Chapter 153
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 153
Thalia had willingly surrendered the threads of her consciousness, yet a peaceful rest was not to be.
The sensation of a warm, damp cloth tracing her face and the nape of her neck pulled her from her shallow sleep. She stared blankly at the man, who loomed over her like a hazy shadow.
He gently lowered her nightgown to her waist, running the warm towel slowly down the length of her spine. It occurred to her then that this likely wasn’t the first time he had tended to her this way; Barkas’s touch was practiced, almost routine.
Realizing she was awake, he went still and looked down at her. When she showed no sign of resistance, he slid the linen tunic past her legs and thoroughly cleaned every inch of her sweat-soaked body.
Thalia felt nothing, despite how desperately she had once hidden her marred physique from him. She simply watched him with a vacant gaze, unable to fathom why he was bothering with such a tedious task.
After dressing her in fresh clothes, he carefully trickled herb-steeped water into her mouth. Thalia remained passive. She found his presence somewhat bothersome, but the idea of resisting felt like even more of a chore than simply enduring his ministrations.
Perhaps sensing her exhaustion, he demanded nothing from her. He simply held her quietly, occasionally feeding her water and medicine. Every so often, he summoned a priest to cast recovery magic over her.
Thalia lay still, waiting for the world to pass her by. She had no idea how much time had slipped away.
As she drifted like flotsam on the tide between consciousness and oblivion, a visitor arrived and requested a word with Barkas. Thalia thought the voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
The man finally rose from the bed and stood by the door, conversing with the visitor in a low voice. She stared at his broad back, silhouetted against the light, before losing interest and closing her eyes.
“I will be back shortly.”
Just as she was about to sink back into sleep, Barkas returned to the bedside and spoke, leaning over her. Thalia didn’t understand why he was seeking her permission. She opened her eyes briefly before closing them again. The man stood quietly for a moment longer before picking up his overcoat and leaving the room.
Immediately, several women entered. It seemed he had summoned attendants to nurse her. One of them approached and spoke softly, but Thalia couldn’t grasp the words. It felt as though a thick, hazy film surrounded her. After staring at the blurry, ghost-like figures beyond that barrier, Thalia turned away in annoyance, obsessively chasing sleep once more.
But this time, she couldn’t sleep for long.
When she next opened her eyes, her mind was clearer. The room was submerged in deep shadow. Two young maids were dozing in front of the fireplace, while Marisen and her nanny sat beside the bed.
“Are you feeling more like yourself now?”
The healer, who had been decocting herbs, spoke with a look of relief. Thalia struggled to move her parched lips.
“...What happened to my baby?”
The question escaped her before she even realized she was speaking. Only after the words were out did Thalia realize she had been desperately swallowing them back all this time.
She waited quietly for an answer she hadn’t dared to ask Barkas, even in her delirium. A deep trace of guilt flickered across the healer’s face. When the woman failed to respond and lowered her eyes, the nanny, who had been sniffing beside the bed, spoke in a voice thick with tears.
“The child... he was stillborn. He has been laid to rest in the backyard of the chapel.”
Thalia looked at her with hollow eyes. The nanny clutched Thalia’s hand—which hung limp like a dead bird—and continued haltingly.
“They say it was a boy. If only he had been born safely, he would have been such a beautiful baby...” Sobbing, her shoulders trembling, the nanny wiped her tears and forced a comforting smile. “But don’t be too heartbroken. You are young, my lady. You will surely have another lovely child again.”
In that instant, Thalia felt as if she had been stabbed. She didn’t know why those words caused such agony, but she felt a sharp, physical pain, as if her heart were being split in two. Had her senses not been so dulled, she would have screamed.
Trembling, Thalia struggled to pull her hand from the woman’s grasp.
“...I want to be alone. Everyone, get out.”
“But the Grand Duke gave strict orders not to take our eyes off you for even a moment—”
“Get up. Now.”
