Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

"Professor?"

Lingery was worried about his mentor's mental state, but Bernard just kept muttering the same words over and over.

"It's wrong, all wrong, it's my fault."

"Come on, Professor, cheer up a bit."

Lingery was scared enough to consider calling the doctor to have a look, but Bernard pushed him away.

"Professor, I'll get the doctor to check up on you."

"Lingery, go, take Fitch and Maja with you, and then find Rachel. She'll arrange everything for you from here."

"Professor, we're only one step away from success; this has been your dream."

Bernard slumped in his chair, his face a picture of utter defeat.

"Go, take those two with you, and the doctor, de-hypnotize her."

"Professor!"

Lingery had always followed his lead, knowing full well how much he did to get to this step. How could he just give up?

But Bernard merely repeated, "It's my fault, not hers, all my fault."

He seemed lost in his own quagmire of guilt.

Lingery stood still, but then saw him stand up, come over, and pat his shoulder.

"Lingery, this is the last time you'll heed my words."

Lingery's lips tightened, and with gritted teeth, he called a halt, had the doctor help Maja up, and he helped Fitch.

"Are you sure, Professor?"

Bernard just shook his head, slumped in his chair, his complexion ashen, as if he had lost all will to live.

Lingery didn't say anything else; he was still the obedient student.

But it was at this moment that Queena started to go crazy.

"What do you mean? What's going on? I won't stop! I don't want a break; I want to be with Ian! Even in death, I want to be with him! Mr. March, look at me, I've made great contributions! Didn't you promise that once this was over, I could go find Ian? Mr. March, you can't go back on your word!"

Queena rushed forward, trying to shake Bernard back to sense.

But she was too agitated, and fell to the ground, losing one of her prosthetic legs.

It turned out that the ashes Fitch had found, which were believed to be Queena's, were indeed real but only partially hers. She had amputated her own leg and burned it to ashes, so everyone thought she was dead.

But she had only lost one leg.

"Mr. March, you can’t be fooled by that paper, it's all lies! Mr. March, you need to stay calm!"

Her prosthesis lay exposed, and in her distress, she crawled slowly, painstakingly slow.

Lingery ignored everything here, and with the doctor, helped the other two leave.

As he just walked out of the living room door, he heard the sound of a violin coming from above. NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

Looking up, they saw Bernard at the second-story window, playing the violin amidst the clamor of sirens. The sound of the violin was just like when he was young, though something had inevitably changed.

In this house, Yvonne had committed suicide, Leonard had died suddenly.

Gunshots echoed, perhaps because the resignation conveyed in the violin music was too apparent, the sniper fired.

Sirens, gunshots, and violin strains tangled together, a cacophony of fate.

The other families trapped in the area started running outside, as if trying to escape this hell.

But was this really hell?

No one could say for sure. Now the only things that can be recalled seem to be the sounds of sirens and the violin.