(67) I wanted to live. (3)
'If I want the Northern Lord to act willingly for me, I have to become a better person than I am now.'
The Princess of the East, beloved by her family, had to abandon her previous attitude. If she continued to show her distance, even the kind White family would surely turn their backs.
'But...'
She hadn't expected Carradine to be this happy.
All she had done was call her grandmother. Just as she'd said, she'd called her grandmother grandmother, but seeing Carradine's tears well up in her eyes, she felt guilty.
The old woman's hand, gripping Ariana's tightly, was painfully hot. It shouldn't have burned with human body heat, but it was so warm.
Ariana, too, felt tears welling up in her eyes.
"Darling, you said you never had a tutor when you were in the West, right? Do you want to study?"
"Yes, Grandma. I want to."
While she learned a lot through the physical struggles of handling the Third Prince's affairs, she never learned anything systematically.
She remembered the days when she envied Helena and Victoria, learning from their tutors. She even stood outside their room, secretly eavesdropping, only to have the maid tell on her, earning her a severe rebuke from Rachel.
"Then, I'll find a good tutor. Is there anything you'd particularly like to learn?"
"Would I be able to learn horseback riding, swordsmanship, martial arts, spearmanship, or archery?"
"Of course. I'd suggest starting with a solid foundation in physical training and the basics, then delving deeper into the subject you're most interested in."
"You said you had to distinguish between hatred and wariness."
As Cyrus had said, being wary of everyone only made Ariana weary. Being wary of those she could trust made her unable to distinguish those she could.
Ariana had been resentful of the peerage for abandoning her, but that resentment didn't accomplish anything.
So Ariana changed her question.
"Father, by any chance... Have you ever written to the Duchess Rachelof Bronte asking to see me?"
Russell seemed taken aback by the sudden change in question, but answered.
"Yes."
A muffled voice leaked out from between his fingers covering his mouth.
"I have written several times."
"Did the Duchess of Bronte say I was afraid of you?"
“...Yes. She said you didn’t want to see me because you considered the Duke of Bronte your father and feared he would hate you.”
“Is that why you didn’t come to see me?”
Russell squeezed his eyes shut.
“Yes.”
Ariana simply wanted to know the truth of that dream, whether it was a nightmare or reality. There was absolutely no reason for her emotions to run wild. She had to be a calm, mature, good child who didn’t need much attention. She had to become a noble Princess of the same age, one who didn’t hold grudges and let go of pent-up emotions.
“Why... did you do that?”
But she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.
“Why did you abandon me like that?”
“...”
“Still, please come just once, just once. Come and see what kind of life I’ve been living. If you had, I...”
Wouldn’t have died like that.
“I... like this...”
Wouldn’t have lived only thinking about using and being used.
Hot tears streamed down Ariana’s cheeks. Ariana spoke without even realizing it.
“I hate my father.”
“I know.”
“I know it’s not my father’s fault. I know it... I know it very well...”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t Russell’s fault.
It was her own. Giving in to the Brontes, not running away from the Alfreich, being used by the Third Prince Harold—it was all her own choice.
And yet, she sought someone to blame because she felt like she would suffocate if she didn’t. Because she felt like she would suffocate from the fear of death that rose up every moment.
The truth was, she didn’t want to die.
She wanted to live.
She wanted to live an ordinary life, not using anyone, not being used by anyone.
'If I want the Northern Lord to act willingly for me, I have to become a better person than I am now.'
The Princess of the East, beloved by her family, had to abandon her previous attitude. If she continued to show her distance, even the kind White family would surely turn their backs.
'But...'
She hadn't expected Carradine to be this happy.
All she had done was call her grandmother. Just as she'd said, she'd called her grandmother grandmother, but seeing Carradine's tears well up in her eyes, she felt guilty.
The old woman's hand, gripping Ariana's tightly, was painfully hot. It shouldn't have burned with human body heat, but it was so warm.
Ariana, too, felt tears welling up in her eyes.
"Darling, you said you never had a tutor when you were in the West, right? Do you want to study?"
"Yes, Grandma. I want to."
While she learned a lot through the physical struggles of handling the Third Prince's affairs, she never learned anything systematically.
She remembered the days when she envied Helena and Victoria, learning from their tutors. She even stood outside their room, secretly eavesdropping, only to have the maid tell on her, earning her a severe rebuke from Rachel.
"Then, I'll find a good tutor. Is there anything you'd particularly like to learn?"
