A Rose's Thorns
The temperature was cold. Only pitch-black darkness remained in the room. Not long ago, this space had been alive with quiet vitality, but as dawn crept in, it had fallen into complete stillness. Through the hazy gloom, only a single candle flickered precariously. Perhaps it resembled the autumn outside the window—a landscape mirroring a dying season.
On ground that barely caught even starlight, a single rose bloomed in shabby solitude. Its petals looked as though they might wither at any moment.
"······."
After the treatment ended, the girl left alone had been tossing and turning in her blankets. Even though silence had long since swallowed the surroundings, a voice still lingered in Elise's ears.
It was the snake's words.
—You are afraid, aren't you?
The chilly voice dug into her wounds. Her heart stirred noisily. She slowly lifted the body that had been lying on the bed. The moment her powerless legs touched the floor, a sudden dizziness struck her head hard. The girl seemed to sway without any resistance.
—Is that enough for you?
—Her Highness Charlotte will be sad.
—Because she cares for you.
—What will you do if you truly leave her?
—If that happens, no one will remain by your side.
The cunning tongue spoke of the lonely fate that would leave her utterly alone.
When she heard those words, Elise's breath caught for a moment.
'Sister... is leaving?'
The only person in this lonely world who came looking for her. The person who hid kindness behind sleepy eyes. The foolish person who, despite being wounded by sharp thorns every time, refused to abandon her sick little sister.
That person was leaving.
'······That's what I wanted.'
She forced the thought down. As if there was no problem. Because this was the outcome she had wished for from the beginning.
Elise knew. She knew how devoted her sister was to her. She wanted to act spoiled, but she also knew it would never be allowed. Because reality was cruel.
—At most, you have one year left.
Five years ago. The terminal diagnosis she had received at a young age. Despite the young prince's countless efforts, the rose's early death had been a foregone conclusion.
That day, the younger sister saw her older sister's tears for the first time.
'Sister... is suffering because of me.'
The girl realized it too late. How much of a burdensome weight her existence—always only receiving—had become for her sister.
The sight of her sister's back as she cried silently was especially painful. It felt like she had ruined the sister who had always shone so brightly. Because she felt guilty for those tears, the rose could no longer stay by the young prince's side.
She had run away.
'I have to distance myself from sister. So she won't be hurt. So she will hate me instead.'
Even if she closed her eyes tomorrow, she didn't want to leave ugly scars on that kind heart. So the rose had decided to push the young prince away.
'It's all... because I'm the bad one.'
It was foolish. Because she was young. She had chosen to sever their bond to avoid causing pain. That was the reason behind the rose's thorns.
But what she had overlooked was that her sister's devotion could not be stopped so easily. The young prince kept coming closer, even as her fingers were cut by the thorns.
'Please, just leave me alone.'
A younger sister trying to shake her off. An older sister trying to hold on. Their toxic relationship only worsened with time, continuing all the way to the present.
The one year the doctor had given her had long since passed. But it brought no sense of hope. It had only extended her hell.
The rose was slowly withering. Once her condition began to deteriorate, it never improved. Day by day, the pain of the curse tormented her more viciously. She was barely clinging to life, enduring each day.
"Cough, cough...!"
The curse made everyone suffer. The younger sister screamed in terrible agony every day. The older sister shed tears because there was nothing she could do. Even so, neither of them would yield their stubbornness.
The girl, lost in old memories, eventually muttered to herself with self-mockery.
"Even though... I did everything I could to push her away."
It should have been a relief. Just as the snake had said. If he could convince her sister to turn away, Elise would finally be able to breathe easier.
Yes. It should have been that way.
"Why..."
Why did it hurt so much now? She had pushed this person away for years, yet the thought of her truly disappearing made her head throb. Her aching chest made it hard to breathe.
"Haa... ugh."
The reason was simple. Just like the rose in the fairy tale, what was hidden behind the thorns was love. Not all sharpness was hatred. Not all roundness was love. Sometimes even hatred could be round.
In the girl's case, it was sharp love. So how could she possibly be happy? The current situation was far from the true feelings she had hidden between her petals. She could only bite her lip at the dissonance.
'My head hurts.'
Her breath felt blocked. As she clutched her suffocating chest, her thoughts drifted even deeper. It was a fundamental question.
'Why.'
Why did it have to be her? A curse from the gods. An incurable disease that only afflicted two or three people in a century. What sin had she been born with to carry such a heavy punishment on her back?
A thick shadow asked.
'Did it really have to be me...?'
At the same time, memories of her unfortunate life and a sense of disgust began to creep up. It was hatred sharpened to a point. Ten years spent neither fully alive nor dead. Abandoned by her father, losing her place in the world, enduring a horrific battle with illness. It had been unbearably lonely.
'A loner.'
She had no intention of denying it. No. She agreed with it. Because that had been her life from the beginning. Looking back on the past years, no one had ever stood by her side.
