The man pinned down on the carpet thrashed his limbs desperately.
Rough, tendoned hands scraped ceaselessly across the back of his hand, and muscular legs repeatedly kicked his body, but Barcas paid no heed and tightened his grip. He could see blood-red veins bulging in the eyes wide with astonishment.
The man, panting loudly with his mouth wide open as if trying to suck in air somehow, stretched out his hand and fumbled on the floor.
A wine bottle that had rolled off the overturned table touched his fingertips. Gareth clutched it and swung it mercilessly at Barcas's head.
A heavy impact struck his temple, and at the same time, he felt a sticky liquid and glass shards trickling down one side of his face. However, he did not move a muscle. He simply tightened his grip on the man's neck.
Barcas could not understand why he was attacking the object he had spent almost his entire life protecting.
As he was strangling the man, engulfed in a fury that felt like his retina was on fire, the muscles in his fingers suddenly began to twist violently.
The spasm spread throughout his entire arm in an instant. It felt as if every single muscle bundle was raging uncontrollably against his will.
Barcas forced a grip on his trembling hands and pressed down on him even more tightly. Then, this time, he felt a strong pressure in his chest.
The suffocating pressure pressing down on his chest soon rose to the nape of his neck. It felt just like he was strangling himself.
The suffocating sensation, as if his breath were about to be cut off, caused his eyes to flare up. However, Barcas, without blinking an eye, squeezed his convulsing fingers with all his might.
Just then, with a shocked scream, someone came hanging onto his forearm.
He threw it away without budging. Then, four pairs of hands from the left and right tightly bound him like ropes and forcibly pulled him away from the Crown Prince.
"Your Excellency, please stop!"
Eventually, the fingers that had been strangling Gareth's neck fell limply off. Immediately, Gareth slipped out from beneath him, clutched his neck, and let out a spasmodic cough.
A woman who had rushed to his side wrapped her arms around the Crown Prince and looked at him with shocked eyes. It was only after a while that he realized the woman was Ayla Roem Guirta.
Why is this woman in Raedgo Castle?
As he narrowed his eyes, the man holding him stiffened in surprise.
"Your Excellency, blood..."
The man's gaze was fixed on the corner of his mouth.
Barcas furrowed his brow. It must be the head that is injured, so why is he looking at that spot?
As he raised his hand and touched his lips, a slippery sensation lingered. Only then did he realize that the blood that had risen from his throat was soaking his chin and the nape of his neck.
That wasn't all. His palms were red and blistered, as if they had been burned.
As he looked down at it with blank eyes, he heard muffled laughter from a short distance away. Barcas raised his head and looked at the man sitting slumped opposite him.
Gareth, breathing heavily with one hand clutching his neck, which was blackened with handprints, let out a twisted laugh. His eyes, a jumble of rage, betrayal, and twisted ecstasy, gleamed brightly in the darkness.
"Look at yourself."
Giggling laughter echoed through the room.
"You end up like that because you try to defy your fate."
"Oh, Gareth..."
Gareth violently shook off his sister's hand, which was tugging at his collar as if to dissuade him, and shouted in an agitated tone.
"It's no use struggling! You are ours! That guy is dead because you tried to defy that."
The air in the room froze in an instant.
The guards of the Sheerkhan family stared at the Crown Prince with grim faces. However, even amidst the hostile atmosphere, Gareth did not stop.
"Am I wrong? If she hadn't married you, she would still be alive by now! Thalia Roem Guirta died because you tried to deviate from the predetermined path! Fate got rid of her just to put you back in your rightful place!"
"Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince!"
Unable to bear it any longer, Darren stood between them.
However, Gareth didn't care and kept shouting.
"You can't escape! Your life has been ours ever since my mother pulled you out of the sarcophagus!"
“Gareth!”
At that moment, the Crown Prince's head turned with a sound like a whip being swung.
Gareth looked at his twin sister as if he couldn't believe it.
The Princess, who had been looking down at her younger sibling with cold, frozen eyes, soon rose from her seat and shouted at the royal guards standing at the door.
"Hey, what are you doing instead of attending to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince! Take His Royal Highness to his quarters immediately and treat him!"
Then, turning her eyes to Barcas, she added in a low, subdued voice.
"Your Excellency, please receive treatment immediately as well. Today's unpleasant incident..."
The woman's voice, which had maintained its composure, began to tremble slightly. Swallowing dryly as if to compose herself, she slowly finished speaking.
"Considering my past foolishness, I will let it slide."
"That is very generous."
Darren replied sarcastically.
"However, do not expect the Sheerkhan family to show the same generosity regarding His Royal Highness the Crown Prince's reckless remarks."
Ayla, who had glared at him with eyes gleaming with anger for a moment, soon took Gareth and left the study.
Darren, who had been staring at them warily, bent down in front of him.
“Are you okay?”
Barcas, who had been looking down at his hand with empty eyes, slowly raised his head.
Eyes mixed with anxiety, worry, and pity were scrutinizing him cautiously. He could not understand why they were looking at him like that. What reason could there possibly be for him not to be okay?
He roughly shook off the hand holding him and staggered to his feet. Just as he was about to disperse the crowd that had gathered, dark red blood surged up from his throat, making him cry out.
“Your Excellency!”
"Bring a healer right now!"
Someone urgently grabbed his body, which was about to collapse helplessly.
He looked down blankly at the dark red stains that had splattered onto the floor. The lingering image of Thalia, slumped limply, overlapped with it. The blood-soaked hem of her clothes was wrapped around her gaunt body.
He looked down at her face, frozen deep blue, as if stuck in it, then slowly reached out and touched her waxy white cheek. At that, her figure shattered into pieces, scattering sharp fragments in all directions.
Thousands of fragments pierced his eyes, skin, bones, and heart like blades. It felt as if he were being butchered alive.
Unable to endure that desperate sensation, he eventually dragged his knees on the floor as if collapsing.
His vision, which had faded to black and white, was gradually turning crimson. He couldn't even distinguish whether it was an illusion or reality.
Blood overflowing from somewhere swallowed him from beneath his feet. Everything sank into the river of blood.
He soon recognized the name of the river. It was despair.
The despair he had been ignoring all along surged into his nose, mouth, and ears. Amidst a dizzying sense of suffocation, he finally let go of his consciousness.
***
She sat on the windowsill, gazing at the setting sun.
The wind blowing from the forest gently swept over her long hair and thin dress.
Suddenly, a faint smile spread across her lips.
He stared at the sight without blinking, then followed her gaze out the window.
Nothing but the usual scenery unfolded before him. He had absolutely no idea what on earth had made this picky woman smile.
"What are you looking at so intently?"
Finally, unable to resist his curiosity, he opened his mouth, and the languid eyes that had been lost in a daydream turned toward him.
“Just the sky.”
As he narrowed his eyebrows at the half-hearted answer, the woman added coyly.
"The sunset was exceptionally beautiful today, so I was admiring it."
He turned his head again and stared out the window.
He could see the sun, half-sinking beyond the horizon, dyeing the western sky red. However, there was no particular beauty to be found.
He gazed again at her face, bathed in the sunset light. Her eyes were in the burning sunset.
It shimmered with a mysterious light. Only then was he able to sense the beauty she had admired.
Whenever he was with this girl, he always drew. He came to recognize things he had never noticed before, and feel things he had never felt.
The subtle changes in sunlight, the density of the air, the touch of the wind brushing against his cheek, the soft sound of rain, and the fresh scent of grass... sometimes he felt as though his senses were connected to her.
His dull world is being colored with various hues by this capricious girl.
Support Novellate!
Comments
Post a Comment