Chapter 259.

Chapter 259. Practice Doesn’t Make Perfect. (2/5)

“Do you think you’re a terrible person? Like this is going too far?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not going too far. All’s fair in love and war. In fact, this can hardly be considered anything much. To win the affection of the guy you like, you’re willing to do... anything... are you not?” I leaned in closer over the table, with my hands cupped together in front of my mouth, and looked her deep in the eyes, unblinkingly.

She flinched back, caught off guard.

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid of what he’ll think if he really does fall for you and finds out you’re actually the vice president he knows so well? Why didn’t you think about that when you were disguising as Alicia?”

She opened her mouth, her lips quivered, but her words were stuck in her throat and didn’t come out.

“You never thought about it? No, you did think about it, but you always ran away whenever that thought came to mind. Deep down, you never believed he would fall for you even while you were disguised as Alicia.”

Izora’s eyes rippled with a complex plethora of different emotions. Sadness, despair, rage, frustration, resignation, all sorts of negative feelings.

“This is your last chance, it is your final gambit, do or die. If you can’t pull it off here, it is game over, you lose. If you fail to give an award-winning performance on stage in your role as the hidden underdog, the dark horse, the true star of this show, you’ll have to pick up the broken pieces of your shattered heart and start all over from scratch. Are you going to just idly pass your last few days together with him doing nothing different and give up without even putting up a fight? Or will you give it everything you have while not caring for how much dirt you have to smear your body with?”

She lowered her gaze to the table, visibly struggling while holding back tears.

Her lips trembled as she fought through her frown and said, “It hurts. Why does it have to hurt? People say love is supposed to be this fluffy happy sort of feeling that makes you feel good, but I can’t even remember it ever feeling that way. Why did I have to fall in love if it was going to hurt so much?”

“Love isn’t all fun and games. There will be times where love hurts and you want to rip your heart out of your chest to make the pain go away. But that pain you feel now is valuable, precious even. When you finally get to experience the happiness that requited love provides, you will appreciate it far more because of the hardships you endured to acquire it. Once you grab hold of that happiness after all the pain, never let it go. Keep it near and dear to your heart.”

In the end, she buried her head on the table and broke down into tears in front of me for the second time since we met. There were quite a few odd gazes directed toward us from our sparsely populated surroundings. The sight of a scary-looking girl breaking down into tears in front of a gloomy guy in the middle of the university center was certainly eye-catching, to say the least.

It looked like I’d dumped her or something.

Unwilling to put up with the reproachful glares, I stood up and said, “I’ll be going now. The next time we meet will be at the planetarium.”

Right when I tried to walk off and mercilessly abandon the embarrassing goth chick bawling her eyes out, her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.

“Wait!”

“What is it?”

She didn’t respond immediately. She was still sniffling and trying to get her chaotic emotions under control. I had a bad feeling so I tried to forcibly shake her hand off. Unfortunately, she’d firmly latched on with a vice grip. I couldn’t even pry her hand off.

Did women gain inhuman grip strength when they were crying? What’s with this absurd superpower?

“Let go.”

“Damn it, fine. I get it. Just a bit and we’re absolutely not practicing somewhere out in the open like this. That being said, where can we even practice in private though?”

“Uh... now that you mention it... mmm... how about... my room?” When she realized the problem of privacy, she awkwardly made that suggestion with one brow raised troublingly.

“No - way! I’m definitely not going over to your place, that sounds like a death flag metropolis in the making.” I outright refused as soon as she offered.

“Then... what if we find an open lecture room here?”

“And risk someone walking in on us? No thank you.” It was still pretty early in the day and that was still a concern even with it being Sunday.

“Then... uh... a washroom?”

“A public washroom where anyone can walk in at any moment is just asking for trouble.”

“Should we go looking around for somewhere suitable then?”

“I guess. You should probably clean up your eyeliner first. It’s gotten smeared again and looks terrifying. I’d rather not be up close in your face with such a scary-looking monster.”

She touched her upper cheek, looked at her fingertips, and mumbled, “Oh... you’re right. Why does this happen whenever I’m with you? This is the worst. Good thing I came prepared this time.”

She pulled out some tissues from her black gothic-styled purse and a small foldable hand mirror. She wiped off the thick smeared eyeliner from around her eyes and reapplied a fresh set. She kept me waiting for five minutes.

“Are you done?” I asked impatiently.

“It takes time.”

“Too much time. You could have just done without the eyeliner. You look just fine without it.”

“I like wearing it.”

“Why?”

“Because I like how it looks.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. Does there need to be some sort of overly complicated reason for me to like what I like?”

“No, I guess not. It just feels like such a waste of money.”

“A guy like you wouldn’t understand.”

“Maybe.”