Chapter 106
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 106
“You were a mage, Mother.”
“...!”
Iris’s eyes flew open in surprise. Even that small movement seemed to exhaust her, as she immediately broke into a fit of coughing.
“My son! Be quiet! What if someone hears you...!”
“You know as well as I do that no servants come to this palace, except for once a month.”
Even his half-siblings refused to set foot here, calling the place filthy, stinking, and pathetic. If they truly felt the urge to torment and beat him, they would intentionally send a servant early in the morning to summon him, dragging out his misery all day long.
Benjamin had to survive among those monsters, no matter what. If he died too, his mother would truly be left all alone.
She was a woman with no family to lean on. Because she was a total orphan, she had been looked down upon even more.
“Still, you never know, so please never speak of it aloud. My son. There could be dire consequences...”
“...Yes, Mother.”
On the Spring Continent, there was the Mage Tower, and while the mages belonging to it had limited influence, they were at least treated with the respect afforded to high-level professionals.
But.
“I know all too well that mages from the Summer Continent are treated with contempt...”
“...My son.”
Pity, regret, and guilt. Her eyes swirled with a tempest of painful emotions as she looked at him. Her breath was fading, growing as fragile as her gaze.
Ever since he was old enough to understand the world, Benjamin had never truly slept soundly. His mother was always ill, in a state where she could pass away at any moment. His cold-hearted father never bothered to send a proper imperial physician or even the right medicinal herbs.
He was constantly on edge. He had lived his entire life in a state of anxiety. And he knew he would continue to do so.
“Mother.”
Benjamin tightly gripped a cold, wet cloth in his hands. If he held it long enough, his body heat would transfer, making it a little warmer. He used it to wipe her face, as he always did—a face that was drifting toward death with every passing minute, every passing second.
“You said you would give me a birthday gift.”
“I did.”
A faint smile bloomed on her face.
“It weighed heavily on my heart that I couldn't take care of you because the day fell on your time in the Empire.”
“It’s fine. The Imperial Palace was grand, and there was plenty of cake. I liked it.”
“I’m glad. My son, is there something you want as a gift?”
A concubine who did not receive the King’s love. A concubine with no powerful family to support her. Her situation was no different from Benjamin’s.
Even the department managing the royal palace’s budget ignored the mother and son. They made all sorts of excuses to withhold their stipends. Thus, they lived in poverty even within this beautiful royal palace. There were even times when they went hungry.
Had he been a commoner, he would have gone out to work; had he been a fallen noble, he would have sold his body to some wealthy, elderly lady. But because Benjamin had the King’s blood in his veins, he could do none of those things.
Instead, he became a victim of his half-siblings’ violence, catering to their whims just to secretly scavenge the leftovers they threw away. Even those scraps were a luxury, for they were palace food.
Having matured far too early, the boy had never desired anything as extravagant as a birthday gift. He had never once asked his mother to celebrate his birthday.
Heartbreakingly mature, smiling even through the pain—the boy, whose inner self was completely shattered though he didn't know it, carefully opened his mouth.
“Mother. This flower...”
Benjamin pulled a single flower wrapped in a handkerchief from his tunic. It was a tulip, its head bowed as if it might wither away at any moment, mirroring their own plight. Benjamin, who had carried it as if it were his most precious treasure, spoke.
“Could you... cast a preservation spell on this flower?”
Iris stared at the flower Benjamin held out. A faint smile touched her lips.
“It’s a beautiful tulip. Very well, my son.”
There were not many mages who could cast preservation magic. Furthermore, the longer the duration of the spell, the more its value soared beyond imagination. When nobles or royalty purchased preservation spells from the Mage Tower, they would meticulously inquire about the duration, scrutinize the terms, and only pay after a certificate of guarantee was issued.
But Benjamin asked nothing. He didn't ask how long his mother’s preservation spell would last. He simply stared, entranced, at the mysterious shimmer rippling along the edges of the pale pink tulip.
“My son.”
After casting the single spell, Iris’s already pale face turned even whiter. She tucked a strand of hair, damp with cold sweat, behind her ear and smiled.
“May I ask why you wanted me to cast magic on it?”
It was the first time her young son, who had never asked for anything, had requested a birthday gift.
“...Just because.”
Benjamin answered softly, slowly wrapping the tulip back in the handkerchief.
“Just...”
“...”
“...Because looking at this tulip makes it so I don't have to smile.”
“I see...”
Iris raised a thin hand and slowly stroked Benjamin’s hair. Despite his malnutrition—so thin his ribs were visible—his hair remained a brilliant, radiant gold.
“My poor child...” Iris murmured.
The strength gradually left her hand. Benjamin carefully took his mother’s limp hand and placed it back on the bed. Iris’s eyes began to drift shut.
“I want my son to always be able to smile.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I want you to smile when you truly feel like it, and cry when you truly feel like it.”
“...I’ll try, Mother.”
Iris, who had been gazing blankly at Benjamin, finally let out a voice thick with regret.
“Truly...”
“My truly pitiful child...”
“...”
Benjamin did not answer. No, he couldn't.
Silence descended. A silence so heavy it felt as though this shabby villa palace might collapse under its weight, a suffocating, desperately thick scent of death.
Benjamin smiled, clutching the handkerchief-wrapped tulip with both hands. He gripped it desperately, as if holding onto his only lifeline.
As he always did, he offered his greeting with a smile.
“Goodnight, Mother.”
“Yes... Sleep well.”
Iris added with the faintest trace of a smile.
“...Benjamin.”
“...”
“My poor child.”
“...”
Iris’s eyes slowly closed.
Benjamin said nothing. He simply stood there like a fallen leaf sensing the onset of winter, preparing to slowly rot away. He stood as still as an old, withered tree.
“...”
How much time had passed? It felt as long as the time it takes for an ancient civilization to rust away, yet also as brief as a few blinks of an eye.
Benjamin slowly opened his mouth.
“Mother.”
There was no answer.
“...Mother.”
His mother was no longer breathing.
Benjamin, smiling mechanically as he always did, spoke.
“Goodnight, truly... Goodbye.”
Could one be wounded by their own words? Could a heart be so damaged simply by saying goodbye to a loved one?
The moisture he had held back for so long, the sorrow he had barely suppressed deep in his throat, surged up like a bursting dam.
One drop.
Two drops.
The tears fell, one after another.
Silently, Benjamin unwrapped the handkerchief from the tulip. After carefully covering his mother’s peaceful face with the cloth, he lowered his head toward the tulip that would now never wither.
Ridiculously, this tiny flower was all he had left.
Staring blankly at the pale pink tulip, Benjamin’s gaze inadvertently shifted to the mirror beside the bed.
The scrawny boy reflected in the mirror was weeping with a smile on his face.
And so he remained for the rest of the day, crying without end.