I’m Sick of the Kind Protagonist, so I Might as Well Just Die - Chapter 18

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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#18
Time truly flies when you’re having fun.
Though it appeared I’d squandered the money I’d extracted from Silpi with reckless abandon, I’d actually spent it with deliberate calculation, arriving at the morning of the betrothal ceremony as a perfect pauper.
‘Not a single coin left—spent it down to the exact last bit. Remarkably satisfying.’
Standing before the Imperial Palace Square with the pride of having accomplished something grand, I stretched luxuriously from head to toe. My entire body ached from the frantic activity since dawn.
‘What’s so special about that half-dried fish of a man’s betrothal that everyone’s gathering here at this ungodly hour?’
The square was already teeming with people despite the early morning. Thanks to my most elaborate attire, most dazzling jewelry, and most exquisite hat, I blended seamlessly into the throng without appearing out of place.
Truthfully, I couldn’t fathom why so many people would gather to celebrate someone else’s betrothal.
‘I already question why people attend weddings at all, let alone betrothals.’
Yet the magnificent platform erected directly before the Imperial Palace’s main gate suggested my perspective differed vastly from everyone else’s. Draped in crimson carpet, the platform held four gilded chairs—one each for the Emperor, the Empress, and the two betrothed.
To the right of the platform, I’d positioned the VIP seating where I’d invested considerable effort. It was reserved for the other imperial princes and princesses.
I swept my gaze across the white canopy stretched above the VIP section to shield it from sunlight. The tightly woven fabric and the pillars supporting it both satisfied me immensely.
‘Those pillars have done remarkable work.’
I nodded approvingly at the pillars. Through experience gained across three previous deaths, I knew those pillars were completely hollow inside—perfect spaces for explosives.
‘I was fortunate to rent the Warehouse.’
That’s precisely why I’d been so busy since morning. The pretext of moving explosives had gotten me into the Warehouse, where I’d labored intensely to pack the pillars completely full.
‘I’ve also thoroughly soaked the canopy with prepared chemicals to ensure the fire catches better. Perhaps this is why people should read constantly—I’ve consumed every book in my collection regardless of genre, and look how invaluable that knowledge has become.’
I gazed at the crowd filling the square, offering myself habitual self-praise in the interim. The massive turnout had made preparation easier. With so many people, the guards couldn’t patrol properly, and monitoring individuals and their belongings proved impossible.
“Oh, please don’t push!”
Even when no one was actually pushing, my awkward performance went unnoticed—which I appreciated. It allowed me to slip naturally through the crowd and position myself as close as possible to the VIP seating.
‘The security is weakest one hour before the ceremony begins—just before the VIP guests are seated, when the guards change shifts.’
This too was knowledge gleaned from my previous deaths. Having prepared to the highest standard across all my previous lives, I pressed my hand over my pounding heart and glanced toward the Imperial Palace interior. Through the Secret Passage I’d used after my private meeting with the First Empress, I’d also planted explosives in the Empress Palace and the Underground Dungeon.
‘The timing has to be absolutely perfect.’
The explosion inside the Imperial Palace had to occur first, drawing everyone’s attention inward, before I ignited the VIP seating.
‘If worst comes to worst, I can always wait for celebratory fireworks to fall onto the VIP canopy and spread the fire naturally.’
As trumpet fanfares pierced the tense silence, today’s principals emerged. The Emperor in golden ceremonial robes, the First Empress in purple, Damian in formal black attire, and his betrothed ascended the platform in succession.
‘They look well-matched.’
I offered genuine applause amid the cheering crowd. It was true. Rowan was wasted on that mediocre man. The moment that thought crossed my mind, my heart clenched sharply.
‘Wait. You discovered the First Empress murdered Rowan’s entire family, yet you still want to side with him?’
My heart throbbed in a slightly different rhythm than before.
Through investigation, I’d learned Rowan’s family had been eliminated long ago by the First Empress. Not long after Rowan left her hometown with Damian, her entire family died of plague. Yet in the village, it was common knowledge that the young master’s family had silenced them.
What shocked me wasn’t the First Empress’s cruelty, but that Rowan hadn’t seemed particularly surprised.
‘She must have suspected it all along.’
I sighed and patted Rowan’s heart consolingly.
‘It’s not much comfort, but… let’s reframe this. Today, I die here by Damian’s hand as a traitor. That means my family would be branded a traitor’s household and face far worse. At least they won’t experience that. Consider it a small mercy.’
