Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Colorless Cohabitation
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1.
There's always an empty space left in a person's heart.
It's not a vast expanse by any means.
More like a tiny spot you suddenly notice and step on—"Oh, it was here all along."
Usually buried deep in the chest, that space pops its head out precisely when a gap forms in your thoughts.
Uninvited, the damn thing.
It drifts up while you're bathing.
Even after spritzing perfume to drown out loneliness and collapsing into bed, it surfaces.
When you pop a sweet dessert in your mouth despite not being hungry.
While smoking a cigarette, or tearing your hair out over an unsolvable equation.
No matter how deeply you shove it away, determined not to think about it, it bobs up like it's pleading, "Don't forget me."
Amelia Merrygold had such a space in her heart, too.
And it was always occupied by her kind, dignified, elegant, and noble teacher.
The one who fed her medicine during flare-ups of her illness and gently stroked her forehead.
Who rushed to her side faster than anyone when she fell from a tree and broke her leg.
Who sat by her bed with warm milk whenever nightmares made her thrash about.
Who knitted scarves by the fireplace while sharing old tales.
Who, when studies grew overwhelming and she wanted to quit, would say, "Amelia, you're a special child like no other."
Teacher.
Teacher.
Dearest teacher.
Amelia remembered.
The day of their unbelievable farewell.
You didn't tell me anything.
"Teacher! Why... why didn't you tell me...! I... I thought... if I became a witch... we could be together forever..."
"Where there's a meeting, there's a parting. Oh dear, is that too clichéd for a last word?"
She never said that the previous witch who passed on the stigma would vanish, that their time together lasted only until Amelia inherited it.
Amelia knew the reason.
As a child, she had been lazy, inadequate, and indolent.
And she loved her teacher far too much.
Had she known the truth, Amelia never would have accepted the stigma.
She wouldn't have striven to inherit her teacher's research, to earn her approval, to spend more years by her side.
Then, the illness that had plagued her since birth would have claimed her young life in its prime.
That's why her teacher never spoke.
She didn't want her beloved disciple to die, either.
"It's cowardly... I can't accept it! How could you... It's so cowardly... Don't go... Please don't go..."
"Amelia, my dear disciple, my daughter, my mirror. I'm so proud that you've carried on the Merrygold name."
"I don't need this name! Why... why wouldn't you listen to me..."
"You're a warm-hearted child."
"No! I hate it...! Take it back... Without you, I'm... nothing...!"
She wept, clawed at her hair, screamed, shook her head, prayed.
Yet the cruel, sudden farewell marched on relentlessly.
"Live like a witch. Like a noble. And..."
Her teacher vanished.
On the day Amelia inherited the stigma.
Without even finishing her final words, slain by Amelia Merrygold herself.
Guilt, betrayal, resentment, rage, love, longing.
Emotions too varied to capture in a single word.
Amelia packed them down tightly.
And shoved them into that empty space in her chest.
Into a space that would surely resurface someday, even knowing it was futile.
The searing pain of loss sank like a molten coal swallowed whole, eventually burning a hole straight through the bottom of her heart.
After the modest funeral.
Amelia wept until she passed out, only to wake and weep again, repeating the cycle.
Then, she shed no more tears.
Had she finally accepted the harsh reality she could no longer deny?
Resolution gleamed in her newly steeled eyes.
A resolution thrust upon her,
Undesired,
Yet impossible to discard.
"If that's what you wanted, Teacher..."
The witch's unfulfilled vow.
To ascend to higher realms and achieve the feats of the Creation Witch.
"...I'll walk that path."
Memories so warm, yet so sharply painful.
They struck without warning like a tongue of flame, leaving her chest scorched and raw, tears of longing welling up.
Thus, that empty space was reserved solely for her teacher.
For a very long time,
Until a brash, insolent man appeared before her.
2.
Siwoo pulled out a cigarette.
For the record, Amelia had handed over an entire pack on the way back from Border Town.
Twenty smokes!
Back in the day, he wouldn't have touched the tasteless things even if offered, but picky eating was for folks with options.
Siwoo was in a position to pick bones out of poisoned rice.
Anyway, smoking one a day, two on special occasions, he could go a full two weeks without nicotine cravings.
Slave life was tough enough without adding addiction to the mix.
One form of enslavement was plenty.
Siwoo lit up using the flickering candle by the fireplace and perched on the windowsill.
His reflection in the glass: goddamn sexy in that suit.
He couldn't gauge the exact value since Amelia had bartered it with perfume, but the material and design screamed high-end.
"Look at you, handsome bastard."
