WeTried Translations

Translator: Goku

Editor: Sty

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◈ The Villain’s Ending

Chapter 021

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Coloring (3)

It told me to Collect the Ending, but I never heard it tell me to hang myself and die.

Perhaps because I'd blown my own brains out, but I must have been out of my mind for a moment.

It might be an excuse I'm making because I don't want to die.

After all, flailing about while dangling was quite painful.

It might not matter whether I die or not.

Because I'm not the one who sees the ending.

And I don't even know how the world turns after I die.

From the start, a single scoundrel who only appeared briefly in the beginning and then disappeared without any real meaning wouldn't cause any significant change by dying.

Perhaps I've been looking at myself as too valuable until now.

'Lavin' is always the kind of person who gets abandoned by his fiancée and kicked out of the family.

Though it doesn't seem like I'm much different.

In the end, to see the end, I have to follow the original story's flow.

So that Kyle, the protagonist of the original story, can Collect any ending.

But I couldn't just stick by his side either.

From the start, there was no suitable way to get close to him.

I had tried it several times in the past.

Back then, perhaps because it hadn't been long since I'd become 'Lavin', I was quite full of confidence.

You know, one of those things.

When you get transmigrated into a game with an original story, you go around looking for useless items or people, or you run around stirring things up everywhere, claiming you can do anything.

I was like that too.

Because I thought I was the protagonist.

At least I thought I wasn't just some delinquent who would appear once and then be conveniently disposed of.

Until my past caught up with me, no matter what I did.

Because I believed that if it were me, me who knew the original story, I could do anything, and if I showed a reformed version of myself, people around me would re-evaluate me and help me.

I lingered around Kyle, and whenever there was a gathering or a chance to meet, I would seek him out and hover around him.

Of course, looking back now, I understand it perfectly, but the results weren't that good.

Even when we met face to face, Kyle would just exchange a word or two before finding an excuse to leave.

One day, I even tried desperately clinging to him, apologizing for 'Lavin's' past provocations and saying I wanted to be friends.

All that remained was his unenthusiastic reaction, and an unpleasant rumor that spread, perhaps because someone had seen us, suggesting that the infamous Lavin might also enjoy male company.

Even if I keep living and somehow endure, I won't be able to undo the broken engagement.

Seraphina's family will try to separate me from Seraphina by any means, and Levina will be the same.

That person might even think that the mere act of me being attached to someone, breathing and living, is ruining the family's honor.

Still, I have a place to return to.

I just need to somehow survive and endure, right?

Until Kyle reaches the ending.

Whatever that may be.

There was no specific instruction on how many to collect, nor what to do.

Even now, the only thing I see in the air is the message: Collect the Ending.

Whether I break off the engagement with Seraphina, or get kicked out of the family.

None of that mattered anymore.

As long as I wasn't expelled from the academy, I could somehow endure.

And I hadn't done anything to deserve expulsion.

Even regarding the forbidden library incident, His Esteemed Student Council President himself declared that there were no charges against me, so there's no one who would raise an issue with that again.

Killing time by burying myself in the library's corner, reading dusty books, or simply spending the day staring at the ceiling in my room.

That kind of life was quite familiar.

After quite some time, things like demonkin or demons appear, and students get caught up in it, dying for various reasons.

That's because there are countless people who don't care if you live or die, as long as you're not the protagonist or the heroine.

And unfortunately, I was not one of the two types of people mentioned above.

In fact, I highly doubted whether I was even considered human.

What could I do in such a world?

Probably nothing at all.

Even if I tried to help, perhaps by saying where a demon's weakness was, they would surely claim I was a demon worshipper who had been colluding with demons all along, hang me on a pillar, and try to burn me alive.

Even though I've lived with a certain level of noble treatment as a bastard child, never really experiencing barbaric acts, this is a world capable of doing just that.

In the end, I have only one option left.

It's a relief that there's even an option, at least.

Before I blew my brains out with a revolver, I didn't even have options.

I had to get close to Estelle.

But how?

The only way I could think of to get close to Estelle was when Levina summoned her after Marcus and I fought tooth and nail last time.

