She didn’t die because she wanted to. She died to make that man as miserable and wretched as possible. For that— for the revenge of herself and her child— she could even sacrifice her life.
She had that much venom left in her.
Thus, Hyacinth Hener wished for Ethan Erentis’s remaining life to be miserable. She hoped that whenever and wherever he lived, he would carry the truth that he had killed his wife and child.
She wished he would struggle with how despicable and loathsome he was, unable to sleep at night, gnawing at his heart while silently screaming, tormented by his guilt.
Ethan Erentis. Are you exceedingly unhappy?
I hope so. Because I died for that.
* * *
This time, Hyacinth woke up before dawn and sat on the bed. Unlike yesterday’s dawn, she was in an extremely calm state. Emotionally subdued. She couldn’t be more composed or calm.
With too much information flooding in, she couldn’t even get excited.
She married Duke Trisel. She had a child, but was misunderstood as having committed adultery. No one believed her.
The Duke’s family thoroughly isolated and ignored her.
She and her child endured that prolonged abuse together. The baby was born, proved her innocence, and then died. She also took her own life to get revenge on her husband.
This was the tragic end her subconscious had been trying to tell her.
Now she understood why she was reluctant towards the man with silver hair. Honestly, it would be ridiculous if she didn’t dislike him after having her soul burst from sorrow and injustice due to such a misunderstanding.
Just as Trisel was reluctant towards women with red hair, Hyacinth was also reluctant towards young men with silver hair.
Hyacinth sat quietly on the bed, tapping her feet. An indescribable lump was hitting her throat. The parts she was curious about, the empty gaps. Everything was filled, yet she lost her direction.
She tried to think rationally. Rubbing her forehead, she tried to grasp the truth as calmly as possible.
Was the dream something that actually happened?
Or was it an interesting short drama created by her subconscious? Could it be that she had a talent for playwriting?
A sense of incongruity poured over her entire body. It felt like being hit by a torrential rain, a severe cold, and all kinds of storms at once. It was unfamiliar. This moment didn’t even feel real. Who was the me who died in the dream?
Why am I. Why.
The feeling of unreality, the sense of being disconnected from reality, the pitiful self that was wandering aimlessly. She didn’t like any of this moment. Hyacinth got up abruptly and grabbed her shawl.
Whether she froze to death from the cold or not, she had to get out.
Standing in front of that desolate garden she had looked down on from the corridor yesterday or the day before, Hyacinth glared at the door. If someone saw her, they might ask if she was hunting, given her fierce gaze.
After taking a deep breath, she pushed the iron door with force.
Clang. A fairly loud sound resonated as the door finally opened. The garden of Bremlin, completely different from Tyche’s garden, unfolded before her eyes.
Even in summer, it was the northern summer, an environment where flowers couldn’t bloom well. There were more rough wild grasses than pretty flower buds. Still, the stone sculptures, the geometrically well-trimmed bushes, and the large, sturdy-looking trees completed a rugged charm.
Hyacinth slowly looked around and started walking.
There should be a gazebo somewhere around here. She was now certain without any doubt. If she wandered around the garden enough, a gazebo would appear, and near it would be the baby’s grave.
No. It wouldn’t be there now.
Of course, it wouldn’t! In reality, she hadn’t married the man from the Trisel ducal family and was still single. She hadn’t had a child, hadn’t spent miserable times, and hadn’t sent off that fragile life without even holding it properly.
It was fortunate that no one was awake in the morning. To others, she would undoubtedly appear as a madwoman.
Gritting her teeth, Hyacinth almost tore through the garden. Having only seen the gazebo once in a dream, it was unlikely she could easily find her way.
The cold bit at her feet. Hyacinth moved faster.
And so, after peeking around, retracing her steps, and diligently seeking new paths.
…She found it.
The dream and reality overlapped cruelly. Staring at the gazebo made her feel like grinding her teeth. Resentment surged. It was the first time she felt such intense rage that even the tips of her hair stood on end.
At the same time, strangely enough, she was calm.
As cold and composed as the northern winter that froze all life to death.
Hyacinth let out a short sigh and circled around the gazebo. Before she could complete one lap, she stopped.
There was no grave.
