Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy-Chapter 66: November in the Northern Regions (4)

Barony of Strenger.

Once a land gleaming with vitality, it began to wither 20 years ago due to the prolonged war with the Barbarian tribes, ultimately succumbing to defeat.

A decade later, an emerging noble sought to rebuild it, but the land, devoured by the passage of time, remained unwinding as it slowly sunk into the earth.

A land stained with blood and death.

A land covered with scattered bones.

A forsaken place.

A land with no humans in sight, only the crushed ruins, where not even the sound of an insect could be heard.

However, under the chilling moonlight, a lone figure walked through this land.

Her hood was pulled down, concealing her features, but even the faint shadows she cast appeared to be precarious as if Death itself licked its lips while staring at such a figure.

She staggered as she walked,

Beneath her cloak, her legs were frail and painfully thin while her bare feet were filled with wounds.

Step....Step....

Her strides seemed to carry something deeper than mere despair.

A pace that resembled those ruins, as with every step taken, something in her crumbled and shattered.

The cloaked figure searched for something or perhaps ran from something.

Finally, those steps halted.

The figure under the hood lifted its head.

The moonlight illuminated the lower part of a face that had been hidden by the hood.

Her skin, once as radiant and prosperous as this land, was now parched and wretched.

Her lips, which might have been plump and vivid as the loft flag of the Strenger Family, were now ghastly pale as the corpses on this forsaken land.

A living corpse.

It was the only word that could describe the figure standing on this forsaken land.

As she walked, the woman trampled over the fallen banner of the Strenger House.

She then entered the ruins.

As if finding a place to have her final rest.

Thus,

The woman entered the depths of the collapsed ruin,

On the last day of October.

**

She found a decrypt fireplace.

A place that suited her.

An excellent setting to end her miserable life.

A fitting end for one so foolish.

No,

It was more than what she deserved.

Regardless, the hooded figure finally believed to have arrived where she was always meant to be.

She surveyed the area.

What used to be someone’s bedroom.

A bedroom of a woman.

Reddish black hair sprawled on the pillow, and a skeleton, weathered by time, had its hands neatly folded.

Despite the eeriness of the place, the skeleton appeared so peaceful that the hooded figure became envious.

For the skeleton seemed to enjoy the eternal rest and peace in death that she would never have.

Because unlike her, who couldn’t escape her cursed hell, this skeleton met a different end.

However, just like this unknown woman, she too would end her wretched life in this unknown place.

In the end, all the hooded figure could feel were remorse, regret, and despair.

So much had been chipped and broken that she had forgotten how to feel anything beyond such emotions.

Like a person lost in a snowstorm, she had lost her feelings in the depths of hell.

Only an empty shell remained.

She believed that,

Since she had endured so much.

Spit out all those emotions in the past,

She believed that there was nothing more to endure or spit.

“......”

The chilly moonlight seeped through the collapsed window.

Facing it, the figure gazed down at the piece of bread in her hand.

Her empty insides hungered even for a piece of this moldy blackened bread.

And with this last piece of sustenance, she would also let go of her tough, tough life.

She knew very well how gaunt and wretched her current appearance was without even needing a mirror.

It must have been grotesque.

Downright monstrous.

And yet,

It suited her.

With an empty chuckle, the figure put the last piece of bread into her mouth.

Crunch-.

Munch-.

The hard moldy bread crumbled inside her mouth.

A last meal for her bitter life.

The bread had a sweet taste.

Perhaps a hallucination born from the anticipation of finally indulging in the luxury of death.

For someone who had harmed loved ones through misjudgment and even taken lives, death was but a selfish escape, a petty refuge.

That’s why she had endured so much.

But now,

She could no longer continue.

Her failing body began to break down, and with the food gone, there was no aid or device left to restrain her from succumbing.

It was time to offer her wretched soul to the ever-persistent death.

Her end was finally within reach.

The catastrophe that started from a wrongful beginning was concluding.

