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Chapter : 53
Wretched
“There isn’t much luggage.”
Benjamin spoke quietly.
“There are barely any traces of someone having lived in this mansion.”
“…There wouldn’t be. I spent more time outside than staying with the Windsor family. I only ever passed through.”
She hadn’t even stayed in this mansion for a full year. She had grown up with her maternal family when she was young, then stayed with the Windsor family after Tuteur was removed from the family registry, but when upheaval struck the imperial family, she left the imperial palace.
Though the place had been arranged for someone to live in, all traces of having stayed there had been erased.
“You always left it behind and went on.”
The Windsor family always waited behind her. Like a solid wall raised in protection, they guarded Charles’s back.
That wall was lofty, its core firmly set. Some might have criticized it as stiff or inflexible. But that was precisely why the Windsor family remained the Windsor family.
“Because it’s built on trust?”
“……”
“I suppose I also believe you’ll always be behind me. I thought I’d never get used to that, but maybe I already have.”
Charlophe whispered as she set aside her shawl, discarding imperial formality. She removed the jewelry she wore around her neck and ears and put on a loose-fitting dress. The unadorned dress stood out in its deep forest-green hue.
She ate dinner with her family.
They exchanged only modest greetings.
Her maternal relatives also set aside formality and spoke comfortably, which seemed to help her settle in more easily.
“Is the room temperature all right? I told them to keep the fireplace strong, but since it’s been vacant for so long, I wasn’t sure.”
“You remembered.”
“Your uncle does too—he’s sensitive to the cold.”
Aster scolded Leandro at his side.
“You didn’t need to say that.”
That day, Aster conveyed his concern—thinking, Why is she still so thin? She needs to put on some weight.
Dinner ended. Afterward, maids came to the room.
“If the fire is weak, please pull the damper.”
“It’s fine. You may go now.”
Though the Windsor household was strict about etiquette and the maids weren’t the type to chatter, their delight was evident.
“It really shows on their faces.”
“That just means they’re sincere.”
The imperial visit was unofficial, and no announcement had been made, so the group was small.
“Won’t you need servants to change into nightwear?”
“I just need help loosening the back seams.”
She was also wearing a simplified outfit, not formal imperial attire.
“Could you loosen just this seam?”
Benjamin loosened the seam at her back.
His hand traced down along her shoulder line. As he kneaded her stiff shoulders and loosened her neck muscles, the calluses on his fingertips felt rough. A chill ran across her back.
“What are you doing?”
“Did I ever tell you? That it felt like you were putting your head into my mouth.”
Benjamin whispered softly.
“It might sound awful.”
“……”
“I want to put you into my mouth like this. When I look at you, I feel hungry. I feel like biting you and filling my mouth with you would satisfy that hunger.”
Like some wretched beast.
“Like a wretched bastard.”
Benjamin buried his mouth against her shoulder.
“That’s what I’m doing.”
Murmuring self-mockingly, he bared his teeth. A sharp sting flared. A soft breath escaped her lips. The scattered breaths grazing her skin faded into a haze.
“Is this enough loosened?”
“…I’ll do the rest myself.”
Charlophe touched her shoulder. The sting quickly faded, and the skin that had been bitten was clean, without a mark.
She set up a partition and changed into warm indoor clothes.
“……”
Charlophe smiled faintly.
Taran Kingdom.
An old temple located in the eastern forest.
Thistles blocked the temple entrance, and moss covered the ruined walls. Vines climbed the stonework, their leaves covering what had once been solid architecture.
A long alley extended beyond the temple.
—Slice.
Grass was cut, and a monster’s head fell. Its body blackened as it died. Tarante twisted his body sharply as killing intent pressed against his back. His attendant swung his sword and was splashed instead with the monster’s bodily fluids.
“Ugh. I’m going to puke. I’m dizzy from getting covered in monster fluids.”
“That’s your fault for not dodging. Why are you complaining to me?”
“I took the hit for you! Don’t you see I’m soaked in monster fluids from helping you? My clothes are nearly burned away by the poison!”
The attendant pleaded in protest.
“This is proof of my loyalty!”
Grinding his teeth indignantly, the attendant glared. What kind of situation was this? Supporting someone rampaging like a madman while covered in monster fluids—was that easy?
The ground was thick with mud.
“The situation is unstable. His Majesty the King is deeply concerned.”
“So I hear. He used to worry about me first, but these days he’s more concerned about an heir. He says in times like this, stability requires securing succession.”
“Ahem. I agree.”
“Hold your tongue. Your speech is filthy.”
Tarante recoiled in disgust.
“The royal marriage is already long overdue. Before it’s delayed further, we should proceed with the marriage—mmph!”
“You blockheads. Do you think holding a royal wedding will stabilize the nation?”
