Letter from a Beast
My mother,
The winter wind, which had been gradually cooling, seems to be giving way. A warm sun is descending upon us.
March is a season when tender new buds sprout—spring itself. Other people may cherish this time when flowers bloom in full splendor, but your son finds nothing but bitterness in it.
After all, your son loved the winter far more than the harvest of oranges and tangerines, just as you did.
Since I, too, cherish the lonely season of winter as deeply as you do, this feeling of sorrow is only natural. After all, children resemble their parents.
Even after so many long years, I still remember it vividly—the slender hands reddened from peeling the cold, tough orange rind and the careful way you placed the juicy flesh between the lips of that little boy while your vermilion hair swayed gently.
I miss those days so much. Back then, I was far smaller than you.
When I return, will you allow me to rest once more in your arms? Please recall the warm hearth and your mother’s teasing remarks about my past lives. If I can hear your gentle voice and forget Mandarin for even a moment, I will be happier than I can imagine.
Haha, anyway, mother, I have rambled on too long. It has been ages since I last sent a letter, so I must have grown excited without realizing it.
It is not as if my words are clear or well-ordered. I am simply pouring out the childish words I once spoke to you, so if you would only read this clumsy, unskilled son’s letter, I would be grateful.
As you know, I was never one to study. Ah, but that does not mean your teaching was at fault. I simply preferred walking outside to books.
Therefore, swinging a heavy axe thousands of times feels more burdensome than scribbling with a feather pen. Even if I am called a northern barbarian, my blood is still that of the Bayorn family. So you must read the content of this immature letter with care.
By the time you read this letter, I will already have reached one of the Bayorn lands. The time for returning to the castle is almost here. It truly is good news.
Somehow my steps feel light. If mother hears what I have done, I can only imagine her surprise—and a laugh will burst from me. I want to deliver these proud achievements as quickly as possible. Although my hand holding the pen itches to move, I will hold back. I want to see your face and receive your praise in person.
For now, please simply know that I have used the Bayorn axe to chop down those trash hunting for their father. Noble nobles with high noses will end their lives worse than common weeds. It was quite a pleasant time.
The stories I will tell you are full of things that would please your heart—the final end suited to beggars who coveted flowers growing on cliffs where no one could tread.
In the process I lost one eye, but it is fine.
When I think of the treasure soon to be in my grasp, this is nothing at all.
So mother need not worry that a scar appears on my son’s face. Nor should you clutch your chest in sorrow.
Simply think of it as a small badge symbolizing the Bayorn savage.
Remember, mother often told me, “Why do you do such a thing? There is no need to suffer for studies.”
But, mother, please listen to me once.
I have lived under the Bayorn’s protection in your arms, exactly as given. I never knew hardship. The only difficult thing was when you entered father’s room. As a child, I could only make a sad face without understanding your worries.
I do not know how I became so greedy. Perhaps it started when I realized why father brought mother into the room.
To take you, swinging the axe everywhere. Your son, even I can see, is no ordinary madman. But what can I do? My heart points clearly there.
I simply wanted to grow into a proper young man, and when you gave birth to me, I was sturdy and loved. Raising me was tough but truly fulfilling. This much praise was not so bad, was it?
Yet the more time I spent walking among the Mandarin fields with you, I could no longer hide the restlessness in my heart.
The girl who fluttered her vermilion hair, full of innocent charm and giving off the refreshing scent of citrus—how beautiful she was! And your smile shining in the sunlight was unbelievably wonderful. Your skin as white as virgin and your red lips—how lovely they still are!
Since the day I was born until now when I have become an adult, the queen’s beauty ruling the tangerine farm has never dimmed. Rather, like a flower withering, it grows even more fragile and more brilliant, with deep care and affection for others.
The young boy has grown into a giant taller than his mother. Yet the heart of the adult boy is not so different from when he was young.
No, the more truly I recognize this heart, the deeper the trench in my mind seems to become. Even now, whenever I face you, my heart pounds like a man who has fallen in love at first sight.
