Chapter 137: The Heroine Mary’s POV II
This was unfair.
Why wouldn’t Cassel fall for me?
Why was he unaffected by my charm, my luck, my existence?
Why did he not kneel before me like everyone else?
Why didn’t he love me?
No matter how I tried to seduce him, he never looked at me twice.
Why?
"Mary, watch out!"
Cecil’s horrified shout tore through the battlefield.
I turned toward him and saw the panic twisting his bloodied face.
Everything happened too quickly.
The moment I looked behind me, I found a zombie standing only one step away.
Its arm was buried deep inside a man’s chest.
I recognized him instantly.
He was one of Cecil’s teammates.
A pathetic man who used to follow me around like a loyal dog.
I never accepted him, of course. But I often acted like a fragile, frightened girl trapped beside her powerful team leader. Because of that, he always treated me gently and helped me whenever he could.
How fortunate.
Thank God I never rejected him completely.
The thought crossed my mind as I watched his body slide helplessly to the ground.
Half of his organs dangled from the zombie’s claws.
Blood flooded across the concrete floor, staining it a dark, horrifying crimson.
Strangely enough, I did not feel much.
Ever since childhood, I had never truly cared whether people lived or died.
At first, that realization frightened me. I thought perhaps I was a monster.
But eventually, I got used to it.
Only my life mattered.
Everyone else existed to sacrifice themselves for me.
That was how the world had always felt.
As though the universe itself had been created solely for my sake, and I was the heroine destined to live happily forever.
Still...
I needed to act.
I pinched myself hard enough to force tears into my eyes. Then I burst into trembling sobs.
By then, the battle was nearly over anyway.
People were beginning to relax.
Perfect timing.
So I pretended to faint.
I deliberately threw my body forward because Cecil was standing directly in front of me. Catching me should have been effortless for him.
That was why I did not brace myself at all.
I wanted the fall to look real.
But—
Cecil, you useless idiot.
Can’t you even catch a delicate girl collapsing right in front of you?
Worthless trash...
Those were my final thoughts before darkness swallowed my vision completely.
This time, I truly lost consciousness.
Something wet spread beneath my head.
Warm.
Sticky.
Blood.
A terrifying thought surfaced slowly through the darkness.
...Am I dying?
Coldness crept through my limbs little by little.
Distant voices echoed around me, muffled and unclear, as though I were sinking beneath deep water.
"Mary!"
"That idiot hit her head!"
"Move aside!"
"Is she breathing?!"
The voices grew increasingly frantic.
I wanted to laugh.
How ridiculous.
Even now, they were panicking over me.
Of course they were.
That was how things should be.
Even if the world collapsed, even if monsters devoured humanity alive, people should still revolve around me.
Because I was special.
I had always been special.
Hadn’t I?
Yet for some reason, the image of Rosalia lying safely in Cassel’s arms kept appearing inside my mind.
That scene burned into my chest like poison.
The way he looked at her...
As if she were precious.
Irreplaceable.
His entire world.
No one had ever looked at me like that.
Yes, people desired me.
They spoiled me, protected me, and obeyed me.
But that gaze...
That terrifying devotion...
I had never received it before.
And I wanted it.
No.
I needed it.
The darkness around me deepened further.
Memories began surfacing one after another.
A teacher defended me after I falsely accused another student.
A neighbor lost his job after speaking badly about me.
A girl who bullied me was getting hit by a car only days later.
Again and again, life bent itself in my favor.
The world loved me.
The world protected me.
So why had everything changed after the apocalypse began?
Why did it suddenly feel as though fate itself had abandoned me?
Pain throbbed violently in the back of my head.
I could vaguely feel hands lifting my body.
Cecil’s voice sounded closest.
"Careful! Don’t touch her injury!"
His breathing was ragged with panic.
Pathetic.
Even half-dead, he still sounded like a desperate dog frightened of losing its owner.
Then another voice spoke nearby.
Cold. Calm. Detached.
Cassel.
"Get out of the way."
That single sentence made my heart pound violently.
Even unconscious, I could recognize his voice instantly.
I nearly wanted to open my eyes just to see him.
Couldn’t he sound even slightly concerned about me?
But then Rosalia spoke softly.
"Still, we need to bury that man and all the victims..."
Her voice carried genuine sadness.
That fake saint.
I hated her.
I hated her so much that it felt unbearable.
Cassel answered after a brief silence.
"Okay, we will do as you say."
That was all.
No concern.
No tenderness.
Nothing.
Yet when Rosalia stumbled earlier, he had looked ready to destroy the entire world.
My chest twisted painfully.
Why?
Why her?
What did she have that I didn’t?
I was prettier.
More charming.
More desired.
Men had always ruined themselves for me.
So why wouldn’t he?
Somewhere nearby, Matthew laughed quietly.
My fingernails dug into my palms again.
Even unconsciousness could not stop the ugly jealousy devouring me alive.
At that moment, I understood something clearly for the first time.
It wasn’t merely that I wanted the strongest man.
No.
I wanted Cassel specifically.
I wanted his attention.
His obsession.
His protection.
I longed for him to gaze at me with the same tenderness and admiration he reserved for Rosalia, to see in my eyes the same flicker of affection that lit up his face whenever he looked at her.
The ache in my chest grew unbearable, and I wondered bitterly if I was somehow unworthy of such attention.
If I could not have that connection, that unspoken recognition.
Then perhaps Rosalia’s very existence was an injustice—a privilege.
I was doomed to envy but never share.
A cold, dark wave of despair flooded over me, swallowing every flicker of hope and light.
The shadows seemed to close in tightly, consuming the remnants of my thoughts.
It was as if the darkness wanted to claim me entirely, erasing any trace of my longing.
And in that suffocating blackness, something shifted within me.
A strange clarity washed over my senses, sharper and more intense than ever before.
For the first time since the apocalypse erupted without warning, shattering everything.
I knew, I became painfully aware of every sensation—the pounding of my heart, the weight of my despair, the cold sweat on my forehead, and the relentless ache of longing that refused to fade.
