In the Frogen capital's mansion, Mastiff stood blankly in the dimly lit study, holding a letter containing an obituary. The colors of the quiet evening settled in, and the cries of geese returning home faded into the distance. The golden sunset sank below the mountain ridge, and the world, welcoming the same night, slowly sank into darkness.
“Do you like animals?”
In the past, her innocent face brought back memories of the question she had asked. It was an innocent question, unbecoming of a man so abnormally twisted.
“I don’t like it.”
Mastiff had replied even more indifferently. Ayla lowered her head and continued speaking in a timid, suppressed voice.
“I’m good at sewing... I’m good at making stuffed animals like dogs and cats.”
“You were going to make me a doll, weren’t you? A grown man.”
"Oh, no. That's not it. I was just trying to make you some animal-shaped cookies. I was just asking you what your favorite animal is..."
“Do whatever you like.”
He vividly remembers her flushed cheeks, her hesitation. He found the small woman's bewilderment amusing and laughed. She had been quite intriguing, her blemished features resembling his own. Long, waist-length dark brown hair. Fragile, sky-blue eyes. A pale face. A small, pitiful woman, her fragile body covered in scratches that wouldn't heal.
She died.
Mastiff didn't pity her. He simply liked the bloody smell from her wounds, the shared history of misfortune. Even when she came to him, claiming she was pregnant, he was unusually generous and lenient. Normally, he would have strangled her on the spot, remembering the woman who had been bothering him about having a child.
She was stupid. She should have used it to make a lot of money. That's what he told her to do. He couldn't understand why she got so angry when he offered her money, ran away, and died.
Perhaps she thought he could be like Noah, who had saved her from abuse and death, and she considered that salvation.
The lacking human being did not know the essential way to save others.
Mastiff's indifferent turquoise eyes gazed up at the sky outside the window. They were the exact opposite color of Ayla's, but he felt as if he were staring into her eyes, as if they had vanished into the distance. He roughly yanked the tight-fitting tie loose.
He doesn't know what this unpleasant feeling, gnawing at him from deep within his chest, is. Standing upright, facing the dust-covered window, Mastiff took a cigar from his pocket and placed it in his mouth. The strong cigar smoke, a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long time, drew deep into his lungs, then dissipated like a sigh, clouding them.
“Ayla Delson.”
Mastiff unconsciously muttered her name. At the same time, the small, smiling face she gave him in response flashed through his mind like a distant memory, causing his stomach to churn and nausea to rise. Feeling nauseated, he flicked out his cigar and frowned. He wanted to spit out accusations and curses at the woman who had so foolishly died, but somehow he didn't want to. It wasn't his displeasure with her.
"I gave you money and let you escape from the Princess. What on earth did you expect from me?"
He simply hurled pointless questions at her, who was already gone. He'd killed countless people, too many to remember, and witnessed the deaths of others as easily as breathing, yet this strange sensation, so unfamiliar, he dismissed it as unpleasant and repulsive. He tried to forget it, but the eyes that had stared at him, twinkling with longing, only grew more vividly etched into his mind.
“I like Thursday the best.”
“What is the reason?”
"Because it's the day I come here. I love the beautiful forest path; it feels like a journey, and I also love the fragrant tea you serve me every time I come. And, that..."
Mastiff's eyes narrowed even further as he pondered deeply what the last words were that had just melted away.
Mastiff's gaze, slowly falling while thinking to himself, was fixed on the eyeless cat doll that Ayla had dropped on the last day they met.
“Diana, were you in a lot of pain?”
As a gentle voice rang out, the teapot tilted, and a simple, plain white cup filled with black tea. I had received a call from Countess Reuben and was now at her mansion.
"It's okay."
"I understand how disappointing the outcome is. This incident must have made you realize the cruelty of humanity, but on the other hand, there are good people out there."
I picked up my teacup and took a sip. It was Dazzling Tea, with a hint of bitter wine. I prefer strong-flavored breakfast teas.
“Don’t be so disappointed in the world, Diana.”
"All right."
This plain white teacup looks nice, too. I'll have to ask where you bought it later. It's a matter, so I wonder if it'll discolor. I gave the teacup a little shake.
“I don’t think Ayla committed suicide.”
“Yes, I think so.”
"I plan to investigate this case separately. I want to clear her name. She's been tormented by cruel words to the point where even after death, she can't rest in peace."
