CATIP 11

CHAPTER :11

His brow furrowed at my sarcastic remark.

Although his face clearly betrayed his displeasure, he held my hand and gently pried open my trembling fingers one by one.

Looking down at my palm, which was now covered in blood, he let out a sharp click of his tongue.

– You, my consort…

He spat the words out as he wiped away the pooling crimson blood with his handkerchief.

– …are truly a mystery.

Returning my sarcasm in kind, he tied the handkerchief firmly around my wounded palm.

– To think you would go so far as to defend someone who admitted with their own mouth that they abandoned you.

He stared down at the neatly tied knot before continuing.

– How very noble of you.

– …….

– I suppose that is the heart of a ‘Seer.’ One that I could never dare to fathom.

When I remained silent, he continued to mock me.

– It is truly strange.

Sensing no end to this, I managed to force out some words.

– ……It is I who would like to ask you, Your Highness. What do you find so strange now?

– You are my consort, yet your heart still seems to linger over there. Ah.

As if a sudden thought had struck him, he added coldly,

– Perhaps it is because we have no child.

The words struck me like an earth-shattering blow, forcing a sudden realization upon me.

If before, I had merely feared the vague burden and responsibility of bringing a new life into the world…

– Stop harboring foolish thoughts and focus on conceiving a child. You must fulfill your duty as queen, after all.

Now, I knew that I could never give birth at all.

Because the time allowed to me was far too short.

Things that once were possible, and things that had now become impossible.

Things I could have done, and things I would never be able to do.

Things that had been permitted, and things that would never be allowed.

No matter how much I wallowed in regret and remorse, no matter how desperately I whispered to turn back the hands of time,

There was nothing left for me to bear.

The vast chasm before me blurred my vision.

Finally unable to hold them back, a tear rolled down, tracing a path along my cheek.

The friction of the tear against my cheek—a sound that couldn’t possibly exist—echoed in my ears like a sudden crash of thunder.

– What the lack of an heir implies……

He trailed off uncharacteristically, the look in his eyes shifting.

He reached out, his hand gently wiping away the tear rolling down my cheek.

Yet, there were no words of comfort or solace to soothe me in this moment.

– ……You had a similar reaction in the past, didn’t you? Yes, you made this exact same face.

To me, his murmurings made no sense.

Then, a hollow laugh slipped past his lips.

– Do you despise the thought that much?

– ……What?

– Are you saying the illegitimate princess of the Kingdom cannot bear the seed of a lowly vassal king?

His words were sharp and dripping with venom.

Utterly speechless, I looked up at him.

I wondered.

Did he actually know what it truly meant to be an illegitimate princess?

– Did you want to hear those words from my own lips?

– How…… how could I ever dare to think such a thing?

My belated response finally squeezed past my lips.

When it came to status, I was the last person who could speak.

To noble beings like them, I wasn’t even considered human.

– I am nothing but…… a creature rejected by God. That is why His Majesty abandoned me.

Speaking of myself was more painful and sorrowful than I had anticipated, and I clutched at my chest.

My throat tightened.

I stared up at him, my breath ragged.

It felt as though something that had been building up inside me for so long had finally ruptured.

The deep-seated inferiority complex buried within me.

My self-loathing.

The sense of injustice, anger, sorrow, and grief.

All of it poured out in a single, ragged breath.

– Did you want to hear this so badly, Your Highness? To hear that I am even more worthless than you?

At my confrontational tone, he tilted his chin up with cold arrogance.

– My consort has quite a talent for twisting words.

– It is you, Your Highness, who endlessly distorts everything I say.

– Not once have I ever thought of you as lowlier than me.

I couldn’t believe it.

For it was an undeniable fact that I was far lowlier than him.

The gaze he leveled at me felt incredibly cold.

– If anything, isn’t it you who looks down on me?

– I…… look down on you?

– Who else? Can you honestly deny it?

– Of course I can.

The weeping that had begun with a single tear finally burst out of me.

– Even as you say that, I know only too well…… what you truly think of me.

