Three years.

If you really think about it, that’s not such a short amount of time.

But when it’s said to be my remaining lifespan, it feels unbelievably short—it’s an unavoidable reality.

Who wouldn’t be shocked to learn they only have three years left to live?

Even if things go well and the world doesn’t end, it still meant my end was already determined.

I wouldn’t be able to keep the promise I made to Eve-sensei about not dying…

But that didn’t mean I was planning to despair and do nothing.

If I fail to prevent the events of the original story, most people in this world will perish within three years.

No matter how my end turns out, I didn’t want the people I met in this world to go through such a thing.

At the very least, I wanted everyone around me to be safe in my final moments.

So, I’m fine.

As I repeated this to myself, a voice suddenly echoed.

[Really?]

It was a voice I had started hearing ever since I dreamt of the laboratory on fire.

[You’re not really fine, are you?]

I recalled what I had heard today.

The Witch of Wrath, the experimental subject created from her heart shard.

[It’s hard to bear the hatred for the world that made you this way, isn’t it?]

That voice was probably the consciousness of the witch that lingered in the heart shard.

I already knew what would happen if I listened; I had seen it in my dreams.

[Why don’t you just give up holding back and burn everything?]

Just like I lost control and set the laboratory on fire, I would unknowingly burn everything around me as well.

And at the end of that, I would probably burn myself too.

So, I ignored it.

I had no intention of listening to the voice of a crazy woman.

Why was she suddenly making noise after being so quiet all this time?

As I complained internally, the witch’s voice rang out again.

[Really? Really think I’ve been quiet this whole time? Really? Really?]

The incessant repetition of “really?” in the witch’s voice was grating.

I internally grumbled.

I’ve never heard your voice before.

Then, as if she found something amusing, a laugh came from the witch.

[Ahahaha, you really don’t remember. How interesting. What happened?]

As the witch’s voice echoed, a part of my consciousness trembled.

For the first time, I felt it.

A presence that was not me, hidden in my consciousness.

The question I had been pondering was finally answered.

If the character named Scarlet Evande had always existed, where had her consciousness gone?

The witch, still laughing, muttered as if intrigued.

[Ah, I see. Quite devoted of her. She must’ve taken your memories to prevent you from suffering. But that’s not right. I’ve gone through all this trouble to help you be honest with your inner rage.]

She wasn’t dead or vanished.

Scarlet Evande had always been with me from the start.

[Alright, I’ll return your memories.]

With that voice, memories flooded in like a tidal wave.

“I hated the world.”

The voice that had resonated since I came into this world.

“You’ll become like that too.”

The horrifying sight of everything burning around me from my dreams.

The horrendous pain of my body ablaze I felt each time.

The impulse to burn everything as I succumbed to rage.

“Let’s burn it all. Everything you hate. The world you despise.”

The cries of Jessie, the cold body of the team leader on the floor.

Myself engulfed in flames, ready to burn them all too.

“…No.”

The desperate resistance that somehow held on.

Memories so painfully vivid I couldn’t comprehend how they slipped my mind came rushing back.

…Damn, no wonder I hear voices.

No matter how hard the situation was, the mental strain was surely monumental, heavily influenced by those things.

Even the pain of a knife in my hand or a severed arm felt bearable, perhaps because I had experienced the agony of my burning body so many times without realizing it.

Had Scarlet Evande’s consciousness helped me forget these memories all along?

If I had remembered those while having no one to lean on, I might have completely crumbled.

At the very least, what she did definitely helped me.

I had been indebted to her without even knowing it.

Then, I had to repay her debt.

Concentrating my awareness, I strained to listen to Scarlet Evande’s voice.

A weak, frail sound.

But I could clearly hear what she wanted.

She had probably wished for this all along.

Perhaps she had even influenced me to this extent.

So what she desired was what I desired as well,

I spoke to her.

I promise.

Scarlet Evande will become someone who protects others.

For that reason alone, I couldn’t afford to sit idly.

Ignoring the tumult in my head, I constantly repeated to myself,

I’m fine.

[Not being honest, are we?]