Compared to her, who was clenching her teeth and expressing her indignation, I looked aloof.
“Do you intend to go against the royal family?”
“They say that royalty is neither omnipotent nor an indulgence.”
“Justice is the same.”
Adding a little sugar to the tea made it taste like a flower soaked in honey. My head was spinning from wasting my thoughts on meaningless, unchanging things. I just wanted to savor the tea without thinking about anything. The Countess, who had been quietly looking in my direction, spoke.
"Oh, Diana. You've changed since that incident. I'm not saying you should forgive the sinner. But you should realize the magnitude of your sin and sincerely ask for forgiveness from those you've offended."
It hasn't changed, it's just gone back to how it was.
Once, I felt like a golden-shine saint, but now I was as predictable and boring as the illusory paradise of an idealist. Even if I went to Erita herself and preached to her for hours, it would be like reading sutras to a deaf ear. It was a nuisance, a sense of absurdity and futility, as if I were mired in nihilism. I spoke to her as she refilled my empty teacup.
“I’m afraid that this will be detrimental to Madam.”
“I’m willing to take that risk.”
As the wife of a Supreme Court Justice and a former lawyer from the Harrison family, I'm sure she'll only suffer the disadvantages she can afford. But not me. I offered a bitter smile.
“I don’t think I can handle it, ma’am.”
She wore a sorrowful expression. I could see her hurt, but I didn't care. I was weak-willed by such things, and I committed the foolish mistake of rushing in with my bare body to rescue a rabbit thrown into a cage as food for the wild beasts.
"Of course, your opinion is important, so I won't force you. But I intend to do it. Even though she's no longer in this world, I've accepted her as my daughter."
“Even so, they might try to slander you by saying that you're trying to get bigger compensation and consolation money.”
“I have already received the second consolation money offered.”
When I frowned without answering, she added.
"I donated everything to the welfare fund for palace workers. This isn't my first time in this situation. I've seen many ugly things while helping people, and I've suffered so many injustices that I've been cut off from my family for years. That's why I'm so thorough in this matter."
She must be no ordinary person, as she is from a human rights group that filed a lawsuit against Frogen on behalf of the Esatians.
"Yeah, I thought about giving up at one point. I even swore I'd never help anyone again."
I had no idea. The absurdity was so obvious that I wasn't even angry. No, I was actually furious at the justice and goodness being restrained. If that's the case, why teach people to be good? Isn't this just textbook brainwashing, designed to dominate people in a world where power and force prevail?
"The world itself is already a war. The more you kill and take, the more praise you receive."
“Diana.”
Countess Reuben called me in a quiet voice.
"You haven't told me the details of what happened to Ayla. You just want to forget it quickly, ignore it, and avoid it. It's someone else's business."
"Even if you know, it's just painful and nothing changes. That's the reality."
"Thoughts change when people discover the cruel truth behind the scenes. If enough people knew, the world would change. That's why they try to hide it, to cover it up, to blind people. It's a battle between those who want to change it and those who want to stop it. Your husband, Count Rotsilt, is different from ordinary people, but he's one of those who wants to change it."
She handed me the documents containing the testimony, investigation log, and verdict related to Ayla. I accepted them with a trembling expression.
"When you've calmed down, read it. It contains realities that could happen to anyone. Next up is Count Rotsilt, a Frogen, and you, a half-blood."
“What are you trying to say...?”
The Countess's brow furrowed slightly as she gazed at me. Her gaze resembled that of the lieutenant colonel who had constantly worried about me during my stay at the admiral's mansion. I assumed those bright blue eyes were the color of compassion and guilt.
"If you ignore the injustice of reality, it will only come back to haunt you. Diana, I will act for your sake. You are like my own child. You are the daughter of Agnes, a woman of righteous character."
I was also one of the reasons why she adopted Ayla.
I felt suffocated by Countess Reuben's kindness and generosity. I wasn't her niece. Nor could I be her child. The Countess was once again being deceived by such a woman, trying to do her a useless favor.
"I am..."
A feeling of guilt seeped into my lungs and rose to the tip of my throat. Come to think of it, this suffocating feeling felt more like drowning. I stood up and bowed to her.
"I'm not as righteous or courageous as Agnes Harrison. So don't expect that from me. I'm one of those mean-spirited people who exploit reality, and I'm a staunch individualist."
