I Am Troubled That My Fiance Is a Villain

When I first opened my eyes, the first thing that popped in was my grey eyes like a cloudy winter sky.

"Are you okay?"

Against a gray high ceiling, Bern looks at me with a worried face.

My back is stiff and tingling. Feeling the rough cold feeling of a stone on his palm, he finally realized he was lying on his back on the floor.

Why am I falling asleep in a place like this?

I try to roar with a crease between my eyebrows without the situation swallowing, but I have no idea. I don't recall. No. Shit.

Bern's hand was gently placed on my rounded forehead, which eventually blinked or roared without meaning.

His hands, hideous and thick everywhere, are somehow neither cold nor warm. It's like something called body temperature has fallen out... There's no way I really don't have a temperature, and then I guess there's something wrong with my senses.

Um, what is it? Like anemia?

I feel kind of weak if you ask me, and I was up all night yesterday, and it's likely enough.

Though I thought it was the handle that my body was sturdy myself, during this time I also had a fever, and I may have been a little unraveled in my health.

Even as he tried to wake up his body when he sneezed, Bern's hand was attached to his back, helping him to wake up his upper body. I still don't have the temperature in that hand, anything more than that, I'm not comfortable.

Something doesn't make me feel right.

"Where does it hurt?

I shake my head lightly, thinking all the strange things, trying to say there was nothing painful about it anywhere. I looked up at Bern and solidified.

He was laughing.

It's not like the grin you always turn to me or the glittering face for the outside world. You can't complain. You have a calm, flawless smile, but you're not laughing at all.

Something cold runs up my spine and scatters all over my body.

"No, but..."

"Yes, good"

He gets up and pays off the dust and sand on his clothes with the impatience of knowing there could be no such thing as pain.

On the other hand, I stiffened as I woke up in the upper body like I was ice pickled, and I was just looking up at him.

What, what's with the smile now?

But the shockest part was that I had a moment of fear in his smile.

"What's wrong?

"... nothing"

Shake your confused head gently and look around, speaking of which, no matter where we are. Once I put aside my discomfort with Bern, I wanted to know what situation I was in.

Looks like a convent hallway from what I've seen, but the air is warm for that. Wouldn't there be about an indoor with a fireplace?

"Ah! What about Lyla?

I still can't remember how I was supposed to fall down here like this, but I remember as far as walking down the hall with Lyla.

Being here in Bern means that maybe even without it, Lila called me. So where the hell is she going?

Bern doesn't answer my question, he goes mid-hip and offers his hand.

That mouth is arguing loudly, and he's in a good mood somehow.

Why? Is it so funny that people are falling on the floor?

It was when I couldn't wipe the discomfort and anxiety, and I was thinking about whether I should grab the hand I was offered.

I smelled weird.

Even starved, smells like iron.

That was for a moment, and it wasn't strange to be told it was a mistake, but I knew immediately what that smell was because I had smelled it.

And wrap this perimeter, I don't think it's winter, raw warm air.

One answer flickers with a glimpse in front of you.

This isn't real.

Bern in front of him, he said,

"Bernhardt?"

Not surprisingly, he still smiled. And he pulls his hand in steadily, which he remained offering, and stretches out his hip, which was bent.

He looked up as he sat on the floor, unusually large.

"Let's walk a little"

Following from behind a couple of steps, one of the Bernhardt-like figures, who began to walk flickering through the hem of his coat, he went out into a familiar garden.

It looks familiar, or it's the courtyard of our separate mansion, which is right in Wangdu.

Of course there can't be our garden in the monastery. Unless this is also in your dreams.

Small grains of white flowers bloom in bells in the tall tree in front, and thin purple flowers shake approximately in the wind in the flower beds beneath them. The former only blooms in spring, and the latter only blooms in summer.

It's in my dreams, so I guess it means there's no season.

It feels like I've seen it all the time, and all the flowers in the garden are blooming, more messy than beautiful.

"This is a dream, what is it?"

It was a mystery how I could be unconditionally sure of such absurdity myself, but somehow nothing else came to mind at all.

"Yes, I am."

Answering that without incident, Bernhardt laughs.

I just laughed at this guy earlier. I look the same as Bern, who is often more expressionless, so when I get so nicked, I worry that I ate even weird things.

But, well, I guess it's always normal for him to smile. At least that's the kind of character Bernhardt I knew.

He is kind, well-mannered, and with a gentle grin he covers his heart to the tatter.

That was Bernhardt, the villain.

