Fifteen Years of Waiting
The mansion. A typhoon raged outside the window. Rain slowly seeping in had soaked her hair, and it was high time she closed it. Yet even as her clothes grew filthy, the woman paid it no mind. Clinging to that faint, hopeless wish that perhaps he might return, the solitary maid stood there today as well—until her head was drenched through.
She came back inside.
"...If you do return, then I'll have to chop off your limbs and chain you in the basement."
Her true feelings slipped out unbidden as she wrung the rainwater from her hair. The girl who had once been just twenty years old was now reduced to waiting alone for her master in this aged mansion.
The wind began to howl fiercely, shaking the trees, and thin branches flew with the leaves to batter the window.
-RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE-
Dark clouds gathered thick and black over the gloomy sky, as if mocking the one woman in unison with their thunderous cries. The familiar dreary weather grated on her especially today.
-In fifteen years, I'll come back.
Through the rattling window, amid the streaming transparent raindrops, the reflection of one woman appeared. A servant abandoned by her master. Yuria.
The name he had given her, the one who had taken in a girl with nowhere to go. But even that—when was the last time she'd heard it in his voice?—it all blurred in her memory now.
Yuria glanced up at the window once with her jet-black hair and obsidian eyes, then turned away and steadfastly began cleaning the empty office.
Upon her chest hung a nameplate, impeccably maintained without a speck of dust—as if to prove it was her proudest, most precious possession. She cherished it like her very life, the sole remaining link from the end.
Yet in the fifteen years since her beloved master vanished, Yuria had changed in many ways. She could no longer smile. Expressing emotions had grown clumsy compared to before. And she felt no aversion—or even hesitation—to killing people anymore.
Anyone who was an enemy to her maid's master, she would kill without regard for water or fire. A monster. Yes. The maid who had lost her master was becoming a monster, just like the epithet from her slave days.
The empty, hollow years. The endless slaughter. They slowly burrowed into Yuria's psyche, eventually sickening her mind.
...Today as well, Master has not returned.
It was the thought that came as she cleaned his unoccupied office in the chill morning air. Once, even exchanging morning greetings with him had been daily routine. Now, even that was impossible.
Because she had shattered it with her own hands. Gazing into the mirror with a sigh laced with lament, she realized the preciousness of what she'd lost only after it was gone.
...Someday, he'll come back.
If there was a hopeful choice, surely that was it. He wasn't the type to completely forget and discard her. And didn't he have other matters to attend to?
Especially since he'd gone out of his way to leave a letter, showing he still cared for her. That made it even more certain.
"..."
She knew full well that such thoughts were her only salvation, the bare minimum comfort she could give herself. But without them, Yuria couldn't maintain her sanity.
Otherwise, there'd be no need to wait here alone for fifteen years for just one person.
...And if even then, he doesn't return.
"..."
That ominous thought struck like an arrow to the center of her chest. The worst scenario she'd always imagined.
...If he left because he came to hate me.
Her hand halted abruptly while cleaning the mansion. Through the frost-covered glass from the cold, Yuria's face faintly reflected back.
Jewel-like sparkling eyes and porcelain skin. Once, nobles had lusted after her fiercely for it. Such an alluring woman.
But there was no vitality left to see. Not adorned extravagantly like other noble ladies, no glittering accessories. Just bloodied, battered weapons gripped in filthy hands—a tool for murder, nothing more, nothing less.
That was how she saw herself. Her epithet was none other than the Witch of Curses. Far too heavy and grim to utter before the world's greatest assassin, her master.
"..."
Yuria's gaze grew dimmer. Was she... lacking? Now, it all felt like her fault alone.
She despised her younger self from childhood, who had been so inadequate, failing to meet his expectations.
Once she started reminiscing, the past and regrets wouldn't stop.
...He must have left because I failed him.
Too scared to kill even a bug (a human), bungling even simple household chores (territorial wars), casually committing rudeness toward the master she should serve and revere without knowing better—who would like such a maid?
Yes. He had been disappointed.
"..."
The night before the fifteenth anniversary of his words. Even as she closed her eyes to sleep, she harbored a sliver of hopeful what if.
If. If he truly returned. If he came back casually with a morning greeting, just like always.
Then she would definitely—
///
"..."
But no. Even after the typhoon passed the next day and the sun rose again, the mansion remained silent.
...Yes.
There was no way he'd return. Not to a maid as cold and ruthless as a murderous demon.
No master to return, none left to serve. She had been abandoned.
She hadn't even deserved that much to begin with. That bitter realization stabbed at the depths of her heart, a truth that could never reach him.
Desperately suppressed emotions surged forth, and Yuria could no longer hold them back.
"..."
She had known all along he wouldn't return. She'd prepared her heart for it. The fifteen years of waiting were just time to accept it. An inevitable fact. Karma.
She'd repeated it to herself countless times. She'd known it would end like this from the start.
So what vain hopes had she been praying for all this time?
After all, she'd disappointed him too greatly to hold onto him.
And as if to confirm it, the sun rose beyond the window.
"...Hic,"
Hot tears began welling from the dam she'd held back so tightly. The walls around her pent-up emotions—for when he returned—crumbled.
Like water bursting from a full reservoir, Yuria poured out her feelings beyond reason's control.
"..Ugh, sob... I... did wrong. I'm sorry. Please..."
Large teardrops fell from her parched eyes. Not yet. She didn't want to let go yet.
She hadn't apologized for anything she'd done to him. But all Yuria could do was stay here, waiting quietly.
It hurt. It was sad. It ached. Her chest hurt so much.
The tearing pain in her heart made her hand clutch her breast as her legs gave way.
She just wanted to hear his scent, his voice, even for a moment. A single word would do.
It was a wish she'd hidden so deeply, born of such prolonged, excruciating solitude.
If it was going to be this lonely, better to have died easily at the slave market.
What kind of cruelty was it to raise such hopes, then heartlessly vanish?
A void like a gaping hole in her chest rang alarm bells in her mind with its emptiness.
"Ugh... kuh,"
If only she'd never known these feelings from the start, the pain might have been less.
Yet she'd spent every day yearning for him alone, filling her heart with him.
Suddenly saved, suddenly stealing her heart away.
Commanding her to wait so long, then never returning.
What was a lone maid like her supposed to do?
...If you give me just one more chance.
Words that would never reach him spilled from her inwardly.
I'll do everything. Whatever Master wants, I'll bring it to you in my hands. My purity, anything—I'll give it all.
Tears fell endlessly as she prayed to a god who wasn't there.
Please. Please... just once. Come back.
If he returned, she'd ensure he never thought of running or leaving again. She'd hold him forever.
Break his arms and legs if she had to. Devote everything to keep him from slipping away.
Just once, please.
"...Come back to me."
It was then.
The 'proof' that he had returned began to glow. Even as Yuria denied reality for a moment, tears still falling drop by drop, she touched the shining necklace.
She was crying. But her face didn't match—flushed madly with heat.
No expression a discarded woman should wear. More like one who had seized her chance.
Yet Yuria trembled. Her black eyes wavered.
In her clenched fist was something she must deliver to him, and the thought of facing him soon made her heart pound wildly.
"You... came back."
Absolutely. This time, she wouldn't let him go.
If he was real. Just as she'd imagined earlier...
"I'll smash your arms and legs... and, and..."
If. If he'd forgotten her. If he'd already entangled with another woman.
"..."
At those thoughts, impulse seized her. She yanked down the door handle.
She had to see him. Now.