If this is the real end – 18
If asked whether I tried to kill her or not, I would answer with confidence, “No.” But, if I was asked what I was trying to do then, I would be at a loss for a reply. Because at that moment, I was trying to erase the existence of mother itself. It felt a bit different from robbing someone"s life, but I couldn"t explain well.
“Do you think that"s an excuse?”
The oppressive voice of father sounded distant. It was the usual feeling of having no sense of reality. Although I knew I wasn"t in a dream, I thought we were almost like the fictive characters appearing in a story. I barely felt the sensation of being alive.
“Are you listening, Ilya?”
Lying on the bed, mother was breathing silently, but she wasn"t sleeping. She was just staring fixedly at me. Father and I were standing on the bedside, the steward was right behind father, and two maids were waiting in the corners of the room. One of them was Merge.
… … If at that time, Merge hadn"t barged into the room, I think I would have certainly choke the life out of mother.
When I brought out from Silvia"s room the bottles containing the tea, the maid who happened to be present went to report the situation to the steward. According to her, just after I left my sister"s room, she had run to find him. Then, the steward who was informed of the circ.u.mstances, ordered a maid who had been working here for a long time, Merge, to go watch over the situation. He must have judged that a young and inexperienced maid wouldn"t be able to deal with it.
Originally, only father could enter in mother"s room without asking for permission. But, this limitation didn"t apply when an unexpected situation occurred. In the absence of the family"s head, the authority fell on the steward. So, since it was her mistress"s room she could have asked for the steward"s authorization and be allowed to enter. There was a reason why Merge barged in without waiting for getting someone"s consent. I didn"t think she knew something was happening in the room, but she might have sensed the unusual atmosphere. And so; she was able to prevent the worst-case scenario.
“I had no intention to bring harm to mother. I was simply a bit confused… I am truly sorry…”
I deeply bowed, almost to the point of falling. I staggered a little, but I desperately maintained my posture. I must avoid at all cost losing my consciousness here. If everything is not cleared out, I will be confined in my room. No matter how, I must prove I was sane. Even if I was aware that in reality, a part of me had broken.
“Do you really thing so? You had your hands on your mother"s neck. And you said you didn"t mean to harm her……?”
From the corner of my eyes I saw father swung his arms. My shadow on the carpet swayed along with the light illuminating the room. It almost looked like it was trying to escape from father"s hands. I didn"t know if I was slapped or hit but a buzzing sound echoed in my ears. This time I fell on the carpet. When I reflexively looked up at father"s face, I met his eyes that were scowling at me. His amber pupil looked like those of a beast. I couldn"t help but be frightened by this glare full of hostility, this gaze that was as if he was about to kill his prey. It was unmistakably my own blood-related father, yet he looked like a stranger. In those eyes oozing of hatred, I couldn"t feel the slightest bit of affection toward his daughter. Something slimy and lukewarm glided along my chin and when I reflexively pin it down with my fingers, I realized it was blood. I must have cut my lips.
As I stayed on the ground with my gaze unintentionally lowered, my cuff became dyed in red. Still, that amount of bleeding was strange. As I was pondering over it in doubt,
“… Master, I beg your pardon, but…”
Merge took one step forward from her position near the wall and gently interjected. Father answered “What?” while still glaring at me. His gaze looked like it belonged to an official confronting a criminal. I wondered if he thought I would do something if he were to take his eyes off me? This sharp gaze seemed like it wouldn"t leave me any gap, wouldn"t miss the slightest carelessness.
“The lady seems… to be injured… somewhere.”
When she reservedly pointed out that fact I faltered. An injury? I wondered when it happened. But now that I had been told, I felt a painful tingle in my arms. Since I was wearing a dark color dress like usual, I hadn"t notice, but it seemed the sleeves were clinging to my skin as they were soaked. No that I think of it, when I stole the knife from mother… No to be exact, when I struggled with her to s.n.a.t.c.h her knife, it felt like I grazed my arms. But at that time, I didn"t feel pain. Or should I say there weren"t much pain?
Feeling a gaze on me, I peeked at father"s expression and saw he was looking at my hands. As if this too strong gaze was piercing me, a liquid felt drop by drop from the fingertips of my right hand.
“Master, this was in the room.”
The old steward standing behind father nervously called out to him. Then, he slowly stepped in between father and me. I could only see his back, but I knew his hand was holding a handkerchief, and the knife was resting on it. He respectfully presented it to father with his head bowed low, as if he was holding a family heirloom.
“What is that?”
I didn"t know to whom he was asking this question. That voice which seemed to crawl on the ground made my body freeze by reflex. Because father"s voice was always driving me to a corner. My heart pounded strongly. I feared everyone would hear it. That"s how deep the silence that had settled inside the room was. At the moment the gazes of all present were converging on me,
“It"s mine.”
A dignified voice rang out. Having simply watch the situation unfold until now, mother suddenly spoke out. She hadn"t raised her voice, yet it held a might strong enough to tear apart the stillness of the room.
“… What?”
