Ayla ultimately failed to escape. She had been accustomed to fear, subjected to submission and obedience, and had learned a sense of helplessness and resignation.
“My name is Mastiff Argentino.”
He bowed and extended his hand as if offering a handshake. His manner was gentlemanly and friendly, but Ayla, trembling with fear, took his hand.
The man's large hands were surprisingly warm, transmitting warmth to her cold hands.
“Here, the letter...”
Ayla handed him the Princess's letter. He stood there, ripping open the envelope, and briefly examined it before placing it on the mantelpiece. He smiled kindly at Ayla.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Oh, it’s okay.”
Ayla's eyes darted toward the stuffed reindeer trophy hanging above the fireplace, below its neck. Then, realizing the fluffy carpet beneath her feet was made of bear skin, she flinched back.
The scent of blood that permeated every inch of the mansion was beastly. The bear's black, gaping eyes were chilling.
“We have some good tea leaves. They’re imported. Do you not like them?”
Ayla reluctantly nodded at Mastiff's kind and gentle insistence. He poured the tea himself into her cup, sitting across from her.
Ayla stared blankly at the man drinking tea with a refined expression, holding the teacup in one hand, then picked up her teacup.
Judging from what she drank first, it didn't seem like it was drugged.
“My hobby is hunting. This forest is great for hunting.”
“I don’t know much about hunting... because I’ve never tried it before.”
“I guess you’d rather take care of people than kill them.”
“Yes. I take care of the cats that come into the palace garden.”
"Cat."
Mastiff took the teacup from his mouth and smiled faintly.
"You want to raise cute things. Rats would be terrifying, though."
“Yes... It’s cute.”
“You are cute too.”
Ayla's shoulders hunched. She lowered her head, wondering if the man was also flirting with a subtle hint of desire.
“Don’t worry, I won’t raise you just because you’re cute.”
“Yes, I won’t worry.”
She couldn't tell if the man was joking or serious. The warm tea and the friendly demeanor made her relax a little. Just as she was relaxing her stiff, sweat-soaked back, Mastiff grabbed her wrist with a firm tug.
"Oh!"
Dragged to the table, Ayla let out a short scream. She gritted her teeth as hands, without hesitation, ripped off the cape she'd been wrapped around and unbuttoned the buttons on her back.
She didn't struggle or resist, thinking that she had to endure this humiliation if she didn't want to die.
Mastiff, who had unbuttoned her underwear and gazed at her bare back, covered in unhealed wounds, exhaled appreciatively. His breath slowed, as if cooling the sweat-soaked, stinging wounds.
“I smelled blood here.”
Ayla, who had turned her back helplessly and collapsed on the table, shut her mouth and shed tears of fear.
Contrary to what she expected, he asked in a calm, unwavering voice.
“Aren’t you going to apply medicine?”
“There is no one to apply it to...”
The man asked with a sneer.
"Would you do anything if I paid you? No, you're a worthless woman who would obey even if someone just pressured you with his status."
“No, I am!”
"So you just walked into the place you were sent to die. I'm not criticizing you, I'm just saying you're stupid."
At the sound of Mastiff flopping down, Aila also hesitantly sat up.
"You can choose whether to die here or return and be killed by the Princess. I think the ordeals leading up to death will be similar, but mine will be a little different. I'll apply some medicine."
Mastiff added, grinning creepily.
“It would be a problem if you died quickly.”
Ayla pleaded desperately in a thin, trembling voice.
"...I don’t want to die.”
“Then what are you going to do to survive?”
If it were the usual Ayla, she would have offered to give her body. She had always believed that her use and value were beyond that.
But after meeting Noah, her thoughts changed. Even that cynical, icy man had a face filled with boundless affection for his woman.
Only then did she realize that winning people's hearts was more important. Make your own choices and resolve them.
She recalled the cold, emotionless advice. Perhaps this was how the man named Noah helped her.
“I will help you in some way.”
