How many years had the child lived by his side? Sixty years? Seventy? He must have seen his childhood companion grow old and finally die. Maybe he had even been there in the last moments. Or perhaps he had returned from his absence to find that she was already gone. 

I looked at Zetak. His expression was fixed, his fists clenched. I knew what he feared – the future that would inevitably come. He saw himself in the butterfly. That must have been what he wanted to confirm when he decided to awaken him. 

“The child grew old and died… and I don’t know how much time has passed since then. Many seasons came and went. Then I met a second child.”

Had he experienced the same heartbreaking goodbye with the second child? If so, his emptiness would be understandable. But my assumption was completely wrong. 

“The second child was an infant and they were very fond of me too. But when they grew up…” 

The butterfly looked down at the torn area where her wings had once been. 

“They sold me.” 

He murmured as if it had been over ten years ago. There was only exhaustion in his voice. There was no anger in his eyes – only traces of grief and emptiness. Perhaps it was resignation. The second child he had raised with care and affection, treated as his own, had grown up only to betray him.

Whether by order of the Hartrain family or of his own free will, the second child abandoned the butterfly that had raised him. He mentioned that he cried. It wasn’t hard to imagine the scene – helplessly shedding tears as he was dragged away. Perhaps he still held out hope that the child he had treated as his own might change their minds. Maybe they would feel remorse and apologise before it was too late. He clung to these vain expectations. 

It was clear that, even as he lay on the examination table, he hadn’t quite let go of those hopes. 

He learned only painful emotions, one after the other. The first came from a saint – a human he tried to merge with to save her. No matter how kindly he treated her or cared for her, the mad saint could only fear him. 

The second was from a mentally handicapped child. Although the child grew close to him and followed him faithfully, the difference in their life spans meant that they died first. 

The third was betrayal. A child he had raised as his own and given his love to was eventually sold for money. 

In the human world he learned what emotions were – but they were empty and filled with pain. For some reason, a dull ache formed in my chest. Is this what they call compassion?  

“Whether or not you promised to spend eternity with this monster, the end won’t be a happy one. Your lifespans are different, and you’re from different species. One of you will die first, and if not, one of you will eventually betray the other. 

Perhaps the butterfly’s current state was a glimpse of Zetak’s distant future. Would he end up hollow-eyed and breathless after I was gone? No, I wouldn’t let that happen. If it came to that, I would… The thought lingered as a flash of tentacles crossed my vision. 

For a moment I thought the butterfly had attacked, but it hadn’t. It was Zetak who had begun the attack. A tentacle reached out from under his shirt and brushed the butterfly’s back. The butterfly could have dodged it, but he didn’t move. 

Whether it was because the attack wasn’t meant to kill, or because it had no will to live, I couldn’t tell. 

“That’s why you get betrayed – because you cling to such things.”

Zetak said and withdrew his tentacle. 

The remaining fragment of the butterfly’s wing that had clung to his back fluttered to the ground. The butterfly just looked down, showing no sign of pain. 

“Without it, you could pass as human, at least on the surface. Instead of isolating yourself in the forest and living alone, you could have blended in. If you dislike the short lifespan of humanity, then breed monsters instead.”

“What…?” 

The butterfly widened its eyes in surprise and stared at Zetak. Zetak tapped the ground twice with his foot, and from his shadow a black snake slithered up. It seemed to have been hiding there all along. Zetak pushed the snake towards the butterfly, and it floated through the air before landing in his arms. 

Confused, the butterfly looked back and forth between Zetak and the snake in his arms. 

“You have chosen the wrong kind of creature to give your affection to. A monster wouldn’t die before you, nor would it betray you. You wouldn’t fight to make a young one obey you, especially one less than ten years old. Dominate them and keep them at your side. If you wanted to raise something, you should have raised something like this.” 

“Uh…” 

The butterfly opened and closed its mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Zetak, as if finished with the matter, grabbed my hand and began to lead me away. 

