Chapter 15

Chapter 15

My neck had already stopped bleeding by the time I arrived at the ballroom entrance with Winter’s handkerchief pressed against the wound. Maybe the mage had cast a spell on it, who knew? I was about to go inside and look for Derrick when I paused, examining my clothes.

Who would have guessed choosing dark green would come so in handy?

The deep color made the blood stains almost impossible to see. I tidied my hair, tousled from running, and entered without further delay. Finding Derrick was simple. The cold, handsome protagonist had a magnetism that made him stand out even amid the large group gathered around him.

He told me not to make any trouble... He’ll probably throw a fit if he sees that I have a cut on my neck.

I was so busy thinking about what he told me that I failed to notice the way people were looking at me. Just because my dress looked fine didn’t mean I did.

“Brother,” I said softly, trying not to attract any attention. He somehow heard me, much to my relief, and turned his head to look at me.

“I don’t feel very well. I think I should head home first.”

Derrick’s blue eyes slowly widened at the sight of his pale sister, a bloody handkerchief clutched against her neck.

“I need to leave right now,” I said as my vision faded. The last thing I saw before fainting was Derrick rushing over to me, his face white.

* * *

I couldn’t remember what happened after that.

“My lady!”

“Hurry! Call a doctor!”

I’d heard a shrill scream and hurried footsteps, all very faint and far away. It was just a shallow cut, but I was bedridden for several days after returning to the manor. It seemed the stress from trying to avoid death at the hands of the game’s cruel devices had taken its toll.

I dreamed endlessly while I was unconscious. Now that I was Penelope, I’d assumed that my dreams would be about her past, but I was wrong. I dreamt about my own past, memories that I’d forgotten.

In one dream, I’d just started living with my father’s family. I had begun attending a high school that was populated almost exclusively by the children of rich, chaebol families. I was getting ready to leave after classes had ended for the day, when someone tapped my shoulder.

“Hey. Your brother is looking for you. He wants you to come see him in the gym storage room.”

The younger of my two half-brothers was one of the biggest bullies in the school, and the student who’d approached me was one of his stooges. I went to the storage area without giving much thought to the request. Though my second eldest brother seemed to be slowly working toward making me an outcast, I didn’t have cause to be concerned at that point.

“Hello?”

I had pushed the door open cautiously and went inside. It was dark and I couldn’t see anything. I was squinting around the dim room when something was pulled over my head. It felt like a plastic bag.

“Wh-what the... Hey!”

I was shoved inside, unable to see, and what followed can only be described as a thorough beating. Dozens of feet kicked me from all directions and I was helpless to do anything to stop them. All I could do was scream and try to shrink away from the barrage of blows.

“Wow, I feel so much better now. Where did this pauper come from, anyway? They usually don’t let her sort attend this kind of school.”

“Hey. But what do we do if her brother finds out about this?”

“You’re clueless, aren’t you? He hates her. I went with my dad to one of his get-togethers, and I saw him there. His jaw clenched so hard I thought it would break when we started talking about her.”

I had tried to struggle to my feet, hoping I wouldn’t pass out, while the students snickered and jeered. Their words hurt more than their feet kicking me.

“You. Stay out of our way, understand? And don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”

With that, they all left me on the storage room floor. I had laid there on the ground, unmoving, for at least an hour. The pain prevented me from moving a single muscle. There had been no warning, and I’d been helpless against the unexpected violence.

I had finally sat up with great effort, and when I removed the plastic bag from my head, I saw that my uniform and backpack were a mess. I went to the bathroom, trying to erase all the dirty footprints from my clothing, when I glanced in the mirror and realized my uniform was the least of my problems.

My eyes were already beginning to swell and bruise. Someone must have kicked me in the face, too. I had laughed at how obvious it was that I’d been beaten up. I couldn’t actually remember clearly how I’d felt back then, dazed and groggy as I was.

I plodded back to the dreadful house I was forced to call home. I wished I never had to go back, but I had nowhere else to go. I’d stepped inside and found, to my chagrin, that my biological father and half brothers were drinking tea in the living room.

“I’m home,” I said with a quick nod before heading to the stairs. I was never allowed to participate in any family activity.

“Wait a second. Stop.”

They usually never even noticed when I came home, but today my luck seemed to have run out. The younger of my brothers called out to me.

“I said stop!”

I ignored him and walked faster. He sprung out of his seat, and grabbed my wrist before I could reach the stairs.

“What happened to you? What’s wrong with your clothes?” he demanded.

“It’s nothing... I fell,” I replied, my gaze fixed on the floor so the bruises around my eyes were hidden from him by my hair.

“Hey, look at me. Did someone hit you?” he demanded.

“No. I fell.”

“Hey, I told you to look at me!”

I wanted to go and rest, but he forced my face up by my chin.

“What happened to your face? Son of a b*tch! Who did this to you?”

He parted my hair, revealing the mess that was my face.

“I told you it's nothing.”

“What do you mean, it’s nothing!” he cried.

“Please, just leave me alone. Leave me the hell alone!” I finally screamed, shoving his hands away.

My father and eldest brother, who’d never seen me angry, looked shocked. It was my most wretched moment. They’d been sitting in the living room eating apples while I was being beaten to a pulp.

“You’ve never cared about me, from the very beginning!”

Even so, I had envied them so much, sitting together like that in the living room. It was a miserable feeling, knowing I had no place among them.

“Leave me alone! When have I ever asked you for anything? I’ve never bothered any of you. Why do you keep doing this to me?”

A terrible silence filled the living room. I knew crying made me look weak, but my emotions were out of my control at that point. The tears I’d repressed for so long poured out, and I cried like a baby, not taking any notice of their expressions as they watched.

The younger of the brothers had come to see me a few days later, when the bruising around my eyes was beginning to fade.

“I found them all and beat them within an inch of their lives,” he said as a greeting.

I’d heard that a group of bullies had been transported to the ER all at once, so I’d had an inkling of what had happened.

“Consider how much of a pushover you must have seemed, why else would those scumbags have treated you that way?” he asked mockingly as I hung my head without comment. “In any case, it’ll never happen again. Understand?”

He seemed proud of himself, but I didn’t feel even the least bit grateful. This would only isolate me even more at school, and the bullying would only grow worse.

“Thank you,” I forced myself to say.

I wanted to scream at him that this was all his fault. Why should I be grateful to him for cleaning up his own mess?

You know what? I truly and sincerely...

“...is all, isn’t it? So why isn’t she waking up, damn it—”

someone was shouting nearby.

My head ached. My eyes squinted open in slits.

“...try that, at least! I’ll kill you and that lunatic prince if you—”

“Too loud,” I croaked. Someone rushed over to me.

“Hey, are you all right? Are you awake?”

My vision was blurry, and I couldn’t tell who it was looming over me. The voice was familiar, though. It was my second half-brother, that son of a b*tch.

“I... hate you...” I said with all the force I could muster. I’d wanted to say this for so long. “I hate you... so much... Thousands of times more... than you hate me...”

“...”

“I hate you more than I hate anyone else...”

Having managed to get the words out with great difficulty, I finally relaxed and closed my eyes. I fell asleep too quickly to notice the way the pink-haired man’s whole body seemed to turn to stone, his blue eyes wide.