In broad daylight, the annex had an eerie atmosphere enveloped it. Now in the night, it was swallowed whole by pitch-black darkness. It felt as though at any moment, a beast, or something not human, might crawl out from the shadows.
Coldness seemed to sink deeper now as clothes clinging damply to Len’s skin and turning every brush of fabric into a needle’s touch. She stepped further into the gloomy hall, shivering as the cold of the annex seeped into her flesh.
“Huff…”
The closer to the laundry room, the faster her heart pounded. She swallowed dryly, again and again. Her hand clenching the oil lamp’s handle which trembled from the cold. Or perhaps fear, she couldn’t differentiate.
At last she reached the room in question. Her eyes, cautious, peeked at the room.
She was slowing down, a thought occurred in her mind, ‘wasn’t the door closed before?’ and then she realized a gust of wind at her back when she ran away. ‘The door was open.’
Beyond the door was pitch-black. Yet she could discern someone was there.
“Before it’s too late, you must tell the truth.”
What kept Len from fainting right then and there was the sound of a voice cutting through the dark. Not a ghost, but a person. Although she never heard a ghost voice, she knew, whatever was in there, was a human.
Probably a boy around her age.
“Father, you have to. Sitting on that throne, pretending to be a prince, it suffocates me. It hurts, knowing I’m deceiving everyone that I’m not a pure noble. I can’t bear it anymore. Please, father, I beg you…”
The voice echoed through the empty place like a storm-drenched plea.
“Madam Rua… wasn’t my mother. My mother was a maid, a servant who worked in this house…”
Len silently blew out her lamp and hid in the shadow.
“You have to make it known… before everything is too late.”
A dull, pathetic sound of something hitting the floor followed after. Then a long shadow loomed over him. Her eyes, which had adjusted to the dark, immediately recognized the man standing before the boy.
The master of this house, Duke Clint.
And the boy, begging on the floor with his back facing Len was, without a doubt, Prince Kaelzeno.
“Father, I—”
In the instant, the Duke surged forward like a beast as a blade of lightning slashed the sky right on cue. And a brutal, sickening blunt sound rang out loudly, so loud it reached where Len hid.
The Duke had slapped his own son’s temple.
“You useless fool,” the Duke spatted the words with a voice colder than this room. The Prince remained motionless, just as his father had slapped him. “Your mother killed herself for your sake. Do you want to make her death meaningless?”
The Duke bore down on him with vicious authority, and took hold of the Prince’s shoulder. Acting as his saving grace, his tone softened to something gentler, dripped with sweetness like a snake and firm like a prophet.
“The Crown Prince’s seat is right before your eyes. You’re going to be Emperor. If you cling to the past, you’ll never move forward. Think only of your family, of the honor of the Munis. Just as your mother did.”
The Prince slowly lifted his head, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the world. They shook as though they might collapse at any moment.
“My mother… killed herself?”
“Didn’t they say your mother died from giving birth?”
Pressed against the cold wall, Len’s breath caught. A memory which lay dormant under her consciousness all this time had resurfaced, unbidden, tearing through her mind. ‘Why now? Why this memory?’
“Then it’s your fault she died, isn’t it?”
Her calm mind became twisted, her breathing grew rapid. The floor beneath her seemed to caving in as she sank to the floor.
“No, father. You did.”
“No… it wasn’t me… it wasn’t me…”
“You must have cornered her. Just like you did to me!”
“It wasn’t because of me… It wasn’t my fault…”
The little girl covered her ears and shook her head.
Just as she’d done once before, Len curled up tightly, covering her ears with eyes squeezed shut.
But no amount of shutting out the world could block the words that came next. It was emotionless, cold, like knives flew straight into her chest and carved into two hearts at once.
“If believing that makes things easier for you, I won’t stop you. But this is the undeniable truth…”
“…that your mother died because of you.”
Footsteps stealed the breath from the room had faded into silence. The sound of rain falling in the background filled the room.
Slowly, Len opened her eyes which were burning from the strain of keeping them shut. She focused her gaze to the person who had been left alone and rooted to the spot.
Len could picture herself in that broken figure. A rootless tree.
A drifting scrap on the tide.
A wild flower on the side of the road.
Always unsure of her own existence, why she still wandered.