It also doesn't seem right to suddenly approach someone I've never even met and bring up the forbidden library incident.

I don't know if it's because I'm stupid, but just as Estelle is my only option, there seems to be only one way to meet her.

I picked up the half-empty liquor bottle left on the table.

Then, in one go, I chugged it all straight from the bottle.

I took a breath and then slammed it down onto the table.

CRASH!

The sound of shattering glass tore through the silence of the room.

Sharp glass fragments scattered, but I hadn't slammed it down so hard that they flew everywhere.

From those fragments, I picked up the largest and sharpest one.

And for a moment, I looked down at it.

The dim light of the room reflected off the fractured edge.

As expected, I hate pain.

I put the glass fragment back on the table and took out a cigarette from my pocket.

I lit it and inhaled deeply.

A bitter taste spread through my mouth.

For a long time, I stared down at the broken bottle.

My face reflected in the glass fragment was unfamiliar.

Because it was 'Lavin's' face.

It's not my face that I'll return to soon, is it?

All I need to do is inflict a small wound.

Not even to cut anything off, just enough for blood to flow.

Just enough for Levina to call Estelle.

I picked up the glass fragment again.

And without hesitation, I cut my arm.

A sharp pain spread throughout my entire arm.

My skin tore, and red blood slowly began to well up.

And soon after, a hot, sticky liquid streamed down my arm and dripped onto the floor.

My arm began to be painted red.

At first, it was red, following the blood drops, then it spread widely sideways, looking as if it had been applied with a brush.

It felt like I was dying from the pain, but I also thought I could endure it.

Leaving my arm, from which blood was still dripping, as it was, I sat back on the sofa.

And I put a cigarette in my mouth.

I started chain-smoking.

I finished one cigarette, then lit another.

The room was instantly filled with the smell of cigarette smoke and blood.

It was a strange combination.

Since the wound wasn't a very pleasant sight, I pulled my sleeve back down.

Although the blood soaked into the fabric, it was much better than seeing the wound with my own eyes.

And so, I waited for Levina.

My half-sister, who would bring a letter announcing my expulsion from the family, as if delighted to do so.

Knock, knock.

The dry, unfeeling knocks broke the silence and pierced my eardrums.

"Lavin! I know you're in there. Open the door."

A sharp, familiar voice.

I didn't get up.

After all, if I just stayed seated, she'd come in by herself.

I hadn't locked the door.

And soon after, with a creak, the front door opened.

Levina stepped forcefully into the room, holding her nose.

Her shoes disdainfully pressed down on the several-days-uncleaned floor, her heels raised.

"...The smell. Even an animal would live in a cleaner hole than you."

"Just state your business."

Her uniform was perfectly ironed, without a single speck of dust, and her pristine white hair was neatly combed back.

Instead of answering, Levina took out a thick envelope from her pocket and was about to toss it onto the table when her eyes met mine.

And then her gaze fixed on the floor.

A small pool of blood had formed from my arm.

Levina's eyebrows twitched faintly.

Her gaze alternated between the puddles of blood on the floor, the broken liquor bottle fragments, and me, sitting nonchalantly on the sofa, smoking a cigarette.

What appeared on her face was a complex emotion, a mixture of slight bewilderment and irritation.

"What in God's name is this madness?"

Her voice was as cold as ice.

As if the sight before her was merely a continuation of my tiresome problematic behavior.

"Can't you tell by looking? I'm hurt."

I replied casually, shrugging my shoulders.

When I showed her my injured arm, red blood seeped out even more vividly from beneath the soaked sleeve.

Her brow furrowed even deeper.

She didn't approach me.

Still standing by the door, she observed me while maintaining a safe distance.

"As if that's something to be proud of."

"Do you want to attract attention even in this manner?"

"If I wanted attention, I would have strangled you a long time ago."

"...You?"

Levina seemed speechless for a moment.

"Just call someone to treat this. It was an accident."

I said nonchalantly, stubbing out my cigarette in the ashtray.

As if it wasn't my arm that hurt, but someone else's.

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