Throughout the carriage ride, Iris kept her arm linked with mine.
We didn't exchange a single word.
All I could hear was the crack of the whip against the horses and the sound of wheels crushing through mud.
Unlike the last time she came to see Douglas, Iris wasn't trying to gauge my mood.
Every time I moved even slightly, she immediately glared at me and pulled my arm closer.
She didn't care that the mud on me was dirtying her uniform.
The carriage didn't head to the hospital or the shopping district—it turned onto the road leading to the manor.
I wanted to bite my tongue and die right then and there.
But my body wouldn't obey.
My body, chilled from the mud, warmed up quickly.
Not from the warmth Iris's body provided, but from this wretched cold and hangover.
An unpleasant fever. Like the rain, like her—neither would let up.
"We'll go on our own from here."
At the narrow path by the manor's back gate, Iris got off the carriage with me.
I didn't see the point in resisting or putting strength in my legs, so I followed obediently.
The entire walk, she kept glancing worriedly at my unsteady steps and labored breathing.
By evening, the entire manor was quiet and dim.
With Iris supporting me, we passed the storage and annex, taking only the inconspicuous paths.
It seemed she hadn't made that promise lightly—to keep me from running into any servants or family.
Perhaps worried my wretched appearance would be noticed, or maybe just because I was shivering from my wet clothes.
Iris draped her uniform jacket over my shoulders.
"N-no one's here... Hurry, Ain..."
After checking inside the door the servants usually used, she spoke cautiously.
Walking through the darkened kitchen, I tried to find a knife I could grab from among the dishes.
In my spinning vision, I couldn't distinguish anything and quickly gave up.
Climbing the stairs to the bedroom felt like returning to childhood.
If only the Iris supporting me beside me were half her current size, it wouldn't be much different.
Thanks to her caution, we made it safely to the room without being spotted by anyone.
"Why your room?"
"A-all the other rooms are in use... I-I had no choice..."
Nothing had changed since the last time I'd been here.
Even though Iris had been living in the Academy dormitory and the room should have been empty, the servants seemed to have maintained it diligently.
Compared to my shabby room, anywhere would look spotless.
The refined speech Iris had shown when I jumped from the carriage had long since vanished.
She sat me briefly on the plush bed before heading into the bathroom.
The floor that must have been polished to a shine was now a mess of muddy footprints from both of us.
Listening to the sound of water filling the tub, I looked around the room.
I could recognize the furniture just from their outlines.
I'd seen them every day when I lived at the manor.
A bookshelf packed with grimoires and novels, and a mahogany desk with a flask laboratory setup.
Iris had always preferred wooden furniture beyond her years.
But these fragments of a distorted childhood cooled my sentiments like fever.
Iris emerged from the bathroom with steam.
When I saw her naturally take my hand to lead me inside together, I snapped to attention.
"Are you insane? Let go. I'll go in myself."
"B-but... You're hurt... A-Ain, you'll have trouble washing alone..."
"Enough. There's a limit to how much I'll humor your sibling roleplay."
"E-even if you say that... I can't... Y-your hands are shaking..."
Indeed, my hand held by Iris was trembling, tinted gray from the dried mud.
"It's from alcohol withdrawal. Let go."
"I-I can't..."
Iris showed no intention of loosening her grip.
Even when I frowned, she only averted her gaze but wouldn't step back from the bathroom threshold.
Insisting on the informal "you" since earlier hadn't been enough to change her attitude.
"...I'll undress myself. Turn your head."
"O-okay..."
The clothes, waterlogged and torn, wouldn't come off easily.
Only after rustling about for a while could I get into the tub.
I submerged myself up to my chin in the wooden tub, like her other furniture.
The clear hot water rippled, gradually turning the color of the dirt that had been on my body.
How long had it been since I'd bathed?
Iris remained in the bathroom, her gaze directed at the wall.
"I-is the temperature okay...?"
How nice it would be if my mood could improve too.
If only I could wash away what clung to my memories, like scrubbing off the grime.
When I didn't answer, Iris glanced back.
There was no sign of bashfulness on her face.
No blush, no embarrassed expression—only eyes full of concern.
I noticed Iris's appearance, as filthy as mine.
Her uniform, once white and smooth, was covered in muddy stains and wrinkles.
What beaded on her nape wasn't just steam.
Even with magic, she'd come a long way supporting a man larger than herself.
I was just rinsing my face with water.
"I-I'll get some oils and herbs... A-Ain needs a shave too..."
"Forget it. I'm getting out now, so you wash up."
I quickly got out of the tub before Iris could actually start washing me.
I dried off with a towel and changed into the clothes she'd prepared.
Even after laying me in bed, her anxiety didn't seem to settle.
