The Bad Ending of an Otome

The man pulled out a knife, placed the handle in my palm, and forced me to hold it. 

He then put his hand around mine.

“If something happens, flee first. Fighting an adult man with a knife is a bad idea. I admire your bravery, but there are many occasions in our world when it is insufficient. Even I would not instruct my troops to battle carelessly against foes that outnumber us.”

So, this is only for emergencies.

“The blade is quite sharp. Do not display it in public. If you must use it, that is the worst-case situation.”

The man’s eyes were solemn.

“It’s designed for slashing rather than stabbing. If you must stab, target the stomach or thigh and twist before pulling.”

“What if…”

I don’t know why the thought occurred to me at the time.

“What if I have to turn against you, Sir Raretis?”

For a little moment, the man remained silent. 

His hand slipped free of mine. 

He took my hand in his, bringing the knife to his neck. 

The razor-sharp blade was directly in front of his Adam’s apple. 

He seized my free left hand and tucked it under his chin. 

I could feel a pulse just below the jaw.

“This is the carotid artery,” he said coldly, without hesitation.

“Stab without hesitation, all at once. So that no one can take revenge on you.”

He told me to strike without looking back if he became my adversary.

The determination in his remarks rendered me speechless for a brief while. 

I had anticipated a slightly different response. ‘I will never be your adversary.’ ‘No matter what, I will protect you.’ 

Those kinds of cliched sentences. 

But Raretis Hope put a sharp knife in my hand and pointed out the crucial point.

“…Are you going to stop me?”

“If the situation forces you to turn me into an enemy, it’s better for you to be safe, even if it means doing that.”

“Why would you go to such lengths…”

His tenacity amazed me. 

The words he had given me were not meant to be profound. 

After all, the House Windrose was where I grew up. 

Despite my denial, ignoring, and fleeing, it was evident that a portion of my life was irrevocably buried there. 

I couldn’t see myself being antagonistic to the Windrose family or a foe to the guy known as Raretis Hope. 

The man smiled slightly, like a candle ready to be extinguished, a faint smile of hope.

“I know best what people say about me.”

The kingdom’s only hope. 

The most important knight. 

A little genius who grew up wielding a sword.

“And how empty that false name is.”

“…”

“When you disappeared, I sometimes thought that if it was what you wanted… I couldn’t help it.”

I attempted to lower my hand, fearful that the knife would quiver, but the man lifted his hand and wrapped it around mine. 

His soft hand made me feel even odd.

“Thinking that Lady Elodie joining the Marquis’s mansion and the Marchioness treating her like a daughter was unavoidable.”

All of these statements were in the past tense. 

The man’s purple eyes shimmered faintly, like the stars of a shattered world.

“Emilia.”

“…”

“You can do whatever you want. Don’t forgive anything that gets in your way, not even me.”

My lips parted, but no words were said. 

The weight of his words was too much for me, making my heart race.

“Why?”

I could only manage a whisper. 

Why. 

What is the reason?

“Why are you doing this much for me?”

I could maintain my cool in the face of individuals who sought to take advantage of me. 

I could grin at those who pitied me. 

But I’d never encountered anybody who unconditionally gave me such unfathomable emotions. 

It seemed reasonable to me. 

After all, I had nothing to contribute.

“Do you feel any guilt? Because we grew up in the same mansion, we feel obligated…”

I shouted out the words, but I knew that wasn’t it. 

The Marchioness was a source of concern for both me and Raretis Hope. 

Even facing her was difficult, as Rarethis played the part of her devoted son. 

Beyond that, his devoted knights and subordinates shared his life and death. 

To set aside all of that for me… To give your life for me? 

To give up everything he had worked for, the people he was responsible for, and his future family?

“Emilia.”

It was far too much guilt. 

Too ludicrous for accountability. 

The man grinned. 

A perplexing grin, as if the bitterest herb had been steeped in the sweetest honey. 

It seemed both pleasant and suffocating, like nothing else in the world. 

Kind, I reasoned. 

Unfathomable.

Now that I think about it, maybe I never wanted to understand him. 

Afraid of the answer, as a toddler who turns away from the answer sheet even after they have solved the issue.

“I once regretted… long ago that I should have just thrown away all the logic and reason of reality and simply taken your hand.”

I looked perplexed.

“I knew it was stupid. That it would be harmful to you. But I still wondered if that was what I should have done.”

His voice was quiet yet unbearably thick. 

Like molten iron boiling.

“…I wouldn’t have minded if you ran to the ends of the earth. I believed it would be fine… as long as I could protect you from harm there.”

As he let go of my hand, the knife glinted in my palm, warmed by his body heat. 

My heart felt as if a razor blade had scraped it. 

There was no pain, but emotions surged like blood.

“It was my arrogance.”

It was a deeply peaceful confession. 

His nasty smile was as red as the lifeless seawater. 

He had murdered and killed his seething emotions in a sea that no living creature could touch.

“Emilia.”

When he said my name, it always made me feel uncomfortable. 

Apart from Ophelia, he was the only person who addressed me as ‘Lia.’

“Don’t overthink things. Consider me to be the knife in your hand. A weapon that you can use to stab anything and conceal at any time. You may throw it away, and if it becomes boring, you can smash it.”

“…”

“Whenever and wherever, if I can help you, that’s enough for me.”

“…”

Do you like me?

Given the knife’s weight in my palm, it was too serious a question to ask casually. 

It is both light and eternally weighty. 

The man’s visage was mirrored in the silver sword before it vanished. 

It was a smile as plain as an old scar, too painful to predict its weight.

Something about him reminded me of my younger self, who was constantly questioning her actions. 

For example, when I unintentionally reached out to touch someone’s back and then wanted to sever my hand.

“Honestly… I still don’t understand…”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I deserve… this kindness from you, Sir Raretis…”

My nails left marks on my palm as I squeezed my fist. 

Rarethis quietly stretched out and unfurled my fingers as I watched. 

Each unfolded finger soothed the stiffness as if medicine were applied to a scabbed wound.

“…Thank you.”

I said pitifully, staring at the crescent moon-shaped imprints on my palm.

“Thank you, Sir Raretis…”

That was something I had wished for a long time. 

To hear someone say, ‘Emilia, you’re the best in the world.’ 

To hear someone declare, ‘I would die for Emilia.’ 

Even if it was a fabrication.

Ophelia eventually became that person, but I wished someone would tell me, ‘You’re better than Ophelia, the best in the world.’

That person was frequently Raretis Hope. 

Despite knowing it was impossible. 

Even though I knew Raretis Hope of the Windrose Marquis’s mansion couldn’t possibly be romantically linked with anyone else.

I wanted someone to tell me, ‘You’re the best in the world,’ since I was jealous and inferior towards Ophelia.

Would it have been better if my birth parents had been less vile? 

Even if it was flattery before they sold me, having someone speak those words would have been preferable. 

I know. 

Nanny Odile, Dorothy, and Chef Hans cared about and loved me. 

But their love wasn’t blind enough to desert their real wife and side with me. 

Fear of being rejected prevented me from even humorously asking.

‘Which do you prefer, Ophelia or me?’