“It’s helpful.”
Mastiff stroked his chin, lost in thought.
“It’s useless. Except for the normal face.”
“I’ll prove it to you, whatever it may be. You could be my savior.”
The woman's appearance resembled a small, gasping bird, its wings fluttering and flapping. Mastiff was like a boy holding the bird in his hands, struggling to decide whether to heal it and send it away, or to hold it in captivity and kill it. The bird's life depended on the boy's thoughts.
“Do you seek salvation from someone like me?”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter who you are.”
At this point, who could possibly be anything but a demon? Her situation worsened by the day, and the dark misfortune always lurking behind her dictated her life.
“Then, try to be a useful person.”
Ayla's dead eyes came to life as she heard Mastiff's soft voice.
“Yes, I will do that.”
"I'm planning to install a safety device so that I don't die on my own. What do you think, Miss Ayla?"
Mastiff's hand gently wrapped around Ayla's waist and asked for her opinion.
“How do you say my name...?”
"It was written in the letter. I can do whatever I want with you. However, I'm also exercising my gentlemanly nature and asking for your opinion."
The ending sounded hazy and distant. His turquoise eyes narrowed and curved. Reflected in Ayla's azure eyes, driven to the edge of a cliff, he was her savior.
This time, it was her choice. She chose him. She lowered her eyes and nodded.
Ayla returned to Loganfield. Mastiff finished reading Princess Elita's letter, which questioned whether he had kept his promise, and then threw it into the fireplace, burning it.
"I wish you were more useful to me. They've even set a wedding date. It's May 1st."
It was part of the letter she sent. He leaned back in his armchair, muttering to himself.
“A useful person.”
“Mastiff, you must first become a useful human being and be recognized.”
It was advice from the boy Noah. No, it was an order. He had become a useful human being recognized by the empire, but Noah left without telling him what to do next.
So he had to do it himself.
Besides, when he met him again a while ago, didn't he say, 'You figure it out.'
He killed countless people to find out what death he meant, but he can't figure it out, and he can't quench this unquenchable thirst.
Noah killed people without hesitation, but he was not a ruthless murderer who felt pleasure in killing people indiscriminately without any standards.
He seemed like he was the same kind as him, yet different. He wanted to know what that difference was. Perhaps it was understanding the weight and meaning of life. So he hoped his death would have meaning for him.
One day, when the red sunset was setting, the boy's silver hair was dyed red. Mastiff recalled the words of sixteen-year-old Noah, who had grown so much in just a year.
"I have a job to do. Putting everything back where it belongs. It's a long-standing promise."
Mastiff assumed that the one who had been placed there must have been Diana. Judging by her demeanor and appearance, she seemed to belong to royalty or a noble family.
Contrary to what he had seriously said at the time, he didn't take any action related to "putting her back in her place." Diana had become his unique and special life. So he didn't want to put her back in her place.
“What will his expression be like after that woman dies?”
He was like a savior, extending a helping hand to the miserable life of an abused, broken bastard whom everyone deemed useless. So, he had the unusual thought of wanting to become someone's savior himself.
Mastiff pictured Ayla's small back, covered in torn, bursting, unhealed wounds. It was a recursive image, like a mirror facing each other.
Dr. Rugen's violent and loud voices diminished somewhat after we began living together, perhaps due to the therapeutic effects. He often stared out the window in silence or blankly stared off into space.
It was a headache because he would often go into random rooms or leave the house, but he would just hover around, so I could find him quickly.
Noah would occasionally have private conversations with Dr. Rugen, but he would not tell me what they were talking about.
Every time he came to, the doctor would tell me he was a useless old man and that he should be sent to a nursing home. I already knew that Noah had another purpose in treating him.
Perhaps he was trying to find something in his memory. I played backgammon (an old Western game where you roll dice to move pieces) and chess with him.