Iris left me lying there, now cleaner than her, and headed to the bookshelf.
She took an old tome and went to the laboratory table, beginning to mix herbs and purified water.
The liquid being distilled was probably a potion.
She must have judged it better to prepare it herself than buy from a hospital or general store.
"I don't need it. I'll be fine after some sleep, so stop fussing."
Without a response, Iris focused solely on the preparation.
Until the sharp smell filled the room, she only looked at the flask and book.
The completed potion, sprinkled with spices to reduce the bitter taste, was thrust before me.
"H-hurry..."
From her attitude, if I threw it away, she'd promptly make another.
I downed the red liquid in the test tube in one gulp.
Only after receiving the empty tube did she seem relieved, closing the door as she left.
"...I said wash up."
Whether from the potion and bath, my eyes began to close.
The sound of willow branches tapping the window pulled my consciousness under.
.
.
.
The nightmares intensified. Two of them, no less.
Naturally, both were about Mace.
Mace's face, lying motionless and deathly pale.
And in the rain, her hand reaching toward me—someone whose name she couldn't even remember—dropping in disappointment.
That mouth seemingly holding back tears and the forced smile wouldn't leave my mind.
It would have been better if we'd never met.
If we'd never crossed paths, I wouldn't have to regret what I'd lost.
If the medicine Iris gave me had been poison.
If I could keep my eyes closed forever like Mace.
If dying didn't mean regression but just being buried in darkness eternally.
.
.
.
As always, I sat up drenched in sweat.
I saw Iris dozing in a chair she'd pulled beside the bed.
I noticed the cloth on my forehead and the fresh clothes I'd been changed into.
...And the bread and now-cold soup on the table in front.
Iris's outfit was unchanged.
Dried mud from her clothes had fallen beneath her chair.
'Let's go home. This should satisfy Iris.'
Setting aside the imposition, I didn't want to continue a relationship with a predetermined end.
I was too tired even to maintain cynicism.
Whether from the alcohol wearing off, only the scraped bottom of my heart felt distinctly clear.
I quietly pulled back the blanket covering up to my neck, trying not to wake Iris.
But the moment my body stirred, Iris bolted upright from the chair.
I was certain I hadn't made a sound.
"A-are you awake? H-how do you feel...?"
"Fully recovered. Thanks for the potion and care. I'm leaving."
"W-wait..."
My wrist caught, my forehead pressed against Iris's.
Apparently my age wasn't even a consideration.
Her body temperature, similar to mine, transmitted from her forehead.
"N-no... You still have a fever..."
"Then what? How long are you going to keep this up, Iris?"
"U-until you're completely better..."
I pushed against Iris's chest.
Contrary to her words, my condition seemed much improved.
Just looking at Iris roughly seated in the chair from my push proved it.
"If you want to use force, I'll take you on anytime.
Just the fact that I'm breathing in the same space as every single member of this manor, including you, makes me feel so fucking awful I want to die right now.
Don't touch me. Don't lay hands on me. Don't come near me. Is that so difficult?"
"It is!!"
Iris stood from the chair and shouted—probably the loudest she'd ever yelled in her life.
Her narrowed eyes were clearly angry.
I froze, startled by her sudden outburst.
"You won't tell me anything! You changed overnight!
I was worried and came to check, and you'd even prepared a rope to kill yourself!
Spouting strange lies!
Even if you don't get along with the rest of the family, you and Unnie always got along!
Why are you acting like this! And why has your speech become so vulgar!"
After venting her frustration for a while, Iris gasped for breath and sat back in the chair.
Covered in ash-colored dirt, her blue hair looked even paler.
Exactly the color of cigarette ash trampled and extinguished.
"W-what did Unnie do wrong...? J-just tell me...
I-I won't even mention Father... Okay...?"
Iris's head bowed.
The dirt on the floor clumped like dust, moistened by her tears.
"I-if I leave you alone... Ain... I-I feel like you'll die..."
"......"
If I denied I'd die, went home, and immediately killed myself.
In the next life, the next cycle, what would Iris look like?
That fucking notification window, that fucking original author—what the hell do they want from me?
Making me constantly cross paths and collide with these people so I can't avoid them.
And in the end, just watching with a grin as I fall apart.
They say malice has no end, but did I really do something that terrible?
"...Everything I touch breaks. That's why."
It was hard to steel my heart.
Remembering Iris standing in the rain, holding her ground until I disappeared.
Like in my previous life, giving at least a minimal explanation was the right thing to do.
Hearing my answer, Iris stopped crying.
She approached and pressed her forehead against mine again.
Her lips, now pink with returned color, parted.
As if relieved to hear a reason, the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.
"E-even if you break things, family can understand..."