Miss, stop committing suicide

Chapter 54

Evan no longer ventured out of his room except to attend enough classes to avoid being expelled from the academy. 

Afterward, he would retreat to his quarters to immerse himself in research, endlessly constructing hypotheses and conducting thought experiments.

He dedicated himself to testing how much magic he could extract in a given time, how to extract it as quickly as possible, and how to use it to kill effectively. 

The lack of test subjects posed an inconvenience, but he managed.

After Erica’s fiery death, letters began to arrive from his family, demanding explanations and lamenting their struggles. 

What on earth have you done? they asked. Evan didn’t bother responding. He tossed the letters into the fireplace without reading them.

It wasn’t important.

As long as he lived, the family wouldn’t collapse. He had seen it in a future timeline—right before his death, he had been visited by one of his family’s familiar hunters, sent to track him down.

Vivian, on the other hand, had completely unraveled.

The sound of her crying or her hoarse, cracked voice leaking from her room was constant. Evan didn’t check on her.

Vivian would overcome this in her own way.

For reasons Evan couldn’t fully recall, his future self had harbored resentment toward her. 

Thoughts like She needs to die or She’s useless floated through his mind. But for now, he chose to let her be.

Vivian’s exceptional aptitude for magic would be invaluable. Once she refined her knowledge and mastered more spells, she could potentially aid in resurrecting Erica.

When it came to magic, Vivian far surpassed Evan.

If Evan was a prodigy at swiftly learning what already existed, Vivian was a genius who created something from nothing.

Evan sent a note under Vivian’s door, asking her to visit him. He expected she’d come. 

Lately, she had begun speaking to others again, practicing small spells, and even exchanging polite greetings with the crown prince and other students.

If not today, then soon.

For now, something else demanded his attention.

Today, he had finally acquired a high-quality test subject after a long drought.

“Your name is Lydia, isn’t it?”

“Mmmph! Mm—mmph!”

Lydia thrashed among the unconscious bodies of her followers, a white cloth gag shoved into her mouth. She struggled to scream, but it was futile.

People tend to forget common sense when faced with desperation.

“It’s hard to find test subjects within the academy,” Evan remarked casually as he approached. “But you made it easy by lurking in creepy places to bully others, just like you did to Erica.”

He knelt, pulling the gag from her mouth.

“If you scream, I’ll turn you into dust.”

“I-I won’t scream, I promise.”

“Haha. It’s not about promises. If you scream, I’ll kill you.”

Clicking his tongue like a disapproving elder, Evan began channeling magic into his fingertips.

He unclenched his right hand, which had been balled into a fist.

Instantly, the magic radiated outward, and the slightly chubby girl who had been lying next to Lydia melted into a pulpy mass. A cloudy orb began forming above the mess.

“Hmm. The quality’s not great.”

Evan picked up the orb, evaluating it with practiced ease.

Then, the orb dissolved into his body.

“The emotions inside are all twisted and repugnant,” he muttered.

Lydia stared in horror, her bladder releasing involuntarily. The acrid smell of urine was masked by the nauseating stench wafting from the melted remains.

He had always been a dark sorcerer—cruel, unyielding, and willing to burn souls to ashes.

Lydia’s eyes rolled back, and she nearly fainted.

Just moments ago, she had been laughing with that same girl, bullying another student to strengthen their bond. Now, that friend had been reduced to something less than dog meat.

Though Lydia was the daughter of a knight, she had always been more skilled at manipulation than combat, making her reliant on such companions. Now, that reliance had led to her friend’s horrifying demise.

“P-please… spare me… just let me live,” she stammered.

Evan clicked his tongue again.

“Living will be worse for you. See that friend of yours?” he said, pointing to the writhing slime-like remains. “She’s still alive.”

Lydia hesitantly turned her gaze to the quivering mass. It was moving, alive in the most grotesque sense.

When she screamed, Evan chanted a spell, shoving a chunk of ice into her mouth to silence her. Then he approached the flesh pile.

Stomping on it, he crushed it underfoot, silencing the wriggling movements with a wet, squelching sound.

“Now,” he said, his tone mocking, “do you still want to live?”

Lydia couldn’t nod or shake her head. She was too overwhelmed by a growing sense of injustice.

Why was this happening to her? Why did she have to endure such torment?

