I Pray That You Forget Me - Chapter 59
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
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Johann, unlike other men, doesn’t flirt in a vulgar manner; he courts romantically and with elegance.
“My love, what kind of flowers would you like today?”
Even in winter, when flowers are scarce, Johann still gives me flowers every day—meticulously drawn, accompanied by verses of poetry about love.
The more I deal with Major Felkner, who was a vulgar man, the more I appreciate how fortunate I am and how excellent my past self was at judging men. Indeed, if the man chosen by my former lady self, there would have been no issues with other women.
Johann isn’t the type to have complicated affairs with women. So, Dana must be a figment of my imagination.
‘But what if my past self stole Johann from Dana?’
A bizarre thought popped into my head. It was odd but not entirely implausible, so I couldn’t dismiss it outright.
‘…Am I the type of person who could steal someone else’s partner?’
I couldn’t find an answer. I would confidently say no now, but I don’t know my past self.
‘No, it doesn’t make sense.’
Instead, from Johann’s perspective, the answer became clear. Could he still love her enough to call her out even while sleeping with me, and treat me with love alone? I would feel resentment.
But Johann never seemed to hold any resentment towards me.
So, Dana must simply be a product of my anxiety, or perhaps a figment of my troubled mind.
‘But what if he married me because she died?’
As soon as I dismissed one fantasy, another began. How far am I willing to go? It seems I’m the one writing novels, not the major.
“Phew…”
I better finish cleaning. I sighed and bent down to pick up the bathrobe the major had thrown on the floor and put it in the laundry basket. Just then, as the major was sitting tying his bootlaces, he paused and said something a military officer shouldn’t.
“I hope the war doesn’t end until summer.”
I wondered why he would say such a thing, but I didn’t ask. Whatever the reason, it must have been impure.
“Because I must see you in a summer blouse with a deep neckline, bending over in front of me.”
As usual, my grim predictions about the major were correct.
“Your b*****s would be fully visible. With some luck, I might even see your n-pples. Then I’d go to your husband and tell him, ‘Your wife showed me her b*****s.'”
The major chuckled to himself, likely imagining the scene.
“Your husband would get angry, denying it could happen. But if I tell him how many moles are on your n*****s, he would be silent.”
I have no moles on my chest. Ignoring the major’s fantasies, I picked up the slippers he had carelessly tossed aside. I ended up bending over again.
“Rize Einemann, do you hope the war ends soon?”
It was a straightforward question from the major, but I didn’t answer.
‘It’s a trap.’
A trap to pull me into his lewd teasing again.
“Why no answer? Do you hope the war continues? Do you wish for your family, your neighbors, your countrymen to die?”
But the major wouldn’t let me off easily. He was setting me up to be thrown into his verbal trap.
“Do you wish for Hyland to be defeated? Are Rize Renner and Johann Renner traitors?”
“No, Major.”
Once he implicated Johann, I couldn’t keep silent.
“Then repeat after me. Falklanders are the offspring of devils mating with pigs.”
I think of Falklanders as evils, but repeating such vile words was a torment. Whether they deserved criticism or not, it felt like defecating through my mouth to utter such filthy insults.
“Falklanders are the offspring of devils mating with pigs.”
I reluctantly repeated the words, fearing he might accuse me of treason if I hesitated. The major continued staring at me even after I finished, then asked.
“What about Hyland?”
“A land of God, live forever in the glory of God.”
I recited the motto engraved under the national emblem. The major, seemingly appeased by my compliance, looked at me with a desirous gaze and licked his lips before asking,
“Rize Eineman, if you are a true patriot, would you do anything to end the war before summer comes?”
Though it was clear he was trying to trap me by posing as a patriot filled with ulterior motives, I felt compelled to respond.
“…Yes.”
“With your whole body.”
I bit my lip before replying,
“Yes.”
The major leaned back casually in his chair, resting his chin on his hand as if admiring a view.
Then he blatantly signaled with his eyes and commanded,
“Open your chest.”
“……”
I did not obey the command and just stared back at him.
“Why? Didn’t you say you’d sacrifice your body to end the war before summer? I’m not asking you to sacrifice your entire body, just to expose your chest once. Are you being stingy? You sound like a traitor.”
Not showing one’s chest to a soldier is akin to treason. It might suggest that the war continues because the highest command is led by people whose brains are fixated at the tip of their p–is.
“Are you saying the war would end early if I show you my naked body, Major?”
The major tried to interject, but I gave him no opening to respond.
