Previously
Caesar reacts violently to the servants' attempts to bathe him, injuring a worker with his claws and prompting a confrontation between Irenia and Mercedes. Irenia realizes that Mercedes's overprotective love has hindered Caesar's growth and insists on teaching him to bathe himself to foster his humanity.
Right then, Caesar shook the water from his hands. His reaction this time was far calmer than before.
Perhaps he did not actually have an aversion to the water itself?
Deciding to try again, I splashed a bit onto his chest. The white robe soaked through and clung to his skin, the fabric creasing deeply and showing the flesh beneath.
A drop of water slipped down between his pectoral muscles, and only then did I come to my senses.
Goodness… Feeling as if I were doing something terribly improper, I quickly turned away. My heart raced, and heat flooded my cheeks.
Come to think of it, teaching him how to bathe meant he would inevitably see a bare body, wouldn’t he?
“What am I supposed to do now…?”
Perhaps I had been naive. Was there any way to teach him to wash without him seeing me naked? Was such a thing even possible?
“Ren?”
When I remained frozen in place, Caesar stepped closer and tugged at the collar of my robe.
At that moment, his own robe parted in the front, baring his shoulder as the fabric sagged into a precarious position.
Barely stifling a gasp, I fixed my gaze firmly on the ceiling. In a trembling voice, I pleaded:
“Caesar, no, don't ever take that robe off, understood?”
“Don't take off?”
Yes, that was a crucial matter for our upcoming bath. Whether he understood me or not, I emphasized my point as I carefully pulled the open robe back together.
“Do you understand? You must hold it tightly so it doesn't fall open!”
“Okay.”
He replied quickly. Even so, my anxiety lingered, so I repeated the instruction several times.
“Hold it tight, understand?”
“Yes.”
Well, I might have resolved the first issue, but the road ahead remained hazy.
Last time with the food, he had refused to eat until he watched me eat first.
Could it be the same with bathing? If he watched me wash, would he understand then?
“Still, this is… far too embarrassing.”
Having someone watch you bathe was mortifying.
Yet Caesar’s innocent, intent gaze made it impossible to ignore him.
“I really don't know…”
I gathered my courage. I would step into the tub first to show him.
Yes, all of this…
“It's only for teaching.”
I convinced myself, piling excuse upon excuse.
Since stepping into the water wearing an outer robe was out of the question, I reached for the ribbon tied at my chest to undo it.
Just then, I felt Caesar’s eyes fix directly on me, brimming with unmistakable curiosity.
He probably meant nothing by it, but having his eyes track every movement of my hands was embarrassing in its own right.
I cleared my throat softly and said cautiously:
“Look, just turn around for a moment.”
As expected, he obeyed at once. He nodded and turned his back to me.
The hem of my dress pooled onto the floor, and I struggled for a moment with my damp, thin stockings, which had become difficult to pull off.
“All right… you can look now.”
Caesar turned right around, as though he had only been waiting for permission.
It had been so long since I last let anyone see my bare leg. After the accident, it had become deformed and discolored.
It was a part of myself I had always hidden away for fear of ridicule. It was not an illness, but an injury.
The accident had happened shortly after I moved to the Flores estate.
Celestina, my father’s wife, looked at me as if I were a vile insect.
“We pulled you from the gutters, and yet you show no gratitude?”
I was never treated well in that house.
Celestina and her daughter never let a day pass without tormenting me.
Perhaps if my biological father, Gasparo, had offered me some protection, things might have been better.
Yet he barely ever showed his face at home aside from the weekly family dinners. Oblivious to everything in the household, he remained entirely consumed by his own pleasures.
“Ahhh!”
And then one day, it happened.
Giovinetta Flores, the eldest daughter, shoved me down the stairs.
I could not recall the cause. It had probably been some petty dispute, but I tumbled hard, severely injuring my ankle.
“You're the one who tripped because you weren't watching where you were going!”
She had sneered, sticking her tongue out at me.
I spent days writhing in agony, clutching my twisted ankle, without them ever calling the family physician.
By the time my father noticed my prolonged absence and finally visited with a doctor, it was already too late.
From that day on, I walked with a limp. For the rest of my life.
No one was ever punished. They simply dismissed it as a clumsy misstep of mine, and life went on.
A mangled body, endless pain, inescapable abuse, and a father's total indifference… I did not know which cut deeper.
I wept silently every night in that pitch-black attic, soaking my foul-smelling pillow with tears.
‘Why did you even bring me here?’
It was a question I asked myself endlessly.
If this was how they intended to treat me, why not simply leave me to starve in the streets?
I had to measure every breath, eat with shame, and live as though I were invisible.
I was living proof of sin, the very image of everything foul and wrong in this world.
An illegitimate daughter, a cripple; my mere existence offended everyone around me.
The harsh reality tore at me without mercy.
To protect myself, I had to harden.
I buried my gentle, tender heart deep within.
The armor I forged from loneliness and resolve grew sturdier with each passing year.
Yet sometimes, their cruel words still pierced straight through, cutting me to shreds.
A fragile, defenseless piece of me remained, continuing to torment me.
No matter how hard I tried to callous it, that part never hardened, bleeding without pity whenever it was struck.
“A cripple.”
“Don't touch her, you might catch her affliction.”
Every time I limped, whispers and mockery followed in my wake.
As if I were some filthy contagion.
Even those who knew it was not infectious avoided grazing my skin.
And there were so many people like that around me.
That was why my toes curled instinctively, trembling.
Exposing my legs felt far more humiliating than standing in light undergarments.
I dreaded the thought of Caesar looking at me with disgust or revulsion.
I could not tell whether the heat in my face came from the steam of the bath or sheer mortification.
I peered at him from the corner of my eye, but he seemed entirely oblivious to my distress.
He was occupied with my discarded clothes, leaning down to sniff them.
“You fool, don't smell those!”
I waved my hand to stop him, and his attention finally shifted.
Truly, it was impossible to take my eyes off him.
“Look, I'm going in now.”
Carefully hitching up my slip, I climbed into the tub and rested my feet in the warm water.
The heat felt wonderfully soothing, especially against my aching ankle.
A faint sigh escaped my lips.
“Ah, that feels nice.”
Sitting on the edge of the tub, I paddled my feet gently through the water, feeling the soft resistance as small splashes spilled onto the floor. Watching Caesar gaze at the scene in wide-eyed wonder, I smiled softly.
Cupping a bit of water in my palm, I let it sprinkle down gently. As if to tell him:
“It doesn't hurt.”
Just as I hoped, his curiosity piqued. I reached for a vial of scented oil resting in the basket beside the tub. Uncorking it released a crisp, herbal fragrance into the air.
I dripped a few drops onto the water, letting the perfume dissolve into the bath and fill the room with sweet floral notes. Caesar leaned closer over the surface, sniffing the scent while making curious little sounds.
“What do you think?”
Even so, he didn't step in yet. He simply stood there, staring intently at the water's surface and sniffing.
So I slowly lowered myself until I was fully submerged in the tub. The water displaced by my weight surged over the rim, forming a shallow stream across the tiles.
Caesar recoiled at the sudden rush of water, which stirred a playful impulse in me. I splashed him again, aim high this time, catching his face.
As the droplets hit him, a flicker of confusion crossed his crimson eyes. Spurred by an inexplicable urge, I splashed him once more.
“Pfft, haha.”
“Ooooh…”
The corners of Caesar's eyes drooped slightly, looking so hopelessly endearing that I couldn't resist reaching out and taking him by the hand.
“Come here.”
I barely tugged, yet his body yielded, gliding toward me until the water in the tub surged over the brim once more.
FADE OUT