The memories of wandering the Mandarin farm with the vermilion-haired girl and the times I faced the flowers blooming at the edge feel like paradise to me. I only wished to walk the earth with you while seeing that gentle smile of yours, yet the world would not leave you alone.
So I have decided. To the evil beings who commit countless crimes without remorse, and to the beast cubs hunting my mother, I shall bring the hammer of judgment.
Mother, I have no dreams. I lack the wisdom and will to speak of such things. I am not so foolish as to leave the targets for elimination like my father.
I am simply fulfilling my duty—the belief that I must protect the queen of the orange fields who gave me life. I have merely mixed in a tiny pinch of my own desire. Please do not look at me as if I am too beastly.
Even a barbarian must bow his head in sorrow if he receives a hateful gaze from the woman he loves.
Now I see you have grown thinner lately, and my worry for you grows every day. What great anxiety do you bear that your face twists? What pain makes you often shed tears? When you were always with me, you showed nothing but a young girl’s fragile and lovely smile.
But lately, when facing me, you make a pained expression and turn your head away coldly.
In truth, I understand why mother does this. And I do not find it incomprehensible. As one who has become a parent, such a reaction is only natural. But mother, please understand even a little of this son’s heart.
I have endured these tens of years. Whether it is because of the blood of the barbarian or because I was born like this, my patience has reached its limit. No woman in the empire can make me smile with sincere warmth. Nor is there a woman who loves and cherishes me as much as you do.
A human blinded by love is foolish beyond words. They see nothing else.
You are a woman with a heart as vast as the ocean, different from mine, so I believe you can hold even the ugly heart of your son. Mother, this is the first time such a thing has happened to you, so it must feel strange and embarrassing. It is nothing but a natural moral reaction, and time will resolve it soon.
To others, you have always looked like the happiest woman. Kind and overflowing with a free heart. Please cast off the shackles of your mind and accept me as soon as possible. And please smile the way you did then.
I do not know the solemn ethics and laws created by the high ones of the empire. No, when I consider what I am about to do, I need not understand them. The ugly beast that loves its own mother does not care about the understanding of others. Those who object will be split by the barbarian’s axe.
The only one worthy of my recognition and justice is you. If there is anything else to consider, it is only how I will deal with the beast cubs who covet my sole treasure. The single word of warning to retreat is the only mercy I grant them. Most will only learn after their heads are split by the axe.
What other reason is there for your son to suffer like this? To avoid repeating the mistakes I did not understand when I was young. As a son, I have only recently realized that removing even one grain of mother’s worry is more noble than one piece of orange flesh in my mouth. Such a past has become a scar and regret carved into my heart.
Therefore, these acts of slaughter are voluntary things I do of my own will, so mother need not worry greatly. Facing those trash cubs writhing before my eyes is truly disgusting.
Ah, from the position of the suitor, I have written these rough words I should not have said. Haha, being a natural barbarian, it is hard to suppress such emotions. But since I hate them, and since it is also a love for mother, please understand.
Ah! Now I remember I forgot to write this part.
Mother, do you still remember the promise we made last winter? The promise to go on a picnic outside the Bayorn lands when the flowers of spring bloom.
If you wish to keep the small promise made with your son’s finger, then you must not run away this time. Recently you have pulled on the reins and fled inland. I sweated blood trying to bring you back.
Of course, you, a mother who does not know defeat, will easily abandon the promises we made and leave again.
Well, I cannot restrain you just to fulfill my duty.
But mother, please know this. As I come to you more and more, I will become twisted by the resentment that rises without me realizing it.
So please, please restrain yourself this time.
Mother has always said that the reason parents live is to make their children happy.
That is not a lie, is it? After all, you who have embraced me for tens of years. This must be true.
Reading this letter means you have faced my heart completely. So this time, please do not leave me alone.
From childhood, you always said you would do anything I wished, did you not?
Yes?
So mother.
No…
Darin.
Please do nothing. Just wait quietly in bed.
— To my one and only fiancée