Child.
Ian?
His mind, hazy as if covered in fog, became confused. Ivan instinctively flinched.
“His Highness the Crown Prince is ill. Your Majesty, please...”
Mrs. Howard sobbed and pleaded. At that moment, a light went on in his head. Ivan's blurred vision came back into focus. He unsteadily stood up, his hands on the floor.
“Ian, why?”
Just as he emerged from the bathroom, Mrs. Howard, sobbing in the middle of the Emperor's bedroom, stared at Ivan with resentment.
“Where does it hurt?”
But even Ivan's appearance was a mess, so even that didn't last long. Mrs Howard, who had bravely barged into the Emperor's bedroom, was too sobbing to respond.
“He has a high fever. It won’t go down...”
Then Rodan answered in Mrs. Howard's stead. At the same time, Mrs. Howard, leaning against Rodan, sank limply. Ivan ignored Mrs. Howard's sobs and roughly wiped his wet mouth. Then he ran to Ian's bedroom.
As soon as he came to, he felt a sense of self-loathing. He thought about dying, having a child who couldn't even control his body or express himself properly, and having traces of him and Amelia still lingering in this world. Amelia had told him to take good care of Ian, but he completely forgot about that.
“See the sun of Escliffe.”
Ivan flung open Ian's bedroom door. The maids, who had been busy tending to Ian, quickly lowered their heads at the sight of the disheveled Emperor.
“What about Ian?”
“Yeah, his fever hasn’t gone down yet...”
The maids muttered and squeezed their eyes shut. While it wasn't their fault that Ian was sick, they weren't entirely free from responsibility either.
“...”
But the one who was more at fault than anyone else was Ivan himself. Ivan hesitated as he thought this, taking a step forward. Ian's bedroom was heated to a temperature so high that he couldn't deny reality. It was unbelievable that the child alone was radiating such heat.
“I must meet His Majesty.”
“He said not to let anyone in.”
Only then did he realize why Mrs. Howard had been bothering him so many times a day. He had foolishly let the conversation slide.
Ivan touched Ian's cheek, who was breathing raggedly, as if he had no energy to cry. Even considering that his palms were colder than usual from the bathroom tiles, the heat from Ian's face was excruciatingly hot.
“What about the palace doctor? Did he examine Ian?”
Ivan asked urgently. The maid nodded quickly, her face filled with tears.
“He said that lowering the fever was the top priority, so I wiped his body with a towel soaked in cold water and kept changing the wet towel on his forehead.”
And she expressed her efforts in the calmest voice possible.
“The doctor said that if the fever does not go down by the end of today, it is dangerous...”
But when it came to the possibility that such a small baby could be in danger, it seemed inevitable. The maid spoke in a choked voice, as if she was about to burst into tears.
Ivan looked down at Ian, who lay quietly on the crib. Looking at Ian's condition, it was clear that the palace doctor's words weren't simply about doing your best to nurse him.
"Ah..."
He was panting, his face flushed. Ivan's face was contorted in a hideous, horrifying expression.
At that moment, Ian let out a faint sob. The maids, watching him closely, approached and poured liquid medicine into his small mouth. However, more than half of it ran down his face. Even what he managed to swallow, he couldn't swallow properly, and ended up vomiting it out. The shadow of death hung over the child's pale face.
“...”
And the maids' faces now showed despair rather than embarrassment or bewilderment. It was as if they sensed their little master was about to leave.
“Everyone, get out.”
Ivan was suddenly overcome with anger. How could that be? Just a moment ago, he was a child who was playing outside, marveling at the snow and frolicking. How could he die from a mere fever?
"Your Majesty."
“I told you to get out!”
It was only because of those mere idiots that the child was suffering like this. He felt like threatening to gouge out the disloyal eye. As Ivan lashed out, the maids looked between Ian and the outside world, their faces bewildered.
“Everyone, get out.”
At that moment, Mrs. Howard, who had just regained her composure and returned, gave an order to the maids.
“I will continue to wait.”
The maids finally stopped hesitating and stepped away, having spotted Mrs. Howard. Mrs. Howard stared at the man crouched near the crib, as if licking a wounded baby, then closed the door. Then, with a resigned expression, she turned her gaze to the clock hanging in the hallway.
It was approaching midnight.
Ivan cared for Ian without a moment's rest. He wiped his sweaty face and body, and when the towel he'd placed on his forehead felt lukewarm, he cooled it down with a cold one. Having never nursed before, his hands were incredibly clumsy, but he gradually became accustomed to it.
But despite his endless efforts, Ian's fever showed no signs of abating. It was as if he was no longer willing to leave his father, who had left him for two days in his illness, and was instead determined to follow his dead mother.
