I Will Die for You, My Darling! - Chapter 25
Chapter 25
The torture victim, confined to Big Cat’s office, had been unconscious since yesterday. Isaac had given orders not to treat him, so death was imminent. If the other residents of the Glass Dome were to find out, they would be terrified. They undoubtedly believed Isaac would simply move on to his next target.
Contrary to their expectations, however, Isaac had grown tired of the bloodshed. It no longer brought him satisfaction. Besides, he couldn’t concentrate on punishment. A broken collectible, lying in the small art gallery of the annex, was constantly on his mind.
‘Yes, Arietta has always been like this. Her mere existence has always demanded my attention, ruining everything.’
The longer a coma lasted, the lower the chance of recovery. And Arietta’s unconsciousness was now entering its second week.
“There’s still a good chance of recovery.” The attending physician spoke, but Isaac couldn’t discern whether the words were genuine or mere flattery. Even trying to decide grated on his nerves.
“Leave.” Isaac’s command was curt. The physician bowed deeply, quickly gathered his bag, and hurried out.
Now, only Isaac and Arietta remained in the room. He had grown somewhat accustomed to the silence. But the silence tugged at his ankles, dragging him back into the past.
While Arietta’s unconscious mind wandered through a day at the factory from when she was fifteen, Isaac, coincidentally, recalled the same day. The arm she’d broken in her fall was the same one she had broken herself back then.
‘It won’t heal properly this time, since it was broken once before.’ At first, it was a simple connection. But as he delved deeper into the memory, he found himself pulled back to that time. Everything resurfaced with vivid clarity.
‘I’m going to tell Mother what you did. And then, you’ll be kicked out. Back to wandering the streets.’
That day, Arietta hadn’t hesitated to harm herself to manipulate him, to corner him. He remembered her eyes, readily enduring the pain, her lips smiling despite the trembling.
‘Could it be this time, too?’ A nagging question entered his mind.
Isaac clasped his hands behind his back and leaned over her, his saffron eyes fixed on her pale face. His shadow rippled across the white sheets. Perhaps the fall had been intentional. Arietta could navigate figures like Gwen blindfolded. The more he considered it, the more suspicious her supposed accidental fall seemed. Perhaps he was being played.
Arietta’s laughter echoed in his ears, a sound so familiar he could conjure it without hearing it. Sweet and sinister, it sent shivers down his spine.
“Yes, you…,” Isaac muttered, his voice raspy, “you might have done the same thing again.”
Having spoken the words, something felt amiss. A crease formed between his brows. ‘Why this sense of unease?’
Isaac looked up and walked towards the window a few steps away. He pulled back the curtains, letting in the faint light, and opened the window.
Looking down, he gauged the height. It was perfect. A fall from here would certainly injure, but not kill. This calculated risk was typical of Arietta.
Just as Arietta had done two weeks prior, Isaac leaned out the window and looked up towards the attic, measuring the distance between it and the ground. It was too high. Without incredible luck, Arietta would have died or broken her back. Even for a gamble, it was too reckless a bet.
‘What did she want so badly that she took such a risk? What if she had actually died?’ Irritation flared within him. Arietta should value her life.
Because…
“Wake up.” If this woman died while lingering in a coma, it would be problematic. He had long planned to kill Arietta himself. No one else, not even Arietta herself, had the right to take her life.
He had to ensure her death was as agonizing as possible. A fall, a momentary burst of pain, was far too merciful.
“You have to die by my hand.” When the right time came, he would kill her in a way that pleased him.
‘For now, you need to wake up. You need to diligently play the role of the limbless, collectible doll. Stop dreaming.’
His voice, laced with long-held resentment, was chilling. Arietta, who would normally have responded with a smiling, “I’ll look forward to it,” couldn’t hear him. She was adrift, swimming towards another dream.
