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chapter 22
“I really loved you.”
Belita twisted her body, coughing violently. Her throat felt like it was about to burst, her heart pounded fiercely, and her face was soaked in sweat and tears.
Even the bed, drenched and heavy with moisture, seemed to sway like the sea, giving her a nausea she had never experienced before. She felt like she was going to throw up.
“Cough! Ugh, ugh….”
Desperately, Belita groped for the bell beside her and shook it violently. The loud noise inside must have alerted Eli that something was wrong.
The orderly process of asking for permission before entering was forgotten, and he hurried inside.
“Belita! Are you okay? Belita!”
“Cough! Ugh….”
Belita covered her mouth to stifle her gagging. Eli immediately understood and called out to a maid outside to bring her a jar.
Eli handed over a cup of water, but Belita didn’t have the courage to drink. The water rippling in front of her reminded her of the earlier sea.
“Clear it… just clear it… ugh….”
The maid quickly brought the jar. Belita snatched it and emptied her stomach.
“Gah, ugh… ugh….”
Since she hadn’t eaten, only clear gastric juices and partially digested medicine came out.
“Shall I pat your back?”
Belita shook her head. Eli offered the cup again. Her mouth felt raw and dry.
Reluctantly, Belita rinsed her mouth and tried to calm her queasy stomach, lying back as a cold wet towel was placed on her forehead.
“I really loved you.”
Those were the last words from Kesis she heard upon waking from the nightmare—the final words he left her. That voice echoed like a curse in her ears.
Her mind was a mess. All her memories collided and tangled into a muddy blur. Belita pressed the wet towel harder against her forehead as the headache returned.
No, it couldn’t be.
It was a dream. A clear, undeniable dream. Otherwise…
…Kesis committing suicide?
She still felt submerged underwater. Eli’s voice floated in a distorted, wavering way.
“…Bel… Belita?”
Fearing she might suddenly drown if she opened her eyes, Belita kept them tightly shut.
“Belita, do you need anything else?”
“…No.”
“I apologize if we caused you discomfort. We’ll leave you to rest. We’ll wait outside, so call us anytime.”
Belita gave a faint acknowledgment and covered her eyes with her wrist. Her headache worsened from crying in her sleep.
Thanks to vomiting, her esophagus was in no condition to complain further.
She heard the items they had brought being collected and the door opening as Eli and the other servant left. Quiet returned.
Belita felt exhaustion wash over her. Her condition was far from normal, and the unsettling dream left her head spinning even more.
Kesis diving into the sea—the scene lingered in her mind, refusing to vanish. Tears streamed down without her realizing.
What troubled her most was herself. She had hated and despised him, even wished him dead—but when Kesis leapt before her eyes, her body moved first.
I loved you. I really loved you.
The two sentences disassembled into fragments, down to each individual letter, melting into the boiling mess in her mind.
‘Why did you do it?’
Belita scolded Kesis in her dream. Why did you jump? Why into the sea, why there…
If only you had sealed me, or joined hands with them, you could’ve lived well. You could have forgotten someone like me…
“…Ugh.”
Feeling like she would start sobbing aloud, Belita bit her lip tightly.
Kesis had thrown himself without hesitation.
In the pouring rain, the water clinging to his body rose as if reversing time, showing her a hallucination of their last day together.
The sparkling droplets became petals. His smiling face mirrored that day, and the wind brushing her face carried a familiar scent.
“….”
A familiar scent.
Mixed with the musty smell of a basement and the briny scent of water…
“….”
‘…Wait.’
Belita lowered her arm. Her eyes, which had avoided fear all this time, slowly opened. She looked up at the ceiling where small dust particles floated in the sunlight.
‘Why did I think that was a familiar scent?’
She remembered the dream clearly: the torrential rain pouring from the sky, water droplets rising upward as if reversing time, and them reversing along with it.
She overlaid Kesis’s figure on an earlier version of him and saw the field from the day he sealed her, the petals, and finally his smile.
But her sense of smell didn’t travel back in time. She hadn’t stolen the scent of grass from that distant past.
“….”
Belita realized that given the heavy rain and the sea below, it made sense the air smelled damp and briny rather than grassy.
Yet, if she suddenly felt nostalgia from that unremarkable, natural scent…
Not from running across fields with Kesis, but from a completely unrelated briny smell…
‘Then.’
Then… what was the scent that stirred her longing?
“….”
‘I… don’t know.’
Belita clasped her face with both hands.
“I don’t know at all…”
Her memories kept rewinding unwanted scenes: the sea attempting to swallow them, Kesis jumping, the cliffs, the surrounding disciples, the forest trail running past in reverse.
And then, going further back…
Drip.
For the first time.
Drip.
“…Ah.”
Belita remembered.
Drip.
The droplets that hit her forehead.
…Drip.
In Sylvester’s house and in the forest from the dream, waking her twice from different times, urging her to look at the world around her…
The sound of water stopped.
Only then did Belita locate the source of the water smell.
“…That sounds insane.”
The source of the scent was the day she first opened her eyes here.
Unable to see, she had envisioned the surroundings through Kesis’s repeated hallucinations, prepared to die.
Rain pattering relentlessly, cold water dripping from the roof of a poorly insulated room.