The girl had often thought: Perhaps it would have been better if she had never been born.
"Cough...!"
A sudden cough burst out. Her vision spun. She had thought it had calmed down, but another seizure was coming. Elise fumbled through the nearby shelf.
Clack—.
What her fingertips found was a pocket knife. The girl unwrapped the bandage around her wrist and immediately pressed the blade against her exposed skin.
Then her flesh was cut.
Slice—.
A new mark was carved over countless scars. Sharp pain flooded her entire arm, and soon the pain of the seizure began to subside. It was a momentary measure.
Drip, drip. Red life fell. On the floor, a dark crimson rose bloomed.
"······."
The girl remained silent for a moment, then began moving the knife again. She calmly drew lines across her soft skin. An indescribable sense of release. The wound burned painfully, but the relief it brought was sweet enough to make the pain worth it. As if possessed, she kept adding more lines.
—Do you truly wish for such an ending?
The hallucination resumed at just the right moment. She bit her lip hard. Elise unwrapped the bandage on her other arm as well. As she relentlessly painted it with flower-like blood, transparent droplets began to fall on top.
They were tears.
'When will this end?'
When would this miserable life finally be cut short? With that thought, she pressed the blade without hesitation. As she drew long lines across the white canvas and blood droplets welled up in the gaps, the seizure seemed to stop for a brief moment. That was why she could not escape this addictive pain. It felt like the only thing that granted even a moment of peace to her trash-like life.
Thud—.
Her legs lost strength. Elise collapsed where she was and continued the same act in a daze. Petals fell in a steady rhythm. Before long, beautiful roses covered the floor around her.
Looking at the flower garden she had created, the girl let out even more tears as if overwhelmed with emotion. Yet her eyes remained dead.
"Hic... ugh, ugh."
She drowned in the distant fragrance. Her vision blurred.
'I don't want to live.'
In truth, she did not want to die. She hated the pain that tore her insides apart, the seizures that came every dawn, the blood that stained her sleeves red. She just wanted the pain to stop. But she knew it was impossible. As long as she carried this curse, she could not escape it until death.
Droplets of dew fell. Slice, slice—.
The sound continued for a while. Her appearance was a mess. Deciding she had damaged her arms enough, she reached for the bandage around her neck. Just as she was about to touch her blood-soaked nape—
"Your Highness."
Grab—.
Arms wrapped around her from behind. Startled, she struggled, but the firm body held Elise in place. A gentle voice whispered in her ear.
"Shh... It's alright."
A familiar hand. The boy who had been toying with her for the past few days, throwing various taunts at her. When she turned her head, dull golden hair came into view.
"Everything is fine. Because I am here..."
The warm body heat enveloping her shoulders. The rose, filled with cold, slowly lost strength as if melting into his embrace.
Clang—!
She finally dropped the knife.
"Good. Just like this."
The snake gently stroked her head. It seemed he was waiting for her to calm down. As if accepting that intention, Elise soon stopped resisting. Only then did the boy smile.
"Rest easy."
The two remained sitting like that for a while. Leaning on each other's warmth, they slowly cleared away the chilly air.
Some time passed, and once the intense atmosphere had settled, we sat facing each other. The distance was close enough for our breaths to mingle, yet no awkwardness lingered between us. After all, this was merely contact for treatment.
I was wrapping bandages around her scarred arms.
"······."
Elise silently held out her arm. Her wrists were truly a mess. She must have done this for years; besides the fresh marks from today, countless scars remained. The areas dense with scars even had a different texture to the skin. I swallowed a bitter taste.
I carefully wiped away the red blood that had spread and applied disinfectant over the countless cuts. Even though it must have stung quite a bit, the rose didn't even flinch. Having lived nearly her entire life with the curse, perhaps ordinary pain no longer moved her. She was like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
"Your Highness."
"······."
Her green eyes were looking this way. Though they seemed unfocused, I paid it no mind and continued speaking firmly. She was definitely listening.
"As your personal physician, I must say this."
There was a lot to talk about.
"I told you not to harm yourself."
"······."
"I understand relying on the pain-relieving effect. But this behavior is bad for your mental health and negatively affects your body's recovery."
The words poured out like a warning. As I listed each nagging point, I eventually brought up the main topic I had been putting off. Our gazes met appropriately in the air. Her blinking green eyes. Perhaps because she was exhausted, the usual venom was absent. Only deeply sunken eyes remained. I pierced through the longing hidden beyond those pupils.
"Your Highness."
This was the perfect opportunity. The moment when her mind was shaken and her sharp thorns had been lowered.
"This will be my final question."
I leaned my face closer. After briefly sharing a gaze, I lifted her chin with my fingers. The distance where I could feel her breathing directly. Our breaths, which we couldn't quite release, mingled between our lips. As I positioned myself so close we might touch, a smile suddenly bloomed on my lips.
I asked directly.
"Do you not want to live?"
This time, it was an offer she could not refuse.