Dressed to the nines for the first time in ages, hair slicked back, and the mirror brought on a creeping self-admiration.
Not even comparable to post-shower glimpses.
This might've even hooked Amelia, right?
A fleeting fantasy.
Locking eyes with his reflection snapped him back to reality.
Judging by Amelia's reaction right after he changed, probably not.
Siwoo gave a wry smile and tapped ash.
Amelia had changed a bit these past few days.
She used to be just a pretty disaster-magnet beast, but lately... something was off.
Thinking about it, the real shift started after their Border Town trip together.
Had she tired of tormenting him?
Grateful he took that falling eave debris for her?
Finally seeing him as "her guy"?
No way she noticed how he guarded her at the inn till the end.
"Ugh, fuck."
A chill ran down his spine unbidden, and he shuddered.
Not the last one, at least.
No way he'd be this chill if she'd found out he sucked on her chest.
Sophia must've kept her mouth shut tight.
Anyway, panties, desserts, smokes, and now this killer suit.
Left him feeling all bittersweet.
He'd felt something similar before.
Like when his bully senior from two years of hell suddenly turned nice at discharge, all "Sorry for being immature."
Hard to just say thanks, but Siwoo wasn't the type to hold grudges with snide comebacks.
He wasn't great at being harsh with people to begin with.
So calibrating distance and mindset with Amelia was tricky as hell.
Gifts made him happy yet uneasy; treating her casually dredged up past hell; that whole mess.
"Fuck it."
He was leaving anyway.
Who knew? Time had a way of romanticizing the rough patches.
His Gehenna days might boil down to bickering fondly with Amelia as the sole tolerable memory.
It'd all pass eventually.
Better to play nice, milk the perks, and bail quick than stir up drama.
With her tantrums dialed way back, realigning his attitude came easier.
"Sigh, if only she'd inherited half that personality."
Shed be wagging her tail like Takasho, fawning "Master, master."
Looks really mattered, huh.
If Amelia were even a smidge less stunning, Siwoo would've despised her for real.
But what could he do?
DNA deemed beauties worthy of leniency.
Siwoo stubbed the filter-chewed cig in the ornate, pricey ashtray and shut the window.
Then the door flew open.
Ah, right on cue. This was the life now.
No-privacy zone activated.
Jack-off sessions relegated to the bathroom from here on.
Siwoo straightened his clothes and headed to the living room.
Small mercy: separate living room and bedroom let him detect Amelia's invasions early.
"Associate Professor..."
What is it? Didn't get far.
Amelia cut in abruptly.
"Amelia."
"Yes?"
"My name is Amelia Merrygold."
"Yes, I'm Shin Siwoo."
I know, so what?
As he stared blankly, her eyebrows twitched upward briefly.
That signature puzzled look she gave when Siwoo acted dumb—about 25% intensity.
What'd he screw up now?
"Shin Siwoo."
"Yes...?"
Amelia called him in one of two ways: Shin Siwoo the caretaker, or just caretaker.
Unless she was truly pissed, it was the latter.
So what did full-name signal?
Five years of PTSD twisted his gut, asserting itself.
He shrugged involuntarily.
Caught smoking indoors?
"I see. Shin Siwoo. Not the caretaker."
She nodded sagely, as if realizing something profound, then stared right at his face.
Intensely so.
"Y-Yes. I'm not Academy caretaker anymore. I'm your exclusive now."
Siwoo bit his tongue in fluster.
Amelia's delicate brows lost symmetry.
Frustration at 50%.
"Call me by name. Siwoo."
"Y-Your name, Associate Professor?"
"Yes. I told you. My name isn't Associate Professor."
What fresh hell was this?
But hey, full-time slave now—jump if she said jump.
"Got it. Amelia nim."
"Siwoo."
Amelia looked immensely pleased.
Blank-faced at a glance, but nostrils flared ever so slightly—adorably so.
Sudden curiosity: were her nose hairs blonde, too?
"Good boy."
Reeling from the ambush, Siwoo finally spotted the plate in her hand.
That cherry cake he'd devoured before.
Exact name? Forgotten. Must've been complicated.
She plunked it proudly on the table.
"Eat."
"Pardon? Thank you. Won't you have some, Amelia nim?"
One slice, one fork—he had to ask. She shook her head.
"I don't need any. Wash the plate in the first-floor kitchen after."
"Yes, I'll enjoy it gratefully."
She appeared in a flash, vanished the same.
All this just to deliver cake?
He'd skipped a meal today anyway, craving sweets, so Siwoo dug in.
"Mmm..."
Feeling like some pampered pet dog? Nah, just imagination.