14: Chapter 8.1 Why are you crying?
(Yak Su-jeong) 14: Chapter 8.1 Why are you crying?
(Yak Su-jeong) “Shall I have an exciting day today!” Getting up from the hospital room, I adjusted the remote control by my bed with a bright face and sat myself up.
I wanted to open my laptop first, but the hospital meal was scheduled to arrive soon, so I planned to eat first.
Just like that, the hospital meal arrived, and the nurse unfolded the table, placed a cushion behind my back, and left the room after telling me to enjoy my meal.
‘It has to be tasty for me to enjoy it.’ I complained inwardly, but I diligently moved my mouth, swallowing the same bland taste I always had.
My family was visiting today for the first time in a while, so I made sure to clean my plate.
They’re people who consider eating well to be very important…
Before I knew it, I had cleared the tableware and placed my laptop on the table, which was still warm from the meal tray.
The first thing I connected to after turning on the computer was ‘The Rebel of the Academy’, a game I’ve been enjoying lately.
After skipping the familiar game opening, I loaded my save file from the loading screen.
I remembered spending a good while yesterday coolly slicing through cultist shadowy organizations and saving right before the boss room.
I checked my equipment durability and potions in front of the boss room before entering.
“You bastard…
you live in a damn fancy place.
But why do you look like that?” The boss standing in a room that reached the pinnacle of luxury, adorned with furniture engraved with splendid gold decorations, practically screaming ‘I’m rich’ to anyone who looked, was glaring at me, clad head to toe in black clothes like some kind of assassin.
I dove into the embrace of the assassin who threw daggers as soon as I entered, and after using Telekinesis…
‘Did I even invest points in Telekinesis?’ The doubt was brief; I climbed on top of the assassin with the down status and stabbed his neck with my knife.
The assassin died in an instant, but for some reason, I was spamming skills into the corpse’s neck.
“What, is this really the boss room?
Why is it so anticlimactic?” As I was diligently stabbing the corpse, the hospital room door opened at some point, and a man who looked somewhat haggard walked in.
His cheeks were sunken, dark circles under his eyes gave him a tired impression, and his pants had marks as if dust had been wiped off by hand.
At that, the man asked me how I was doing with an expressionless face.
“…Did you eat well?
How’s your body these days?” It was a body that would never get better, but I smiled and answered him.
“Maybe it’s because the food has been so good lately, but I feel like I’m getting some vigor back, haha!” Just from uttering that first sentence, my stomach churned.
It’s been a long time since I looked in the mirror, not wanting to see my emaciated form, so I don’t even know what I look like when I smile.
But I forced the corners of my mouth up.
It’s an ordeal to face his increasingly plain clothes and his somewhat tired face every time he visits me.
“Your mother said she couldn’t come today because the restaurant got a group reservation.” He doesn’t bother bringing up my younger sister.
Because he knows it would hurt me.
After exchanging a few such trivial words, some time had passed.
My father looked at his watch and got up from his seat.
“…I’ll come again next time.” To my father’s back as he left the hospital room, I said.
“It’s fine if you come a little less often!
I’ve been finding it fun to play games by myself lately.
And what’s there for two men to talk about so often, hahaha!” I couldn’t see my father’s expression as he left through the room door.
What kind of expression did he make?
Anger?
Sadness?
I don’t know…
Even if I did, I don’t think it would feel good.
“…I’ll come again.” My father left that one last quiet word and exited the hospital room, leaving only me and the curtained sickbeds.
‘Should I just die…’ I closed my eyes against the wave of self-loathing.
The thought of wanting to die came to mind, but in this body, I can’t even die as I please.
I close my eyes and think of ways to die.
The answers to ‘easy ways to die’ I’d searched for recently only contained numbers for counseling centers and cheap sympathies like ‘hang in there’ or ‘a good day will come if you keep living’; none of the answers were to my liking.
The moment I opened my eyes, feeling as if I was sinking into the dark deep sea, the assassin I had seen in the boss room earlier was glaring at me, knife in hand.
The sharp, cold blade pierces my neck.
Because of the foreign body sensation in my throat and the rising blood, I can’t let out a breath or a scream freely.