The hooded figure swallowed the last piece of bread and removed her hood.

Lifeless white hairs were revealed, and lifeless pale eyes were exposed.

She pulled something from her bosom.

It was a blood-stained handkerchief.

A keepsake of someone dear.

The handkerchief of a loved one who wiped her tears with blood even as they comforted her.

The handkerchief of someone who cheered her on even in their last moments.

If she were to ensure that the last comfort and encouragement were not in vain, she should run from death, but her deteriorating body crushed even the faintest will.

“Sob....”

Tears fell onto the blood-stained handkerchief.

The dry handkerchief soon soaked her tears.

Her dried heart spilled its last moisture.

“Sob... sob...”

Had she not gathered those villains,

Had she not used the contest of all as a tool for revenge,

She would have never ended the Contest with the mastermind.

On the 100th day after her Betrothal, her most cherished person died trying to protect her.

Ultimately, it was as if she herself had robbed that precious life.

Thus, she must recite her apologies once more, but her mouth, having forgotten to speak after that day’s cry, could only emit a stupid sob.

She held the handkerchief close to her chest.

She clenched her eyes shut.

Just like that.

Silently.

She wept.

“Sob... Sob...Sob...”

The last remnants of her life force were being burnt.

She dearly hoped that everyone would find their peace, far away from her cursed existence.

She prayed that they’d have a blessed future away from her.

But now, it was time to bid them an eternal farewell.

However, whether it was the apologies she wanted to say or the farewell she wished to sing, her mouth moved, but no sound was made.

Not even a pained one.

“...Sob...”

Thump, thump.

She pounded her chest with her fists, but the shock that should stir her heart was so faint that she felt nothing.

Ironically, now that her end was near, she wished that someone would help her.

Her stubbornness had caused all of this.

That’s why she had fled, believing that her last moments should be away from everyone, lest she bring them their doom as well.

She had only left a letter for her father.

She didn’t want to hurt those who stood by her anymore.

The curse had never gone away, and now she realized that there was no way to dispel it.

There was no escape from it.

After all, a cursed being must never be loved.

So, to end her wretched life, she fled alone, but at this moment, she wished for help.

All because her stupid mouth failed to even deliver the last words she wanted to say.

Truly, it was a cruel turn of events.

“Haah... ooh...”

She moved her mouth futilely until the end, but all that came out were primitive grunts that no one could understand.

Yet, she did not give up and kept mumbling.

An apology for betraying their support and expectations.

A farewell signaling eternal goodbye.

And,

A regret for not being able to drag the one who screamed that day.

That was something she desperately wanted to convey, but her broken mouth only spewed nonsense.

She felt her strength fading.

She felt her hand loosening the grip on the handkerchief.

She felt her consciousness drifting far away.

She felt the end approaching.

It was then.

Creak.

The sound of the door opening reached her ears.

She thought it was the sound of a deceased, seeking to devour her tainted soul.

She thought it was the sound of death, which had been doggedly following her.

A sound she had long awaited, she thought.

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She opened her eyes.

Her vision, submerged in tears, flickered and blurred.

A wide smile formed.

Death.

She had resisted, thinking it cowardly to flee, and now that it had personally come to visit, she smiled in relief.

It had been hard, so very hard.

Now, she wanted to rest.

She turned her head to face the death that had come for her.

The flickering slowly faded.

Her vision gradually cleared.

True to death’s likeliness, she saw a mane of jet-black hair.

True to death’s likeliness, she stared at its crimson eyes.

And then,

When the harbinger uttered her name.

Lumia Winterfell began to lose consciousness.

“L-Lumia...?”

The harbinger’s voice.

Why,

Did it sound so surprised?

Why?

Did it seem so familiar?

Just like that,

Lumia Winterfell collapsed.

Thump-.

Six months had passed since the Grand Ducal Betrothal had ended.

It was November in the Northern Territories.