Before I left the lab, I looked back at the butterfly. He was staring calmly at the snake in its arms. The snake, as if sensing its new master, blinked its many eyes, all focused on the butterfly. 

A subordinate isn’t something you can just pass on to someone else. The snake is probably assessing whether it can overpower the butterfly to claim its freedom. It seems unlikely at the moment. Even though the butterfly is past its prime, a monster less than ten years old wouldn’t stand a chance against it. 

How will the butterfly live from now on? Even if he manages to subdue the snake and raise it, he’ll be lonely for a long time. It would take at least 90 years for the young monster to develop emotions. And even then, the outcome wouldn’t necessarily be positive. As the monster begins to develop a sense of self, it may become resentful of the butterfly. 

There’s no guarantee that the butterfly, past its prime, could continue to dominate an increasingly powerful and strong monster. If the day comes when he’s defeated, the monster may bite him in the neck and leave him to seek his freedom. 

Will the butterfly take the risk and raise the monster, or will he choose to end it here and now? Which choice will he make? 

“That’s not something Your Highness needs to worry about.”

Perhaps he felt that in the butterfly he had glimpsed the end that awaited both of us. 

“One day, even Your Highness…” 

He trailed off, his words unfinished. The fear within him, seeing the butterfly, had taken a clear shape. Him standing at my grave. Or watching me slowly wither on a bed. Neither outcome would be something he could bear. 

“That’s a matter for the distant future. Besides, I won’t die that easily.” 

“…” 

“If you’re so worried, I’ll follow your time whenever you wish. Just say the word.” 

He suddenly froze. He must have understood what I meant by those words – that I was willing to have a monster implanted in me. He despised himself for having become a chimera, so I knew he would reject the idea if I suggested it. 

When the time comes, I’ll tell him about my past life – that I was a monster to begin with. That becoming one doesn’t bother me in the least. Maybe then he’ll be able to accept it, at least to some extent. 

“No matter what form I take, all you have to do is accept me.”

Zetak didn’t answer. His expression darkened, and his gaze seemed to reproach me, as if to say, Don’t make such decisions so lightly.

But in the end he said nothing. I could see the self-loathing in his face – the disgust he felt at the fleeting joy my words had brought him. 

He wrapped his arms around me, buried his face in my neck and breathed deeply. He stayed like that for a long time. 

“…a journey.” 

After a long silence, he spoke and the words felt abrupt and unexpected. 

“Should we just go somewhere? Even if it’s just for a little while.” 

The suggestion to leave so suddenly, without any preparation, took me by surprise. But at the same time I felt that it didn’t matter. Whether it was for a month or two, even a little time away from the palace with him could be a good thing. Sure, the palace would be in chaos over the disappearance of a royal, but so what? 

“All right. That doesn’t sound so bad.”

I took his hand and we walked out of the castle together. Not through the gatekeeper’s office, but through the main gates, straight out. When the castle felt distant, I looked back at Karial’s castle. Once a centre of social splendour, it had retained its beauty despite its fall from grace. 

Zetak turned to look at it, too, and smiled faintly. 

“Perhaps I should be grateful. Becoming a monster gave me the chance to stand beside Your Highness.”

Zetak murmured as he turned away. There was no trace of remorse in his eyes. It seemed as if he had truly severed all ties with his past. 

If that’s the case, I too should focus on the future. One day, when I become a Chimera, I may have to hide from the eyes of the Temple. Or perhaps, if we’re discovered, Zetak and I will live a life of constant flight. But these are concerns for the distant future. There’s no need to dwell on them now. 

The cool breeze, our hands clasped and Zetak smiling at me – these were parts of a future I never imagined. And it’s a future that will continue from now on. 

I looked into his smiling face. Maybe one day I’ll be able to give him a bright smile in return. I don’t know when that day will come, but it doesn’t matter. Until that day comes, I’m sure I’ll be by his side.