43 - Pieces of the Broken Glass Slipper
Shattered Glass Slipper Shards, Episode 43
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Pathetic.
Pointing a finger at the past Sis, I mock her.
Look at this ridiculous state. There's nothing certain, yet she's fidgeting alone. Don't you know yet? Sir Halberd can never be yours, even if you die trying. Think about the harsh words and actions he directed at you. The real fool isn't Roena, it's you.
I know. That the end of this story will never be happy.
That all I can gain is an achievement mixed with emptiness. After all, corruption carved from one's own flesh can hardly be enjoyable.
Nevertheless, I am the one who decided to move forward with a smile.
Didn't I resolve to live a life like a pig if it meant rolling in the mud because of it? So, so I...!!
“Please don't.”
I whispered softly. My voice was frail, but it contained the utmost resistance I could muster. Right now, I am as desperate as if I were standing on a cliff. I am experiencing more despair and profound frustration than anyone in the world.
It is directed at myself, and I am deeply disappointed in how easily I crumble before Sir Halberd. That is why I spoke desperately. I pleaded with him, shouting with all my might.
“Please, Sir Halberd.”
Please don't shake me. Save me. Please.
Just leave me be so I can become the wicked Sissae who torments Roena.
That is why I cannot understand you, fidgeting as you look at my face. Or you offering me a neatly folded handkerchief after rummaging through your trousers, or gently caressing my cheek with your fingertips to wipe away my tears. You, who hold me back as I shake my head and step away, and forcefully press the handkerchief into my hand – are you truly the Sir Halberd I know!
“No, I don't need this kindness.”
“That is not so.”
“Sir Halberd, I know you are a very considerate and kind knight, but you don't need to be that way towards me.”
“No, young lady.”
“It is not.”
The times I have been directly involved with him are few. And how short are the moments we have spoken within that time. Therefore, there is no reason for you to show me such excessive behavior. If there is, it is merely 'pity' stemming from the servants' gossip or a knight's duty.
Yes, I was afraid. Afraid of Sir Halberd approaching me with pity in his heart. Having already experienced firsthand how sharp a blade the emotion called love can be in the past, I cannot even dare to taste anything less than that.
From the beginning, there was no 'start' between him and me. Therefore, discussing whether to give up on my feelings or not is itself a ridiculous matter. Above all, I was mired in deep distrust. Starting from the basic premise of whether Sir Halberd could treat me with respect.
This was a matter that dared not even mention 'love'. Because all he showed me in the past was 'contempt'. So, all I can do is run away diligently. What more can I do?
The strength of a well-trained man's hand was immense, like holding a heavy steel bar. I could not move an inch in his grasp. Sir Halberd ignored my words like a ruffian and acted as he pleased. He seemed unlike the Knight of Clear Hearing I knew.
His lips were tightly shut, as if he were angry, and his deeply furrowed brow was heavily creased. Yet, the hand wiping my cheek was incredibly soft, even tender.
Then, as if suddenly remembering, he brought up a topic, and strangely, his voice was hoarser than mine, which had been crying out.
“Why is that? Why do you seem so precarious?”
His blue eyes stared directly at me and asked. His clear gaze, reminiscent of a clear sky, contained only me.
“That is why I have no choice but to commit such rudeness.”
Am I insane if I believe that to be his true inner feelings?
“Young lady, why do you keep creating 'exceptions' for me? I am curious about that.”
Very much so. He added, whispering, and tears flowed again.
I am curious too. Why do you keep holding onto me, the returned me? Why do you keep showing me a side you never showed me back then?
Why do you...
With all my might, I wrenched myself away from him. My body swayed greatly from the immense recoil, but I paid it no mind. Instead, gritting my teeth, I ran straight towards my room.
Don't look back. Don't look back. Never look back.
My breath was ragged, but escaping that place was the priority. His gaze followed me like a shadow, tormenting me, but I endured it desperately. And finally, upon reaching my room, I collapsed as if about to break and cried my eyes out like a child.
Lustewin Halberd, I am so afraid of you. At the same time, I am so scared that I want to run away, but I also find you so lovely and endearing that I cannot bear it. Clutching my rapidly beating heart, I collapsed onto the floor. Sob. The words I couldn't utter swirled fiercely around my mouth, from which grotesque cries emerged.
Save me. Please save me.
I wish someone would rip out my heart. Then I would be more perfect. Even if the entity doing it were a demon, I think I could offer my chest with a happy smile. Truly.
From this day on, I was bedridden for several days. I wasn't coughing or having a runny nose, but I had a fever. My burning body felt like a ball of fire.
