Chapter 28
Every time I wake up and open my eyes, I can’t help but wonder.
Will I finally see the ceiling of my own room from the real world?
Could it be that everything I’ve experienced up until now was just a long dream?
So, when I wake from this dream,
I’ll find myself in my slightly cramped, not-so-soundproof room, but still, in my bed that brings me comfort. I’ll be jolted awake by the sound of a raging alarm clock, then I’ll quickly prepare breakfast because, as my mother always says, “Breakfast is essential for energy.”
Then I’ll head to work, greet my boss who, as always, is yelling at his subordinates in his booming voice for no particular reason. I’ll bring along my sub-ordinate, who means well but is hopelessly clumsy, struggling to hold back the urge to scream, “How many times do I have to tell you that’s not how you do it?” until lunch rolls around.
For lunch, I’ll eat at the local kimchi stew place, which is always packed but still only costs 5,000 won. I’ll chat with my friends in our group about our desires to quit. Just before lunchtime ends, I’ll head to the break room, prepare instant coffee for everyone, and distribute it while joking with a fellow newbie about how he’d make a living as a barista if he opened a café for me.
Then I’ll dive headfirst into work until it’s closing time, where I’ll get cornered by my boss, who whines about how his elementary-aged child seems to be already avoiding him. I’ll do my best to cheer him up, only to return home, utterly exhausted. I’ll drag myself to the shower and then collapse into bed, scrolling through web novels on my phone until my eyelids grow heavy.
Before I drift off, I’ll glance at the family photo of my mother, father, and young me on the nightstand, whisper “Good night,” and finally fall asleep.
Is it possible that such a mundane day would come back around again?
With that hope in mind, I slowly opened my eyes.
The ceiling that was becoming familiar to me over the past two weeks greeted me.
This long dream, which may not be a dream at all, seemed unwilling to break today either.
I let out a heavy sigh and sat up.
Just like the title of a famous song, today was a gloomy Sunday.
—
After spending my morning aimlessly in the room, I finally felt overwhelmed by doing nothing and bolted out like I was escaping.
Today, the weather was disgustingly sunny.
While the weather was nice enough to lift my spirits just by stepping outside, it became the perfect excuse for me to feel even more down when I was already in a gloomy mood.
Letting out deep sighs as I walked down the street, I took a seat on a park bench, a place I seemed to frequent recently, and took a deep breath.
While sitting in the park and glancing at the passing people, everyone looked like they were laughing, as if to say it would be a shame to be gloomy on such a lovely day.
I wondered how many of those people would die.
No, how many would survive?
If only I had no knowledge of anything, I could have smiled just like them.
Finding it hard to look at the people, I lowered my head.
I was the only one who knew about the terrible events that would soon come upon this world.
But knowing the future was merely a source of suffering.
If I were the protagonist of one of the novels I’d read, I would be struggling to change the future.
Yet, I wasn’t someone like the protagonist of a story.
I couldn’t act like one.
I once jokingly thought about having a status window once I crossed over, but it wasn’t a lack of ability that I was missing.
What I lacked was simply courage.
In a world where being able to spit fire and having slightly superior physical abilities made it strange to die at any moment, knowing what was going to happen was the only lifeline I had that might help me survive a little longer.
But if I acted to change the future, that lifeline could snap in an instant.
I was fearful of losing the advantage of knowing the future because of my actions.
I also had no certainty that my efforts would lead to something better.
What if my actions caused even more harm, resulting in the deaths of those who could have survived?
I was afraid of being unable to take responsibility for the outcomes of my actions.
On top of that, no matter how hard I tried, the future might not change.
Just like how Scarlet Evande became class president without my hand ever being raised.
Perhaps because of the irregularity that I introduced, there may be some changes in the process, but the final outcome could still remain unchanged.
I feared witnessing my own futile attempts to change the future and being left in despair.
So, being a coward, I chose the path that seemed most certain to help me survive the longest, even if the end led me to a cliff.
—
“Hey? Are you Eva?”
While I was deep in thought, head down, I heard a lazy voice calling out to me. I looked up and saw a small girl with dark purple hair standing before me, her eyes half-closed.
Eva? Is that an abbreviation for Evande?
Could she know Scarlet Evande?
“I felt a sense of familiarity and came over… but you look a bit different, huh? Is that a disguise or something?”
The girl, speaking slowly, suddenly began to clap her hands in front of me.