When I stood up while listening to father"s hoa.r.s.e voice, blood dropped down on the carpet. I thought it was only a scratch, but it might not be so. Rather, it might be quite deep.
… … Deep enough to leave a scar behind.
When I held my right hand, mother asked, “Could someone call for a person who can treat her wound?” She also raised up her upper-body, but the steward perceived her somewhat blank look. Mother"s expression didn"t seem completely sane yet he remained unperturbed and simply answered back, “I understand,” before putting the knife in his pocket and living the room after lightly bowing his head. No one spoke up during this exchange. Father also saw him off in silence. In the middle of the room that fell quiet again, a monotonous voice said, “Ilya, wouldn"t it be better to sit down? You are bleeding a lot.” Even though her daughter was hurt she didn"t sound fl.u.s.tered at all. Besides, while she had been the topic of our conversation until now, she didn"t seem to feel concerned at all. At least, if someone had tried to kill you, shouldn"t you show a bit more reaction?
“You said this knife was yours?”
Father asked mother. His tone was a lot softer than when he was talking to me.
“Yes, that"s right.”
“What did you plan to use it for?”
But, it somewhat felt like his words were filled with more tension compared to usual. He seemed to have never ever thought mother would possess such an object. Indeed, it was impossible to imagine the mother who was always emitting a gentle atmosphere holding a knife in her hand.
“The purposes of a knife are numerous.”
Mother lightly laughed. Because it was a perfect mask, I hadn"t noticed until now. That mother would always past a smile on her lips, as if she was never pained, never felt anguish, was never disgraced. To become this skillful, did she live her whole life while concealing her emotions?
“… … Mother tried,”
As I looked at her face, the words slipped out of their own accord.
“… Ilya.”
A calm voice called my name. When I reflexively turned my head, mother was smiling at me with her head tilted. I knew what it meant even without taking the time to think about it. By showing an affectionate expression and a bright smile, she was trying to shut down my words. “Ilya,” she called my name once again, but this time I didn"t confirm her expression again and turned around to face father.
“Mother tried,”
“…Ilya!”
The high-pitched voice that was trying to cover my own voice roused up the mood. However, after the voice filled with an impatient tone echoed in the room, a tense silence fell.
“Mother tried to kill herself.”
Because I had to tell him clearly, I intended to speak with a voice a lot louder than usual. But my words faltered. Even now I still couldn"t believe mother had tried to take her own life. Despite the fact I had actually witnessed that moment, that I had hold in my arms her bloodstained body and seen the light leave her eyes… … even if I had attended her funeral, if someone were to told me all of this had only been an illusion, I may believe it.
“…Ilya!!”
Mother repeatedly called my name. As if she was asking for my help. But I thought her scream was the same as affirming my words. For this exact reason, father moved his line of sight from me to mother and asked while frowning, “… What is she talking about?” “What have you done, Ilya… what have you…” There was no need to bother confirm it. I knew mother was glaring at me with accusing eyes. Her lips must have lost their colors and her face turned white like paper, I was sure of it.
If it was the usual me… no if it was the me until yesterday, I would surely have done what mother wanted me to. However, no one could help me anymore. … … Because the life I should have saved, I had tried to make it disappear with my very own hands. Tightly grasping my trembling fingers, after blinking once, I stared at mother"s face. As expected, mother"s lips were trembling. This faced dyed in grief belong to none other than a victim. That pitiful figure which made everyone wants to extend a helping hand overlapped with Silvia"s.
“Mother, isn"t it fine for me… to protect myself?”
Every breath was like a painful gasp. I thought I didn"t want to cry but in fact … … I couldn"t. My mouth distorted and I might have made an expression similar to a young child about to throw a tantrum.
“… After all, mother you, about me… you … do not… love me, right?”
As I said those words, my heart felt like it was gouged out. Blood spurt out of my torn-out chest, everything reflected in my eyes was dyed in red. When I a.s.serted this, mother intently stared at me with her eyes wide opened, yet her face became blurred and my vision swayed. After time turned back, mother had not said to me “I do not love you.” It was already an event of the lost past. But I now understood even without being told. Because I knew this truth. Even if mother didn"t remember, I could not forget it.
Since it was the case, then I had to protect myself.
If I thought about mother"s feelings, I knew I should act as if nothing happened and hold my tongue. It would be best if I kept quiet about the fact she mixed a drug inside Silvia"s tea and pretend it never happened. But if I did that, I would become a mere thief who stole my little sister"s tea leaves. If the story became that I reflexively attacked mother after being reprimanded by her for stealing, everyone would believe and a.s.sent to it. This explanation had a lot more credibility than me trying to stop mother for taking her life. Besides, I knew I had no other choices but to do that in order to subdue this matter. I didn"t know what kind of verdict father would give otherwise; maybe mother would put in a good word for me and it wouldn"t turn out into a too big mess.
However, that was only my wishful thinking. I didn"t know what actions mother would actually take. There was the possibility she would keep wearing her lady mask and condemn me along with father.
After all, mother had silently watched as father beat me. She did not even speak up to stop father when he raised his fist.
