How long had he spent turning page after page? Amidst the sentences stained with hatred, a deep remorse began to seep through.
‘I simply cannot stop hating you. You always make it impossible for me to remain myself.
I hate you for making me feel this way. And I loathe myself for being unable to let you go completely, even after things have come to this.’
‘Every night, I hear Khan crying. Have I finally lost my mind?
It feels as though Khan’s soul is lingering around me. If only I could, I would give birth to that child again.
But my body is already ruined. It has been a long time since my monthly bleeding stopped.
I find myself hoping this medicine will one day make my life stop, too.’
‘Perhaps I only wanted to reclaim the happiest moment of my life.
I held onto the vain hope that if I conceived again, I might be able to return to that time.
I know now how foolish that thought was.
There were clear moments when I could have turned back, yet I repeated the same wrong choices over and over.
I clawed and tore at my own wounds to ensure they would never heal, all while bitterly wondering why the pain never ended.’
‘The truth is, I knew. Falling and injuring my leg, losing the baby, Khan’s death—it was all my fault.
I knew, yet I poured all my resentment onto you. Because the moment I admitted I brought this upon myself, I felt I would truly want to die.
I hurt you so that I could survive. I did it even though a part of me knew that you were suffering, too.’
‘I am growing used to watching your back as you walk away.
As I watched you grow distant, I thought about your happiness for the first time. I found myself wishing that one day, you would be happier than anyone else in the world….
Yet for that to happen, I must disappear from your life. I am nothing more than a parasite eating away at your existence.
If I want to save your life, all I have to do is climb to the top of the castle tower and fly away like a bird. I hope that one day, I will find the courage to do so.’
‘Today, I finally let you go forever.
Now, I have nothing left to wish for.
Until this life reaches its end, I will desire nothing at all.’
The disjointed diary ended abruptly with those words.
The dates had stopped appearing halfway through, making it impossible to tell when the later entries were written. He read and reread the lines until the sound of heavy rain lashing against the windowpane forced him to look up.
Beyond the blanket of ashen clouds covering the sky, he could sense the faint approach of dawn.
He closed the diary and forced himself to stand. His knees trembled as though the bones inside them had melted away.
Only then did he realize he was on the verge of collapsing. Brushing past the weariness, he opened the door and stepped out.
He walked down the hallway, the floor heaving beneath him like a quagmire, and descended the stairs. The Great Hall emerged, drowned in darkness.
He pushed open the back door and stepped out into the rain-swept garden. Cold rainwater trickled down his neck, soaking through his hair.
It was only when he had crossed half the rear garden that he realized where his feet were carrying him.
Through the veil of rain, the dark silhouette of a building faintly rose. It was where she had stayed for a single season.
Clinging to the desperate hope that some trace of her might still linger there—the woman he had failed to protect—he stumbled forward.
The annex was empty. The servants had evidently returned to their original quarters after she moved back to the main castle.
Varkas stepped into the dim hall, water dripping from his clothes as he moved slowly through the dark interior.
The ground floor held the servants’ quarters, the kitchen, and the guard posts. Passing through the thin coat of dust over the rooms, he climbed the stairs to find a neat drawing room, the maids’ common room, and the door to the bedchamber she had used.
He reached out and pulled the handle. With a creak, the cozy interior of the bedroom was laid bare.
He scanned the room, which looked exactly as it had during his last visit, before turning his gaze toward the bed where she had once slept.
In that instant, an image of the woman with desolate eyes appeared upon the neatly made bed like a phantom.
Blue eyes, steeped in grief and trauma, glared back at him in quiet accusation. The cruel words he had once spat at her face rang in his ears.
“Regret always comes too late, no matter how early it begins.”
He stood frozen for a long while before slowly approaching the bedside.
He opened the nightstand drawer to find a few neat candles, a quill, and an ink bottle. There were no signs of use; they were merely spare supplies stocked by the servants.
He pulled open another drawer. At last, he found something that belonged to her: a small tray holding a hand mirror, an ivory comb, and a pair of small tweezers.
He picked it up and searched thoroughly, checking underneath the items, until a small iron key slipped out. At a glance, it looked far too small for any door or large chest.
Varkas studied the tiny key, no bigger than his little finger, before shoving it into his coat pocket. He stood up and began ransacking the desk drawers and display shelves. But there was nothing else resembling a journal.
After staring blankly into the empty spaces, he turned and began tearing through the wardrobe and trunks in a frenzy.
This could not be the end. There had to be something else she left behind. Her life could not have ended this way, giving up on everything without a trace.
He spent an unknown span of time tearing through every corner of the room in near-madness.
Discovering a sewing box beneath the bed, he dumped its contents onto the carpet. Neatly wound skeins of thread and a small, rolled-up scrap of cloth spilled across the floor.
He picked up the rumpled fabric and carefully unfolded it. Upon the unevenly cut scrap, a dark bird had been embroidered. As his fingertips traced the stitching, a passage from her diary struck his mind.
‘It rained all day today.
Like a fool, I am thinking of the day we first met again. I wanted to ask you just once. What happened to the bird you took away that day?
If I had asked you on the day you became my escort knight, what would you have said?
I suppose I will never hear the answer now. You probably don’t even remember such an old memory.’
His blurred eyes blinked slowly as Varkas looked up toward the rain-spattered window.
A harsh wind rattled the frame. After standing motionless for a long time, a short, ragged breath slipped from his lips.
“…I set it free.”
Unable to carry its own weight, his body slumped helplessly.
Varkas stumbled and sank onto the edge of the bed, muttering in a broken voice.
“I let it fly far, far away.”
The faint image of the bird spreading its small wings and soaring into the clear blue sky flickered before his eyes.
He instinctively clutched the embroidered bird on the cloth. Unable to endure the searing agony clawing through his chest, he doubled over, burying his head deep against his knees.
Cold sweat poured from his skin as he shuddered like an aspen leaf. Drenched in a sickening blend of sweat, rain, and tears, he gasped for air until a sudden dizziness pulled him down onto the cold sheets.
He did not know how long he lay there. All at once, a tender touch came down upon his head. Straining to lift his heavy, flickering eyes, he saw her sitting beside the head of the bed. He whispered to himself.
See.
I knew it.
The thought that you were gone from this world was a lie.
I was only trapped in a terrible, sickening nightmare.
When I wake from this bad dream, I will never let you leave my sight again. No matter how much you cry and beg, I will never leave your side.
END