Marisen coldly pulled the nanny to her feet. Wearing a bewildered expression, the nanny slowly backed away. Pushing her toward the door, the healer signaled to the maids as well.
As the girls shuffled out, the healer gripped the doorknob and added politely, “We will be in the room right next door. If you need anything, please ring the bell.”
Silence descended.
Thalia buried her face in the cold blankets and closed her eyes, but her mind only grew sharper. Fighting the convulsive tremors wracking her body, she remembered the sedative herbs she had prepared for emergencies and sat up.
Staggering over to the shelf, she opened the cabinet to find various tonics and bundles of dried herbs. Finding an incense candle made from crushed herbs, Thalia placed it inside a small brazier. She tilted a candlestick to light the wick and waited for the smoke to rise.
Soon, a bitter fragrance wafted through the air. She sat on the carpet and inhaled deeply. Before long, her frayed nerves softened into a dull hum, and her head grew heavy.
She welcomed the blurring world. The world is too sharp. I wish everything would fade, just like this smoke.
Leaning her back against the bed, she inhaled the acrid smoke even more deeply.
How long had she been there? Just as the world began to distort into a hazy mess, a strange sound drifted from somewhere. Thalia raised her dizzy eyes.
Inside the room, the light from the fireplace and the candles flared violently. The sound that had been flickering in her ears grew increasingly distinct. She stood up unsteadily and approached the rattling window frame. The manor grounds, submerged in rain, filled her vision. From beyond the ink-black world, someone was sobbing piteously.
Listening to that weeping, Thalia turned as if drawn by a thread.
Opening the door, she saw the hallway shrouded in silence. In the darkness beyond, she saw the shadows of the guards. Not wanting to encounter them, she slipped toward the narrow staircase on the opposite side.
She didn’t know how she managed to descend those steep stairs. She walked aimlessly until, before she knew it, she was standing in the backyard of the castle, pelted by the pouring rain.
Thalia frowned in confusion. As her mind cleared slightly, a faint question arose. Why did I sneak out like a thief?
As she stared blankly up at the black sky, she heard the crying again. Like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, Thalia resumed her precarious steps. Cold mud clung to her bare feet. She felt a stinging pain in her soles, as if she had stepped on something sharp, but her legs moved beyond her will.
She drifted through the rain-soaked world until she arrived in front of the chapel. Staring up at the gaunt building with vacant eyes, she stepped into the gloomy entrance. Passing through the empty space and exiting through the rear door, she saw skeletal trees, brambles, and a tiny grave that hadn’t even been granted a headstone.
She stumbled toward it. Finally, the sound that had been buzzing in her ears ceased.
Thalia blinked her stinging eyes and looked down at the small mound of earth where a few wilting flowers lay. Only then did she realize the true nature of the sound that had led her here.
It was the sound of a baby crying.
A thin, hollow laugh escaped her. She didn’t know why she was laughing. Her shoulders shook as she collapsed, fumbling at the ice-cold mound of earth.
Hot rain poured down incessantly over the backs of her mud-stained hands. No—it wasn’t rain. Only when her vision blurred with salt did she realize she wasn’t laughing, but crying.
A thick sob tangled in her throat. Thalia clutched her neck as if she were being strangled, then vomited out a sorrowful wail. The despair she had held in reserve came pouring out all at once. The world beyond the film shattered into pieces, embedding itself into her skin. She slumped over the grave, broken.
Just then, the sound of wet footsteps approached. A shadow like twilight fell across her tear-stained vision.
She raised her hollow eyes to the man standing in the rain. A steam-like haze rose from his large frame, his shirt soaked through. His chest heaved breathlessly as he drew closer. A pale hand reached out toward her.
Thalia knew that hand. It was the hand that had offered her hope, only to force her to taste despair.
She jerked her shoulders back as if he were brandishing a weapon, and the man froze. The icy rain washed over his pale, chilled face. Through the veil of rain, she saw the eyes that had once reflected the glory of a silver crown. Now, they held nothing but ruins.