I even had them draw pictures to help them recognize colors and shapes, using the art therapy knowledge I had briefly learned. The doctor occasionally shared stories from the past.
It was a story about his wife, son, and grandchildren. He also expressed regret, saying he had been a very poor father and grandfather.
On Friday afternoon, after going out into the city and meeting Baroness Mason after filing for a patent, I was startled to find the wedding ring box in my dresser drawer open.
The ring box was empty. With a pale face, I called the maids and asked where the ring was.
A maid named Kate, who had been hesitating, spoke cautiously.
“That’s right, I saw the doctor go in and out of the young lady’s room earlier.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I saw it clearly because I was cleaning the stair treads at the time.”
As soon as the maid finished speaking, I went to Dr. Rugen's room with Molly and asked the doctor who was sitting in the armchair.
“Doctor, did you happen to take my ring?”
"No."
“The maid said she saw you enter my room. Please tell me, it’s okay.”
“I didn’t take it.”
I was getting frustrated with the doctor's stubborn ignorance, but I continued to comfort and soothe him with Molly.
“It’s precious. Do you really not remember?”
“Doctor. It's the young lady's wedding ring. How heartbroken she must be.”
After continued persuasion, the doctor threw the oil lamp on the table and shouted.
"Now you're calling this old man a thief! You rude bastard! So, kick me out! I'm a sick, useless old man. Send me to a nursing home!"
Clang-.
The oil lamp hit the floor and shattered, sending shards of glass flying. A sharp shard grazed my cheek.
"Ah."
Molly screamed in surprise as I lowered my head, clutching my face in sharp pain.
"Miss!!"
Blood flowed down from under my hand.
The doctor, who seemed to have suddenly come to his senses at the sight of Molly, who was always calm, fidgeting, suddenly got up, came over to me, and started stroking my cheek.
“Honey, it hurts. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Get your hands off me, you crazy old man!”
“Stop it, Molly. It's okay. At least I didn't go blind.”
While I was calming Molly, who was very upset, Noah, who seemed to have just returned from an outing, opened the door and came right back in, probably hearing the commotion. His eyes clouded over for a moment as he saw the red mark on my cheek.
“My name is Mastiff Argentino.”
He bowed and extended his hand as if offering a handshake. His manner was gentlemanly and friendly, but Ayla, trembling with fear, took his hand.
The man's large hands were surprisingly warm, transmitting warmth to her cold hands.
“Here, the letter...”
Ayla handed him the Princess's letter. He stood there, ripping open the envelope, and briefly examined it before placing it on the mantelpiece. He smiled kindly at Ayla.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Oh, it’s okay.”
Ayla's eyes darted toward the stuffed reindeer trophy hanging above the fireplace, below its neck. Then, realizing the fluffy carpet beneath her feet was made of bear skin, she flinched back.
The scent of blood that permeated every inch of the mansion was beastly. The bear's black, gaping eyes were chilling.
“We have some good tea leaves. They’re imported. Do you not like them?”
Ayla reluctantly nodded at Mastiff's kind and gentle insistence. He poured the tea himself into her cup, sitting across from her.
Ayla stared blankly at the man drinking tea with a refined expression, holding the teacup in one hand, then picked up her teacup.
Judging from what she drank first, it didn't seem like it was drugged.
“My hobby is hunting. This forest is great for hunting.”
“I don’t know much about hunting... because I’ve never tried it before.”
“I guess you’d rather take care of people than kill them.”
“Yes. I take care of the cats that come into the palace garden.”
"Cat."
Mastiff took the teacup from his mouth and smiled faintly.
"You want to raise cute things. Rats would be terrifying, though."
“Yes... It’s cute.”
“You are cute too.”
Ayla's shoulders hunched. She lowered her head, wondering if the man was also flirting with a subtle hint of desire.
“Don’t worry, I won’t raise you just because you’re cute.”
“Yes, I won’t worry.”