At my sudden outburst of grief, the hand resting on my cheek flinched, trembling slightly.

In my current state, everything hurt.

The relentless passage of time, the heavy night air, the flickering lamplight, your low breathing, even the way you looked at me.

– There is…… no end to this.

He managed to whisper through my sobs.

His hand, still cupping my cheek, moved gently.

The way his fingers wiped away my endless tears only made my sorrow grow heavier.

Yet, he did not say another word.

Enveloped in the darkness and his embrace, I wept like a newborn child.

* * *

Time, which was fair to everyone, refused to release me.

Trapped in the snare of time, I took step after step toward the pitch-black, gaping abyss of hell.

Having gone through the stages of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression over the prophecy handed to me, I finally began to accept defeat.

The struggles I had endured to put my affairs in order were swiftly bleached away by a quiet resignation.

Yet, the more my heart became stark and empty,

the more I searched for the meaning of the path I had walked thus far.

If God had decided to call me back to His embrace, surely my life until now must have held some meaning.

Even if it wasn’t beautiful, even if it was hideous. Surely a life didn’t need to be lived in dazzling brilliance to possess worth.

If so, I could still make the brief time I had left meaningful.

And so, when the number engraved on the back of my neck reached 120,

I began to write in you to keep a record of my life, my Largo.

For I was the only person left who could preserve the footprints of my existence.

Largo, Lento, Adagio.

Very slowly, very slowly, and once again, very slowly.

At a time when every single minute and second was precious,

it was only natural to name you—the one who would carry my final traces—after slowness itself.

My only friend, the sole confidant to whom I could fully bare my soul. That was you, a slim notebook of only a few pages.

I decided to fill your pages, summoning every word allowed to me in my brief lifetime.

Even if everyone in the world forgets me once I crumble into a handful of dust,

I hope that you, the keeper of all my secrets, will remember me.

I hesitated for a long time, not knowing where I should begin my story.

By the time the ink had bled dark across your page and the wet tip of my pen had begun to dry,

I was finally able to decide on the first sentence to whisper to you.

*He was always cold to me.*

There must be a reason why I wrote of him first, rather than my mother.

Perhaps it was because the space he occupied within my heart

had grown larger than the shadow of my mother who dominated my childhood.

Perhaps it was because, without telling his story, I could no longer explain who I was.

It was strange, even to me.

In all my life, there had never been a moment I considered happy, nor a time I found joyful.

My world had always been monochromatic, even in the past.

Yet strangely, the time I spent with him was the one thing I wanted to preserve forever.

I wanted to gently trace those memories with my fingertips, occasionally taking them out like white, hardened sugar candies to look at.

*Yes, things like this happened,* I would think,

greeting the memory with a small, faint smile.

Perhaps that was how he—and only he—had become something that held a unique color in my world.

After roughly summarizing the life I had lived, I began to write down my wishes in you, one by one.

First, to greet Mother.

Second, to see the ocean.

……

Lastly.

To be called “daughter.”

– …….

Perhaps it was because my fingertips had begun to tremble.

I gently stroked the page, staring at the crooked, tear-stained letters.

I felt relieved that the ink did not smudge any further.

Why does this matter so much?

Why…

Is a wish called a wish precisely because it can never be fulfilled?

Once more, I traced the painfully tender words with my fingertips.

Every living soul walking this earth had come into the light because of their parents.

Every person given life by a mother and father was someone’s son or daughter.

Yet why did a creature like me have to list being called “daughter” as a mere wish?

In truth, I knew that I would never, under any circumstance, hear those words from the person I so desperately wished to hear them from.

Still, unable to give up on it, and unable to utter it aloud,

I had written it down to bare my soul to you, whom no one else would ever see.

I had pulled out the truth hidden deep in the secret recesses of my heart.

There was no need to deceive myself with lies in front of you, of all things.

With a bitter smile, I finally rose from my seat and dragged my feet forward.

To do what I could, right now, among the wishes I had written down.