A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat

Chapter 123.2: Side Story - Beyond the Nightmare Part 2

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Upon reaching his room, the boy collapsed onto his bed.

The soft mattress embraced him, offering a temporary respite from the turmoil within.

-…Are you alright?

The silver-haired girl.

Her red eyes gazed at him.

Her elegant voice, was laced with concern.

Raiden felt a splitting headache as if his skull would crack open.

He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, the alcohol he had consumed, along with his internal organs, would come spewing out.

The boy curled up on the bed, clutching his head.

He wished for his mind to go blank.

He yearned for the sweet oblivion of sleep.

"......"

But alas...

His subconscious had already hit play on the videotape of his pain.

All he could do was tremble, his eyes fixated on the dark screen within his mind.

- This is the last time, Raiden. I... I won't... sob... I won't seek you out again.

His beloved lord declared their separation with a voice choked with tears.

- Brother, please... Why are you doing this...?

His adorable little sister, begging him with tears streaming down her face.

-......

-......

His respected father and his reliable butler stared at him in silence.

-…Are you alright?

His beautiful ex-fiancée inquired about his well-being.

And...

- Young Master, please stop this... You don't have to suffer like this...!

His devoted maid called out to him with sorrowful eyes.

"......"

Raiden suddenly felt an urge to chop off his right hand.

That hateful hand that had struck her.

The impulse was not just a fleeting thought.

He pulled out the pocketknife he kept in his jacket pocket.

And without hesitation, he slashed at his wrist.

Shhk...!

A crimson line blossomed on his wrist, staining the pristine sheets with a mixture of despair and rage.

Raiden continued to cut, each stroke a testament to his self-loathing.

Thud.

Tears streamed down his face, splattering onto the bedspread like dark, uneven polka dots.

As if surrendering to the torrent of emotions, the tears flowed freely, staining the bedsheets with dark, uneven blotches.

"Ugh... Sob..."

Suddenly, Raiden felt dizzy.

He had lost too much blood.

Only then did he release the knife from his grasp.

Clang!

With a gasp of pain, the silver hand mirror, now smeared with blood, clattered to the floor.

Raiden fumbled beneath his bed, retrieving a low-grade healing potion.

He poured it onto his mangled wrist, the movements practiced and familiar.

As if this wasn't the first time, or the second, that he had inflicted such pain upon himself.

"Ah..."

The boy was...

"Aah...!!"

Broken.

"Aaaaaaaaargh!!!!"

He wanted to die.

But he was terrified.

He yearned for his mother.

He wanted to plunge the knife into his throat.

He wanted to live.

He wanted to scream until his throat bled.

He wanted to escape.

- Run, Raiden!!

- I'm... sorry... Our... son...

Even now...

When he closed his eyes, he could see it all with horrifying clarity.

The flurry of blades descended upon them with chilling precision.

Your face, twisted in a grotesque mockery of ecstasy, fueled by bloodlust and greed.

Your pristine white dress, stained crimson, mirroring the color of your hair.

As she drew her sword, its blade slick with blood, his mother's entrails spilled forth from the gaping wound in her stomach.

He could never forget that moment.

Even in that horrific situation, you were smiling.

So beautifully.

So mercifully.

If only you had screamed if only you had begged for your life...

Maybe then, it wouldn't hurt so much.

Your final smile... it was unbearable.

It tore him apart from the inside out.

"Aah, aaaaaaargh!!!"

Raiden's day was no different from any other.

It was just another ordinary day in hell.

A hell he had been living in, every single day, since that fateful night.

The boy, on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion, could only sob and scream, his voice raw with anguish.

As if it were the only thing he could do in this world filled with suffering.

***

"Gasp...!"

His eyes fluttered open.

A wave of nausea crashed over him, bringing with it a throbbing pain that pierced his skull.

He groaned, his hand instinctively reaching up to cradle his aching head.

His forehead was damp with cold sweat.

As he struggled to clear his head, confused and disoriented, he heard voices filled with concern.

"Brother? What's wrong? You were just dozing off, and then..."

"Young Master, are you alright...?"

Blurry figures swam into view.

A girl with fiery red hair, perched on the edge of the sofa.

Behind her, another girl, her brown hair braided neatly, attended to her.

"Raiden...?"

A blonde girl sat at a small table, sipping tea.

He stared at the scene before him, his mind struggling to catch up.

His right hand, clenched tightly into a fist, trembled uncontrollably.

"......"

"......Brother, seriously, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Ariel, noticing his distress, rushed to his side, her face etched with worry.

Rachel and Lucy quickly followed suit.

He remained frozen in place, his breath caught in his throat.

'I need to say something...'

He needed to tell them he was fine.

He needed to reassure them.

But the words wouldn't come.

He could only whimper, his body wracked with tremors.

And then...

"Young Master, please calm down."

As Rachel's hand gently cupped his cheek, the dam within him shattered.

"Ah, aah..."

Her touch was warm and comforting.

A beacon of hope in the darkness of his nightmare.

Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks in a torrent of relief.

The whimpers that had been trapped in his throat transformed into a choked sob that echoed through the room.

"Ugh... Sob..."

Thank goodness.

It was just a dream.

He had truly thought he was back in that living hell.

But it was just a nightmare.

The people he loved...

They were here, right in front of him.

The realization washed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling with a mixture of relief and lingering fear.

He couldn't stop crying.

"Ra-Raiden..."

"Brother..."

"Young Master..."

They watched him, their faces etched with concern.

This wasn't the first time he had broken down like this, his emotions spiraling out of control without warning.

At first, they had panicked, unsure of how to handle his sudden outbursts.

But now, they simply offered him their silent support, their presence a comforting anchor in the storm of his grief.

He reached out, his hand trembling, and pulled them close.

They came willingly, their arms wrapping around him in a protective embrace.

Their warmth enveloped him, and he clung to them, drawing strength from their presence.

"Ra-Rachel... I... I... Sob... It was so... so hard... but I... I endured..."

"You did well, Young Master."

"I... I missed Mom... Sob... I... I wanted to die... Sob... I thought about just ending it all..."

"You did so well, Young Master. Truly."

A warm hand gently stroked his back, a soothing rhythm that calmed the tremors racking his body.

Rachel, Ariel, Lucy.

Their warmth seeped into him, chasing away the lingering chill of his nightmare.

He leaned into their embrace, seeking solace in their presence.

He was exhausted, his body and soul weary from the constant battle within.

He needed their support, their strength to bolster his own.

And they, without hesitation, offered him the comfort he so desperately craved.

Thanks to them, he could finally allow himself to break down completely, to release the pent-up emotions that had been tormenting him for so long.

The throbbing pain in his right wrist had vanished, replaced by a dull ache, a physical reminder of the nightmare he had endured.

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