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Chapter : 42
Alone
Pyotr scratched his neck hard.
“It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault!”
After banging his knee against the dresser, he looked down at his own feet.
The servants avoided their lord. While one servant trembled violently, the master dragged his feet along with slow steps.
Oppressed by that ominous presence, the servants fled as if running for their lives.
Creak.
Pyotr stepped onto the dirt road outside the manor. His staggering steps tangled, and he crumpled crookedly to the ground.
As he dropped his head, a dark shadow fell over him.
He looked down at the boot that entered his field of vision, then tilted his head back.
“You’re a sorry sight.”
It was a man wrapped tightly in a robe. His low voice belonged to a middle-aged man, and beside him stood a hunched old man. The middle-aged man reproached him in a low tone.
“To lose everything and crawl along the ground—what a spectacle. If the ancient worshippers saw you, they’d laugh. Sink any deeper into the darkness and you’ll be crawling like a worm. The time has come.”
“……”
“When the door opens soon, it’s time for you to wake up as well.”
The middle-aged man pressed his cane against Pyotr’s shoulder and whispered.
“Wake up.”
From the dark shadow, something clattered and a skull crawled out. It bit down on Pyotr’s ankle with its teeth. Pyotr flailed in terror, but from beneath him, hands wrapped around his neck and began to strangle him.
“Aaaaaaah!”
The tearing scream rang sharply. It did not reach the manor.
“Is this one truly the last worshipper?”
“He has merely forgotten his essence, but he has already touched the darkness. If black magic reaches the deepest darkness, then these worshippers reach the darkest of all. Even if they forget their essence, a soul eroded by darkness inevitably follows it. It will fall, be defiled, and eventually meet ruin.”
The old man spoke with doubt.
“Is this worm truly sufficient?”
“Even a worm’s hand must be borrowed now, if it means pulling up our kin who were driven beneath the earth even a little sooner.”
Pyotr collapsed, choking.
“Wake up. Your current state is an eyesore.”
“……”
“The ancient covenant has exhausted its power. That loathsome pact that drove all my kin beneath the ground has been crushed. Ah… it’s far too late. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day.”
By the ancient covenant, black magic was driven underground, and black magicians were all annihilated.
The enforcer of the covenant placed a prohibition upon black magic, forbidding it from ever rising to the surface.
But—
The shackles of the ancient covenant had weakened to the breaking point. People had forgotten its true nature, and none remembered its prohibitions.
An ancient covenant whose essence was forgotten slowly grew weaker. This was only the beginning.
“Now, let us break this covenant and call back those who were driven away to the surface.”
One by one, the New Year’s Festival ceremonial garments were removed.
The maids peeled away the red fabrics layer by layer and undid the hair ornaments.
Having finished preparing for bed, she pressed a towel firmly against her wet hair to dry it.
“Bring me some digestive medicine.”
The head maid looked at her with concern.
“Is your stomach unwell?”
“It’s nothing worth worrying about.”
“Please wait a moment. I will summon the imperial physician.”
“It’s fine, don’t make a fuss. Just go quietly.”
At a signal from the head maid, one maid left the room.
Her damp hair soon became soft and dry.
“Your Majesty, I’ve brought the digestive medicine.”
The maid who had run the errand returned with it.
“Just leave it and go.”
“Then we will take our leave.”
Instead of answering, Charlop waved her hand, dismissing the maids.
She rested one arm on the bedside table and leaned sideways. The candle flickered, casting a dim yellow glow.
Her gaze fell upon the drawer beneath the table.
When she opened it, there was an old cardboard box inside. It looked as if it might crumble, and she was carefully pulling it out when—
“Is your stomach bothering you?”
“I’m just taking it in advance.”
The bedroom door opened, and Benjamin returned in his robe.
He opened the medicine bottle and held it out beside her.
“Without letting the imperial physician see.”
Charlop tipped the bottle into her mouth. A strong herbal scent rose from the medicinal liquid.
“It’s Aaron-brand special digestive medicine.”
“You can tell just by looking at the bottle?”
“That awful taste, worse than chewing weeds—it’s definitely Aaron’s.”
Charlop took the cap and closed the bottle. A bitter smile appeared.
“You look like you’re recalling some kind of memory.”
“Perhaps it really was a memory.”
A memory she had futilely let slip through her own hands.
“What were you taking out just now?”
“…Drawings from my childhood.”
The graphite drawings were worn down by time.
Even the sketch paper had completely faded.
From infancy to about nineteen years of age, traces of her childhood were all there.
In those days, she herself had been red—painted in a deep, vivid red.
“That child makes things difficult for me even in this life. Around that child, I feel like I become a terrible person.”
Benjamin stared intently at Charlop. His dark eyes brushed past her cheek. Their gazes met in midair.
“You’ll catch fire. Be careful.”
This time, he was the one who looked away first.
Beside them, the candle flame flickered.
“Thank you.”
“Why are you spacing out again?”
Benjamin pressed a hand to Charlop’s shoulder.
“Is this it?”
“Yes. Drawings from when I was little.”
“How old were you in this one?”
“About five. There’s writing underneath.”
“So you had a time like this too.”
Benjamin leaned closer, whispering lazily.
“Small and fragile.”