"Would I be able to learn horseback riding, swordsmanship, martial arts, spearmanship, or archery?"
"Of course. I'd suggest starting with a solid foundation in physical training and the basics, then delving deeper into the subject you're most interested in."
Sheexpected Carradine, being a woman, to be taught dance, etiquette, embroidery, or play a musical instrument, so Carradine's willing acceptance was surprising.
"Do women learn martial arts, too?"
"I learn enough to protect myself."
"I heard you're quite strong, Grandmother."
"I'm strong enough to protect you."
The sincerity in her kind eyes nearly brought tears to her eyes. Ariana blinked.
“Can I become stronger too?”
“Of course. If you eat well and recover your strength, you’ll become stronger than I am.”
She was called “It,” “This,” or “That.” Sometimes, she was called “Golden Eyes.”
She was imprisoned in a small cage since birth. She always had an owner, but before she even reached three years, she changed hands. After her third master change, she was called “the cursed bitch.”
One day, a female slave in the cage next to her said,
“Still, you’re lucky. You bring misfortune to others, but no one touches you because of it. Your situation is better than mine.”
She didn’t know what she meant.
As time passed, when she finally had some idea, a male slave said to her,
“You’re really pretty. I’ll get you out when I get the chance. Then we can run away together.”
Less than a week later, the male slave was beaten to death by his master in front of her. The entire time he was being beaten, he glared at her and shouted.
"You're a cursed bitch! I wish I hadn't paid attention to the likes of you."
Only then did she realize the meaning of "cursed bitch" had a negative connotation. Something akin to pain, hatred, loathing, or even death.
Her encounter with the male slave had taught her both hope and despair. For the first time in her life, she longed to escape the narrow cage and despaired at not being able to do so.
As her despair deepened, so did her hope.
"I would give my life if someone could get me out of this cage."
"Do women learn martial arts, too?"
"I learn enough to protect myself."
"I heard you're quite strong, Grandmother."
"I'm strong enough to protect you."
The sincerity in her kind eyes nearly brought tears to her eyes. Ariana blinked.
“Can I become stronger too?”
“Of course. If you eat well and recover your strength, you’ll become stronger than I am.”
***
She was called “It,” “This,” or “That.” Sometimes, she was called “Golden Eyes.”
She was imprisoned in a small cage since birth. She always had an owner, but before she even reached three years, she changed hands. After her third master change, she was called “the cursed bitch.”
One day, a female slave in the cage next to her said,
“Still, you’re lucky. You bring misfortune to others, but no one touches you because of it. Your situation is better than mine.”
She didn’t know what she meant.
As time passed, when she finally had some idea, a male slave said to her,
“You’re really pretty. I’ll get you out when I get the chance. Then we can run away together.”
Less than a week later, the male slave was beaten to death by his master in front of her. The entire time he was being beaten, he glared at her and shouted.
"You're a cursed bitch! I wish I hadn't paid attention to the likes of you."
Only then did she realize the meaning of "cursed bitch" had a negative connotation. Something akin to pain, hatred, loathing, or even death.
Her encounter with the male slave had taught her both hope and despair. For the first time in her life, she longed to escape the narrow cage and despaired at not being able to do so.
As her despair deepened, so did her hope.
"I would give my life if someone could get me out of this cage."
The night her ninth master died, a fat, overweight slave trader came to pick her up.
"Here we go again. I don't know if I can sell you now. Everyone who cares knows how many masters you've killed."
She had never killed a master, but being a "cursed bitch" made her wonder if her master might have died because of her.
The slave trader loaded her into a wagon, still in her cage, and took her to the now familiar slave shop.
Countless slaves were there, but none of them were familiar faces. But the slaves knew her.
“I don’t want to be with that thing! Get me out of here! Please get me out of here!”
“Put me in a cage far away from that thing. I don’t want to be here.”
“They say if you make eye contact with that thing, you die.”
“They say it’s changed owners twenty times.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. How can its eyes be that color?”
“It’s disgusting. Paganus eats people, right? Does that thing eat people, too?”
“What on earth are the nobles thinking when they buy that thing?”
They couldn't harm her body directly, fearing being cursed. She recalled the words of a female slave she'd once heard:
"Your situation is better than mine."
Was that really true?
To hasten the journey to the East, they drove the carriage at night, only changing horses. By the time they arrived at the last city in the Empire, near the border between the Empire and the East, a week had passed since their departure.
