was going to be someone in the system starting with a very tough gorilla or Ya because of how much the warden is, so I clap it out a little.

He went from being a nobleman at first suddenly visiting, seemingly sparing us, but treating Bern at once when he showed him a special travel ticket, unlike the one he had used on his journey so far, to something against his bad boss when he was in a bad mood. Like a fly, it feels like it's only a matter of time before you start rubbing hands.

I decide not to think too deeply about what is so special about travel documents because of the extrajudicial power, for example the smell of some raccoon duke or art teacher with loose head screws.

I think it's important to be blunt to live a human being. Yeah.

When I told him about this requirement, he gave me permission to meet with Viola in two replies.

Then I can pass along some caveats. Possible prohibitions include, for example, no contact with prisoners, no direct handing over of objects.

"Do you have any questions?

I'll give you a shout with that, and then I'll ask you horrible.

"In the visiting room, I want the prisoner and us alone."

I think it's going to be a conversation that you probably don't know what it means to be asked, but that doesn't mean it's okay.

The prison, as bewildered, let his gaze wander.

"It's..."

"You may have a physical exam before entering the visiting room"

When the prison was reluctant for the rules to be responsible, Bern grabbed a rather thick envelope from his nostrils. And let it slip silently onto the table.

Ma, no way...!?

"Let's have something called a conversation that only women can have with each other that we men don't understand. Besides, the prisoner is just a female con artist. What can you say you can do now that you can't even help an accomplice man?

Bern, right? And as a reminder, it smiled kindly.

"So you don't see each other, just your lady?

For a moment Bern got lost in the answer,

"Yeah, I'm not going into the room, I'm going to watch at the entrance"

Huh!? Oh, really?

Me, you talk alone? Are we gonna talk about this!?

Prison often seemed lost in his duties and the contents of the envelope across the scale, but the balance seemed to lean towards appetite.

"I see.... then let's take special care of that"

Ahhh!!

It's quite thick, I can't make it clear what's in it, but somehow an envelope that will figure out what's in it gets into the jail nostalgia.

Oh, oh...

We were led to the interview room, ashamed of our sin to see and pretend not to see the grand and unfair deal, but to tell ourselves if we could carry things in peace.

Along the way, he explained that there were many noble prisoners, and that furniture could be brought into a prison about five metres wide, or that meals could be turned into lavish depending on the money. Contrary to the look of the tower if you ask me, it feels cold inside but never unclean.

The visiting room was rectangular, with two rows of rusty lattices, about a meter apart in the middle. I guess the calculation is that even if the prisoner is a visitor or one of them stretches his arms full, he won't reach it.

The prison deliberately prepared for me a fluffy chair with cat legs, disproportionate to a room without any decorations, painted and consolidated with white lacquer. I wish I was in a normal chair.

"I'll leave the entrance open."

"Yeah."

"I'm standing at the entrance, so call me as soon as something happens."

"Okay."

"Never get up from your chair again and stay away from Viola"

'Cause I get it.

I have solved what kind of question, and later I will only wait for Viola.

There wasn't much natural and nervous.

Either I can't believe I'm on an island of mourning, and I'm not realistic at all.

Gooper his palms without meaning and crushing his time, the entrance to the room across the street blocked by a lattice was knocked.

I can't breathe much more. My heart suddenly starts buzzing, just like I said I'd skipped work before.

Make a noise, the door opens.