TLDWAE 64

Chapter 64

She was mine. From as far back as I can remember, she had always been by my side as my mother. So why should some wicked child get to monopolize her embrace?

Karia stopped walking and turned her head toward Lamia. Silently gazing at the girl’s messy, tear-streaked face, she spoke coldly.

“Don’t call me that. I’m no longer your mother. I don’t have any duty to put up with your whining anymore.”

Karia turned away mercilessly. She didn’t hesitate for a moment to cut the last fragile thread between them. Hearing her firm words, Lamia’s blue eyes widened, and heavy tears rolled down her cheeks.

Even when Lamia collapsed onto the floor, crying loudly, Karia did not look back once.

“Did it hurt a lot?”

Karia, still not fully at ease, stroked Andeon’s cheek. His skin was soft and pale without a trace of redness, but her worry wouldn’t settle.

Andeon smiled gently, leaned his head against her shoulder, and replied in a kind voice.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“But still—”

“I’m stronger than the other kids. You know that too, Mother.”

Hearing Andeon’s words—I’m not like ordinary children—Karia paused. Then, as if realizing something, she let out a small “Ah.”

Her tightly drawn expression loosened. She remembered something she’d forgotten while lost in the make-believe of playing family, and her strength gave way.

“Ah, right. You and Alice aren’t like other children.”

“Mother?”

“I must have gotten a little too carried away.”

Karia felt foolish for having trembled with rage up to her hairline.

She slowly bent down and set Andeon on the ground. Though the child looked worried at her sudden change of mood, Karia quickened her pace in silence. Either way, she had no intention of lingering in her ex-husband’s house.

“Ah.”

When she, Andeon, and Aquil reached the entrance hall of the mansion, someone stirred in the corridor to the left. Turning toward the sound, she saw a boy with blue hair—Kristan Pandeon, the young master of the house.

Karia met Kristan’s surprised eyes, but quickly looked away. She had nothing to say to him now. But as she turned to leave, an urgent voice caught her.

“Have you… have you been well?”

Ordinary words, but filled with desperate earnestness. At the sound of the trembling boy’s voice, all three turned their heads.

Aquil simply reacted to the sound. Andeon looked displeased. Karia was purely startled—she had never imagined Kristan would speak to her first.

“You told me to greet you properly, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

Kristan rambled excuses for things she hadn’t asked, while sneaking glances at her. He clearly wanted to talk.

Karia looked at him blankly for a moment, then slowly approached. Not because she still considered him her child, or pitied him. But he was still a boy, and as an adult she felt obligated to uphold at least basic courtesy for what she had once said.

“I’ve… been managing, I suppose. And you? Things must be noisy in your household these days. Are you keeping up with your studies?”

“I’m glad to hear you’ve been well, Moth—no, I mean… um, I don’t know what I should call you…”

Kristan had been about to call her Mother when he noticed the boy holding Karia’s hand and looking up at him.

Through whispers from others, Kristan already knew Karia had an illegitimate child. And this boy standing at her side had her face and coloring exactly. He didn’t need words to know who he was.

Unlike Kristan—whose hair and eyes were the same gloomy blue as his father—this child was unmistakably hers.

“Call me the Marquess of Balta. That’s my title now.”

“…Yes, Marquess Balta.”

Karia gave a bitter laugh. Kristan was the only one in the ducal house to address her with her proper title.

Everyone else called her Duchess or Madam. Their refusal to acknowledge the change in relationship was a silent protest against the divorce.

Karia had never liked the Pandeons, but after all this, she felt their suffocating detestableness more than ever.

“It was nice exchanging greetings. Thank you for remembering my words. Now then, stay well and healthy.”

“Yes.”

“Ah, wait.”

Having run out of small talk, Karia was ready to bid him farewell. But then she noticed a leaf stuck conspicuously in Kristan’s blue hair.

Bending down, she reached out to tidy his disheveled hair. Kristan flinched at her approaching hand, then froze at the soft, slender fingers combing through his hair.

Even as she turned to leave, she was too kind. Her touch was warm, tender. A surge of emotion rose suddenly in Kristan’s chest.

“Looks like you’ve been practicing swordsmanship. You should go wash up.”

“Yes.”

But then her hand—still in his hair—suddenly stopped. Everyone noticed her stiffened expression.

Her face froze for an instant, then she quickly withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened.

It wasn’t that Kristan was the problem. She didn’t dislike him enough to avoid even such a small touch. The problem was her own wrist—what peeked out from under her sleeve.

Even though I wore clothes to hide my back and shoulders, it’s still no use. I’d forgotten for a while, but it won’t let me rest.

There, faintly visible, was that dreaded black mark. The terrible curse she herself had unleashed. It had appeared about three weeks ago—after regaining her past-life memories and visiting the Grand Duke’s house.

She had almost forgotten, caught up in everything else. But seeing the flame-shaped mark again forced reality upon her.

Thinking of the pain to come, she felt like a prisoner awaiting torture.

At least the symptoms haven’t started cycling yet… I should be glad of that much.

She resolved to avoid wearing clothes that exposed her arms. Hurrying, she said farewell to Kristan. She needed to return to her townhouse quickly, where painkillers given by the orphanage director waited in her drawer. She didn’t want to show weakness outside.

“Marquess Balta… do you resent me? Do you hate me?”

But Kristan, not knowing her situation, saw her hasty retreat and his heart sank. On impulse, the question he had long buried burst out.

He hated himself for speaking. What answer was he expecting? By what shamelessness could he even ask?

Pale and trembling, he stood there. Karia frowned, not understanding what he meant.

“Why would I resent you?”

“Because I ignored your plight and pretended not to see.”

“And if you had acknowledged it? What could you have done?”

When she had first met Kristan, he had been three years old. And now? Even if he spoke with forced maturity, he was only nine.

Unlike common children who spent their days playing in the streets, he had more privilege. But still, there was nothing a nine-year-old could be responsible for.

“You don’t need to feel guilt. You’re just a child. Adults don’t ask children for help. This was never your burden.”

“Yes… I couldn’t do anything. And I still can’t do anything now.”

Kristan clenched his fists and hung his head, overcome with frustration. When he stayed silent, Karia turned away decisively.

If anything, she was more offended that he thought of her as someone needing his protection. Was her standing in this house really so pitiful?

When Karia left with her guard and her son, Kristan lifted his head and stared after her, his eyes dripping with longing.

“But what if… even though I can’t change anything, I still want to see you?”

The visitors who had brought a storm to the Pandeon duchy vanished without farewell, just as they had appeared. And the boy stood rooted in place for a long time after, like a stone statue.

6. The Elf from Children’s Fairytales

In the deep of night, when all were asleep, only soft breathing filled her chamber. At the window, under the brightest moonlight, stood a black figure—a doll-like shadow.

He hid himself in a black robe, as if escaping the light, concealing every part of himself from fingertips to toes, even his hair. He was watching the bed. More precisely, the woman lying in it.

The red eyes that usually pierced like blades were now hidden beneath his lids, and the hands that once moved with elegant grace when he spoke or walked were folded neatly over his stomach.

“—My Lady.”

A low voice, dripping with honeyed affection, filled the room. She did not answer. He had known she wouldn’t, but called her all the same.