Her beloved and longed-for younger sister was also a sinner who committed evil deeds. Had he been a villainess, she might have enjoyed the luxury of being the Prime Minister's wife and the mistress of a Duke's household. Instead, she died, tormented by guilt stemming from both justice and conscience. I never told her the truth.
“Do you like animals?”
In the past, her innocent face brought back memories of the question she had asked. It was an innocent question, unbecoming of a man so abnormally twisted.
“I don’t like it.”
Mastiff had replied even more indifferently. Ayla lowered her head and continued speaking in a timid, suppressed voice.
“I’m good at sewing... I’m good at making stuffed animals like dogs and cats.”
“You were going to make me a doll, weren’t you? A grown man.”
"Oh, no. That's not it. I was just trying to make you some animal-shaped cookies. I was just asking you what your favorite animal is..."
“Do whatever you like.”
He vividly remembers her flushed cheeks, her hesitation. He found the small woman's bewilderment amusing and laughed. She had been quite intriguing, her blemished features resembling his own. Long, waist-length dark brown hair. Fragile, sky-blue eyes. A pale face. A small, pitiful woman, her fragile body covered in scratches that wouldn't heal.
She died.
Mastiff didn't pity her. He simply liked the bloody smell from her wounds, the shared history of misfortune. Even when she came to him, claiming she was pregnant, he was unusually generous and lenient. Normally, he would have strangled her on the spot, remembering the woman who had been bothering him about having a child.
She was stupid. She should have used it to make a lot of money. That's what he told her to do. He couldn't understand why she got so angry when he offered her money, ran away, and died.
Perhaps she thought he could be like Noah, who had saved her from abuse and death, and she considered that salvation.
The lacking human being did not know the essential way to save others.
Mastiff's indifferent turquoise eyes gazed up at the sky outside the window. They were the exact opposite color of Ayla's, but he felt as if he were staring into her eyes, as if they had vanished into the distance. He roughly yanked the tight-fitting tie loose.
He doesn't know what this unpleasant feeling, gnawing at him from deep within his chest, is. Standing upright, facing the dust-covered window, Mastiff took a cigar from his pocket and placed it in his mouth. The strong cigar smoke, a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long time, drew deep into his lungs, then dissipated like a sigh, clouding them.
“Ayla Delson.”
Mastiff unconsciously muttered her name. At the same time, the small, smiling face she gave him in response flashed through his mind like a distant memory, causing his stomach to churn and nausea to rise. Feeling nauseated, he flicked out his cigar and frowned. He wanted to spit out accusations and curses at the woman who had so foolishly died, but somehow he didn't want to. It wasn't his displeasure with her.
"I gave you money and let you escape from the Princess. What on earth did you expect from me?"
He simply hurled pointless questions at her, who was already gone. He'd killed countless people, too many to remember, and witnessed the deaths of others as easily as breathing, yet this strange sensation, so unfamiliar, he dismissed it as unpleasant and repulsive. He tried to forget it, but the eyes that had stared at him, twinkling with longing, only grew more vividly etched into his mind.
“I like Thursday the best.”
“What is the reason?”
"Because it's the day I come here. I love the beautiful forest path; it feels like a journey, and I also love the fragrant tea you serve me every time I come. And, that..."
Mastiff's eyes narrowed even further as he pondered deeply what the last words were that had just melted away.
Oh, so that's what was missing. He never imagined he longed for salvation as something he didn't possess.
***
“Diana, were you in a lot of pain?”
As a gentle voice rang out, the teapot tilted, and a simple, plain white cup filled with black tea. I had received a call from Countess Reuben and was now at her mansion.
"It's okay."
"I understand how disappointing the outcome is. This incident must have made you realize the cruelty of humanity, but on the other hand, there are good people out there."
I picked up my teacup and took a sip. It was Dazzling Tea, with a hint of bitter wine. I prefer strong-flavored breakfast teas.
“Don’t be so disappointed in the world, Diana.”
"All right."
This plain white teacup looks nice, too. I'll have to ask where you bought it later. It's a matter, so I wonder if it'll discolor. I gave the teacup a little shake.
“I don’t think Ayla committed suicide.”
“Yes, I think so.”
"I plan to investigate this case separately. I want to clear her name. She's been tormented by cruel words to the point where even after death, she can't rest in peace."
Compared to her, who was clenching her teeth and expressing her indignation, I looked aloof.
“Do you intend to go against the royal family?”
“They say that royalty is neither omnipotent nor an indulgence.”
“Justice is the same.”
