The healer stammered, his gaze fixed on it.
He stared at the sight with one hand on his temple, then gave instructions in a dry voice.
"I'll sit down for a moment. There was something I wanted to talk about."
The woman looked at him with startled eyes.
"Are you talking to me?"
"Yes."
He leaned back in his chair and gestured with his chin to the chair across from his desk.
The woman, who had been frozen in an awkward position for a moment, soon carefully sat down on the chair.
"It seems like you've become quite close to the Grand Duchess. Was there a special reason?"
Perhaps because it was an unexpected question, the woman gave a bewildered look.
"There was no particular reason. I just helped a lot with Khan care... It seems like Her Highness is feeling more comfortable now than before."
"I heard she spends a lot of time at your cabin. What does she usually do there?"
"She takes a nap with me in my bedroom or reads a book. Sometimes she watches me make medicine. Sometimes..."
As she was stuttering, the woman suddenly shut her mouth.
He raised one eyebrow.
"What is it sometimes?"
"Sometimes Her Highness helps me with my work."
The woman who had been hesitating spoke as if confessing.
He asked back in disbelief.
"She's doing chores in your cabin?"
"I guess Her Highness is interested in what I do... Sometimes she helps me trim herbs or prepare potions."
He let out a hollow laugh.
Thalia, the mistress of the Grand Duke's family, was treated like a servant. The thought that she, as such, would meddle in the work of a lowly servant filled him with a sense of absurdity.
Although he had been receiving regular reports about her, he had told them to focus solely on her own safety, so as not to give her the feeling that she was being watched.
Since the questions were mainly about whether she had any inconveniences in her life, whether she had encountered any awkward situations, or whether she had experienced any unpleasant things, he knew little about her specific daily routine.
Barcas continued asking questions in a stiff tone, suppressing the strange irritation rising within him.
"What was it like with the dead healer?"
For a moment, a strong tension crossed the woman's face. Only then did she seem to realize that she was being interrogated.
Barcas, leaning back against the backrest and leaning towards the desk, added dryly.
"You don't seem too heartbroken by her death. It seems like you weren't on good terms, did you?"
The healer, who had been wasting time by swallowing dry saliva, carefully opened her mouth.
"Until last year, I got along well with Marisen. However, after Her Highness the Grand Duchess promoted me from an assistant healer to a full-time healer, some friction arose."
"Friction?"
A look of hesitation crossed the woman's face. She seemed concerned that she might testify against the Grand Duchess.
The healer, who had been hesitating for a while, continued speaking in a cautious tone.
"Whenever mine and Marisen's prescriptions diverged, Her Highness often gave advice based on my judgment. This led Marisen to express discontent, and Her Highness to become furious, naturally leading to a rift between the two. Meanwhile, Marisen changed..."
"So that's why the rumor spread that she was killed by the wolf my wife raised."
Barcas concluded his speech coldly.
The woman came to his wife's defense in a hurry.
"Although she didn't show it on the outside, Her Highness the Grand Duchess was also very distressed by Marisen's case. It must have been a great shock just to know that someone close to her had died, but everyone was secretly looking at her with suspicion."
"Are you really sure that wolf is innocent?"
The woman's face hardened slightly at the question that was blurted out as if it were dust.
The woman, who had been looking down at the floor for a moment, soon raised her head and spoke decisively.
"Yes, Khan is innocent."
He gazed intently into the healer's dark brown eyes.
The woman spoke with confidence.
"Khan is a very clever creature. It understands that if it harms anyone, it cannot remain by Her Highness's side. Therefore, it will not attack people recklessly."
Barcas, who had been stroking his chin with a thoughtful expression, nodded slowly.
"I think that's a sufficient answer. You can take your leave now."
The healer stood up with a relieved expression on her face.
As the woman left the room, he returned his gaze to the desk. The potion the healer had left behind was gleaming in the light.
He picked it up and stared at it for a while, then opened the lid and checked the contents. As the bitter herbal scent wafted past his nose, buried memories flooded back.
He closed his eyes tightly as if unfolding it and poured the medicine into his mouth in one gulp.
Soon after, the medicinal energy began to spread through his body.