Tarante hung his scabbard at his waist. With the ground this muddy, it was right to halt the subjugation here. Forests were sensitive to moisture—especially with poisonous miasma seeping out. Small anomalies like this couldn’t be taken lightly.
“That heir must also be able to plan for the future.”
“Huh?”
“If there is no future, then everything after is meaningless.”
Tarante’s gaze stretched beyond the temple.
The temple had been sealed long ago. Neither monsters nor humans entered it.
No monsters, no animals—no insects even. The vines grew only on the outer walls, their thorns raised to bar entry.
Inside, it was spotless, with only dust settled on the ground.
Only ritual priests had maintained it periodically.
“This kind of anomaly is far from welcome.”
Tarante recalled that day.
“This is a tomb. A paradise built of flesh and blood, and a grave. This altar honors the souls of those never recorded.”
Such anomalies were unwelcome.
Especially with an uncertain future ahead.
An arm wrapped around her slender waist.
The breath of the sleeping man brushed her shoulder. Charlophe stopped moving as she twisted.
She might wake him—he was sensitive to presence.
She traced the thick arm. The outline of firmly defined muscles was clear.
In his sleep, Benjamin laced his fingers with hers, entwining them tightly.
Short hair spilled over her shoulder, black strands tickling her skin. Gentle heat rose to her neck.
Is it hot?
She must have raised the fire during the night.
The blanket made it even warmer.
Charlophe lay on her side, gazing blankly beyond the bed.
Darkness lay heavy. As her eyes adjusted, her vision sharpened.
The arm around her waist loosened. She sat up.
Tilting her head back as she sat there blankly, her long hair spread across the bed.
Hot.
She brushed the back of her hand over Benjamin’s cheek.
His skin was slightly rough.
If calluses were scars, then his expression bore the marks of life as well.
“…Were you tired?”
He’d seemed busy lately, especially with the intelligence office.
His eyes, framed by short hair, were calm. Even the sharp, cold edge had fallen asleep.
She looked away.
Charlophe went to the bedside table and poured water into a glass. Lukewarm water moistened her throat.
Leaning against the windowsill with her back to the bed, she felt how completely the room was sealed from outside.
The window was tightly shut—this wasn’t a room abandoned after someone left.
You’ve been maintaining it.
Without showing it at all.
“Was there a reason it felt so unfamiliar?”
“……”
“It’s as if the room has been waiting for someone.”
As she leaned against the wall and steadied her breath, she dropped the glass. Shards shattered loudly. Wearing slippers, she stepped back, only to stop when arms wrapped around her waist.
“Don’t step on it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I was already awake—you were rustling around.”
“Oh, I thought you were asleep from being tired.”
“You’ll step on it. Come here.”
He pulled Charlophe aside by the waist. Stepping onto the rug, she raked her fingers through her long hair.
“Did your hand slip?”
“I dropped it half-asleep.”
“If you’re tired, you should sleep more.”
“It was hot.”
“The fire was too strong.”
“I think the maids added too much wood trying to be considerate.”
He came closer and cupped her cheek.
“You have a slight fever.”
“…Because it’s hot.”
“Still, you shouldn’t expose yourself to cold air.”
Benjamin gathered the shards.
The transparent fragments sparkled in the moonlight. Pieces had flown as far as the opposite wardrobe.
As he picked them up, the wardrobe door cracked open.
When he tried to push it shut, something clicked.
It was by chance that he found a paper box. The old box caught on the wardrobe door.
“What is it?”
Benjamin straightened.
“Watch your feet.”
“I’ve cleaned up the glass.”
“…There might still be fragments. It shattered completely—if you step on one, it’ll cut you.”
Charlophe tried to put the old box back, but when her fingers touched it, the lid opened.
“A diary?”
“Yes. It looks like one.”
She placed the box on the bedside table.
“It seems to be something my mother left from her childhood.”
“……”
“It’s not mine. It’s old, and everything was locked.”
As Charlophe lifted the diary, the old lock snapped. The clasp broke open, and the first page fell open limply.
The cover looked ready to crumble, but the inside was clean.
I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay just a little longer with my family, with my house. What do I do now? Can’t I stay a little longer?
I chose this marriage myself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Even if it’s hard, there was no other choice.
I won’t cry. I’m not weak.
It read like self-hypnosis.
I want to die. No—that’s not blaming you. Please. Don’t blame yourself. I was just scared. I won’t say weak things.
Becoming a woman of another family through marriage, leaving her loved ones behind—those feelings were written here. It was a deep sorrow.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.
If the road is harsh, that’s my fault. If you’re broken, that’s my fault too. If your path is exhausting, that’s also my fault. So blame me.
Who was she speaking to?