"I wonder if you can consider yourself more of a Bernhardt on the Edwin route than a... of the game.... and the dream I've been dreaming about, and you, this dream has something to do with it?

It was such a weird feeling to talk to the characters of his dreams like this, but he was a little too heterogeneous to say the characters of his dreams. I feel that it came from the outside, not from the illusion my brain made.

Of course, I'm aware that you've been saying that yourself since just now. I do, but I don't think I can help myself with one or two of my thoughts in these weird dreams.

Bernhardt does, so let him tilt his neck like a fluff.

"Regarding the first question, but I think it's half right, half wrong. That's part of the truth, but not all. I'm talking about you guys, yeah, the people in the world you were in, but, yes, a collection of your ideas. Sources of numerous growth and development potential. Presence as a premise. Archetype of Bernhardt, so to speak. Is it easy to understand when you say prototype? But in your dreams, you were consciously showing me the route you lost to Edwin, so you were half right."

"Ha ha..."

I have no idea what you're talking about.

(a) Idea?

Archi...... WHAT!?

I'll tell you one more time, I have no idea!

"Nah. I may just be an illusion created by your brain, or a future ghost that your Bernhardt didn't choose, what a poetic being. Look, someone would have said. Life is a walking influencer."

Hey, what is it? I feel like I'm being jerked off, saying something very appropriate.

He looked at me that would probably be exposing the eighty-nine asshole faces, and he gave a mild laugh haha.

"Was it a little difficult? You don't like hard stories."

"... sounds a lot familiar with me though"

"No way! I hope you don't say it the way I like you."

I wonder what it is. It's like I'm being over-conscious, but that's pretty annoying.

And even assuming Bern and Bernhardt in front of him are different beings, it hurts me more or less to be told that on the same face.

"But if you look, you'll see. You're simple, you're friendly, and you don't like to wear black and white instead. I don't know, I don't like it. That's not why I don't like to decide something for myself, and sometimes I do something bold that I never thought I would... What is it? Am I stupid?

"disrespectful!

How do you end up settling in a fool! You can say whatever you want!

"So what about the second question?"

Being rushed and being alone is what makes me feel so noisy like an idiot, all the more annoying. He answers the annoying but second question, the question of whether he had anything to do with the dream I've been having, so I put up with complaining for one second.

"I can tell you another difficult story, but briefly, the nightmare you've been having here lately is what I've been showing you."

Can you do that?

Or was that a nightmare after all?

As he hears the voice of my heart like that, he says with a laugh in a flamboyant manner.

"You're born and changed into the world of games, so there's nothing strange about me being a strange dreamer."

"No, strange things must be strange"

"I like your place so much."

"... both"

I don't know, but I was praised. Eighty percent of them. It seemed ironic though.

"I mean, I'm not sure if it's an idea or an archie, but a Bernhardt prototype? ghosts? That you had nightmares about me every day,"

Instead of affirming, Bernhardt leans his neck.

Ugh. It looks perfect Bern, so I tempered it for a moment. Unconscious.

"Uh, that's, why...?

Bernhardt did not answer immediately, but walked over to the white Erika, which was a short distance away.

Then rip one of its elongated cylindrical flowers appropriately and twirl it with your fingertips.

Was that flower in our garden?

"To your happiness, I thought I'd put a small scratch on you"

Mixed with the sweet, blue-smelling scent of blooming flowers without season or anything else, it also smelled like that even precipitated iron. That was the smell of that cold prison underground.

"It's just harassment. Yes, childish, shameless harassment."

There is a shadow in his face that seems lonely when he says so in a self-derisive manner. But that was for a moment, maybe it was my mistake to look at it.

"Knowing Bernhardt's miserable and unusual end will surely break your heart. I'm sure it will hurt. Sometimes you remember, there's nothing you can do, you're going to suffer without a place to go. Look, the scratch on your little finger is small in itself, but it'll always hurt and be depressing, won't it?

I hate being turned against malice and hostility by people, no matter who they are. I'm sure that's true of everyone, and in fact I've been distracted and sometimes hurt by people's malice and hostility over and over again.

Strangely though, I was surprisingly calm myself.

Even though he made it clear that he was trying to hurt me, neither grief nor shock sprang up at all.

One way or another, I felt sorry for him for saying such hatred.

"Why?"

Whirl, whirl.

In his muscular white hands, the white Erica keeps turning.

"Because you've changed him. That made me and him look alike, but completely different people. I never wanted to change. [M] Whatever the outcome, I can't believe I wanted to be normal... let alone admit I could be."

Stop spinning flowers perfectly, he looked at me.

