Episode 62. Just, Honestly
As Lacrahan's face drew closer, Bercheria held her breath.
Lately, his words had sent shivers down her spine.
Every time he kissed her, every time they were together like this, Bercheria felt grateful that Lacrahan was the first person she'd met since leaving the tower.
The more she thought about it, the more she couldn't imagine anyone else but Lacrahan.
If it weren't for him, Bercheria wouldn't have adapted so securely.
She wouldn't have regained her lost abilities or known what it meant to be cared for.
Putting all that aside, Bercheria loved Lacrahan.
His scent, his taste, his eyes.
It was clear that Bercheria would never forget his face, the one that had drawn her into the flames of the sea and breathed life into her.
His voice wasn't pierced into her ears, but into her heart.
"Bercheria."
Lacrahan lowered his head and kissed her lips.
As he parted her still-cold lips, a warm body enveloped her as if it had been waiting for it.
The warmth instantly spread throughout his body.
With this one kiss, Lacrahan was able to confirm his feelings.
I love you.
He had been seeping into this woman without even realizing it.
And just as the ground gets wet when it rains, and the streets pile up when it snows, he naturally realized.
He could never give up Bercheria until the day he died.
The kiss deepened.
Gerard, who had been lying down with Lyone's arm as a pillow, opened his eyes wide.
"Huh."
Gerard gasped, as if waking from a nightmare.
"Bercheria."
He knew this without anyone having to explain it.
Bercheria's protection had returned to Periat.
"Ugh!"
Gerard screamed like a madman and stood up.
The only reason he could shout to his people until now was because of one thing.
The one who had led the long war between three continents to victory without Bercheria's protection was none other than Gerard.
The fact that Gerard had led the war started by Bercheria to victory was of immense significance.
He was the first human Emperor to defeat a god.
Gerard didn't have to do anything; he simply sat on the throne.
When other nations contacted him or offered to exchange goods, he would simply pretend to agree with a swagger, and then refuse three times.
Bercheria's protection was far more profound than he had imagined.
As the history books describe, it was impossible to ignore her protection.
It felt as if an all-embracing, benevolent motherly energy enveloped not only himself but the entire world.
Bercheria was said to be the greatest of the three gods, but he belatedly realized the significance of those words.
"Go get Dylan! Now!"
Gerard shouted to the knights standing outside the door and paced anxiously around the bed.
Now that the goddess's protection had begun, everyone might underestimate him.
What if another nation invaded?
What if everyone favored Bercheria?
These days, the discipline of the Imperial Guard was so weak that he couldn't even be sure if there was anyone who would save him in an instant.
"Groovy. Bring Groovy too!"
Since emerging from the sea, Lacrahan had never let go of Bercheria.
He seemed to think she would be in trouble if she walked on her own two feet.
All the while, Bercheria listened to Lacrahan's heartbeat. Just hearing someone's heartbeat was a truly special experience for Bercheria, and the gentle touch was almost disconcerting. With every step, Lacrahan worried about whether she was uncomfortable, if she was cold. He checked the temperature of her toes every time, stopped to examine her face.
Every time she met his eyes, a strange feeling gripped her.
It tickled her, and it made her uncomfortable. Ultimately, it was Bercheria who couldn't endure that brief moment and was the first to avoid eye contact.
It wasn't as easy as she thought for a child who had suffered a lifetime of hatred and abuse from her mother to suddenly accept only love.
“I feel weird when someone treats me well. I feel like something is wrong, and that they must hate me inside.”
It can’t be helped.
"Humans hate you. Everyone hates you. How horrible it must be for people to see you, Bercheria."
Every day, her mother, who brought her dry bread, said the same thing.
The words, heard since a very young age, had seeped deep into Bercheria's being, ingrained in her. If she hadn't possessed the uniquely warm energy and positive instincts of the weather god, she would have jumped from the tower long ago.
"People, you know, everyone has that kind of thought to some degree."
"Really?"
"Of course. There's probably no one born into this world who lives only on love. There's no such thing as someone who's liked by everyone."
"...Is that true for you too?"
"I always apologize to people in my dreams. Those I killed in the war come to me and accuse me. They call me trash, a selfish lunatic."
"But that doesn't make sense. If you hadn't, they would have killed you."
"That doesn't matter. I can only sense how they feel about me."
Those who have been hurt continue to torment themselves, layering wound upon wound, until the wounds heal over time.
Then one day, they discover that the wounds have healed and suddenly look back.
Ah, how difficult it was for me back then.
