I Died Ninety-Nine Times for Him Chapter 2

On the surface, she was defending me. But her eyes held a clear, sharp glint of mockery.

Orion took the thermos, ladled out a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and brought it to Serena’s lips.

She had barely swallowed when she began to cough violently.

Orion panicked, patting her back frantically until her coughing subsided. Her eyes, misty with tears, drifted to the thermos.

“I’m… allergic to lemon.”

I stood frozen, watching her. I knew her dietary restrictions better than her own doctor. But if she decided, in this exact moment, that she was allergic to lemon, there was nothing I could do.

Orion spun around, his face a mask of fury. He snatched the thermos and flung the scalding soup into my face.

“Are you trying to kill her? Is that your plan? You think if Serena’s gone, you can take her place?”

The heat was searing, as if it were peeling my skin away. I bit my lip, fighting back the agony, and whispered a single, slow word.

“Sorry.”

It didn’t matter what I said. He would never believe me. Better to just let him be the cause of my final death so I could go home.

Serena watched my humiliation with a triumphant glint in her eyes before her expression melted back into one of tearful fragility. She tugged on Orion’s sleeve.

“Orion, stop. Aurora didn’t mean it.”

He shot me one last cold glare.

“Clean it up.”

I knelt, my hands stinging as shards of glass from the shattered thermos cut into my palms. I cleaned up the mess with my bare hands, as if I couldn’t feel the pain.

For some reason, this seemed to agitate Orion even more. He yanked me roughly to my feet.

“Can’t you use a broom? Who are you trying to play the victim for?”

He shoved me aside and called for a janitor.

Serena watched us, a deep frown creasing her brow, before she deftly changed the subject.

“Orion, darling, you haven’t told Aurora about the dress for the exhibition yet, have you?”

Orion glanced at me, his voice flat.

“Serena needs a hand-stitched silk gown for next month’s gala. You’ll make it for her.”

I had learned the art of intricate silk embroidery from a master artisan. It was a delicate, beautiful craft, but it was excruciating for the eyes. In my forty-sixth life, I’d worked day and night on a piece for him, all because of an offhand joke he’d made.

That time, I had died from pure exhaustion, my vision permanently damaged upon revival.

The doctors had warned me against any work that strained my eyes.

Orion knew this. He just didn’t care.

I looked at him, my eyes filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated love.

“Of course. I’ll do it.”

He seemed taken aback, almost flustered by the intensity of my gaze. He looked away awkwardly.

“After you finish Serena’s dress… I’ll take you abroad to see a specialist.”

“It’s okay, Orion. I would do anything for you. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

He stared into my eyes, and for the first time, a flicker of something—emotion, perhaps—stirred in their cold depths.

But I didn’t have time to care about whether he’d fix my eyes.

Once I left this world, none of it would matter.

Orion’s lips parted as if he were about to say more, but Serena cried out, clutching her head.

“Orion…”

He spun back to her instantly, forgetting I was even in the room.

I had no interest in staying anyway. I returned to my small apartment and began to work.