14 - The Time of the Blind Beast (15+ Revised Edition)
Chapter 14
The reason was simple.
Because she feared Ezekiel's anger and revenge.
"I have to kill him, but how? I've imagined countless ways a hundred times in my head."
The method of revenge he desired was very clear: immediate execution. Unless her status and family background supported her, there was no room for extenuating circumstances, no matter how much coercion or persuasion there was, for a commoner like her to harm a man from a noble family.
If Ezekiel had lost an arm or a leg instead of his eyes, and if he had the ability to hold a Rifle and execute her on the spot, could she have come to the mansion to help him as she did now?
The answer was obvious.
She wouldn't have been able to. It would have been a path to her own death.
The courage she mustered to come to this mansion was a result of her unconscious judgment that a blind man would have no way of recognizing her face.
It was a depravity within her that she couldn't bear to admit. Truly depraved. Utterly depraved.
Hypocrite.
Coward.
She couldn't stand herself any more than this.
Rose bit the inside of her lip. It was no cause for relief that the tea had cooled. She wished it had been boiling hot.
It would have felt a little like punishment.
When Rose returned to the drawing-room after a brief absence, Ezekiel had already returned to his bedroom and was downing wine mixed with opium. Unlike his usual habit of stopping when he felt a bit energized, even after frequent consumption, this was different. One glass, two glasses, three. The speed at which he poured it down caused the bottle to empty in no time.
Wasn't Rhodanum said to be as effective a Painkiller as any other for suppressing pain? The repeated visits from Doctors were clearly a great stress to him. For the mind, too, has its own capacity for pain.
Rose couldn't bring herself to approach and remained rooted by the door, watching only Ezekiel.
As the sedative effect of the opium began to take hold, his heavily furrowed expression gradually relaxed. He leaned back deeply in his chair, tilting his head back. He looked noticeably at ease. At first glance, he even seemed to be asleep.
For this man, this time was his only rest and his only treatment.
She felt she shouldn't disturb him carelessly. Rose quietly backed away. She closed the door and left.
She began to sense something unusual about Ezekiel after two or three new Doctors had visited the mansion and left.
"Major, it's Rose."
Though he was a man who could distinguish her footsteps with uncanny accuracy, she knocked twice just in case before opening the door. It was a habit she had developed while attending to Ezekiel exclusively.
"I've sent up the pillows and blankets from the laundry room. I'll change them now."
It was a trivial detail he didn't necessarily need to know, but Rose deliberately added an explanation, lest her rustling movements disturb him.
She quickly tidied the bed. She arranged the freshly laundered pillows and blankets, then neatly folded the ones that still carried the man's scent. On the table beside the bed lay the bottles he had habitually emptied with gulps as soon as he came in after enduring his treatment.
I should clear them all at once.
She set down her load for a moment and began gathering the bottles. With a quick glance at the man's state, she worked quietly, trying not to be a disturbance. Madam Serva had instructed her to only attend to Ezekiel, but in a place as short-handed as this mansion, the boundaries between one's duties and another's blurred. Rose often helped with small cleaning tasks. Moreover, the appropriate miscellaneous chores served as a good excuse to keep her headscarf on, preventing her hair color from being noticed by others, so she welcomed them.
One, two, three. Rose counted the empty wine bottles and looked back at Ezekiel. He had drained them to the very last drop. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if his veins flowed with alcohol and opium instead of blood.
After a worried glance at the man, whose eyes were half-closed and hazy, she turned to resume her task but paused, looking back at him again.
What was that just now?
She saw her master drunk every day. Although he could move relatively well even after consuming a significant amount of alcohol and medicine due to his high tolerance, that was still relative. Naturally, it was incomparable to when he was at his strongest and most lucid, and the time he spent languidly unfocused with a lost gaze was lengthening with each passing day.
She was the one who spent most of her days with Ezekiel now. Consequently, she had seen all the symptoms when the man was under the influence of drugs and alcohol.
Yet, this strange sense of unease.
It was eerily chilling. The atmosphere felt different somehow.
Rose stood up and cautiously approached him. His pupils, more dilated and unfocused than usual, fumbled through the air. His gaze seemed lost, yet at times, a sharp glint would flash, as if he were seeing something through some unseen point, or perhaps not.
"Halt advance, halt."
The sudden, contextless first words made Rose jump.
"The bushes are up to our waists. It's good terrain for an enemy ambush."
His pronunciation was slurred and unfocused due to the alcohol and medicine he had consumed in a short period, and the content was utterly abrupt. Conversation flows naturally only when the context supports it. It felt like listening to a foreign language.
"Major?"
"Yes, over there."
He suddenly glared at a corner of the room. Unwittingly, Rose also turned her gaze.
There was nothing there.
Nothing at all.
"...Major, what's wrong?"
Rose tried to remain calm. Nevertheless, her voice came out somewhat stiff.
"The ground is wet from the rain, so our movements will echo loudly. The sticky ground will prevent us from moving quickly, and the muddy soil and damp fallen leaves will alert the enemy to our position in real-time."
An odd answer came back.
No, this couldn't be called an answer.
He was conversing with someone unknown, not with Rose. The man who could not see what he should see was seeing what was invisible. The man whose hearing had become acutely sharp in place of his sight could not hear her voice calling him from so close by.
"We'll turn their plan against them. We'll pretend to fall into their trap and then strike from behind."
Nonsensical ramblings continued without end.
Was she dreaming? Was he possessed? Had his mind gone astray?
Fear washed over her. Rose froze, watching Ezekiel for a long moment.
It didn't seem like a dream, as his eyes were open, however dimly, and if he were possessed, he would just be sitting in a chair, looking around at empty space and spouting nonsense. Ezekiel's symptoms most closely resembled delusion. However, the fact that the delusion was described so clearly and vividly, as if it were reality to him, sent a shiver down her spine.
Then, was it delirium?
She thought of the asylums where madmen were sent. Madmen not cared for by their families were taken to asylums and left to their own devices. Of course, as long as his status supported him, the possibility of Ezekiel being sent to an asylum was very slim, but one never knew if Achenaus heard about it. Every move Ezekiel made could become a pretext to harm himself.
Rose checked if the bedroom door was closed. She didn't want other employees to witness Ezekiel's strange behavior. While she secured the door, Ezekiel, returning to his role as an officer with thorough and meticulous judgment, was busy leading ghosts in a hallucinated battle.
The man, lost in delusion, calculated with utmost seriousness. He surveyed the empty bedroom, which contained only a few pieces of furniture and shadows, with the posture of a born soldier, giving orders on where the best position would be to surround and attack the enemy if the entire friendly force were stuck in the mud, and what kind of operation to devise to ambush such an enemy.
"All troops, prepare to fire, fire."
Even if it wasn't reality, she felt she was glimpsing a facet of what Ezekiel once was as an officer. On the battlefield, Ezekiel must have been a commander with cool and swift judgment. Bold, fierce, and sharp.
He was a man whose body had once been on the battlefield, and now his mind was on the battlefield. His mind and body were held captive within the theater of war, unable to escape.
She reached out to wake him but stopped. It was because of the expression on Ezekiel's face.
There stood an officer filled with relaxed confidence.
It was a face she had never seen in her blind reality. Rather, in this moment, under the influence of alcohol and drugs, in a state of false hallucination, he seemed more free and at peace. Perhaps this was his true self.
She couldn't muster the courage to bring him back to the harsh reality. She knew all too well how broken this man was.
In the end, Rose withdrew her hand. And Ezekiel, lost in the lingering effects of intoxication, fell asleep without ever recognizing Rose.