You've truly endured so much, they console themselves.
"It all takes time. But it won't take long. Everyone must already love you."
"Is that so?"
"Of course."
Until now, Bercheria had been a goddess beloved by all.
Historically, there had never been a case where the people didn't love Bercheria.
This time, too, would surely be the case.
"Trust me. I'm probably the most knowledgeable person in this empire about Bercheria."
As Lacrahan's face drew closer, Bercheria held her breath.
Lately, his words had sent shivers down her spine.
Every time he kissed her, every time they were together like this, Bercheria felt grateful that Lacrahan was the first person she'd met since leaving the tower.
The more she thought about it, the more she couldn't imagine anyone else but Lacrahan.
If it weren't for him, Bercheria wouldn't have adapted so securely.
She wouldn't have regained her lost abilities or known what it meant to be cared for.
Putting all that aside, Bercheria loved Lacrahan.
His scent, his taste, his eyes.
It was clear that Bercheria would never forget his face, the one that had drawn her into the flames of the sea and breathed life into her.
His voice wasn't pierced into her ears, but into her heart.
"Bercheria."
Lacrahan lowered his head and kissed her lips.
As he parted her still-cold lips, a warm body enveloped her as if it had been waiting for it.
The warmth instantly spread throughout his body.
With this one kiss, Lacrahan was able to confirm his feelings.
I love you.
He had been seeping into this woman without even realizing it.
And just as the ground gets wet when it rains, and the streets pile up when it snows, he naturally realized.
He could never give up Bercheria until the day he died.
The kiss deepened.
***
Gerard, who had been lying down with Lyone's arm as a pillow, opened his eyes wide.
"Huh."
Gerard gasped, as if waking from a nightmare.
"Bercheria."
He knew this without anyone having to explain it.
Bercheria's protection had returned to Periat.
"Ugh!"
Gerard screamed like a madman and stood up.
The only reason he could shout to his people until now was because of one thing.
The one who had led the long war between three continents to victory without Bercheria's protection was none other than Gerard.
The fact that Gerard had led the war started by Bercheria to victory was of immense significance.
He was the first human Emperor to defeat a god.
Gerard didn't have to do anything; he simply sat on the throne.
When other nations contacted him or offered to exchange goods, he would simply pretend to agree with a swagger, and then refuse three times.
Bercheria's protection was far more profound than he had imagined.
As the history books describe, it was impossible to ignore her protection.
It felt as if an all-embracing, benevolent motherly energy enveloped not only himself but the entire world.
Bercheria was said to be the greatest of the three gods, but he belatedly realized the significance of those words.
"Go get Dylan! Now!"
Gerard shouted to the knights standing outside the door and paced anxiously around the bed.
Now that the goddess's protection had begun, everyone might underestimate him.
What if another nation invaded?
What if everyone favored Bercheria?
These days, the discipline of the Imperial Guard was so weak that he couldn't even be sure if there was anyone who would save him in an instant.
"Groovy. Bring Groovy too!"
***
Since emerging from the sea, Lacrahan had never let go of Bercheria.
He seemed to think she would be in trouble if she walked on her own two feet.
All the while, Bercheria listened to Lacrahan's heartbeat. Just hearing someone's heartbeat was a truly special experience for Bercheria, and the gentle touch was almost disconcerting. With every step, Lacrahan worried about whether she was uncomfortable, if she was cold. He checked the temperature of her toes every time, stopped to examine her face.
Every time she met his eyes, a strange feeling gripped her.
It tickled her, and it made her uncomfortable. Ultimately, it was Bercheria who couldn't endure that brief moment and was the first to avoid eye contact.
It wasn't as easy as she thought for a child who had suffered a lifetime of hatred and abuse from her mother to suddenly accept only love.
“I feel weird when someone treats me well. I feel like something is wrong, and that they must hate me inside.”
It can’t be helped.
"Humans hate you. Everyone hates you. How horrible it must be for people to see you, Bercheria."
Every day, her mother, who brought her dry bread, said the same thing.
The words, heard since a very young age, had seeped deep into Bercheria's being, ingrained in her. If she hadn't possessed the uniquely warm energy and positive instincts of the weather god, she would have jumped from the tower long ago.
"People, you know, everyone has that kind of thought to some degree."
"Really?"
"Of course. There's probably no one born into this world who lives only on love. There's no such thing as someone who's liked by everyone."
"...Is that true for you too?"
"I always apologize to people in my dreams. Those I killed in the war come to me and accuse me. They call me trash, a selfish lunatic."