But there was a tombstone. Someone had clumsily woven wood to make a tombstone. For the nonexistent child, the unborn life. With the hope that the poor soul would rest in peace by God’s side.
A spark flickered in Hyacinth’s eyes as she looked at the tombstone.
She slowly turned around with her arms crossed. Sure enough, just like yesterday, Ethan Erentis appeared, as if he had been following her, emerging into the chilly morning air.
Then she knew.
The dream was reality.
Even if it was a time that had disappeared in this world, it was undoubtedly a past that existed. It was that man. That damned bastard, the one who not only drove her to death but also killed her child. It was Ethan Erentis.
The pieces gradually fit together.
Ethan Erentis had always looked at her as if he were about to cry.
Those grey eyes filled with many stories. His actions, always concerned for her safety. He would have a fit if she even sat on the windowsill.
Why. Why was that?
The missing pieces found their place, completing a vast picture. The man who dared not look at her, whispering he couldn’t dare. Yet, with deep emotions, he endlessly watched her.
Hyacinth took one step, and then another, slowly approaching.
Until she was right in front of Ethan Erentis. The man with monochrome features slowly lowered his head. Realizing she had figured out everything, he seemed resigned. Hyacinth raised her hand. Slap, the sound of her palm hitting his cheek echoed loudly.
“Die.”
Slap.
“Die.”
Again, slap.
“Die.”
Again, and again.
“Die.”
With what nerve.
“Die.”
Did you come to me again? Unlike me, you didn’t even forget. With what conscience did you approach and whisper love with your eyes again?
Now? After ruining a life so miserably once?
“Die.”
Her hand stung. Hyacinth paused.
Ethan Erentis’s cheek was already swollen, showing the remnants of the beating. She felt no remorse. Hyacinth considered raising her hand again, but Ethan Erentis, fumbling, held her palm.
“…Use something.”
Her palm had turned red from hitting him countless times. His demeanor showed more concern for her reddened hand than his own bloodied cheek. The man didn’t cry. But those grey eyes, looking as if he were crying and wailing, made Hyacinth grit her teeth.
“Die.”
“I understand.”
“…”
“I understand, so please, don’t hit me directly anymore. Your delicate hand might get hurt.”
Hyacinth stared at her red palm, the man’s swollen face, and the bowed posture of someone fully aware of his sins.
Then she resolutely left.
* * *
The departing woman’s back was cold.
Ethan, who had been staring fixedly, smiled bitterly.
The sinner was finally sentenced.
He had never given Hyacinth anything, yet Hyacinth gave him a gift until the very end. This life, finally, could end. It was truly a tiresome life. He was exhausted, and it was worthless. Even knowing he was a sinner, he dared to wish to abandon this life.
The soil at Ethan’s feet began to soak. Drip. The sound of circles being drawn in a different color continued.
He wanted to die. He deserved to die. He was sincere. He himself thought so, and he had expected the woman to lash out at him like that…
It hurts.
The reality of hearing such words from the person he loved, the only one precious in his life, was truly excruciating.
An indescribable pain squeezed his heart. His heart, on the verge of freezing to death, was being stabbed one by one with daggers, unable to beat any longer. Blood flowed through the cracks as it split in half,
It hurt.
So much that he couldn’t even breathe.
* * *
There was no way to hide the cheek that had been mercilessly struck.
Bridget Erentis was silently shocked, and the faces of the two princes became extremely serious. After the evening banquet, Benjamin Hener approached and asked quietly.
Did my cousin do it?
Ethan Erentis answered that he had done it himself. Whether the other believed him or not was not important.
Late at night, Bridget Erentis came to visit.
She came and just stared at his face. With a complex expression that couldn’t be described. That expression wasn’t even funny, so Ethan Erentis completely ignored the red-haired woman. She was disturbing him when he was already busy.
Bridget Erentis sat quietly for an hour before leaving.
* * *
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I WAITED AN ENTIRE WEEK FOR THIS CHAPTER NAD IT WAS WORTH ALL THE WAIT 😭
she finally remembered and connected the dots!!! and ethan, he erected a tombstone for their child 😭 im just so heartbroken for the two of them, i dont even see how they can move forward from this 😭