Ignoring the voice echoing in my mind.

*

Ding ding ding~ Good morning~ Ding ding ding—

The alarm rang, a sound I hadn’t heard for a long time.

It used to be a noise I hated, but hearing it after such a long time felt strangely comforting.

I slowly reached out and groped for the alarm clock beside my head, and the alarm stopped.

Opening my eyes, I saw the familiar ceiling above me.

Maybe Yoon Si-woo or Sylvia brought me home.

I attempted to get up, but my arms felt weak, and I flopped back onto the bed.

My head was foggy, and my body didn’t have much strength.

I was in terrible condition.

I thought about going to school, checked my phone, and found out it was a day I didn’t have to go.

At least that was a relief.

As I lounged on the bed, I heard the sound of heavy rain.

Looking out the window, I saw that it was pouring.

I probably felt drained due to the rain.

I hated rain.

From a young age, rain had always made me feel down, just like today.

There were people who claimed to love the rain, babbling things like, “It hides my tears,” while walking in the downpour without an umbrella, but to me, they all seemed like lunatics.

If they had ever tried working in a flooded drain or woke up to water dripping from the ceiling, they wouldn’t say such things.

…Well, in truth, I had another reason for hating rain.

Lying on my bed, staring at the rain falling outside, I thought about my mother.

In my memories, my mother was always smiling.

After my father disappeared, she worked tirelessly day and night just to raise me, always managing to make time for meals no matter how busy she was.

Despite her struggles, whenever I asked if she was tired, she would always smile and say, “Mom is fine.”

She was a strong woman who never hesitated to lie about preferring chicken breast to chicken thighs just so I could have the thighs.

She was even foolish enough to hide her pain until just before she collapsed, so as not to burden me.

On the day my mother collapsed, it rained, just like today.

The doctor had told me that when cancer spreads throughout the body, for most people, the pain is usually so unbearable that they can’t even move.

Yet, my mother worked until she was about to collapse, in a condition where anyone else would have already been bedridden.

She didn’t want to worry me or spend a lot of money on hospital treatments.

When I heard my mother was critical while I was serving in the military, I rushed home on leave. At first, I wanted to yell at her for enduring the pain.

That was until I saw her lying in the hospital bed.

She looked so much more emaciated than when I had last seen her.

Yet, despite the unbearable pain and fear of dying, she smiled brightly as I entered.

That smile was just like the healthy ones I remembered.

Instead of getting angry, I couldn’t say anything.

My mother had a saying she often repeated.

Smiling makes not just oneself, but also those around happy.

And my mother only ever showed me her smiling face.

Knowing that her smile wasn’t for her own happiness but for mine, all I could do was cry.

Seeing me cry, my mother slowly extended her pinky and said,

“I want to see my son smile, not cry. I’ll be watching over you from the sky, so even if I die, don’t cry and live with a smile, okay?”

Until the very moment she passed away, she thought of me.

She wanted me to live happily, smiling in the future.

That was the kind of person my mother was.

I was someone who cried a lot, but since my mother wanted to see me smile,

I intertwined my pinky with hers and smiled as widely as I could.

My mother smiled back, looking relieved.

And so, my mother remained in my memory with her smiling face until the end.

When my mother’s hand grew colder than the summer raindrops, I spoke.

From tomorrow on, I would keep my promise, just asking her for one more day.

Even though the clouds outside cleared, it rained all day long that day.

From that day on, holding back my tears became my routine.

Sadly, I wasn’t as strong as my mother, so not crying in tough times was the best I could do.

Becoming someone like my mother, who could smile no matter how hard things got for the happiness of others, wasn’t an easy task.

I gazed out at the rain falling outside.

My face reflected faintly on the glass.

Seeing that I didn’t look like I was smiling, I placed my hands at the corners of my mouth and pulled them up.

It was a little better.

As I pondered this, I heard a knock on the door.

I wanted to open it, but I didn’t have the strength.

After struggling for a bit, the closed door opened on its own.

“…”

Sylvia quietly entered the room.

From her expression, it seemed she didn’t like the rain either.