She couldn't tell if the man was joking or serious. The warm tea and the friendly demeanor made her relax a little. Just as she was relaxing her stiff, sweat-soaked back, Mastiff grabbed her wrist with a firm tug.
"Oh!"
Dragged to the table, Ayla let out a short scream. She gritted her teeth as hands, without hesitation, ripped off the cape she'd been wrapped around and unbuttoned the buttons on her back.
She didn't struggle or resist, thinking that she had to endure this humiliation if she didn't want to die.
Mastiff, who had unbuttoned her underwear and gazed at her bare back, covered in unhealed wounds, exhaled appreciatively. His breath slowed, as if cooling the sweat-soaked, stinging wounds.
“I smelled blood here.”
Ayla, who had turned her back helplessly and collapsed on the table, shut her mouth and shed tears of fear.
Contrary to what she expected, he asked in a calm, unwavering voice.
“Aren’t you going to apply medicine?”
“There is no one to apply it to...”
The man asked with a sneer.
"Would you do anything if I paid you? No, you're a worthless woman who would obey even if someone just pressured you with his status."
“No, I am!”
"So you just walked into the place you were sent to die. I'm not criticizing you, I'm just saying you're stupid."
At the sound of Mastiff flopping down, Aila also hesitantly sat up.
"You can choose whether to die here or return and be killed by the Princess. I think the ordeals leading up to death will be similar, but mine will be a little different. I'll apply some medicine."
Mastiff added, grinning creepily.
“It would be a problem if you died quickly.”
Ayla pleaded desperately in a thin, trembling voice.
"...I don’t want to die.”
“Then what are you going to do to survive?”
If it were the usual Ayla, she would have offered to give her body. She had always believed that her use and value were beyond that.
But after meeting Noah, her thoughts changed. Even that cynical, icy man had a face filled with boundless affection for his woman.
Only then did she realize that winning people's hearts was more important. Make your own choices and resolve them.
She recalled the cold, emotionless advice. Perhaps this was how the man named Noah helped her.
“I will help you in some way.”
“It’s helpful.”
Mastiff stroked his chin, lost in thought.
“It’s useless. Except for the normal face.”
“I’ll prove it to you, whatever it may be. You could be my savior.”
The woman's appearance resembled a small, gasping bird, its wings fluttering and flapping. Mastiff was like a boy holding the bird in his hands, struggling to decide whether to heal it and send it away, or to hold it in captivity and kill it. The bird's life depended on the boy's thoughts.
“Do you seek salvation from someone like me?”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter who you are.”
At this point, who could possibly be anything but a demon? Her situation worsened by the day, and the dark misfortune always lurking behind her dictated her life.
“Then, try to be a useful person.”
Ayla's dead eyes came to life as she heard Mastiff's soft voice.
“Yes, I will do that.”
"I'm planning to install a safety device so that I don't die on my own. What do you think, Miss Ayla?"
Mastiff's hand gently wrapped around Ayla's waist and asked for her opinion.
“How do you say my name...?”
"It was written in the letter. I can do whatever I want with you. However, I'm also exercising my gentlemanly nature and asking for your opinion."
The ending sounded hazy and distant. His turquoise eyes narrowed and curved. Reflected in Ayla's azure eyes, driven to the edge of a cliff, he was her savior.
This time, it was her choice. She chose him. She lowered her eyes and nodded.
***
Ayla returned to Loganfield. Mastiff finished reading Princess Elita's letter, which questioned whether he had kept his promise, and then threw it into the fireplace, burning it.
"I wish you were more useful to me. They've even set a wedding date. It's May 1st."
It was part of the letter she sent. He leaned back in his armchair, muttering to himself.
“A useful person.”
“Mastiff, you must first become a useful human being and be recognized.”
It was advice from the boy Noah. No, it was an order. He had become a useful human being recognized by the empire, but Noah left without telling him what to do next.
So he had to do it himself.
Besides, when he met him again a while ago, didn't he say, 'You figure it out.'
