Chapter 31

Chapter 31 – From a Distant Past

Gabriel lay motionless on the bed, staring at nothing. There had been a time when he had desperately wished to stop crying. Now, in cruel contrast to that past, he found himself wishing he could weep. Humans were fickle creatures. Only when tears were no longer necessary did the desire to shed them arrive.

The knot in his heart had festered for so long that it was beginning to rot. He wished it would simply disappear, yet he kept chewing and swallowing the bitter memory, fully aware it would poison him. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, to forget it, he could not. It was an event from a distant past so remote he could barely recall its edges, and yet while time marched relentlessly forward, he alone remained trapped in that stagnant moment, slowly decaying within it.

With a slow breath, Gabriel pushed himself upright and stared blankly at the girl standing before him. She had skin pale as porcelain, hair black as midnight, and eyes the color of fresh blood. She looked exactly like Erin. The girl smiled at him without speaking.

He knew she was nothing more than a hallucination that appeared whenever the weight became unbearable. Even so, he welcomed her presence. Lately her features had begun to blur at the edges, and that fading had filled him with a quiet sorrow. It had been so long since he had seen her smile with such clarity.

Gabriel returned her smile, though his own expression twisted into something bitter enough to resemble a grimace. In response, the girl’s face lit up with radiant joy. She hurried toward him with quick, eager steps and threw herself into his arms, just as she had on that day. She was so small that she could barely wrap her arms around his neck. There was no warmth to her touch.

He wondered, distantly, whether she had been cold or warm when he had embraced her like this before. The memory lay too far in the past for him to grasp.

Holding the child against him, Gabriel lowered his gaze. Perhaps it was because she was wearing white shoes, just like that day. Blood was pooling around his feet, soaking into his own shoes. The world around him dissolved into flames. The once quiet chapel filled with screams. Starting from her shoes, the blood crept upward, staining him inch by inch.

Amid the chorus of wailing voices, a single peal of laughter rang out by his ear, brighter and more delighted than any other sound. It echoed as if commanding him never to forget, fastening invisible shackles around his throat. The memories he longed to erase grew sharper with every passing moment, while the ones he wished to preserve faded away. The girl in his arms leaned close and whispered into his ear, her voice sweet and innocent, yet threaded with a chilling obsession.

“A liar deserves to be punished. You said so yourself.”

Her tone was cruelly cheerful. When he looked again, she was no longer a child but a grown woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her entire body splattered with blood as red as her eyes, and she smiled as brightly as before.

“My liar is being punished now.”

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut. The laughter vanished. The screams disappeared. Even the sensation of blood soaking his skin dissolved into nothing. Silence wrapped around him, and within that stillness another voice spoke.

“The closer you draw to it, the more miserable you will become.”

It saddened him, in a distant way, that the warning had proven true. Gabriel lifted a hand and gently touched his throat, which he still had not healed. He understood perfectly. It was the most beautiful abyss he had ever created. How could he fail to recognize it?

He answered the unseen voice in a quiet murmur. “But without that misery, I have no reason to keep living.”

She had tried to kill him with genuine intent, and the memory of her hands tightening around his neck still throbbed with pain. Yet he could not bring himself to erase the bruise. Keeping it felt like preserving a small, precious trace of her. He almost decided to leave it as it was, but then he imagined Erin’s fury if she saw the mark and realized she had failed to finish him. He did not want to see that expression on her face.

Biting his lower lip, Gabriel traced the bruise with his fingertips. There was no solution other than healing it. With a reluctant sigh, he let the wound mend and fade away. He stared into empty space for a long moment before lifting his head to look at the door Erin had used when she left. It felt as if she might burst through it at any second and greet him, just as she had in that distant past he could scarcely remember.

The door remained firmly shut. It told him, with merciless certainty, that what he wanted would never come to pass. The bruise had vanished, but the phantom ache lingered. This, he thought, was the true curse, the most cruel curse she had ever given him.

***

Sleep would not come to Erin, no matter how she tried to summon it. Yet she felt no fatigue. Despite having used high level magic for so long, her body seemed lighter than before. She flexed her hand open and closed, and each movement brought back the vivid memory of her fingers wrapped around Gabriel’s throat. The pulse that had throbbed beneath her fingertips had been calm, almost mocking, as if it knew he would not die so easily.