“Since you won"t defend me, mother… then, I have to protect me myself…”
I couldn"t even tell if the liquid falling drop by drop on the carpet and forming a little puddle was the blood falling from my arms or the tears dropping from my painful cheek. But what soaked in the dark colored carpet definitively came from me. With all the many lives I lived, everything related to honesty and purity had disappeared in me. So maybe, it could be that even these tears had become black and muddy.
“… Ilya, what the h.e.l.l are you talking about?”
Instead of mother who had sunk into silence, father questioned me with an unusual bewildered voice.
“… Father.”
“… What is it?”
“Father, have you ever thought about it? That you might be causing pain to someone?”
“What?”
“Father, were you aware, of mother"s suffering?”
“… What the h.e.l.l are you trying to say…?”
He ought to have heard, but was he pretending to not understand? I was glared at by sharp eyes full of harshness and for a second I was at a loss for words.
“Ilya, will you please stop already.”
At that time, mother"s voice rang out, sounding as if she was about to cry.
“You don"t know anything…!”
That"s true. Mother didn"t know I had read the letter she had entrusted to the maid. That was normal. Since I had read it after she pa.s.sed away. Was she confused to the point of not realizing she had used the word ‘princess" when she tried to commit suicide? But in this situation, such a detail was only a trifling matter. The line of sight of everyone present gathered on mother who was shaking helplessly. Her figure which was crossing both of her hands in front of her chest looked like Silvia"s. Mother and Silvia didn"t have a blood connection. But maybe due to the long time they had spent together, their gestures and facial expressions were similar. When I felt so, my vision blurred once again. I felt a distinct love from those trivial gestures. It seemed to make me realized they could be a family even if they weren"t related by blood.
“Merge.”
When I called her, from the corner of the room, “Y-yes,” a voice clearly shaking answered back.
“You are holding onto something that had been entrusted to you by mother, aren"t you?”
When I looked at Merge"s face, she visibly gulped down and put her hand on her chest. Mother"s “letter” was probably always hidden there.
“Merge.”
When I called her name to hurry her, she promptly looked toward mother. Even though she kept quiet, this gesture showed the answer. Mother stared at me with a slightly befuddled expression. She was probably wondering why I knew. It was probably a pledge only shared between the two of them. But considering this, though Merge wasn"t aware of the circ.u.mstances, it was precisely because the two of them had concealed it that this tragedy happened.
… A tragedy. That"s right, it was indubitably a tragedy.
This time, it seemed I could avoid that tragedy. Because I rescued mother and I could still live through it. However, next time things won"t necessary be the same. If there was a law behind this life I had repeated many times… … In an incident like this one, I thought that it wouldn"t be strange if mother, Silvia or I were to lose our life.
“Father, mother had entrusted a letter to Merge. Everything is written inside it.”
“… Is it true?”
This time, when father"s strict glare fell on the maid who was mother"s trusted confident, she trembled enough for it to be visible. When mother had taken her life, she had pleaded for me, but this was surely because she thought of mother"s letter. Perhaps, she didn"t know the whole content but might be aware of one part of it. Silvia was, exactly as mother had said, “a genuine princess,” the blood of the princess from a foreign country ran in her, making her a member of royalty. As such, if you considered how devoted Merge was to Silvia… I could more or less understand the principle behind her behavior. Besides, apart from this explanation, I couldn"t find another reason as to why she retired from behind my maid.
If I considered the fact that on an emotional level, she simply loved Silvia more than I, then prioritizing this feeling, Merge may have begged mother to let her teach that child by all means.
Regardless of appearances, wasn"t the “young me” who had no other choices but to exert great efforts, quite helpless?
“… Ilya! What is the meaning of this? What gives you the right to say such a thing!!”
From the bed, mother rose her voice. Because she was a person who rarely yelled, maybe her throat hurt, the end of her sentence became hoa.r.s.e.
“The right you said? Am I not “your” daughter?”
Yet, you will not defend me, right? Was what I wanted to say, but the words didn"t come out.
“Or am I supposed to say, that I, am not your daughter, mother?”
I felt that it might already be hopeless. I knew people wouldn"t die of sadness, but when it hurt so much, I thought that maybe my breathing would stop. I closed my eyelids and one after the others, tears dropped down.
“I am, your daughter. And also, father… I am also your daughter. Yet… …”
When I inhaled a deep breath, my throat hurt. While sobbing convulsively, I shouted,
“Why…! Why, do you not love me… … !!”
Nocta"s thoughts :
Ilya talked back! I thought it would never happen. Next chapter, Silvia arrives!
But before that, let"s play a game! You know how the author like to write small details and used them again later? Like the strong scent of the medicine Ilya used when she was a prost.i.tute, the painting of Silvia exposed in the corridor, or the mother pa.s.sion for rose, gardening and poisoning humhum. I haven"t read much ahead but from the dialogues I took a glimpse of, something said in this chapter will be mentioned again later. I don"t know how big a role it will play though. Want to take a guess?