She didn’t want to die, but if living meant becoming something like that…

Wasn’t this the same as choosing death?

Yet, she remembered her family’s influence—a knight’s lineage that could serve as leverage.

And so, trembling and desperate, she dared to make an offer to the dark sorcerer.

“Let me go unharmed, and I’ll give you everything—the family, money, even a marriage if you want! Afterward, you can divorce me and leave me behind, I don’t care, just please spare my life…”

Lydia’s desperate plea was cut short as Evan drove his foot into her solar plexus.

She gasped, her breath stolen, clutching at her chest as she choked and sputtered.

When her breathing steadied enough to speak again, Evan leaned over her and asked,

“How did you torment Erica?”

“E-Erica? Who’s that…?”

“The Duke of Mecklenburg’s daughter.”

“Oh, uh, that… happened years ago, I—blurgh!”

Evan grabbed a fistful of her hair and shoved her face into the mass of melted flesh beside her.

Even the mere thought of submerging one’s face in a pool of water left stagnant for a week was nauseating. 

But to shove her face into the remains of a melted human—it was a sensation Evan found himself curious about.

Lydia could only writhe and scream internally, her voice muffled by the disgusting flesh. 

To her, Erica had been nothing more than an unusual but entertaining target for bullying. 

After Erica’s death, she had merely increased the severity of her harassment toward other students.

Evan spoke, his voice laced with derision.

“Did I ever do something like this to you before?

Oh, wait, no. Back then, Erica killed you.

It’s funny, really. They’re my memories, but they’re not. I guess it’s all just… nothing.”

Lydia stared at him, paralyzed with fear. The gibbering lunacy of the man before her was enough to push her mind to the brink.

“That girl I just melted? She had a body built like a knight’s. Thought she’d have some potent energy inside her. Turned out to be trash.”

His tone shifted, as if he were a diner disappointed by a tasteless, overpriced meal.

“Maybe you’ll be better. After all, you’ve lived a life of luxury, eating well, enjoying comfort. Let’s give you a choice.”

“A… a choice? What choice?”

Instead of answering, Evan pulled a potion from his pocket, shaking it gently. Then he gestured toward the grotesque remains beside her.

Lydia’s trembling hand pointed to the potion.

Evan tossed it at her, the vial spinning through the air before landing in her lap.

“Drink it.”

“Wh-what happens if I drink it?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I want you to drink it.”

Lydia considered refusing but stopped herself when she caught Evan’s unblinking stare. 

His gaze treated her as nothing more than an inanimate object. 

Shaking, she uncorked the vial, sniffed it, and, finding no discernible odor, drank it all.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, a minute later, her body began to contort grotesquely.

Her joints cracked and twisted unnaturally, her limbs jerking as if pulled by invisible strings. 

Scales and fins sprouted from her arms, though her face remained disturbingly human.

“Ah, uh… wha… what… is this… happening…” Lydia gasped, her tongue flicking outward unnaturally, as if she were desperate to taste the air.

When her jaw reached its limit, Evan grabbed her mouth and tore it open further.

Despite his expectations, no dramatic transformation occurred.

Her tongue had merely split into two, each end now pointed like a serpent’s fang.

“Ugh, lame. Why didn’t it work?

Whatever. I’ll lock you up and study you later.”

Evan retrieved a black box, forcing the mutated Lydia and the mass of flesh into it. He closed the lid and murmured an incantation.

The box glowed faintly. When he opened it, a small crystal lay inside.

Inside the crystal, a tiny, distorted silhouette of Lydia beat against the walls as if begging to be released.

“I saved you, didn’t I? Stay quiet unless you want me to crush this thing right now.”

Evan infused a bit of magic into the crystal, compressing its interior slightly. The miniature Lydia toppled over, collapsing against the walls.

He slipped the crystal into his pocket and returned to his experiments.

Of the four he had captured, one had melted, another was now a soul trapped in the crystal, and the remaining two awaited fusion to extract their magic.

A knock at the door interrupted his work.

“Evan, it’s me. I read the note you left under my door.”

“It’s not locked. Just come in.”

The door creaked open, and Vivian stepped inside.

Her deadened eyes immediately widened at the sight of the mutilated bodies and grotesque experiments scattered throughout the room.

“Evan… what… What is all this? What are you doing?”