“Did you sleep well?”

I slowly nodded as I gazed at his face from a distance.

Aiden entered the room with a sly smile.

“Aiden, Miss was wearing a dress for going out, and she slept in it.”

“What?”

Aiden had nonchalantly entered the room and helped Jane with her work and now turned around and looked at me. I avoided his gaze like a sinner and immediately regretted it.

I should not have avoided it.

“The dress must have gotten wet. Won’t you catch a cold?”

After a brief silence, his concerned voice reached me. I still gazed into the empty space and nodded slowly.

“Yes, I’m okay… How about you? Did you sleep well?”

The empty space, the floor, and you. My gaze shifted in that order.

Aiden’s gaze was directed the opposite way. Me, the floor, and empty space.

“….No.”

And then came his response. I had nothing else to say. What could I say? Oh, that’s too bad? It’s not like I’m making fun of him.

Only the sound of the rustling sheets in the otherwise silent room echoed in my ears. The platinum back of his head that I was peering into was beautiful. The flowing hair and the glimpse of red ears.

Beautiful. Strange, isn’t it?

When I heard that Aiden likes me, I also like him, I acknowledged him properly….. Whatever he does, I get upset. Adorable. Isn’t it funny? What is this feeling called love that makes us like this?

I slowly closed my eyes, capturing the beautiful sight of the back of his head until the very end.

However selfish of me, I hope you’ll keep coming to me, even if it’s tough.

* * *

Aiden left the room before Jane.

I watched his retreating back and then turned my head when the door closed.

Seeing his distant back depressed me.

Recalling the awkward morning atmosphere today, I still felt depressed.

It was nice to see him, but….that was it. He came, and he left just like that.

Unlike usual.

We usually weren’t like this. We naturally had conversations, looked into each other’s eyes, and smiled at each other. What made us like this? His confession? No, not that.

What made us like this was… my death.

Aiden left the room, and I asked Jane for drawing materials. She soon prepared the tools. Then, I thanked her and gently pushed her from the room.

I was drawing a picture for my portrait, so it would be funny if someone watched.

So, in the empty room with no one left, I sat facing a blank canvas in front of the mirror. I blinked slowly in silence.

In the mirror, my face looked pale.

Was it because I knew I was sick, or was I actually pale?

It was probably the former. The peculiar characteristic of the Black Flower made people’s complexions brighter.

In the quiet room, listening to the crackling sound of the burning firewood, I held a pencil in my hand.

But that was as far as I could go. I couldn’t move beyond that.

I had no idea where to start drawing lines or how to fill it in. When my stiff hand repeatedly hesitated, the pencil, which had been perched on the edge, dropped with a small thud.

Thud, and it rolled away.

“Ah.”

With a short sigh, I foolishly stared at the scene before belatedly bending over to pick up the pencil.

The tip of the pencil that had fallen to the floor was broken in two.

I stroked the broken end for a moment, then buried my face in my knees. My breath was warm.

No matter how positively I tried to live and not spend my remaining time in hardship… it was just a resolution.

A meaningless resolution. A pointless vow.

I was slowly dying. Destined to turn into dust, losing everything.

I couldn’t tell the person I loved that I loved them, and I would never see my one true friend again.

I couldn’t feel the spring breeze wafting through the garden, and I couldn’t attend my brother’s wedding.

But how could I think positively?

It was hard. The splitting headaches, the daily stomach aches that burned inside me, and the growing list of things I had to give up… it was all just too exhausting.

“Ugh.”

We gathered as a family for a meal once every two days. It was because it was a busy time at the end of the year, so we decided on this schedule rather than every day.

Those meal times were truly strange.

Being together was something happy for me, but at every moment, I was anxious that my physical condition might be revealed.

So, after the meal, I always felt sick. Like having eaten a cake that was too sweet.

But today, my condition was a bit more serious. My stomach was constantly upset, and my head was spinning. Whether it was indigestion or if my deteriorating insides were rejecting food, I couldn’t tell.

* * *

“Uugh…”

I groaned in bed, enduring the pain, drenched in sweat. My whole body was damp.

Jane had told me not to lie down with a wet body. Sorry, Jane.

After dinner, Jane and Aiden took turns knocking on my door.

However, I didn’t open the door for anyone.

Clutching the sheets as if my life depended on it, suppressing my breath and moans, that was the best I could do.

After knocking for a while, the two of them, realizing that there was no response from the room, walked away with left remarks like, “Maybe she fell asleep already…”

I sighed with relief at the sound of their receding footsteps but was then overwhelmed by the silence in the room.

“…I want to live…”

I couldn’t bear it without saying something aloud.

* * *

My upset stomach yesterday wasn’t due to a simple case of indigestion.

It seemed to be the symptoms of the second petal.

That was the conclusion I reached as I stared at the lunch in front of me from a distance.

I could feel it just by looking at the food.

I could no longer eat properly. My stomach couldn’t accept these things.

“Ugh.”

When I retched at the sight of the food, Jane, who had been tidying up the tray nearby, hurried over.

“Miss, are you alright?”

“Ah, yes. I’m fine.”

“Are you really okay? Your complexion doesn’t look good. Should I call the doctor?”

__