Adding a little sugar to the tea made it taste like a flower soaked in honey. My head was spinning from wasting my thoughts on meaningless, unchanging things. I just wanted to savor the tea without thinking about anything. The Countess, who had been quietly looking in my direction, spoke.
"Oh, Diana. You've changed since that incident. I'm not saying you should forgive the sinner. But you should realize the magnitude of your sin and sincerely ask for forgiveness from those you've offended."
It hasn't changed, it's just gone back to how it was.
Once, I felt like a golden-shine saint, but now I was as predictable and boring as the illusory paradise of an idealist. Even if I went to Erita herself and preached to her for hours, it would be like reading sutras to a deaf ear. It was a nuisance, a sense of absurdity and futility, as if I were mired in nihilism. I spoke to her as she refilled my empty teacup.
“I’m afraid that this will be detrimental to Madam.”
“I’m willing to take that risk.”
As the wife of a Supreme Court Justice and a former lawyer from the Harrison family, I'm sure she'll only suffer the disadvantages she can afford. But not me. I offered a bitter smile.
“I don’t think I can handle it, ma’am.”
She wore a sorrowful expression. I could see her hurt, but I didn't care. I was weak-willed by such things, and I committed the foolish mistake of rushing in with my bare body to rescue a rabbit thrown into a cage as food for the wild beasts.
"Of course, your opinion is important, so I won't force you. But I intend to do it. Even though she's no longer in this world, I've accepted her as my daughter."
“Even so, they might try to slander you by saying that you're trying to get bigger compensation and consolation money.”
“I have already received the second consolation money offered.”
When I frowned without answering, she added.
"I donated everything to the welfare fund for palace workers. This isn't my first time in this situation. I've seen many ugly things while helping people, and I've suffered so many injustices that I've been cut off from my family for years. That's why I'm so thorough in this matter."
She must be no ordinary person, as she is from a human rights group that filed a lawsuit against Frogen on behalf of the Esatians.
“It's not me. You'll overlook things and make mistakes, only making it more painful.”
I had no idea. The absurdity was so obvious that I wasn't even angry. No, I was actually furious at the justice and goodness being restrained. If that's the case, why teach people to be good? Isn't this just textbook brainwashing, designed to dominate people in a world where power and force prevail?
"The world itself is already a war. The more you kill and take, the more praise you receive."
“Diana.”
Countess Reuben called me in a quiet voice.
"You haven't told me the details of what happened to Ayla. You just want to forget it quickly, ignore it, and avoid it. It's someone else's business."
"Even if you know, it's just painful and nothing changes. That's the reality."
"Thoughts change when people discover the cruel truth behind the scenes. If enough people knew, the world would change. That's why they try to hide it, to cover it up, to blind people. It's a battle between those who want to change it and those who want to stop it. Your husband, Count Rotsilt, is different from ordinary people, but he's one of those who wants to change it."
She handed me the documents containing the testimony, investigation log, and verdict related to Ayla. I accepted them with a trembling expression.
"When you've calmed down, read it. It contains realities that could happen to anyone. Next up is Count Rotsilt, a Frogen, and you, a half-blood."
“What are you trying to say...?”
The Countess's brow furrowed slightly as she gazed at me. Her gaze resembled that of the lieutenant colonel who had constantly worried about me during my stay at the admiral's mansion. I assumed those bright blue eyes were the color of compassion and guilt.
"If you ignore the injustice of reality, it will only come back to haunt you. Diana, I will act for your sake. You are like my own child. You are the daughter of Agnes, a woman of righteous character."
I was also one of the reasons why she adopted Ayla.
I felt suffocated by Countess Reuben's kindness and generosity. I wasn't her niece. Nor could I be her child. The Countess was once again being deceived by such a woman, trying to do her a useless favor.
"I am..."
A feeling of guilt seeped into my lungs and rose to the tip of my throat. Come to think of it, this suffocating feeling felt more like drowning. I stood up and bowed to her.
"I'm not as righteous or courageous as Agnes Harrison. So don't expect that from me. I'm one of those mean-spirited people who exploit reality, and I'm a staunch individualist."
Her beloved and longed-for younger sister was also a sinner who committed evil deeds. Had he been a villainess, she might have enjoyed the luxury of being the Prime Minister's wife and the mistress of a Duke's household. Instead, she died, tormented by guilt stemming from both justice and conscience. I never told her the truth.
Comments
Post a Comment