Grey eyes with a slightly drooling cut length.

That was my favorite part of his body.

But this is different.

There's even a cold and somewhere hateful color floating in his eyes that he looks down at me, and fear strikes me again.

If I do anything to his mind right now here, I don't know what I'm gonna do. I mean, I don't know what you're thinking. incomprehensible. He had such a scare, as if he were dealing with a different ecological creature.

Bern wouldn't listen to me, but he respected my will properly. He was watching me do my stupid thing, laughing like I had no choice but to help him whenever it really got dangerous. I can't believe I notice the kindness of Bern at a time like this.

Besides, besides. And he goes on roughing up his voice.

"You can live without him. But he can't live without you. You're the only one for him, but not for you. Isn't that a lot?"

That guy, you mean Bern? If so,

"I don't..."

I tried to say no, but earlier than that Bernhardt would open his mouth and whisper my words.

"How did you like him?"

"Oh, that's..."

I can't keep up when I can change the subject from next to next.

Or over there. So I don't feel like I need my answer, and I'm not even trying to talk properly. I don't want my understanding, I'm just saying whatever I want to say. I feel like I'm talking to a kid that's hard to handle.

"Because he needed you. Didn't I?"

What the hell, I tried to say that, but I couldn't say anything.

I can't believe it might be, because for a moment, really, I thought.

"You knew your presence was necessary to him. I knew he wanted what he lacked from you. That's why I stayed on the side. You are so sweet and merciful that you can throw up. [M] You thought you felt sorry for me, didn't you?

Bernhardt just says he doesn't need my answer, he's tatami.

I thought maybe. Now I shut up with enough tension to clog my breath over here, gripping Erica all the time. From now on, we put our strength into it and try to grip it.

I couldn't keep up with the pretense breadth of his emotions or his actions, and I had no choice but to put my hand over my heart and stand up to suppress a fierce motive that I didn't know was due to surprise or fear.

That's not true, or what you're talking about, there was so much I wanted to say. But I'm hooked by the throat, stuck, and I really don't come up to my tongue.

I don't know how much time passed.

It was probably a really short time of a few seconds or so, but it felt like a few minutes or longer to me. In my dreams, there's no such thing as the concept of time.

"I don't think you saved me."

That's what he said without context, and he opened his fist.

He said he was squeezed with such strong force, he's not squeaking anywhere. Erica's flowers, which remain beautifully shaped, fall to the ground without sound.

A flower that fell to the ground, staring at his empty hand, seemed like something sad without this.

"So you too, be free now."

"Ha..."

There should have been a few steps between us.

But at the moment of one blink, he is approaching in front of him, pushing his shoulders with a ton of light force.

My body loses its power like a thread is broken and falls backwards as it is.

What kind of observation is it that you say what you just want to say and then you are free?

The hand stretched out in remorse cuts the sky as a matter of course.

"Wait...!

I made a heavy noise with Boosen, sinking from my back into something, just thinking I could be beaten to the ground.

"Guh."

Not as hard as the ground, but never soft. I stopped breathing for a moment because I now landed off my back. When I burst into a jitter, I shake it off in a hurry as the white things around me collapse and fall over my face. I also feel twitching cold from the top of my clothes, and this is, snow?

First it's a monastery, a courtyard in a separate mansion, so now it's snow?

When I managed to get up more and more, my whole body was covered in snow.

Even though I feel the cold of snow, it's not cold. Does that mean that this is still a dream? I don't think it's a dimension like a clear dream. Though that Bernhardt said something that seemed to happen as much as strange in the world.

Now I look around, paying my hand for the snow on my hair, wondering what's going on.

Behind it was a snow-covered forest, otherwise an endless snowfield as far as I could see.

A chilly breeze making a creepy noise and freezing is blowing from the idle woods behind me. My hair and clothing hem are a little disturbed by the rush.

What the hell am I supposed to do from here?

Huh, sighing, his breath turns white, carried by the wind and disappears in the moment. As I stared at the whereabouts, I saw a lot of figures, far away, forward.

Then suddenly I hear a voice calling this one hey, and I stare to see better.

Especially two shadows that wave big. That's...

"To Father..., Mother...?

It's not just the two of us.

To Grandpa, Grandma. A friend who had promised to go on a graduation trip and somehow became alienated after promising to see him again someday. I have memorable teachers who took care of me, and juniors who were close to me.

There were people there who were never supposed to see me again.

Guys, you're waving at me.

My hands and feet trembled at the unexpected reunion, and the back of my eyes became slightly hot.

