Chereads / Ruthless side character's perspective / Chapter 2 - Lowest? I don't think so

Chapter 2 - Lowest? I don't think so

"For you, Roland Kylian, open it when you were at the bottom of your life."

I'm holding a book that bears my name, one that is covered in pure crimson mana only I could shatter. And one I have owned for so long that I cannot recall where or when I first acquired it. 

Is it legit? Is this just a hoax, or perhaps this is a well-crafted assassination attempt aimed at me? I am unsure, but I believed those words to be true, so it did not matter.

Why? To be honest, I have no idea; I just followed my gut. Having too many doubts is a surefire way to end up in hell in this magical world; sometimes you just have to believe. 

But perhaps I should not trust my instinct because that damned gut also told me to love Theresa, the only person I truly loved and who also broke my heart.

"I wish I could forget you." 

Theresa... you had struck me so hard that I could still feel the memory of your face hanging over me like a painful bruise.

Each time I recalled your features—those once warm eyes and that smile that had charmed me—I felt a fresh wave of hurt wash over me.

At that moment, all I craved was to drown out those memories with a drink, to forget and erase everything about you—the comforting warmth I once felt in your presence and the insincere affection you had shown me, which now felt more like a cruel joke than a genuine connection.

"At the bottom of my life, huh?"

I sighed and looked up with my golden eyes at the delicately decorated ceiling of my room, which was completely white and adorned with dragons and angels—the room that only belongs to the best of the best.

"Hah, it isn't that bad; except for you, my achievements are still the same." I said that as a way to cope with the situation.

That much is accurate; in theory, I have not lost anything of value, my family is largely still together, the Kylians are more powerful than ever, and our land is experiencing economic prosperity after the war.

I shouldn't be gloomed and doomed just because some retarded commoner dumped me. 

Yeah, getting myself together is a must. I'm Roland Gisil Kylian—the head of the family after all; being emotionally immature isn't like me at all.

I have experienced worse, this is merely a small amount of suffering.

But still, love is insanity, just like drugs; people who have never experienced love will never be able to comprehend the absolute destruction it brings to the mind.

Simply put, love hurts so much, and I should have continued to be as heartless and unloving as I was before. It is simply not worth getting shot up over someone who does not love me.

So, I say with an awkward smile: "Another time, I will read you at another time."

Like so many times before, I decided to put it away. However, I simply put it away because I cannot allow myself to forget that betrayal, that humiliation, and so that I will never be tricked again.

To be honest, this is the reason I haven't thrown out that book; it partly helped me get through some of the hardship and pain, and as long as I believed that this was not the bottom of my life, I was able to continue.

Naive? That may be true; if I had to choose, I would prefer to be an ignorant child to the cynical, damaged, tired adult I am today.

"...I'm exhausted." Get up from my elegant marble table; I yawn wearily and decide to end the day. But as I lay my back on the plush, silky mattress, I hear a quiet, shy voice calling out to me. It annoyed me.

"Nn, my lord."

From the corner of my white door, a figure peeks out and then slowly reveals herself. 

"Alice." Putting my callused hand over my face, I whispered that name to myself. 

The young woman in front of me was breathtakingly gorgeous.

She had light blue hair from the first snowfall of the season; her azure blue eyes were transparent and pure, reflecting the blue and beautiful sky. Her face is also delicate, lovely, and adorable, all the more attractive with that hint of timidity and shyness. 

She slipped into an exquisite nightgown that hugged her figure perfectly, accentuating her beautiful curves in all the right places.

The delicate fabric cascaded over her skin, catching the soft light and creating an alluring shimmer. The intricate lace trim added a touch of elegance, while the plunging neckline drew attention to her graceful silhouette, making her look both breathtakingly beautiful and captivatingly seductive.

She is Alice Hilbert Vogt, my fiance. Calling out to me in the middle of the night, I wonder what she is up to.

"Am I bothering you?" Alice asked me as she tilted her head slightly and put a finger to her lip.

"Of course not, Alice. What are you looking for from me? Naturally, I lied and inquired about her motivations.

Although our marriage is merely a political pact, and even though I do not love her, Alice still belongs to me and is a good girl—much better than the bitch who betrayed me, of course.

And as her future husband, allowing her to bother me was the least I could do.

"I just want to see you, my Lord," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. With a graceful motion, she edged closer, settling onto the seat beside me.

Her azure eyes, a striking hue reminiscent of the deepest ocean, locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. Her brow frowed, and Alice looked at me with a painful expression, as if she were pitying me.

Shen narrowed her eyes and studied the person in front of her with a look of concern mixed with candor.

After a moment, she spoke, her voice steady but laced with an unfiltered observation: "You look awful today."

Indeed, if I look in the mirror right now, this face of mine would look terrible, riddled with frowns and anger far from the usual calm and collected composure of the ordinary day. 

But I didn't want to admit it, didn't want to make her worried. So in response, I made a straight face and said: "That's just my normal face." 

However, Alice seemed to see straight through the flimsy excuse I had, her discerning gaze cutting through my feeble defenses.

A soft smile played on her lips, hinting at an understanding far deeper than mere amusement.

"My Lord," she said gently, full of affection. "I have already known what happened." With a playful yet caring gesture, she pinched my cheek.