A dark wish surfaced in her thoughts. She wanted him to be more miserable than anyone else, to collapse until no one remained at his side. She wanted to be the only one left, the only person he could turn to even if he tried to run. The ugliness of that desire made her gag. At such a critical moment, with a battlefield awaiting her, she could not afford to drown in thoughts like these. Nausea swept through her, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

Each time she remembered the contrast between his steady pulse and the sorrow in his smile, another wave of retching rose in her throat. She forced herself to breathe. She would have to give him blood again tomorrow. She could not keep reacting like this to every small thing. She had resolved herself to it, yet less than a day had passed and already she was faltering. The absurdity of it drew a hollow laugh from her lips.

A glance at the clock told her it was nearly time to finish preparations and depart. She scrubbed a hand over her face. She had no time to waste on such thoughts. Instead of brooding over him, she needed to resolve the current crisis, bring Chedre back to the capital, and carve the opening move of her revenge by forcing that wretched emperor to acknowledge Chedre’s existence. Her path ahead was crowded with tasks. She could not squander another moment.

The contract she had sworn was a curse that bound them both for eternity. Fulfilling that alone was enough. Repeating the thought like a mantra, Erin stepped outside. The pale light of dawn crept over the horizon. She watched the rising sun and thought that she was about to relive yet another terrible day. Time continued its cruel advance no matter how far she sank. The sun vanished and returned in endless cycles, indifferent to her descent.

As she stood there staring blankly at the sky, a voice addressed her. Chedre approached and studied her face with concern. “It looks like you did not sleep well,” he observed quietly.

Erin tore her gaze from the sun and offered him a respectful bow. “Thank you for your concern, Your Grace,” she replied politely.

Chedre gave a faint, rueful smile. “Your words last night kept me awake as well,” he admitted.

Startled, Erin lifted her head. She wondered if she should apologize, but he waved the thought aside with an easy gesture. After a brief pause, he asked, “May I ask what sort of revenge you wish to take against His Majesty?”

Her expression turned flat. “It may sound cruel,” she began evenly, “but His Majesty is a man who pursues only his own advantage. Even if the country were to collapse, it would not trouble him in the slightest.”

A crease formed between Chedre’s brows. Watching his reaction closely, Erin continued in the same calm tone. She explained that the appearance of the demon god had shaken public sentiment and that the emperor had shifted all responsibility onto her shoulders. Lifting her wrist, she showed him the mark of the contract etched into her skin. She told him that she had been offered as a sacrifice and was forced to provide blood to the demon god, and that despite it all the situation continued to deteriorate. Inevitably, she said, she would become the target of everyone’s resentment.

A careful blend of truth and falsehood made for the most persuasive argument. It was a lesson the Duke of Ferr had taught her long ago, one of the many reasons he had valued her. She possessed not only exceptional talent with the sword but also the ability to wield what she learned with precision.

A bitter smile touched her lips as she averted her eyes. “Perhaps this too is the will of the gods,” she added softly. “But I am still a flawed human being. Watching him remain untouched while the nation trembles filled me with anger.”

She let her words trail off and glanced at Chedre. The uncertainty flickering across his face pleased her. After a moment, he nodded slowly. “I see,” he murmured.

There was an innate gentleness to him. As Erin studied his expression, it stirred the faint impression of someone from a distant past, a figure she could not clearly remember. Irritation pricked at her. The familiarity annoyed her precisely because it was so vague. It felt as if an invisible wall stood in her mind, and fine cracks were beginning to spider across its surface.

“You have endured a great deal,” Chedre said at last, his voice warm with sympathy.

“If we resolve this quickly and return to the capital, matters will improve,” Erin answered with quiet confidence.

“In that case, I am relieved,” he replied. He beckoned her to follow and started walking. Erin fell into step behind him, but he glanced back and spoke over his shoulder. “Walk beside me,” he instructed.

“I would not dare,” she protested softly.

“We cannot continue our conversation if you trail behind me,” Chedre pointed out.

After a brief hesitation, Erin inclined her head. “Then please excuse me,” she said, moving carefully to his side. They walked together in silence for a few steps before he spoke again, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“Do you still intend to make me into a hero?” he asked.

“I do,” Erin answered. “But if Your Grace does not wish it, I will abandon the plan.”

He turned to look at her. She lowered her head at once, feigning a shy composure that felt appropriate for the moment. His voice drifted down to her from above. “Even if I return to the capital hailed as a hero,” he declared firmly, “I will relinquish every achievement. Accepting that is a condition of our agreement.”

Erin understood at once. He wanted to avoid a struggle for power with his brother, even after returning home. Still, his mere presence in the capital would place the emperor in an awkward position. That alone made the arrangement worthwhile. She lifted her head and offered him a smooth, satisfied smile.

“It would be my honor,” she replied.