He killed countless people to find out what death he meant, but he can't figure it out, and he can't quench this unquenchable thirst.
Noah killed people without hesitation, but he was not a ruthless murderer who felt pleasure in killing people indiscriminately without any standards.
He seemed like he was the same kind as him, yet different. He wanted to know what that difference was. Perhaps it was understanding the weight and meaning of life. So he hoped his death would have meaning for him.
One day, when the red sunset was setting, the boy's silver hair was dyed red. Mastiff recalled the words of sixteen-year-old Noah, who had grown so much in just a year.
"I have a job to do. Putting everything back where it belongs. It's a long-standing promise."
Mastiff assumed that the one who had been placed there must have been Diana. Judging by her demeanor and appearance, she seemed to belong to royalty or a noble family.
Contrary to what he had seriously said at the time, he didn't take any action related to "putting her back in her place." Diana had become his unique and special life. So he didn't want to put her back in her place.
“What will his expression be like after that woman dies?”
Will that face be the same as the one that witnessed his death? His friend, whom he always admired and respected.
Mastiff pictured Ayla's small back, covered in torn, bursting, unhealed wounds. It was a recursive image, like a mirror facing each other.
***
Dr. Rugen's violent and loud voices diminished somewhat after we began living together, perhaps due to the therapeutic effects. He often stared out the window in silence or blankly stared off into space.
It was a headache because he would often go into random rooms or leave the house, but he would just hover around, so I could find him quickly.
Noah would occasionally have private conversations with Dr. Rugen, but he would not tell me what they were talking about.
Every time he came to, the doctor would tell me he was a useless old man and that he should be sent to a nursing home. I already knew that Noah had another purpose in treating him.
Perhaps he was trying to find something in his memory. I played backgammon (an old Western game where you roll dice to move pieces) and chess with him.
I even had them draw pictures to help them recognize colors and shapes, using the art therapy knowledge I had briefly learned. The doctor occasionally shared stories from the past.
It was a story about his wife, son, and grandchildren. He also expressed regret, saying he had been a very poor father and grandfather.
On Friday afternoon, after going out into the city and meeting Baroness Mason after filing for a patent, I was startled to find the wedding ring box in my dresser drawer open.
The ring box was empty. With a pale face, I called the maids and asked where the ring was.
A maid named Kate, who had been hesitating, spoke cautiously.
“That’s right, I saw the doctor go in and out of the young lady’s room earlier.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I saw it clearly because I was cleaning the stair treads at the time.”
As soon as the maid finished speaking, I went to Dr. Rugen's room with Molly and asked the doctor who was sitting in the armchair.
“Doctor, did you happen to take my ring?”
"No."
“The maid said she saw you enter my room. Please tell me, it’s okay.”
“I didn’t take it.”
I was getting frustrated with the doctor's stubborn ignorance, but I continued to comfort and soothe him with Molly.
“It’s precious. Do you really not remember?”
“Doctor. It's the young lady's wedding ring. How heartbroken she must be.”
After continued persuasion, the doctor threw the oil lamp on the table and shouted.
"Now you're calling this old man a thief! You rude bastard! So, kick me out! I'm a sick, useless old man. Send me to a nursing home!"
Clang-.
The oil lamp hit the floor and shattered, sending shards of glass flying. A sharp shard grazed my cheek.
"Ah."
Molly screamed in surprise as I lowered my head, clutching my face in sharp pain.
"Miss!!"
Blood flowed down from under my hand.
“Oh my, this old man! What am I to do? She's about to be a bride!”
“Honey, it hurts. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Get your hands off me, you crazy old man!”
“Stop it, Molly. It's okay. At least I didn't go blind.”
While I was calming Molly, who was very upset, Noah, who seemed to have just returned from an outing, opened the door and came right back in, probably hearing the commotion. His eyes clouded over for a moment as he saw the red mark on my cheek.
Previous Next
Comments
Post a Comment