So she knows huh?

Well, since I didn't even bother to sweep it under the rug, it was only a matter of time before she discovered what had happened between me and Theresa.

So as I sat there, I couldn't help but wonder about her true intentions.

Was she genuinely trying to comfort me during this vulnerable moment, or was she using it as a tactic to win my heart?

The thought struck me that perhaps she wanted to envelop me in desire, distracting me from my troubles and making me forget everything else.

Yes, she may have an ulterior motive. Though nothing matters now.

Before I would have tried to push her away. Now, I simply don't give a damn. Alice could do whatever she liked.

But much to my astonishment, she gently released her grip on my face, and in that very moment, a remarkable transformation unfolded.

Nestled within her palm was a book—my book, the one I had tucked away only after a great deal of thought and deliberation. 

"You still keeping it…" Alice murmured, her face looking rather complicated as she looked at it. "What is that look?" I thought.

Is it pain? Sorrow? Regret?

Why is she looking at the book like that?

Why did Alice know about it?

"How did you know about it?" I opened my eyes and hurried to grab the book out of her hand, but she handed it to me without even trying.

"I was the one who made it," Alice declared, her voice steady and unwavering. She met his gaze with confidence, her eyes shining with sincerity. There was no flicker of doubt or deceit in her expression.

What? No, how?

How could she have made it? It makes no sense. There is no way in this world for her to create a magic book now; even if she were, it would take years just to gather enough Mana to imbue a book of this caliber.

Yes, Alice couldn't have made this book, but she wasn't lying either.

Then there could only be an explanation—the woman standing in front of me wasn't Alice, but someone else.

But how? Why couldn't I sense the difference in her mana? It was exactly like Alice, even to the minute detail.

Her appearance is the same; every feature mirrors the last. Her mana, that ethereal essence that surrounds her, is identical to what I have always felt.

Even her mannerisms and the tone of her voice are strikingly alike, down to the way she addressed me as "My Lord."

She is the same as Alice; there was no difference from what I remembered her.

Yes, there is no difference between the two.

Oh... Shit.

"You can't be-" Get hit by the sudden realization. I tried to approach her, but my body, arm, and leg all froze.

I was completely immobile, unable to use my mana, and couldn't even open my mouth. 

She smiled.

"Roland, I'm still Alice Hilbert Vogt, the woman who loved you so much." The woman who introduced herself as Alice ran her delicate fingers through my silver hair, a gentle motion that should have been soothing.

Yet, her smile held a deep sorrow that overshadowed any warmth it might have conveyed. It was a smile etched with the weight of countless struggles and heartaches—each crease around her lips telling a story of pain and loss that spanned a lifetime. 

Her eyes, though bright, were clouded with memories that seemed to haunt her, the very essence of her being reflecting the suffering she had endured.

In that fleeting moment, I felt a connection to her unspoken burdens, as if her heartache had become an invisible thread binding us together in a silent understanding.

And then, finally, she took the book from my frozen-in-time hand and opened it, showing it to me.

"..."

There was not a single word written on it; it was utterly blank—but that was normal for a magic book.

But suddenly, an intense sensation washes over me, engulfing me in its grip. It's a profound and unsettling feeling, akin to staring into the endless, shadowy depths of an abyss.

The darkness feels alive, teeming with unknown terrors and the weight of despair, as I peer into its unfathomable void.

Each moment spent gazing downwards amplifies the sense of dread, leaving me shivering with inexplicable fear, as if the darkness is reaching out, threatening to swallow me whole.

My mind was a turbulent storm, every synapse buzzing with an overwhelming surge of unfamiliar information.

It felt as if my brain was caught in a relentless blaze, each new fact and idea igniting a fierce flame of confusion and anxiety. 

Pain swelled within me—intense and relentless—as if someone had plunged a sharp spear directly into my skull, twisting it with cruel intent.

I could almost envision my thoughts being snatched from their solid form and tossed onto a blazing grill, sizzling and crackling under the heat, reduced to charred remnants of clarity.

The pressure wrapped around my nerves like a vise, squeezing tighter with each breath I took, leaving me teetering on the edge of utter chaos.

Despite my best efforts to shut my mouth and grind my molars, the spell that had been cast on me remained in effect, rendering me completely paralyzed.

Overwhelmed by the weight of my thoughts, I felt my mind slowly fade into a haze, becoming indistinct and vaporous.

It was as if my mental landscape transformed into a void, a vast expanse of white that mirrored the emptiness of unfilled pages, devoid of substance or clarity.

And then it happened—a big bang.

I stood there, my gaze fixed on the horizon, barely able to grasp the vast tapestry of what was to come.

It wasn't a neatly woven vision of the future but rather a chaotic collection of threads, interlaced and frayed—each strand representing a possibility, a moment waiting to unfold.

In that swirling mixture of past experiences and untold events, I sensed the weight of choices yet to be made, each one a needle stitching together the fabric of destiny. All from the perspective of a higher being, of a puppeteer controlling the stage.

I see what will transpire over the course of the next decade, seeing this so-called story through to its conclusion.

But despite all those possibilities, I can only see one end for Roland Gisil Kylian: Death. 

I always died at the center of the chaotic mess that is fate.