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chapter 63
For some time she had clung to life as if mocking the doctors’ death sentences. Every time she felt her life was at an end, she still harbored the faint hope that maybe this time she might survive a little longer.
But after coughing up blood in front of René, Lowell painfully realized that her hope had been nothing but recklessness. There wasn’t much time left in which she could even move like this.
Miheyu examined Lowell before giving the medicine and wore a very serious expression. She didn’t say anything outright, but Lowell—who’d seen doctors’ faces as often as she’d seen her parents’—knew better than anyone that it wasn’t a good sign.
“If her condition’s worse than before, then it’s really time to prepare for the end.”
It could be likened to the moment a hairline crack appears in a window that had been barely holding against a gale. It isn’t shattered yet, but once the crack’s there it can’t be undone. You can’t hope the cracked parts will fuse back together or that the world outside will look clear again. All you can do for now is pray it doesn’t completely break and fall down today.
“Miheyu said it’s difficult to cure me completely too.”
What Miheyu was giving was only a medicine to ease the symptoms a bit; curing Lowell was impossible for anyone.
So Lowell decided, clutching at straws, to go see Noah.
Of course, Noah had been someone who studied abnormalities of mana; he likely didn’t have any sharp solution to fix Lowell. Still, she wanted to knock on his door at least once, to hold on to any hope.
Who knew—maybe there would be some information in Noah’s lab that could help her. Maybe someone who had left a metal bookmark in a book wanted to tell her something that could save her life.
She had to grab at anything. If there was even a rope that could extend her life, she would grab a devil’s hand without hesitation.
Feeling the cold wind, she sensed her fever rising. She tightened the shawl around her shoulders, wiped her tears, and continued walking.
“I can’t die before I take my revenge.”
Peter didn’t yet fully love “Anet.” Maybe he suspected her, maybe he didn’t.
But if she killed Peter now just because she didn’t know when she would die, then all the kisses she’d shared with him up to now would have been for nothing. Killing Peter by her own hand had to be reserved for the very end.
“If only I could at least know the day I’ll die.”
A body that can collapse at any moment is of no help. Not only did it take away her possibilities, but now it even threatened to ruin her revenge.
No matter how she thought about it, she kept returning to the thought that she should have killed him the first day she met him.
“If I had, I wouldn’t have to feel this way, I wouldn’t have to worry my revenge might fail.”
There had certainly been many opportunities to kill him. Still, why hadn’t she? Was it really only because of revenge?
She knew the truth. It was simply that she had been greedy.
Believing she had lived without greed until now was Lowell’s pride. When she stood before Peter and planned revenge, she became the most avaricious person of all. Only by coveting Peter—only by plotting his despair—could she do something that didn’t feel sinful to her.
She wanted to indulge in the greatest luxury permitted. In the little time she had left, she wanted nothing more than to utterly break Peter and, with her own hands, end her long life—this, she thought, would be the greatest indulgence and the best ending she could have.
Now she knew even that had been excessive. She also realized that what she truly wanted wasn’t simple revenge.
It was life itself. If the only goals were revenge and suicide, then the act of designing a future and living through the days until death was life—wasn’t it?
But life was not granted to Lowell. It was a privilege given only to those who still had possibilities. So even this was an indulgence beyond her rights.
Thus she finally understood what she wanted.
“I want to live.”
After all that greed, what she desired was life.
Merely keeping her life wasn’t enough. A life without purpose cannot be called living. The moment a concrete purpose—a target for vengeance—was set before her, Lowell seized life. She dreamed of the future. She could vividly picture giving Peter despair and then closing her eyes.
When that possibility slipped through her fingers like sand, only then did she realize she had wanted to live.
“Just a little longer… just a little more.”
She didn’t wish for a long life like an ordinary person.
At least she wanted to be alive until she could finish the life she had planned.
She hurried toward Noah’s lab with that desperate wish. She begged that someone—anyone—would extend her life a little longer. If they did, she thought she could love anyone. She could even kiss the late emperor’s feet, if it came to that.
Anyone—please.
“Anet?”
Her eyelids fluttered and the darkness of her vision cleared a bit. In that moment a familiar face came into view.
The face she never wanted to see at a time like this.
“…Peter.”
Lowell said the name without meaning to. She couldn’t bear the contradiction that boiled within her.
How strange, Peter. When I see you I can’t stop imagining dying in front of you.
And yet at the same time, seeing you makes me want to live so badly…
Her face twisted. She was grateful the darkness blurred her view.
“What brings you here? It’s late.” His voice.
“…I was on my way to see Lord Noah about something. I didn’t expect to run into His Majesty.”
“Same here.”
Peter strode forward. Lowell felt rooted to the spot, as if she’d forgotten how to step back, and only watched his approaching silhouette. She knew being this close to Peter wouldn’t help her, and still her feet wouldn’t move.
The man standing close cupped Lowell’s chin and lifted it. Their eyes met a breath away. Seeing Lowell’s expression, Peter slowly opened his mouth.
“I never thought I’d see you here.”
“Especially crying.” he added, and the added line made Lowell scowl. Peter’s hand touched her wet cheek. She gritted her teeth and roughly brushed it away. He showed no surprise or discomfort—merely asked in his usual calm tone.
“Is something wrong?”
“…Nothing.”
“You don’t look like that at all.”
Pestered by his persistent questions, Lowell snapped irritably and turned away.
“It’s true. You didn’t trust me before, and now you distrust everything I say?”
“No, I trust what I can see with my own eyes.”
Peter, as if unfazed by her tone, grabbed her arm and pulled. She spun around on the momentum and found herself standing right in front of him again. So close that if she tilted her head even slightly their breaths might touch, their eyes locked.
“If you want me to believe you, at least don’t make faces like that in front of me.”
His steel-blue eyes held hers. His face, without a hint of a smile, studied Lowell’s expression even now. The slight furrow of his brow and the annoyed tone in his voice were threaded with concern.
She would have preferred if he’d simply scolded her. If he had punished her—saying she was ungrateful after sparing her life—that might have felt better. At least then facing reality wouldn’t be as terrifying.
“…Do I look sad to Your Majesty?”
“You look angry.”
Lowell let out a bitter laugh. Only then did she realize Peter’s words had struck a chord she hadn’t known was there.
She suddenly understood why she had felt so deeply sorrowful. She was angry—angry that a world which allowed possibilities to others denied them to her, angry that she had been shoved to the edge with no choice but revenge, angry at the contradiction she felt inside herself.
But there was nowhere to place that anger, so it had become vague sorrow. She understood it only now.
I came here to kill you, yet I seek comfort only from you.
Only you know me, even the parts I don’t know myself.
Lowell’s face crumpled again. She seemed to be restraining something she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud. At last she forced out each syllable, as if chewing them painfully.
“I really… really hate Your Majesty.”
She let her head fall. She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.
She should never have planned revenge from the start.
Meeting you, meeting you again, becoming your bride… if I had known I would regret it like this.
“If it seemed like I was angry, it’s all because of Your Majesty.”
“…Is that so?”
“Yes. So…”
Lowell heard Peter chuckle softly.
“That’s a relief. While you’re angry you’ll be thinking only of me.”
Lowell looked up in a daze. She saw Peter smiling wryly.
“If you hate me and can’t help thinking of me, you might as well be angry at me openly when I’m right in front of you.”
Maybe then you’d feel a bit better…
Whether he was joking or serious, Peter’s words carried a mischievous note. At the end of that sentence, Lowell kissed him.
It was the best way not to cry.
