The moment he realized the truth, a weight as crushing as swallowed iron pressed down upon his chest.
Feeling the floor give way beneath him, he sank down, resting his back against the side of the bed. Even as his senses blurred, his gaze remained fixed on her diary.
[You seem to have grown so thin over the past few months. You must be burying yourself in work again without resting properly.
After fussing so much over my health, why do you neglect your own body like that?
Even though I know I have no right, I wanted to run to you and scold you endlessly. I wonder how you would react if I did.]
The strokes pressed heavy into the paper, betraying faint traces of annoyance and anger. Yet the sentences that followed were far more composed, almost gentle.
[Sometimes I imagine walking up to you and striking up a conversation as if nothing were wrong.
How have you been?
Are you hurt anywhere?
Is the work too hard?
Why are such simple words so difficult for me?
There must be something broken inside me.]
Following that self-derisive line came several blank pages, as though she had put down her pen for a long while.
Her writing resumed after he had left for the front once more.
[Autumn has finally begun.
When this season comes, the winds blow fiercely across Kalmor.
Did you know? When the wind sweeps over the fields, it carries the soft scent that used to linger in your hair.
Because of that, no matter how bitter or sorrowful it becomes, I can never bring myself to hate this land.]
With hollow eyes, he read and re-read those lines again and again.
After that, mundane accounts of daily life filled the pages.
Stories about Khan still took up the greater part, but there were also brief reflections on books she had read in the library, or conversations exchanged with the maids.
None of it was extraordinary, yet he read every single stroke with obsessive focus. Because every word was a message she had left behind for him.
[Today, I rode across the fields with Khan. Through the endless plains, on and on.
My heart beat as though it might burst, yet strangely, it did not hurt. For the first time in my life, I felt glad to be alive.
Perhaps God sent me a gift. Perhaps He decided that even in a life like mine, there should be at least one brilliant moment.
I am glad Khan came to me.
On the day my breath finally leaves me, I will surely remember this moment. That a joy like heaven truly existed in my life.]
He could not turn from that page for a very long time. The lines written there felt like long, sharp awls boring into his eyes.
After sitting frozen for an eternity, his trembling hand finally turned the leaf. Blank pages followed.
Just as the thought crossed his mind that perhaps she had no longer needed a diary once the wolf was with her, a page torn in half appeared.
Staring blankly at the ragged edge ripped by hand, he carefully smoothed down the crumpled paper.
Across what remained of the page, chaotic black lines and violent inkblots ran rampant. Looking closer, he found letters warped so badly they were scarcely legible.
I’m sorry, Varkas. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. No, never forgive me. Just please don’t die. I should be the one to die. I just want to die like this. I wish someone would kill me. In truth, I never even wanted to be born. I’m sorry for being born. I’m sorry for coveting you.
Though no date was inscribed, he knew at once when she had written it.
A violent heave tore through his chest as if his entrails were being gouged out. He turned to the next page. Chaotic, scattered words continued for some time, but they were so thoroughly smudged and blurred that deciphering them was impossible.
He stared at the black, blood-like stains for a long while before turning page after page, until pristine, white paper returned.
At last, a neat, orderly entry appeared.
[The sight of you collapsing as you vomited blood will not leave my mind.
Every night, I dream of screaming while holding your cooling body.
If Khan had not stayed by my side and protected me, I surely would have done something foolish again.]
He stared at the words, rooted to the spot, before his gaze drifted downward to the next line.
[It may be shameless of me, but I want to be free of this pain now.
I do not want to hurt anymore.
I do not want to suffer.
So, I pray every single day.
Praying that this love will die.
Let me love you only until today, and let this love be dead by tomorrow.]
His heart seemed to plummet through the floor, and his body turned to ice.
The hand holding the diary shook so violently he could not still it. His eyes fixed upon the words remaining at the very bottom of the page.
His vision, blanching into a haze, began to spin and sway.
Cold sweat ran down his brow and dripped onto the pages. Hurriedly, he tried to wipe it away, but the drops fell without stopping.
He raised a hand and touched his face. Lukewarm wetness soaked his cheeks and neck. He wiped at it numbly, only to freeze when he realized it was spilling from his own eyes.
Tears pooled heavily in his palms. As he stared vacantly at them, his flickering vision fractured entirely.
Watching his own limbs seem to disintegrate, he lifted his head and looked around the room, where shadows had begun to settle.
The illusion that had started from his own body was now swallowing the entire room.
The contours of the bedroom melted away, losing form and submerging into pitch darkness.
Before long, he was left entirely alone in an empty void.
From somewhere far beyond that hollow expanse came a howl. It was the same cry that had echoed ceaselessly in his head for months. That desperate scream shredded his nerves raw.
At that moment, a massive weight crushed his entire body. He panted heavily, digging his hands into the floor. It felt as though something gargantuan were devouring him alive.
Agony tore through him all at once, as if every bone and sinew were being splintered and his organs ground into pulp.
He clawed at the floor until his fingernails tore.
His vision bled crimson from the sensation of thousands of shards carving up the inside of his skull. It was as if every torment he had suppressed until now had surged forth in an overwhelming tide.
A beast-like sob tore from his lips. Realizing the sound was horrifyingly identical to the desperate howl echoing in his mind, he collapsed, completely undone.
Everything he had built up like a fragile illusion crumbled.
All that remained for him was an endless, eternal pain…
Nothing but pain.
When dawn broke, rain began to fall.
Varkas, who had sat unmoving for hours in a stupor, slowly lifted his head at the sound of the rain.
A healer must have come by, for a sedative incense candle burned beside the bed, giving off thick plumes of smoke.
Staring dully at the trails of smoke dissolving into the gloom, he soon lowered his eyes back to the diary.
Having roamed the room like a ghost, scouring every inch of her things, he had managed to uncover another record she had left behind.
This newly found diary was filled with anger, grief, and despair directed toward him.
[You killed our child.
Even though I begged you so desperately, you did not even pretend to listen. I cannot forgive you. I will not forgive you, even in death.
This time, I will kill my love for you. I will kill it no matter what.
I will tear it to pieces until not a trace remains. I swear I will.]
Bitter recriminations followed, interspersed with outbursts of intense self-loathing and despair.
As if carving into his own flesh, he read those words again and again. Her agony. Her resentment. Her despair. He drank down every drop, leaving nothing behind.
END