"But that doesn't make sense. If you hadn't, they would have killed you."
"That doesn't matter. I can only sense how they feel about me."
Those who have been hurt continue to torment themselves, layering wound upon wound, until the wounds heal over time.
Then one day, they discover that the wounds have healed and suddenly look back.
Ah, how difficult it was for me back then.
You've truly endured so much, they console themselves.
"It all takes time. But it won't take long. Everyone must already love you."
"Is that so?"
"Of course."
Until now, Bercheria had been a goddess beloved by all.
Historically, there had never been a case where the people didn't love Bercheria.
This time, too, would surely be the case.
"Trust me. I'm probably the most knowledgeable person in this empire about Bercheria."
His words reassured her.
Lacrahan's voice was unusually low and deep, making her want to believe, even if he were lying.
The ring Lacrahan had placed on Bercheria's finger seemed to be tailored to her.
It matched perfectly, as if even a deliberate attempt at a perfect fit wouldn't have yielded such a perfect fit.
"Yes, it's beautiful."
In Lacrahan's eyes, nothing was more beautiful than Bercheria.
Even looking at flowers, the sky, or anything else admired by others, he didn't find the same joy as he did when he saw Bercheria.
In fact, it was their fate from the beginning.
Lacrahan had suffered more than anyone else, his initial ambivalent feelings for her. He had resented himself for being greedy, even though it wasn't a kiss meant to restore her powers.
But when he came to his senses, it seemed that even that was part of the process of loving Bercheria.
He had resolved not to love, but had done so much for Bercheria.
Lacrahan had also had to convince himself.
He hadn't lightly distanced himself from women after losing his parents.
He was afraid of the hurt he would incur.
But as time passes, when the pain of not loving someone is greater than the pain he would incur, people seem to accept love. Just like himself.
When someone told him the ring was pretty, Lacrahan gave a foolish, uncharacteristic response.
He straightened up, grabbed the armrests of the chairs on either side of Bercheria, and leaned forward.
The heat from the fireplace behind him surged in, flushing his face.
Bercheria stared at him silently for a moment.
The air upstairs was still chilly, unheated, but the gaze they met was so intense that it made her eyes burn.
She mustered up her courage and clutched the piece of clothing around his waist.
Meeting people other than Lacrahan had allowed her to gradually understand her own feelings.
To be honest, she still couldn't quite define what this feeling was. She didn't even know what love was yet.
But she knew she had to be honest about what she was feeling.
Meeting his eyes like this made her want to be closer to him, and the mere act of affection filled her heart, making her feel good.
"Just be honest."
Just as she felt Lacrahan's weight shift, the chair tilted back, bringing their bodies together.
The initial touch of their lips was cold, but the warmth that surged through them was hot. A slight shiver ran through Bercheria's body at the gap.
"Ha."
As the breath she had been holding escaped her, Lacrahan gently cupped her chin.
The lips, shifting at an angle, bit her lower lip slightly, then swallowed it all at once.
The movement, quickening and then slowing, made Bercheria momentarily lose track of where she was. Bercheria remembered the first day she'd kissed him in the tower, vividly.
The shape of the moon behind him, the first time she'd felt a man's lips, the shape of his palm, the expression on his face.
Even though she knew it wasn't love, her heart had raced.
Squeak.
The old rocking chair made an unfamiliar noise with every movement, as if to tell her what they were doing.
The more it went on, the more Lacrahan exhaled and leaned closer to her.
His hand, resting on the chair's handle, slid down to touch Bercheria's slender waist.
That was all.
He didn't move his hand, nor did he apply any more pressure.
He simply placed his hand on her waist, gently pressing down, and yet Bercheria felt something strange.
A tingling sensation swept through her spine, and suddenly, her entire body became hypersensitive.
Something surged here and there in her stomach, making her body flinch.
It did so every time he slightly turned his lips to change direction.
The feeling on her back gradually faded away.
“This is so weird.”
Every time she inhaled and exhaled, the mixed body odors made her feel dizzy.
He had a gut feeling that if these strange sensations continued to overlap, something terrible would happen.
Lacrahan's voice was unusually low and deep, making her want to believe, even if he were lying.
***
The ring Lacrahan had placed on Bercheria's finger seemed to be tailored to her.
It matched perfectly, as if even a deliberate attempt at a perfect fit wouldn't have yielded such a perfect fit.
"Yes, it's beautiful."
In Lacrahan's eyes, nothing was more beautiful than Bercheria.