Instead of responding, Rowan loosened her tightly clenched heart ever so slightly.
Thus, alone yet never truly alone, I endured the Emperor’s long, tedious speech. Every fiber of my being yearned to press the detonator in my pocket immediately.
‘Just a little longer.’
The optimal moment was when the Emperor’s speech concluded and Damian and his betrothed stepped forward hand in hand to greet the crowd. Right now.
With timing so flawless it amazed even me, I pressed the detonator.
Boom!
A heavy tremor reverberated from far away. Startled by the violent shaking beneath their feet, people began to murmur, pointing toward the Imperial Palace where black smoke billowed upward.
“There…!”
“There’s a fire inside the Palace!”
Watching some of the Knights surrounding the Palace Square rush frantically into the Palace, I pressed the detonator in my opposite pocket.
“Ahhh!”
“Get down!”
The pillar supporting the VIP stand exploded, and fire spread instantly across the awning soaked in chemicals. The entire VIP stand collapsed in the blink of an eye, and screams erupted from all directions.
As people shrieking in panic scattered in every direction and chaos erupted, I pushed through the crowd and rushed toward the platform.
“Damian!”
My voice rang out clearly across the Palace Square, cutting through all the confusion.
“You killed my family, so I’ll kill you with my own hands!”
The Guard Corps moved to block me. But thanks to having transformed Basilect into its smallest form beforehand, I dispatched them without difficulty. Even as I rushed toward him, Damian stood frozen in place like a statue.
I leaped onto the platform as if attacking him, pinned him down, and drew the ceremonial sword at his waist. Everything proceeded flawlessly, like water flowing, until the moment I unhesitatingly drove that dull blade—ornately decorated for beauty alone—into my own throat.
“What are you doing!”
Damian, who had been standing rigid like a man possessed, finally snapped back to himself and cried out, pressing his hand against my bleeding neck. I gripped his hand tightly as he tried to pull the blade free, forcing him to grip the hilt properly.
“You have to sever my neck with your own hands.”
“Are you insane? Why would I—”
“Do it. Unless you want my death to be as meaningless as my family’s.”
“What are you even talking about—”
Damian, his forehead flushed with anger, began to shout but froze mid-word. His eyes, wide and trembling with unease, slowly turned toward the First Empress.
The First Empress gazed at her son without expression. In that serene gaze, devoid of even a shred of guilt, he saw the entire truth. He looked back down at me.
“Mother… she killed your family…?”
“If you feel even a little sorry, would you do it quickly?”
Standing on the threshold of the death I had waited for so long, I whispered with a hint of impatience.
“It really does hurt more than it looks, dying like this.”
“…”
“By now, you should have remembered.”
Tears welled up in Damian’s eyes.
This was Rowan’s tragedy. A foolish man who only grasps the truth of his repeating life when it’s far too late. An idiot who weeps in anguish upon realizing how many times she died to become his stepping stone, yet begs for “next time” despite knowing he’ll never remember again. A foolish woman who falls for his pleas, knowing full well he’ll forget.
Fortunately, Rowan would not be deceived this time.
“Now that you remember, don’t waste time. Please just do what needs to be done. Even if you can’t do anything else, you can at least make it hurt less.”
Damian gripped the hilt with trembling hands. He gripped it, but still couldn’t bring himself to cut with proper force.
As the hesitation only deepened my agony, I twisted my neck myself, impatient. The blade bit deeper, and as a gurgling sound escaped along with blood foam, Damian began to plead.
“Rowan. Just once more… Please, just once—”
“You made a promise with me.”
I shook my head to cut him off, forcing out words that barely came.
“You said you’d never beg someone like me for a chance. You said it yourself.”
Damian’s throat convulsed violently. Tears streamed down his cheeks. I laughed.
“Remember every word you spoke and every word you couldn’t speak. Live long, so very long, in a world where that fool who loved endlessly without asking for anything in return has vanished. Alone. For a very, very long time.”
Damian stared at me helplessly as I bid him farewell, unable to make a sound, only whimpering.
Those eyes—the frightened, lonely gaze of a seven-year-old boy from the moment we first met—were utterly satisfying. So much so that I could smile without a shred of regret and release my life with perfect ease.
Damian’s eternal imprisonment, and Rowan’s perfect liberation.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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