He, who hadn’t moved a single muscle, then began to walk. Ever so slightly, ever so slowly, as if wished not to leave a trace of himself in the world.
Thud. Thud…
The Prince stood facing the wall and began to slowly hit his forehead against it. Gently. Methodically.
Each blow landing on the wall felt as though pounding directly on Len’s chest with the same rhythm.
As if her chest had become the very wall the boy now battered with his skull.
‘Yes. Maybe it was a ghost’s sound after all…’ Len thought. ‘The sound of someone’s scream who is dead inside but alive outside.’
Thud. Thud. Thud…
That distant, hollow sound echoed through the annex, mixing with the rain. Len, slumped against the icy wall, listened in horror. And before long, she stood up.
The sound was growing stronger. Far more than what she had heard during the day.
“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself…” A whisper, too soft to ever reach him. Len stood helpless, shuffling, uncertain.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud…!
Behind this door everyone so feared was not a ghost, only a wounded boy.
A boy who struggled with his existence, so he carved pain into himself just to survive.
A boy who had lived like a ghost, neither dead nor alive.
A boy who was lonely.
“Stop…!”
At last, Len broke free from the shadows and ran.
Two silhouettes collided and crumpled to the floor. Breath, body heat, and heartbeat tangled in a single knot of confusion. Where they met, their chests pounded like hammers.
Len clung to the boy and whispered, fiercely, “It’s not your fault… None of this is our fault, so…”
So live. Please, just live.
The rain was pouring down, as though to drown the world.
The side door creaked open, carved of solid oak, and a cool breeze glided against my cheek. I huffed out the breath I’d been holding. In spite of that, my chest felt heavy and stuffy, like I had swallowed a rock.
“What I want is your heart.”
His voice kept playing in my mind. And now I was confused with my feelings. With my heart.
Was it desire? Regret? Obsession? Foolish pride from the younger days? Or a confession left unsaid?
Even if I had known… would I have had the courage to say it?
“Do you always use this path?”
I was startled by a presence nearby when I just entered a dim forest trail. Turning around, I saw the equerry, Windrune.
“This path is not well-maintained, so it is easy to get hurt on a rock or a branch.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m familiar with this path. I’ll be fine.”
“Did Prince Kaelzeno order you to use this route?”
At the sudden mention of that name, Len’s head snapped up. It wasn’t just presumptuous, but also brazen.
“His Highness had nothing to do with this.”
“So you’re hiding here of your own accord?”
“Do I have to answer that?” The words came out sharp. Windrune fell silent, golden eyes unreadable and lips pressed tightly together. After a brief silence, his voice was muffled.
“You should walk in the well-lit path.”
His words sounded like someone disapproving of dangerous choices. His cold attitude from our first meeting was long gone, replaced by an incomprehensible manner that was even more impossible to read.
“Why the formal speech all of a sudden?”
“…We are of similar status. It would be rude to speak to you otherwise..”
“Is that so? Then I’ll go my way. You should tend to yours.”
As I walked to pass him, Windrune reached out, then hesitated and quickly pulled back. Instead, he simply pointed at my wrist.
“And this? This is fine with you?” He asked with a grim face.
Following his gaze, it showed that somehow, my wrist had slipped out from beneath my cape, and the scratches and bruises laid bare.
I yanked the sleeve down, but Windrune’s expression grew darker.
His golden eyes locked onto mine—furious, it seemed.
I couldn’t wrap my head around this man. Who lied about being an equerry. Who wore his hatred for the prince like a badge. Who blocked my ‘dangerous’ paths. And now, who pointed out my wounds like they were his own.
I clutched my wrist, as if to hide my feelings, and stared at him fiercely.
“If you’re trying to pin this on the Prince, I won’t stay silent.” I pushed past and disappeared into the forest’s shadows. He no longer tried to stop me.
The threat—it was from a place of worry, concern that Windrune might spread rumors about the Prince. But the words sounded ridiculous, even to my own ears.
Out of all people, who am I to be a woman tied to the Prince.
“What I want is your heart.”
Here I was, couldn’t even properly answer him.
“…Your Highness, I…”
“Truly…”
“…respect you.”
And with cowardice I lied to him.
I lied to myself.
“That’s enough for today. You may go.”
I didn’t deserve to feel sad about the fading warmth of his hand.
For in fear, I had always abandoned his love.
Always escaped from him.
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