Even looking at flowers, the sky, or anything else admired by others, he didn't find the same joy as he did when he saw Bercheria.
In fact, it was their fate from the beginning.
Lacrahan had suffered more than anyone else, his initial ambivalent feelings for her. He had resented himself for being greedy, even though it wasn't a kiss meant to restore her powers.
But when he came to his senses, it seemed that even that was part of the process of loving Bercheria.
He had resolved not to love, but had done so much for Bercheria.
Lacrahan had also had to convince himself.
He hadn't lightly distanced himself from women after losing his parents.
He was afraid of the hurt he would incur.
But as time passes, when the pain of not loving someone is greater than the pain he would incur, people seem to accept love. Just like himself.
When someone told him the ring was pretty, Lacrahan gave a foolish, uncharacteristic response.
He straightened up, grabbed the armrests of the chairs on either side of Bercheria, and leaned forward.
The heat from the fireplace behind him surged in, flushing his face.
Bercheria stared at him silently for a moment.
The air upstairs was still chilly, unheated, but the gaze they met was so intense that it made her eyes burn.
She mustered up her courage and clutched the piece of clothing around his waist.
Meeting people other than Lacrahan had allowed her to gradually understand her own feelings.
To be honest, she still couldn't quite define what this feeling was. She didn't even know what love was yet.
But she knew she had to be honest about what she was feeling.
Meeting his eyes like this made her want to be closer to him, and the mere act of affection filled her heart, making her feel good.
"Just be honest."
Just as she felt Lacrahan's weight shift, the chair tilted back, bringing their bodies together.
The initial touch of their lips was cold, but the warmth that surged through them was hot. A slight shiver ran through Bercheria's body at the gap.
"Ha."
As the breath she had been holding escaped her, Lacrahan gently cupped her chin.
The lips, shifting at an angle, bit her lower lip slightly, then swallowed it all at once.
The movement, quickening and then slowing, made Bercheria momentarily lose track of where she was. Bercheria remembered the first day she'd kissed him in the tower, vividly.
The shape of the moon behind him, the first time she'd felt a man's lips, the shape of his palm, the expression on his face.
Even though she knew it wasn't love, her heart had raced.
Squeak.
The old rocking chair made an unfamiliar noise with every movement, as if to tell her what they were doing.
The more it went on, the more Lacrahan exhaled and leaned closer to her.
His hand, resting on the chair's handle, slid down to touch Bercheria's slender waist.
That was all.
He didn't move his hand, nor did he apply any more pressure.
He simply placed his hand on her waist, gently pressing down, and yet Bercheria felt something strange.
A tingling sensation swept through her spine, and suddenly, her entire body became hypersensitive.
Something surged here and there in her stomach, making her body flinch.
It did so every time he slightly turned his lips to change direction.
The feeling on her back gradually faded away.
“This is so weird.”
Every time she inhaled and exhaled, the mixed body odors made her feel dizzy.
He had a gut feeling that if these strange sensations continued to overlap, something terrible would happen.
“This can’t be happening!”
Bercheria shouted, pushing his chest with both hands.
“It’s too dangerous!”
Lacrahan’s eyes widened as he was suddenly struck by lightning in the middle of a sweet kiss.
“...Ah.”
Bercheria finally realized,
“Oh, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, that.”
Suddenly, a strange feeling came over her, a dizzy feeling she couldn’t bear. She couldn’t say such things.
Creak.
So she made a useless excuse.
“It’s so dangerous, like the chair might break.”
“Ah.”
Lacrahan pulled himself away from the rocking chair with an embarrassed face.
Then, brushing his smooth eyebrows back, he muttered,
"A rocking chair won't do. And an old one won't do either."
Bercheria pulled up the blanket that had fallen down and covered herself.
Bercheria shouted, pushing his chest with both hands.
“It’s too dangerous!”
Lacrahan’s eyes widened as he was suddenly struck by lightning in the middle of a sweet kiss.
“...Ah.”
Bercheria finally realized,
“Oh, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, that.”
Suddenly, a strange feeling came over her, a dizzy feeling she couldn’t bear. She couldn’t say such things.
Creak.
So she made a useless excuse.
“It’s so dangerous, like the chair might break.”
“Ah.”
Lacrahan pulled himself away from the rocking chair with an embarrassed face.
Then, brushing his smooth eyebrows back, he muttered,
"A rocking chair won't do. And an old one won't do either."
Bercheria pulled up the blanket that had fallen down and covered herself.
Comments
Post a Comment