He leaned back against the armrest of his chair, feeling his body, heavy with toxins, begin to relax. A bluish-glow full moon entered his slowly blurring vision.
This moon was also out there when he first fell asleep in bed with her after spending the night with her.
A sudden thought struck Barcas, and a sensation like being cut by a sword swept across his chest.
He stood up, pulling at the collar of his shirt that was suffocating his neck.
For a moment, a crazy thought crossed his mind to go see her.
He didn't mean to do anything with her. He just wanted to be able to hold her in his arms and fall asleep quietly in the moonlight, like they did before.
Barkas, who had been lost in such thoughts, let out a hollow laugh.
She didn't need him. And he knew he didn't want to bother his wife, who had finally found stability.
He turned and headed towards the bedroom next to the study.
The room was spotless, as if the servants had cleaned it in advance.
Barcas let out a lonely sigh and lay down on the bed without even changing his clothes. He was terribly tired.
***
He realized that he was once again counting pieces of the past.
From some point on, dreaming for him became the same as repeating old memories.
Although his dreams were sometimes mixed with unrealistic fantasies, they were always based on reenactments of the past.
He drew it this time, too.
In the past, he was sitting on a hard chair, looking at the unmanned vehicle.
On a simple, long desk, usually used in the priest's quarters, old documents were neatly spread out.
The priest standing behind him pressed his large, calloused hand hard against the back of his head, forcing him to look at it.
"Look straight ahead. This is the evil deeds of the ancient Khan people."
A gruesome picture was vividly drawn on the old parchment document.
It was a painting of a corpse hanging upside down on an altar made of human heads, with black-haired priests standing below it, collecting the blood dripping from the corpse's neck into a golden basin.
"The ancient Easterners have enslaved other races for ages, offering their lives to the spirits. They would cut off the heads of their victims and hang their bodies upside down to let their blood flow. The spirit of the earth, Tiramer, would take the human spirit, and they believed that drinking it would grant them even greater powers. Before they were incorporated into the nation, they horribly sacrificed thousands of sacrifices. Through these evil rituals, they were granted powers that defied the divine providence."
He twisted his head and glared at the priest with a defiant glare. The priest, facing him with a cold gaze, added in a chillingly dry tone:
"There's such an unclean energy flowing through your blood. That's why you feel no guilt when you hurt people."
"I didn't do anything wrong."
Barcas roared like a beast.
"He dared to touch my body. He deserves to die."
"If that is true, then my brother's soul will also burn in the fires of hell for eternity."
The priest responded calmly.
"But that doesn't erase your sins. You brutally crushed Brother Dreivan's head beyond recognition. No ordinary child could commit such a heinous act. As Your Highness feared, the savagery of the Khan tribe runs in your veins."
He bit his lip. He couldn't remember the exact moment.
The moment the priest's rough hand slid into his clothes, his eyes flushed with rage. The next moment, he was staring down at the fallen priest, clutching a blood-stained candlestick in one hand.
Perhaps, as this man said, something terrible was dwelling within him. His father knew it. But he didn't want to admit it.
He said repeatedly.
"I did nothing wrong. If anyone tries to do that to me in the future, I'll smash their head in."
"...Then I guess we have no choice but to wait until the young master changes his mind."
The man roughly dragged him from the chair. He then grabbed his struggling wrists and dragged him into the punishment room. He fought with all his might, but he was no match for the strength of the man who had once been a paladin of the Temple Guardians.
The man pushed him into the narrow stone chamber.
"If you repent of your crime of murder even now, I will let you out."
He stared intently at the priest's face with his eyes shining brightly, his mouth tightly shut.
As Barcas stared into the man's brown eyes for a long time without moving an inch, a subtle crack appeared on his face, his expressionless face as if he was wearing a mask.
"Is that what you're seeing?"
He chose his words carefully in his mind, and finally came up with the words that this man would most fear.
“Your destiny.”
The man's sunken cheeks twitched faintly.
He smiled as if he were proud.
"I'm watching you hanging upside down with your head cut off, bleeding profusely."
The priest, with an expression on his face as if he were representing some terrible demon, slammed the iron gate hard enough to make a loud noise.
Barcas let out a dry, triumphant laugh in the darkness.
Comments
Post a Comment