The sun was slowly setting, and if they kept going, they would reach the East before it was too late, but for some reason, the carriage stopped in front of a luxurious inn in the city.
"There are many interesting things to see here, so it would be nice to stay a day and explore."
Carradine got out of the carriage first and extended his hand to Ariana. Ariana took the wrinkled hand she'd held so many times on her way here and got out of the carriage.
The Eastern Duke had rented an entire floor of the luxurious inn. Ariana's room was between the Eastern Duke's and the previous Duke's.
While the carriage was spacious and comfortable, sitting on the rocking seat for long periods of time was tiring. As soon as Ariana entered her room, she plopped down on the large bed.
“It’s clean.”
Lying in bed, the ceiling still felt unfamiliar, even though it had been a long time since it had been clean. The soft, fluffy blankets and the high-quality dresses were still unfamiliar.
A knock on the door signaled entry, and Carradine’s maid entered carrying several clean dresses.
“Princess, I brought you a change of clothes.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’ll help you.”
“No. Leave them there, and I’ll change.”
“But...”
“I don’t want anyone to see me.”
“Ah.”
The maid, aware of Ariana’s situation, lowered her head slightly in embarrassment and left the room. Ariana rose from the bed and examined the clothes Carradine had sent.
“They’re pretty. They’re all high-quality.”
They were the kind of dresses that girls her age would love. Nothing was out of style or of poor quality.
They were clothes prepared just for Ariana, just for her.
Ariana chose the most modest dress of them all. It was a dark pink dress, reaching just below her shins. The waist was cinched in, but the wide skirt gave it a lively feel.
Ariana changed into the dress, tied her hair up in a ponytail, and went to Russell's room.
Russell greeted Ariana with his usual slightly awkward smile.
"Arianna, the dress suits you well."
"Yes, thank you."
It was becoming a habit for the conversation to end here.
Ariana hesitated for a moment before asking,
"Father, what time does dinner start?"
Instead of answering, Russell held his breath, his eyes wide, and looked down at his daughter. After a long silence, Ariana realized she had called him "Father" for the first time.
Instead of apologizing like she had with Carradine, Ariana simply stared up at Russell's face. Finally, Russell turned his head and covered his mouth with a hand.
He held it for what felt like a long time.
Ariana saw his eyes, moist and visible above his large hand. Suddenly, the image of Russell in her previous dream overlapped with the image of Russell before her.
- "I'll always wait."
That voice, too, had never reached Ariana.
For some reason, Ariana felt like crying. She wanted to cling to him, whine like a child, telling him how hard it had been, why he'd never come to visit her.
What kind of expression would Russell make if she did?
At least he wouldn't ruthlessly reject her.
The very fact that she had developed such faith was astonishing.
When on earth had she begun to trust him?
Perhaps it had been influenced by her last conversation with the Northern Duke. Instead of freezing her heart toward him, their conversation had thawed her love for her family.
"Here we go again. I don't know if I can sell you now. Everyone who cares knows how many masters you've killed."
She had never killed a master, but being a "cursed bitch" made her wonder if her master might have died because of her.
The slave trader loaded her into a wagon, still in her cage, and took her to the now familiar slave shop.
Countless slaves were there, but none of them were familiar faces. But the slaves knew her.
“I don’t want to be with that thing! Get me out of here! Please get me out of here!”
“Put me in a cage far away from that thing. I don’t want to be here.”
“They say if you make eye contact with that thing, you die.”
“They say it’s changed owners twenty times.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. How can its eyes be that color?”
“It’s disgusting. Paganus eats people, right? Does that thing eat people, too?”
“What on earth are the nobles thinking when they buy that thing?”
They couldn't harm her body directly, fearing being cursed. She recalled the words of a female slave she'd once heard:
"Your situation is better than mine."
Was that really true?
***
To hasten the journey to the East, they drove the carriage at night, only changing horses. By the time they arrived at the last city in the Empire, near the border between the Empire and the East, a week had passed since their departure.
The sun was slowly setting, and if they kept going, they would reach the East before it was too late, but for some reason, the carriage stopped in front of a luxurious inn in the city.
"There are many interesting things to see here, so it would be nice to stay a day and explore."
Carradine got out of the carriage first and extended his hand to Ariana. Ariana took the wrinkled hand she'd held so many times on her way here and got out of the carriage.
The Eastern Duke had rented an entire floor of the luxurious inn. Ariana's room was between the Eastern Duke's and the previous Duke's.
