# 157
157. Maybe It Was All For This Moment (10)
It hurts. My whole body hurt so much that I couldn't tell where the pain was coming from. It was hard to even move a finger. What was I doing? I couldn't even remember where I had been just a moment ago.
No, that's not right. I was on my way out of Mr. Mark's bakery. When I finished work for the day, he had handed me an armful of bread, saying there was a lot left over. The savory scent of the bread put me in a good mood. I wanted to give this bread to my family quickly, so I quickened my pace.
On the way, I ran into a man. He was someone who had come down to Filton briefly to meet an acquaintance and ended up staying. Saying he had business in town, he offered to walk with me. I smiled and walked alongside him.
The man told me about what happened today, and I listened, laughing happily. It was just idle chatter, but even that felt pleasant. My steps on the ground were light, and his boisterous words kept making me smile.
Someday, I would marry this man. The man liked me, and I liked him too. The villagers secretly cheered for us, saying we were a good match. If I announced our marriage, my father would congratulate me while secretly feeling a sense of loss, and my mother would make me a dress. My siblings would offer their congratulations as if they had known all along, and they would be even more excited than I was.
Then, with everyone's blessings, I would hold a wedding, and although we wouldn't be wealthy, I would rely on this man, have children, and live forming a happy family. And on the last day of my life, I would lie down holding his wrinkled hand, reminiscing about the happiness of the past.
I think that would have been fine.
It would have been a good life.
"Do you really think so?"
Suddenly, the man asked. I stopped smiling and looked at him. Was that truly a good life? When I asked myself again, the bread in my hands grew cold.
"Really?"
The man asked again. I relaxed my stiffened face and forced the corners of my mouth up. Of course. I tried to say so, but the words wouldn't leave my lips easily, as if honey had been smeared on them.
Actually, I knew.
"No."
No, it's not. That is not my life. My life is not like this.
My life had to endure dire poverty from the moment I was born, and my father was cruel. My mother, who was my only refuge, abandoned her children and left, and my life without a mother was trampled and manipulated by the devil's spawn.
I just closed my eyes and curled up my body. There was a time I begged, saying it hurt, and pleaded for them to stop. I even begged for my life.
Still, nothing changed. That life was miserable. And even that misery seemed to push me deeper into hell.
It was a life filled only with regret.
'It's okay, sis. I'm okay.'
'Why, do you want me to sell you too? There are plenty of guys with peculiar tastes, so they might just go for someone as unsightly as you. If you feel that sorry for me, I'll let you come along!'
'Don't do anything. That is what you need to do.'
'You survived thanks to that face.'
'I would like to hire your daughter.'
'I like Paula no matter what she looks like.'
'I pray for your happiness.'
Countless memories tangled chaotically and unfolded before my eyes. It was hard and painful, but there was definitely warmth within them. There were precious things, rewarding things, and it wasn't a life I only wanted to forsake. And so, 'I' came to be.
This was my life.
"How about we run away together instead of doing that?"
A gentle whisper flowed into my ear. A strong force gripped my forearm. A touch that seemed afraid I might pull away. The place he held stung faintly.
"Will you run away with me? Holding my hand that trembles helplessly, together."
Did you know? Those words were actually the greatest comfort to me. How much my heart wavered. I wanted to tell you then that I would run away with you. I should have told you that it was okay, that it was fine. If I had known you would spend your last moments like that, I should have held your hand at least once.
How scared must you have been? He must have wanted to hide himself away completely, like playing hide-and-seek to avoid the tagger.
But running away isn't the right way. Ignoring reality and living on isn't the solution. It's okay even if I end up regretting it. It doesn't matter what anyone says. It was a life I decided to accept, even if it meant hurting others and getting hurt, even if my whole body became tattered.
Because that man told me my life wasn't strange or unusual. Because he said it was the same as everyone else's. Because he told me that throwing a fit because things are hard, or sometimes putting my own desires first, wasn't strange at all.
So I decided to stop running away.
I gently covered his hand gripping my forearm. Then, he removed his hand from my forearm. I took that hand and felt the warm heat and trembling within it.