“I was a child.”
“You’re the same now.”
“Am I?”
“Just more innocent, back then.”
Her baby fat hadn’t yet faded; her cheeks were plump.
“You don’t look like someone reminiscing fondly about childhood.”
“It wasn’t a time with good memories for me.”
“Why?”
“The reason is…”
Charlop flipped through the drawings one by one.
“Have you ever cared for a sick person for a long time?”
At nineteen—when even I was pushed to my limits. When I had the darkest, most sunken eyes of all…
“I once begged for her to be killed. Watching my mother slowly collapse while twisting in seizures was too horrific. I begged for it to stop hurting, for her to be taken away quickly, to stop tormenting her, to let her go. I was afraid of the sight of her crying and screaming for painkillers…”
“……”
“What kind of heart do you think I had back then?”
Charlop folded the drawings away.
So I ended up remembering.
Benjamin brushed her cheek once and asked,
“You look like you saw something you shouldn’t have.”
“According to the plan, these drawings weren’t supposed to end up in my hands.”
Yet in this life, they were in her possession.
My mother’s last drawing.
It had been drawn the day before she died. She didn’t want to remember it.
“I lived forgetting everything. I thought I’d forgotten almost all of it, but now that I think about it, I hadn’t truly forgotten after all.”
Charlop closed the box. As she stroked the lid, he sat across from her in his robe.
“I hear Father is ill.”
“The Marquis Tutor?”
“It felt strange that things had been so quiet lately… That child didn’t explain in detail, but if it’s serious enough to report to me, then something must be wrong.”
At night he broke into cold sweats, wandered the manor in a daze, as if possessed.
Had I seen this 모습 in my previous life?
She had no such memory. Perhaps by making different choices than before, the flow of this life had changed.
A young priest ran through the corridor of the Grand Temple.
“Is High Priest Haneli not here?”
“Why are you looking for him here?”
“He’s nowhere to be found. His Holiness the Pope is looking for him—what should we do?”
“Has he gone off alone again…? Perhaps drinking somewhere?”
Outside the cathedral, bells rang. As the New Year’s Festival ended, the day grew late. It was dark, and all the festival visitors had already left.
At that hour,
Quiet footsteps pressed into the grass.
“The taste of liquor has gone dull too.”
The lay priest’s hunch was correct.
“These pests follow me around like carp—so annoying that I can’t even string them together and throw them out.”
If the Pope heard that, he’d clutch his neck in shock.
“No booze left, and no believers left to squeeze.”
Haneli shook the bottle, then let his arm fall.
He went alone to the prayer chamber. With all the believers gone, the chamber was lit only by candles.
His white priest’s robe rustled softly with each step.
The robe bore the symbol of the ancient covenant, embroidered in gold thread.
When the candlelight flickered, the golden embroidery glimmered faintly in the dim light.
“Again! You reek of alcohol! Do you have any awareness that you are a high priest? Of all days, it’s the New Year’s Festival! I told you repeatedly to show your face in the prayer chamber!”
“Oh dear. I expected you to say that, which is why I was just about to come see you. You’ll get high blood pressure—do take care of yourself. See how devoted this disciple is to Your Holiness’s health.”
The Pope suppressed a groan.
“…What did you see?”
“I cannot speak of it.”
There, Haneli whispered to himself.
“I saw another who burns away alone like a candle—an unfortunate soul who sets himself on fire to shine again, saving others yet unable to save himself.”
The Pope swallowed hard, groaning.
“You all will walk that lonely road once more.”
Those who had been driven out scratched at the covenant’s taboo,
And those who had not died, who coveted life and existence, began to set foot upon this land.
The earth’s energy brushed against her nape, tightening and slowly strangling her.
Her breath grew suffocating.
Charlop bit her lip roughly. Clutching at the blankets, she rolled off the bed.
“Ah…”
Her vision flipped. Buried in the blankets, her body rolled across the carpet, throbbing with pain. She should have woken calmly.
Her waist ached. Groaning, she pushed her hair back as dawn broke.
Someone knocked on the bedroom door outside.
“Your Majesty, are you all right?”
It was early the next morning.
Her eyes opened on their own. When she lifted her head, all was quiet.
Groping for the bedding, Charlop noticed the cold beside her.
“Where did he go…?”
A chill settled over her.
She draped the shawl from the sofa over her shoulders and stepped out of the bedroom.
A white ball of fur rubbed its head against her feet, pressing its front paws against her sleepy eyelids as it followed her.
As she walked down the dim corridor, candlelight flickered in the distance.
“Where are you going?”
Katarina stepped out from the shadows, her presence light and soft.
“It was too quiet… Where is His Majesty?”
“He has gone to the training grounds.”
“At this early hour?”
Charlop turned her steps around. Her slow pace continued.
Her back was straight, but no one walked beside her.
“Where are you headed?”
“Outside.”
“It’s still cold. Are you going out as you are?”
She wrapped herself in a thicker coat.
As she stepped onto the dry earth, small pebbles crumbled beneath her feet.
The training grounds were still dark in the early dawn.
From afar came the sound of harsh friction.
Her steps drew closer to the grounds.
Sword aura spread in all directions, and raw, feral killing intent surged forth.
