Day-2

“Prisoner number 2938! You’ve got a visitation request!”

From early morning, the clatter of metal rang out sharply. The cell door swung open, and a thunderous voice echoed through the corridor.

Oswald, who had been sitting in a daze, turned his head toward the door.

“Get up. Now!”

The guard known for his harsh temperament and frequent shouting was waiting in front of the bars. Oswald rose from his seat and walked over quietly.

“A woman came looking for you. She’s been waiting in front of the prison since dawn. I wondered who she was, but the moment visiting hours opened, she demanded to see you.”

“……”

Daphne arrived.

He had already given up on that possibility.

The execution was scheduled for two days’ time. Nearly a month had passed since the articles about him had been published, and not a single person had come to see him in all that time. He did want to see her again — he truly did — but death was his own choice, so he tried his best to put that longing aside.

And yet, she was waiting for him in the visitation room at the far end of the corridor.

The heart he thought was frozen solid began to pound violently.

“Move it.”

The guard was barking orders at Oswald, but he couldn’t hear a word.

Daphne.

His left chest ached as though the air were being squeezed out of him. The ground beneath his feet felt soft and yielding, as though he were walking on clouds. His mind went blank. The sound of his and the guard’s footsteps seemed to be the only sound left in the world.

Before he knew it, they had arrived.

On the iron door, rigid letters spelled out VISITATION ROOM.

As the guard slid the key into the lock and turned it, he shouted at Oswald.

“Ten minutes. That’s all you get!”

***

Daphne sat anxiously on a rough wooden chair.

She had been waiting outside all night for visiting hours to begin; her hands were now stiff and red from the cold. As she cupped her hands near her mouth, breathing warm air over them to thaw them, the iron door finally opened.

A man far thinner than she remembered stepped inside, the very man she had longed for, even in her dreams.

“Ten minutes!”

The guard barked harshly before slamming the door shut.

Daphne stared at him as if her breath had been stolen away.

Oswald stood frozen at the entrance, staring back at her, then staggered forward until he reached the desk.

On the left side of Oswald’s chest, stitched onto the black prison uniform where a name should have been, was the number 2938.

Daphne blankly let her gaze linger there before slowly lifting her eyes to his face.

Their eyes met.

“……”

“……”

You came.

Oswald forced himself to acknowledge reality or rather, he doubted whether this was reality at all.

Daphne was sitting right in front of him.

Daphne Winfred was here.

Oswald couldn’t even bring himself to sit. He stood awkwardly, looking down at her. Warm green eyes, like sunlight held within them, gazed up at him.

“…Daphne.”

A foolish, hollow sound escaped from his throat.

He knew his voice sounded pathetic — even ugly — but he had no idea what to do. His mind had gone completely blank.

There were so many things he wanted to say if he ever saw her again.

So many questions he wanted to ask.

He had been preparing some of them for a very long time, ever since the day she left him.

But he couldn’t say a single word. His lips only trembled soundlessly.

“How long are you going to just stand there like that?”

Daphne asked, unable to hide the tremor in her voice.

Only then did Oswald come back to himself. He dropped heavily onto the wooden chair in front of him, never once taking his eyes off her.

‘You’re still beautiful.’

‘Thank God you look healthy, too.’

‘You’ve cut your hair. It suits you.’

‘No matter how you looked, you were always beautiful.’

‘I never told you things like that.’

‘All my mistakes. My ignorance.’

‘Where should I even begin to fix them?’

‘It’s far too late to fix anything now.’

“…Why did you do it?”

Oswald let out a soundless laugh, like a mute exhaling air. Even to himself, he looked like an idiot.

Beneath his golden lashes, his gaze flicked briefly to the woman’s hands resting on the table.

“Why did you come all the way to this country just to throw your life away?”

“Because I thought it was my responsibility.”

Daphne shook her head from side to side.

“It isn’t your responsibility.”

“……”

“I can guarantee that. Even now, ask them to reopen the trial. Tell them it wasn’t your fault—that you had nothing to do with those horrible things. Ask them to spare you from execution…!”

“Daphne.”

The man spoke quietly.

His face remained as expressionless as ever; it was impossible to read his thoughts.

Looking at his impassive face, Daphne realized something with a hollow clarity.

Maybe he wasn’t an emotionless monster after all, but had simply forgotten how to show his feelings.

Had she never truly known this man?

But what did that matter now?

Her thoughts were a tangled mess, and her emotions were surging up in waves. Unable to cry, she clenched her fists tightly.

Oswald murmured, almost to himself.

“…Have you been well?”

‘No. I didn’t come here to hear something so gentle.’

Daphne shook her head hard from side to side. Swallowing back tears that threatened to burst, she spoke in a voice sharper than before.

“Is that really true?”

“……”

“Did you really come to this country just to die?”

She asked in a broken voice.

‘Were all the things I did to save you meaningless?’

‘Had your sense of loss become too great to undo?’

‘Did I kill you myself in the end?’

“Yes.”

The man replied in a calm, gentle voice. There was no sharpness left in it—only weariness.

“As I said, I’m simply bearing my share of the responsibility.”

“…What responsibility? You could have lived happily.”

At that, Oswald let out a hollow smile.

“Happiness…”

The look on his face as he spoke that word was so desolate—so distant from the very idea—that her body began to tremble.

“How could I possibly have been happy?”

“……”

“Daphne, you really didn’t know anything.”

“Didn’t know what?”

She pressed her palms tightly together. What was it that she hadn’t known?

‘I knew everything. I even knew things you didn’t. Given what I knew, I believed that I had made the best possible choice.’

Before she could ask anything, Oswald continued.

“I never…”

“……”

“There wasn’t a single moment when I didn’t love you. Not in this life, and not in the one before it, either.”

Daphne bit her lip. His voice was overflowing with sincerity.

“Enough that I could have thrown away every achievement and every title I earned, just to imagine a future alone with you.”

It sounded impossible.

“…That’s a lie.”

She denied it immediately.

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be. All along, that was what she had believed: That you didn’t love me. Even if you did love me, you didn’t love me enough to destroy the status barrier between us. I believed that you would never choose me.

“……”

And yet, there were moments when she wondered if his warm actions revealed his feelings.

Each time, she crushed that hope. She trampled on it. She killed it again and again.

Her heart pounded painfully.

“Don’t lie to me. Why say something like that only now, only after it’s come to this?”

“…I know. I was a fool.”

He murmured self-mockingly.

Daphne tried not to cry, but her tears kept spilling down her cheeks. She repeatedly wiped them away with her hands.

Feeling as though he had no right to wipe away her tears, Oswald couldn’t bring himself to act. The fingers resting on the wooden desk moved only slightly, just enough to lightly brush the back of her hand.

“Ah…”

“So if I ever saw you again, there was something I had to say.”

With those words, Oswald drew in a slow, deep breath. As though choosing words he absolutely could not afford to get wrong, he fell into a long, careful silence.

Daphne waited for him.

Her hands kept trembling, as if she were standing on the edge of a final farewell.

“I’m sorry.”

He paused, then continued.

“I… as a human being, I was lacking in so many ways. You must have suffered a great deal.”

“……”

“And the fact that I can only express all of that with an apology… I’m sorry for that too.”

Oswald lowered his gaze.

Daphne parted her lips, wanting to say something—anything—but in the end, no words came out.

At that moment, the iron door swung open, and a harsh voice rang out.

“Time’s up! Step out!”

Oswald stood.

The Daphne sitting on the chair grew farther and farther away.

The door slammed shut.

Staring at the closed door, Daphne remained frozen in place, letting the tears stream endlessly down her cheeks.

“…I still love you too.”

She should have said it.