After Killing Me Ninety-Nine Times For His First Love, He Repented And Went Crazy

"That's it. Hand it to me—I'll take it myself."

My tone was so twisted, so calm in its defiance, that Tristan stood there, stunned for several seconds.

"Winda, are you insane? Do you want to die that badly?"

He suddenly flung the bottle of pills to the floor, his voice raw with fury, jaw clenched tight.

"You want to die? Fine. But I won’t let you."

He froze after the outburst, as if even he couldn’t believe what had just come out of his mouth.

He hadn’t been this angry in years.

He was Tristan—he wasn’t supposed to lose his composure like this.

With a bitter scoff, he loosened his tie and sat down, his expression cold and unreadable.

"Stop throwing tantrums."

"You’re not going to die. We’ve checked everything and we still don’t know what’s wrong with you. I recently acquired a lab. They’ll draw some blood—figure it out."

"Maybe… maybe we can use it for the baby in Diana’s belly..."

Before he could finish, I silently rolled up my sleeve and offered my arm.

"Go ahead. Draw it. The more, the better."

His chest tightened inexplicably.

But he had already promised Diana he would uncover the secret in me—for the sake of their child.

So he swallowed whatever discomfort twisted inside him and called the doctor.

The needle was thick, nearly the width of a baby's finger and plunged deep into my vein.

I didn’t tell Tristan the truth.

From the first time I died for him, I knew I could only die one hundred times.

And once I’ve died in his hands a hundred times, my karmic punishment will be complete.

Then I’d disappear—gone to a place no one can find.

From then on, I would no longer belong to love.

To humanity.

To anyone.

Tristan’s phone rang. He answered without looking at me.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow and take you to the lab."

The doctor hesitated mid-motion. "Mr. Jagger, with Madam’s current condition… she really needs rest."

Tristan paused, then answered tersely.

"She won’t die."

The doctor broke into a cold sweat and dared not speak again.

But the next day and the one after that, Tristan didn’t come.

Instead, the joint account we shared lit up with transaction notifications.

Couple’s down jackets.

Thermal winter sets.

Wool socks.

A sled.

Unbidden, a memory surfaced.

Once, we had gone to Antarctica together.

Somehow, Diana found out and followed us all the way there—dressed only in a thin sweater, her body trembling, lips blue with cold.

Like a madman, Tristan threw his coat over her shoulders. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he stripped the coat off my back and gave her that too.

Diana sobbed in his arms.

"Winda didn’t want me to come… she threw away all my clothes. But Tristan, I just wanted to see the penguins with you."

He glared at me, full of scorn.

"You’re jealous. Poisonous. Vicious."

"Fine. Taste for yourself what it’s like to freeze to death in Antarctica."

Then they left me behind.

I died there, in nothing but a single layer of clothing.

Snapping out of the memory, I quietly ordered a pair of couple’s snow goggles for them.

Then I canceled the joint account with Tristan.

A short while later, he sent me a message.

[Just one symbol?]

I didn’t respond.

Soon after, I heard the sound of familiar footsteps outside my door.

"Pack up. We’re going to the lab."

I lowered my eyes and quietly stood.

From behind him, Diana stepped forward, her smile sweet but sickening.

"Winda, it must’ve been so hard for you, giving so much blood for the baby. But if the tests don’t yield results… we might need your help again."

"You’re not going to die anyway. Winda, maybe you could even lie on the operating table and let us deconstruct you. For Tristan’s child, of course."

"Alright," I said calmly. Without hesitation.

Tristan’s expression darkened. His voice was cold.

"We’ll talk about that later."

A flicker of jealousy crossed Diana’s face—but it vanished in an instant.

The three of us got into the car.

Tristan turned on the music.

The silence between us was louder than any song.