And standing in that damp air…
“…Sylvester.”
Right. When she opened her eyes that day, the man before her wasn’t Kesis.
It was confusing. Two timelines collided chaotically in her mind.
The dream was Kesis’s, yet her sense of smell recalled only Sylvester.
Belita quickly retraced her memory. The tangled points that had merged and blurred slowly separated into their distinct colors.
She picked up the dark, dreary memories of her first meeting with Sylvester.
“I drew it.”
On a day of thunder and lightning, when a flash hit every window, Sylvester’s portrait replaced Kesis’s.
What did Sylvester say then?
“Because of the portrait I drew, you came out, right?”
“….”
“I don’t know what magic it is, but it seems right that my painting was substituted. I actually painted your portrait elsewhere. But now….”
She remembered. He had said he painted her elsewhere, and the frame absorbed his painting, which caused her to emerge.
Until then, she hadn’t cared about the portrait’s whereabouts.
Even when the man named Hurville received it from a fisherman, saying it was buried in the sand, she didn’t care. She hadn’t had these disgusting dreams back then.
“Damn it…”
But now it mattered.
She could no longer be sure of Kesis’s fate, whom she had assumed long dead.
The nagging sense of déjà vu made it impossible to ignore.
Had it not been a dream, she would have buried it. Kesis’s death meant even if she searched for traces of that day, it would have been useless.
But if—just in the off chance—the dream was real.
If Kesis had truly committed suicide, and her portrait had sunk into the sea.
If, amidst the storm, it had been impossible to retrieve and she had gone under with Kesis to avoid Rastavan’s eyes.
If at the end, it was buried on this beach…
“…It’s possible.”
Her perspective changed.
Belita grabbed her throbbing head and rose. The wet towel fell onto the bed. She picked it up and placed it in the basket on the nightstand.
Sylvester’s genius in painting was never ordinary.
She could no longer dismiss it or ignore it.
Sylvester definitely had something. Otherwise, the strong seal wouldn’t have broken just because of a few paintings and a kiss.
Rastavan wouldn’t have allowed the seal to break so easily either.
If it were a seal anyone with a bit of artistic skill could open, others wishing for their desires would have easily unlocked it.
Belita was almost certain.
If they had worried about the portrait being exposed or stolen, Rastavan and his disciples would have stored it securely. That made sense.
But for it to end up rolling around an unrelated village, even they couldn’t intervene.
For some reason, her portrait had ended up somewhere beyond their reach, eventually getting buried in the sand.
Otherwise, they would have kept it or searched for it long ago.
Sylvester discovering her portrait, drawing her to release her from the seal—would never have happened.
‘…Annoying headache.’
Her resolve hardened. She tapped her temples lightly and, wobbling, pulled on the robe hanging in the wardrobe.
There was something she needed to check.
“Eli.”
Belita called out the name of the one who had been waiting outside and opened the door.
“Ah! Belita!”
Eli turned in surprise.
“Where are you going?”
“Take me to my master.”
“…Now?”
“Yes.”
Eli hesitated.
What’s the problem? Belita glanced at his worried face.
“Well… if you tell me your reason, I can relay it.”
“No, I’ll say it myself. Won’t take long.”
“B-But….”
Eli’s eyes were filled with concern.
Ah, of course. So my master won’t catch a cold. Belita lowered her sleeve to cover her mouth.
“I’ll be fine. Won’t get too close. It’s important—if it weren’t, I wouldn’t have gotten up.”
Eli’s gaze grew cautious.
“Th-Then…”
He signaled another maid.
“Since it could be contagious… I’ll inform my master first.”
“Fine… do that.”
The maid hurried toward Roman’s office. Belita reviewed what she had predicted—it needed Roman’s power to prove.
“Belita!”
After a few minutes, the maid returned.
“She says to come up.”
‘As expected.’
Still covering her mouth, Belita followed the maid to Roman’s office.
Two floors up from the main hall, a door with elaborate patterns appeared.
Two servants guarding it called Roman. Once permission was granted, the butler inside left.
‘The butler didn’t need to leave.’
The door opened wider. Belita stepped inside.
Roman, working at his desk, dropped his pen.
“…Lady.”
Yes, that’s me. Belita shrugged and walked toward his desk. Roman covered his mouth this time.
‘…What?’
Regardless of her suspicion, Roman’s eyes sparkled with awe.
A lady had appeared in a white nightgown in broad daylight.
“Ahhh…”
Robe slipping off shoulders, messy hair, drowsy face, sleeve covering her mouth.
Roman gushed incoherently at the sight.
My goodness, in that state, lady… in broad daylight… sleeve… don’t do this, come here…
He seemed ready to sweep the desk aside.
‘This guy, this reaction…’
Belita realized why the butler had left.
“….”
She raised an eyebrow and spoke in a hoarse voice.
“…I didn’t come for what you’re thinking.”
Clink.
The glass teetering on the desk fell.
“….”
Roman froze, eyes wide, staring at her.
“What?”
“…Ah.”
He cleared his throat and composed himself, folding his hands like a professional counselor, crossing his long legs.
“Speak.”
His polished, aristocratic face ready to listen.