“No, Ian.”
Ivan muttered involuntarily. With Amelia gone and Ian, the only trace connecting him to her, gone, he was truly alone. Ivan ran a trembling hand over the child's face.
“But now I feel like your child is a threat to me.”
“...”
“Aren’t you curious what that crazy kid can do?”
One day, he remembered the threatening words he had spoken to Amelia, as if he had turned away. How could he possibly kill such a small, young thing?
“I was wrong.”
He was foolish and stupid. He didn't realize then how much of an impact this little boy would have on his life. It broke his heart to think that he had said those things in the past, that he had caused this trouble.
“Don’t leave me either.”
You are the only trace of your mother I have left, and if you disappear too, I won't be able to bear it.
"Please."
Ivan sobbed and pleaded with his son.
If you're going to leave, take me with you.
“...”
At that moment, as the strength in his body suddenly left him, Amelia's voice came to mind. The woman's words were that if something bad happened to her child, she would rather die with him.
“When I had Ian, the apples were so appealing.”
During the days he spent locked in Amelia's bedroom, Ivan and Amelia felt as if they were one, even without physical contact. Even when Mrs. Howard or Rodan sneaked in a meal, and they sat on top of each other on the bed.
“An apple?”
Ian?
His mind, hazy as if covered in fog, became confused. Ivan instinctively flinched.
“His Highness the Crown Prince is ill. Your Majesty, please...”
Mrs. Howard sobbed and pleaded. At that moment, a light went on in his head. Ivan's blurred vision came back into focus. He unsteadily stood up, his hands on the floor.
“Ian, why?”
Just as he emerged from the bathroom, Mrs. Howard, sobbing in the middle of the Emperor's bedroom, stared at Ivan with resentment.
“Where does it hurt?”
But even Ivan's appearance was a mess, so even that didn't last long. Mrs Howard, who had bravely barged into the Emperor's bedroom, was too sobbing to respond.
“He has a high fever. It won’t go down...”
Then Rodan answered in Mrs. Howard's stead. At the same time, Mrs. Howard, leaning against Rodan, sank limply. Ivan ignored Mrs. Howard's sobs and roughly wiped his wet mouth. Then he ran to Ian's bedroom.
As soon as he came to, he felt a sense of self-loathing. He thought about dying, having a child who couldn't even control his body or express himself properly, and having traces of him and Amelia still lingering in this world. Amelia had told him to take good care of Ian, but he completely forgot about that.
“See the sun of Escliffe.”
Ivan flung open Ian's bedroom door. The maids, who had been busy tending to Ian, quickly lowered their heads at the sight of the disheveled Emperor.
“What about Ian?”
“Yeah, his fever hasn’t gone down yet...”
The maids muttered and squeezed their eyes shut. While it wasn't their fault that Ian was sick, they weren't entirely free from responsibility either.
“...”
But the one who was more at fault than anyone else was Ivan himself. Ivan hesitated as he thought this, taking a step forward. Ian's bedroom was heated to a temperature so high that he couldn't deny reality. It was unbelievable that the child alone was radiating such heat.
“I must meet His Majesty.”
“He said not to let anyone in.”
Only then did he realize why Mrs. Howard had been bothering him so many times a day. He had foolishly let the conversation slide.
Ivan touched Ian's cheek, who was breathing raggedly, as if he had no energy to cry. Even considering that his palms were colder than usual from the bathroom tiles, the heat from Ian's face was excruciatingly hot.
“What about the palace doctor? Did he examine Ian?”
Ivan asked urgently. The maid nodded quickly, her face filled with tears.
“He said that lowering the fever was the top priority, so I wiped his body with a towel soaked in cold water and kept changing the wet towel on his forehead.”
And she expressed her efforts in the calmest voice possible.
“The doctor said that if the fever does not go down by the end of today, it is dangerous...”
But when it came to the possibility that such a small baby could be in danger, it seemed inevitable. The maid spoke in a choked voice, as if she was about to burst into tears.
Ivan looked down at Ian, who lay quietly on the crib. Looking at Ian's condition, it was clear that the palace doctor's words weren't simply about doing your best to nurse him.
"Ah..."
He was panting, his face flushed. Ivan's face was contorted in a hideous, horrifying expression.
At that moment, Ian let out a faint sob. The maids, watching him closely, approached and poured liquid medicine into his small mouth. However, more than half of it ran down his face. Even what he managed to swallow, he couldn't swallow properly, and ended up vomiting it out. The shadow of death hung over the child's pale face.
“...”
And the maids' faces now showed despair rather than embarrassment or bewilderment. It was as if they sensed their little master was about to leave.
“Everyone, get out.”