"I won't run away anymore."
I won't do that anymore. I will face it properly. I won't turn away.
I won't leave you alone.
Even if I could turn back time and return to this moment, instead of holding your hand and running away, I would share that fear and look to the future. Even if you don't want that.
"This time, I'll stay with you."
I tightly gripped the trembling hand. I raised my head. I saw Lucas's face.
"Really?"
A face completely devoid of blame or resentment, always gentle, kind, and full of affection, was smiling at me.
"Then open your eyes now."
At that moment, my eyes snapped open.
The first sensation I felt was something cold striking my face. It wasn't long before I realized they were raindrops. Next, I felt like someone was urgently calling me. I slowly raised my gaze.
"Paula! Wake up!"
Vincent, speaking in an urgent voice, was looking down at me, his face contorted with worry. Then, when our eyes met, a look of relief washed over his face.
"It's okay. You'll be okay."
He stroked my cheek with careful hands. I felt a faint trembling. Only then did my mind start to slowly turn again.
Ah, I fell. Alicia... did this. My body felt so heavy. Some parts felt numb. I was still half-dazed, and it didn't feel real. I moved my lips, wanting to answer him, but no voice came out. I only blinked. Raindrops continuously drenched my face.
Vincent, pressing his forehead against mine, only repeated that I would be okay. I didn't know if he was saying it to me or to himself.
When I turned my gaze farther away, I saw Lucas. With a face always soaked in blood, Lucas let out a familiar word.
'Run...'
No, this time it's different.
'Run... Run, away! Run!'
The urgent, broken voice was close to a scream. Lucas's face, which had always been hard to read properly, was now clearly visible. His face, contorted as if about to cry, showed clear anxiety. He repeatedly said, 'Run, run.' It wasn't telling me to run away from here, but rather as if warning someone of danger. Warning who?
At that moment, someone walked out from beside Lucas. A man in shabby clothes with a vicious killing intent—James Christopher.
He slowly raised his hand. Visible through the rain was a gun. The end of the barrel was pointed at Vincent. His murderous face broke into a wide smile. Lucas's urgent voice pierced into my ears.
'Run... Hyung! Hyung! Vincent!'
Ah, I see. The one your voice needed to reach wasn't me.
'Hyung! Hyung!'
Vincent, Lucas wanted to warn him of the danger.
I finally realized it. But it was a belated realization. The unheard call only deafeningly soaked my ears. Lucas called out to Vincent as if screaming, but his voice couldn't reach him. He was still examining me and hadn't noticed James's presence yet. It looked like James would pull the trigger at any moment.
All of those situations slowly entered my field of vision.
Could all of this really be called a coincidence?
Could me coming to this mansion, meeting Vincent, meeting the others, and that man surviving and drifting here really be called coincidences? Was seeing Lucas's hallucination simply because I was crazy?
Maybe you came to find me just for this moment.
To warn Vincent of the danger.
My heavy body felt light for a moment. I spread both arms, embraced Vincent, turned my body, and pushed him away. A burning pain pierced through my shoulder.
Vincent's gaze, moving away from me, fixed on me and on James behind me. His startled emerald eyes turned fierce, and at the same time, Vincent raised his hand. Only then did I realize he was holding a gun.
"James!"
A single gunshot rang out behind his shout through gritted teeth.
It felt like something in my head had snapped. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on the floor again. My eyelids were heavy. I couldn't move a single finger. The sound of raindrops pattering reached my ears. I felt my body getting soaked.
Lucas's face looking at me through my hazy vision came into view. He wore an apologetic face.
Ah, you foolish man. A man so foolishly kind, and therefore weak. I finally understood. Why I felt so sorry for you all this time.
You are just like me. You survived after hurting someone, and have been drowning in guilt. It must have been painful because you wanted to turn away but couldn't. You endlessly piled up lies to comfort yourself, but in the end, you couldn't forsake it. Ultimately, blaming yourself, you were driven to the edge of a cliff, and you probably gave up on everything.
He is me. Another me who ultimately chose death.
I finally understand you.
My eyes closed.