While the carriage was spacious and comfortable, sitting on the rocking seat for long periods of time was tiring. As soon as Ariana entered her room, she plopped down on the large bed.
“It’s clean.”
Lying in bed, the ceiling still felt unfamiliar, even though it had been a long time since it had been clean. The soft, fluffy blankets and the high-quality dresses were still unfamiliar.
A knock on the door signaled entry, and Carradine’s maid entered carrying several clean dresses.
“Princess, I brought you a change of clothes.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I’ll help you.”
“No. Leave them there, and I’ll change.”
“But...”
“I don’t want anyone to see me.”
“Ah.”
The maid, aware of Ariana’s situation, lowered her head slightly in embarrassment and left the room. Ariana rose from the bed and examined the clothes Carradine had sent.
“They’re pretty. They’re all high-quality.”
They were the kind of dresses that girls her age would love. Nothing was out of style or of poor quality.
They were clothes prepared just for Ariana, just for her.
Ariana chose the most modest dress of them all. It was a dark pink dress, reaching just below her shins. The waist was cinched in, but the wide skirt gave it a lively feel.
Ariana changed into the dress, tied her hair up in a ponytail, and went to Russell's room.
Russell greeted Ariana with his usual slightly awkward smile.
"Arianna, the dress suits you well."
"Yes, thank you."
It was becoming a habit for the conversation to end here.
Ariana hesitated for a moment before asking,
"Father, what time does dinner start?"
Instead of answering, Russell held his breath, his eyes wide, and looked down at his daughter. After a long silence, Ariana realized she had called him "Father" for the first time.
Instead of apologizing like she had with Carradine, Ariana simply stared up at Russell's face. Finally, Russell turned his head and covered his mouth with a hand.
He held it for what felt like a long time.
Ariana saw his eyes, moist and visible above his large hand. Suddenly, the image of Russell in her previous dream overlapped with the image of Russell before her.
- "I'll always wait."
That voice, too, had never reached Ariana.
For some reason, Ariana felt like crying. She wanted to cling to him, whine like a child, telling him how hard it had been, why he'd never come to visit her.
What kind of expression would Russell make if she did?
At least he wouldn't ruthlessly reject her.
The very fact that she had developed such faith was astonishing.
When on earth had she begun to trust him?
Perhaps it had been influenced by her last conversation with the Northern Duke. Instead of freezing her heart toward him, their conversation had thawed her love for her family.
"You said you had to distinguish between hatred and wariness."
As Cyrus had said, being wary of everyone only made Ariana weary. Being wary of those she could trust made her unable to distinguish those she could.
Ariana had been resentful of the peerage for abandoning her, but that resentment didn't accomplish anything.
So Ariana changed her question.
"Father, by any chance... Have you ever written to the Duchess Rachelof Bronte asking to see me?"
Russell seemed taken aback by the sudden change in question, but answered.
"Yes."
A muffled voice leaked out from between his fingers covering his mouth.
"I have written several times."
"Did the Duchess of Bronte say I was afraid of you?"
“...Yes. She said you didn’t want to see me because you considered the Duke of Bronte your father and feared he would hate you.”
“Is that why you didn’t come to see me?”
Russell squeezed his eyes shut.
“Yes.”
Ariana simply wanted to know the truth of that dream, whether it was a nightmare or reality. There was absolutely no reason for her emotions to run wild. She had to be a calm, mature, good child who didn’t need much attention. She had to become a noble Princess of the same age, one who didn’t hold grudges and let go of pent-up emotions.
“Why... did you do that?”
But she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.
“Why did you abandon me like that?”
“...”
“Still, please come just once, just once. Come and see what kind of life I’ve been living. If you had, I...”
Wouldn’t have died like that.
“I... like this...”
Wouldn’t have lived only thinking about using and being used.
Hot tears streamed down Ariana’s cheeks. Ariana spoke without even realizing it.
“I hate my father.”
“I know.”
“I know it’s not my father’s fault. I know it... I know it very well...”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t Russell’s fault.
It was her own. Giving in to the Brontes, not running away from the Alfreich, being used by the Third Prince Harold—it was all her own choice.
And yet, she sought someone to blame because she felt like she would suffocate if she didn’t. Because she felt like she would suffocate from the fear of death that rose up every moment.
The truth was, she didn’t want to die.
She wanted to live.
She wanted to live an ordinary life, not using anyone, not being used by anyone.
Comments
Post a Comment