Especially my heart, which blazed as if it had swallowed the sun, made its very beating painful. I wished I could tear it out with my hands, but I couldn't, so I could only gasp for breath.
My eyes, clouded as if in a daze, shed tears incessantly. My mouth was dry and parched, and my back, soaked in sweat, made me irritable as my clothes stuck to me.
Someone was constantly wiping my body with a wet cloth, but it offered little help. All I could do was grip the sheets and toss and turn.
During that time, I had a dream. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say I was reliving the past. The hardships of many years were flashing before my eyes like a panorama.
With each scene that appeared and disappeared, footprints seemed to be etched onto the ground. The first ones were very small, then they gradually grew larger. As if growing.
I intuitively realized the footprints were mine. Some had clear imprints, while others were messy, like those of a drunkard.
It started with bare feet, but gradually took the shape of pointed shoes. The panorama at that time showed my appearance when I first set foot in the Bishvarts Family.
As if possessed, I stood before the footprints. Standing on them, things that were invisible began to appear. The footprints were already there. Faster and more numerous than the scenes above my head.
I followed them. On some, drops of blood dotted the footprints. These, deeply etched compared to other marks, were a complex tangle of many, resembling dance steps.
Ah, yes. Around this time, I was dancing.
Others were a muddy mess that smelled foul. There were also mismatched prints, as if I were limping. Few were perfectly imprinted. Like my incomplete self back then.
With each footprint I stepped on, the events of the past came back to me clearly. Lost in recollection, I alternated between vacant laughter and tears. It felt as if someone were telling me to re-examine my life.
Because at the end of the footprints lay a terrace with white curtains fluttering. The last footprint was imprinted on the terrace railing.
I climbed onto the terrace railing. And just like then, I slowly turned around. Roena was not there, but other things were eerily similar to the moments before death.
My body swaying slightly back and forth, my skirt fluttering like a dance in response, and my breath trembling as if from tension.
The panorama above my head had vanished, and the footprints swallowed by darkness left no trace. The view ahead, gradually darkening like extinguishing a candle, evoked a strange tension.
What would happen if I were to scatter into the air and fall like this? I was curious. Would I die even in a dream? Or would I return, as I am now? My tilting body felt precarious. A wind blowing from somewhere whispered to me.
Fall. Then you will know.
I clasped my hands over my chest. And closed my eyes. The wind grew stronger by the moment. I surrendered myself to its flow. My body falling into the void felt distant. My arms were soon stretched upwards.
Then, someone grabs my hand. The warmth felt in it was trying to pull me up.
Don't.
A genderless voice whispered low. Who are you, grabbing me? Biting my lip in unknown anxiety, I opened my eyes. I wanted to see your face. But all I could see was darkness.
“Haaack!!”
With a short scream, I jolted awake. Was a cloth placed on my forehead? The heavy, water-soaked cloth fell onto my thighs.
Clutching my chest, I gasped for air. My body trembled with unidentifiable fear. For a moment, my head pounded and my vision swam, but it was better than my heart feeling suffocated as if blocked by something.
After breathing heavily for a while, I suddenly turned my head towards the window and saw faint dawn light slowly seeping through the crack in the door. On the side table next to the bed, I saw a kettle of water and a washbasin. I moistened my throat with lukewarm water and then got out of bed.
With every step, nausea and a headache surged. My staggering legs were as clumsy as a child learning to walk. My flat, dry stomach felt both nauseous and hungry.
“How long have I been lying here?”
My voice, escaping my pale, chapped lips, was rough like tree bark and brittle like dry earth.
I staggered out of the room, holding myself up. I walked through the hall like a ghost, wrapping my arms around my shoulders.
The residual heat in a part of my body distorted the world. My knees, which were bending, trembled uncontrollably. It felt as if I could collapse forward at any moment.
“Mother, Mom… I’m sick, please, just me!”
I whined for my mother in the empty hallway where no one was. But all that returned was the cold dawn air. Exhausted by the emptiness of loss, I curled up.
An unknown sorrow welled up in my head, which was ringing as if struck by a hammer. The irrecoverable emotions flowed down like the spread of my skirt.
As if grasping the cloth with my fingertips, only sadness deepened, and tears welled up in my heart, which felt hollow as if a hole had been punched through it. The residual heat was once again igniting a fever.
In a time that could not be mine, many things bloomed and faded. This sorrow was one of them.
Strangely, after pouring out everything, a sense of peace washed over me. My sick body still cried out in pain, but it was not as agonizing as before.