After clapping for a moment, she tilted her head and said,
“Guess not… well, if you were Eva, you would’ve tried to kill me on sight, right? Then, goodbye, Eva-clone.”
She waved her hand in a sudden farewell and turned her back to walk away.
It sounded like she mistook me for someone she actually knew.
Maybe our names just happened to sound somewhat similar.
Leaning against the backrest of the bench and looking up at the sky, I realized I must have spent too long thinking — the sun was slowly setting.
Time to go back.
I shook off the thought and got up to return home.
After a shower and dinner, I went to bed a bit earlier to wake up bright and early the next morning.
—
[The world was hateful.]
[So I decided to burn it all down.]
—
BEEP BEEP BEEP-
I woke up to the sound of my phone alarm, which I had set to wake up early.
It wasn’t a hallucination; it was my phone alarm blaring to get me up.
Hearing a cheerful “Good morning” in the morning always lifts my spirits.
As I got up and washed up, it was a bit of a hassle to unwrap and re-wrap the bandage I had around my left hand every time.
I briefly considered just removing it since it seemed to have healed completely, but I figured it was best to stop by the nurse’s office first to get permission before doing so, so I wrapped it back up.
I had woken up early today to make macarons for Sylvia.
Macarons tend to get soggy if left out too long, so it’s better to make them fresh and give them the same day.
I started preparing the meringue by gradually adding sugar to the egg whites while whisking. It’s a real pain to do manually instead of using a machine; I was glad for my enhanced physical abilities.
If you can’t afford a machine, then just use your body!
Anyway, the macarons I made, while slightly misshapen, turned out pretty well.
They were definitely smaller than the special 3,000 gold macarons sold in the school store.
But what mattered was that I made them myself.
After neatly wrapping the macarons in paper foil, I placed them lovingly in my bag.
For breakfast, I sautéed the leftover egg yolks into a sunny-side-up in an oiled pan, placed them on top of the bean sprouts, and broke them to mix.
Eating protein for breakfast, what bliss…
After enjoying a hearty breakfast, I set out for school.
The wind was particularly strong today.
If I were a boy, I probably wouldn’t have cared much, but with my skirt blowing around ferociously, it was a hassle to keep it down.
A little boy was running happily in a windmill hat, a swirl of excitement peppering the cool morning air.
When I was that age, just having something like that would keep me entertained all day.
Smiling with nostalgia, I suddenly heard a loud CLANG from somewhere behind me.
Above the head of the little boy sprinting behind me,
an old sign swaying in the wind was about to fall.
There was a huge THUD.
As I snapped back to reality, I had already lunged forward to swat the falling sign away with my left arm.
Fortunately, the kid seemed okay, his eyes wide with surprise.
As I released my arm that had wrapped around him and asked, “Are you okay?” he nodded, staring curiously at my injured arm.
I felt no pain, but blood was oozing from the bandage I had around my left hand.
I recalled the nurse’s warning about not overdoing it, as it could reopen the wound.
Am I going to get in trouble for this…
Thinking that, I smiled reassuringly at the boy, who was looking at me with worried eyes.
“Don’t worry. This doesn’t hurt at all.”
Contrary to my intentions, the kid began to sniffle.
He clung to my sleeve and muttered in a small voice,
“…Big sis, you look like you’re pretending it doesn’t hurt when it really does…”
The boy’s words made me silently laugh.
This is why sharp-witted kids are…
I thought I was hiding it well, but kids are surprisingly perceptive.
When I went quiet for a second, the boy said, “Wait a second,” and started rummaging through his pockets, pulling something out.
He grabbed my left sleeve, brought my left hand in front of himself, and with his tiny hands seemed to do something to it.
When he let go of my hand, I looked at my left hand.
On the blood-soaked bandage, a small band-aid decorated with a teddy bear was stuck.
…Damn it, I feel like crying.
“My mom gave this to me because I always fall when I run. She said if I stick this on, it won’t hurt anymore…”
The boy gazed up at me with concern written all over his face.
I took a deep breath and smiled, patting his head.
“Thanks to you, it doesn’t hurt at all now. Thank you.”
Seeing me relieved, the boy beamed back at me. I waved goodbye and walked towards school.
Behind me, I heard the boy calling out, “See you, big sis!!!” but I didn’t look back.
I felt that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to keep my composure at all.
—
Near the school’s front gate, I noticed a trash disposal area.
I peeled off the band-aid that the boy had stuck on my bandage.
After pondering for a while,
I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, so I placed it in my pocket.
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