I missed him, glad to see him, and tried to run over there unexpectedly.

Yes, I tried to run out.

Yet somehow I realized that the wind was stopping blowing from behind me.

The wind just stopped. That's all, but I'm very concerned about that, and I can't move my leg trying to step out that I shouldn't ignore it.

Looking back, on all the snow, I saw a small red dot that hadn't existed until now, following a break to the back of the woods.

Everyone is slowly dwindling, as they rush me to come quickly.

Suddenly, oh, I understood this was really, really a goodbye.

"... Goodbye"

As soon as I uttered the word, my tears spilled on my own. Part of the lower throat than the base of the tongue hurts as if it swelled up cum.

I still have to tell you.

Though I'm putting on a fold once, this time I have to say goodbye to myself. If you think so, it's hard to get your chest ripped off.

But I can't go that way. I'm not going.

In tears only, I waved my hand loudly and cried out in my voice.

"Goodbye!"

Sometimes it was as peaceful as boring, and still it was hard and painful. And there were many, many mediocre, happy memories that seemed to cry just to remember more than that.

I never forgot it before. And that will continue.

But I guess I forget how much detail. Because I'm human.

But I'll never, ever forget it or anything. Remember, even if my chest aches, all that pain flips, and I'll live.

So now, goodbye.

I could barely hear you calling me anymore.

The nostalgia disappearing beyond the white jaws, burning my hands back into my eyes often at the end, twitching my heels back, and I jumped into the winter woods.

I ran after the red dots, sewing between the black trees as I had painted them with ink on bright white paper.

Something white and cold drifts around as if fine snow had risen in the air, with poor vision.

I ran, ran, and ran through the lonely winter woods as if everything had died, as I rolled, almost getting my legs taken by the snow many times along the way.

I felt that some of the colours in front of me had darkened.

Gradually the dark part becomes a black shadow, taking the form of a small person.

Shut up as if your heart is ringing right there in your eardrum. I'm kind of breathing too much, I think I'm gonna throw up a little.

The shadow is struggling with a small body, but still moving forward with the snow.

"Bern!"

To my call, he shook his shoulders wide as surprised and looked back.

Bernhardt, who looked much younger than when we first met, seemed to have a nasal bleed, cut and worn out terrible. Looks like my hands stuck inside a bright red paint, and the red dot dripping from that fingertip is making me so far over the snow.

Why, gasping all the while, I approached Bernhardt, who was stirring the snow.

"Indeed I may have sympathized with Bern. I also thought I had to change if the future was waiting to be ruined.... but more than that I was with Bern and it was fun. I wish I could stay with you forever..."

Sinking his legs once he sucks heavily and stumbles into the snow, he is half forced to pull through, another step, one step closer to the boy.

"And Bern is so lonely. He says he doesn't, but that's why I... yeah, I don't really care about that."

There's no need to make a mess of something small and difficult and give a reason.

Whatever things are, simplicity is best.

That's what you've always thought.

I knew it would remind me of that distant day as a child.

It's the first Thanksgiving we've both been to, ever since that day I held your hand dirty with the blood that protected me.

"I, Bern, like you"

To the question of how did you like it, because you like it, what a terrible joke the answer is. But I can't say anything else.

I can say as much as that sounds. But I like what I like. What else could it be?

He kept his mouth open and stood up.

Even on the dumb side, beautiful boys are beautiful boys after all. Awesome.

"Thank you. Tell me about Bernhardt"

He took a few breaths like a daze, then distorted his face so that he could take the pain, rounded his back, and as he drifted, sat down on the spot.

I too have had a hard time standing with the fatigue I've been running, and we sit together.

"I love it."

There was no context, I just wanted to say it, so I told him to whine. I was overwhelmed with feelings of liking it, and if I didn't put it into words, I was going to cry.

He stretched his arms out to the frightened and worn out boy, making sure he wouldn't be rejected before softly hugging him.

Again, it's neither cold nor warm. On the contrary, his body was fractured and thin like a growing child, and he was likely to break apart with it.

I only slightly strengthened my ability to hug if my temperature shifted at all.

Then out of my arms, I hear a young whimper leaking, and once I can pull in, my tears are going to come out too.

Desperately killing crying, Bern says, interrupting.

"So you're an idiot."

There was something coming down around us, making a real light noise. White as snow, but bigger, elongated. It's Erica's flower.

Soon the cold of the snow disappeared and the area was filled with Erica flowers.

White flower petals lit up and so dazzling that we cried more and more like idiots.

That's how the long series of dreams ended and I woke up.