Ivan was suddenly overcome with anger. How could that be? Just a moment ago, he was a child who was playing outside, marveling at the snow and frolicking. How could he die from a mere fever?
"Your Majesty."
“I told you to get out!”
It was only because of those mere idiots that the child was suffering like this. He felt like threatening to gouge out the disloyal eye. As Ivan lashed out, the maids looked between Ian and the outside world, their faces bewildered.
“Everyone, get out.”
At that moment, Mrs. Howard, who had just regained her composure and returned, gave an order to the maids.
“I will continue to wait.”
The maids finally stopped hesitating and stepped away, having spotted Mrs. Howard. Mrs. Howard stared at the man crouched near the crib, as if licking a wounded baby, then closed the door. Then, with a resigned expression, she turned her gaze to the clock hanging in the hallway.
It was approaching midnight.
***
Ivan cared for Ian without a moment's rest. He wiped his sweaty face and body, and when the towel he'd placed on his forehead felt lukewarm, he cooled it down with a cold one. Having never nursed before, his hands were incredibly clumsy, but he gradually became accustomed to it.
But despite his endless efforts, Ian's fever showed no signs of abating. It was as if he was no longer willing to leave his father, who had left him for two days in his illness, and was instead determined to follow his dead mother.
“No, Ian.”
Ivan muttered involuntarily. With Amelia gone and Ian, the only trace connecting him to her, gone, he was truly alone. Ivan ran a trembling hand over the child's face.
“But now I feel like your child is a threat to me.”
“...”
“Aren’t you curious what that crazy kid can do?”
One day, he remembered the threatening words he had spoken to Amelia, as if he had turned away. How could he possibly kill such a small, young thing?
“I was wrong.”
He was foolish and stupid. He didn't realize then how much of an impact this little boy would have on his life. It broke his heart to think that he had said those things in the past, that he had caused this trouble.
“Don’t leave me either.”
You are the only trace of your mother I have left, and if you disappear too, I won't be able to bear it.
"Please."
Ivan sobbed and pleaded with his son.
If you're going to leave, take me with you.
“...”
At that moment, as the strength in his body suddenly left him, Amelia's voice came to mind. The woman's words were that if something bad happened to her child, she would rather die with him.
“When I had Ian, the apples were so appealing.”
During the days he spent locked in Amelia's bedroom, Ivan and Amelia felt as if they were one, even without physical contact. Even when Mrs. Howard or Rodan sneaked in a meal, and they sat on top of each other on the bed.
“An apple?”
Ivan gazed down at the woman's slender, pale shoulders and cheeks, covered only by a bed sheet. He found the way her cheeks, jutting out as she munched on a piece of well-cut fruit, adorable.
“I had such bad morning sickness that I would feel nauseous even if I just drank water, but strangely enough, it went away.”
Ivan hesitated. He knew nothing about Amelia's pregnancy with Ian. Even when he met her again, Ivan wasn't interested in the hardships she'd endured. He'd certainly anticipated the hardships, but he'd assumed she'd rely on him even more because of it.
“Did you have severe morning sickness?”
“Still, I ate everything I could.”
For such a slender and fragile woman, carrying a child and sending him into the world couldn't have been easy. At that moment, Ivan realized his own foolishness.
“Because I don’t want anything to go wrong with Ian.”
“...”
“It’s your trace.”
He took everything lightly. He thought she was something he didn't need to experience, something he could just use once and then throw away. He didn't think she needed to know. While he was brooding over such dirty thoughts, Amelia tried to protect Ian. It was a sin.
“If I were to have someone else’s child, I only wanted it to be yours.”
If Ian had been a problem in the womb, the Duke of Russell would have forced another man into Amelia's bedroom as soon as she recovered. He would have given birth to the child he bore at the end of that violent affair, and if it were a boy, he would have killed him, destroying Amelia's world again and again. Like the other Amelias, he would have held her broken body and mind in his hands and shaken her. Amelia knew this.
"So, I endured the nausea and ate it. And when the nausea started to well up, I forced myself to hold it in. When I finally had no choice, I went and threw up. I rinsed my mouth with water and then threw up again."
So she said she would do anything to save Ian.
“And then, on days when the wound on my neck was so bad that I could taste blood, I wished I could just vomit blood and die with my child.”
Ivan felt guilt and sorrow at the wrong he had done to Amelia and the pain it had caused. But what he had realized at the time was only a fraction of the sadness and loneliness. Now he knew.
Ivan's body collapsed as he clutched the edge of Ian's bed. He could fully understand the heart of a woman so terribly lonely she would rather die with her child than lose the child who was a trace of her love.
Only then did a crack appear in the dark sky, and light began to spread faintly.
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