Chapter 31
“As he was born into a family that produced Drulein, he must have learned politics from the moment he started walking. It’s quite suspicious that someone like him is withdrawing in a time like this. In any case, that old man’s acting skills are impressive. If Drulein hadn’t crossed my mind, I wouldn’t have made it this far in my guesses.”
Manen was a similar type…
I smirked to myself.
“I’m looking forward to seeing who will be selected as the queen. Haha. Let’s make a bet. I’ll bet on my boss, and Ray, you bet on Lotus.”
“Shall we?”
Ray looked amused. I nodded, saying, “Yes.” Inwardly, I was already smiling, thinking, “Sorry, but this is a bet you’re going to lose…”
As the choir’s practice was wrapping up, we stood up and made our way to the royal mausoleum beneath the cathedral. A significant number of flower bearers were hurriedly leaving the mausoleum.
“Is today a special day? There are many visitors offering flowers.”
“They must be here for the Requiem Mass. Today is Daytanz’s death anniversary.”
“What?”
I reflexively questioned, surprised by the unexpected answer.
“But he’s not buried here, is he? Wasn’t he laid to rest in the Whitebirch Forest? Oh… did they lay flowers at his parents’ graves instead?”
“You’re half correct. Look there. What’s on top of that tombstone?”
I stared blankly at the marble tombstone. A portrait was hanging on it. It was a painting of an elderly couple and a young man with black hair. I recognized him at a glance.
It’s that bastard…
If I were to respect the ‘perfect world’ inside Ray’s head, you could say this was technically Ray’s first man. Someone to whom he gave both body and heart, only to be cruelly abandoned. I was determined to scrutinize him as much as possible.
He looked absolutely repulsive. Narrow, slit eyes and shoulder-length hair, just like how men are often depicted in movies. After giving him a thorough once-over, I concluded that I was
farbetter looking than him. I stood proudly, convinced that I was the clear winner in looks.
I was here to help Ray with his revenge, after all. The fact that I had put effort into my appearance today worked in my favor. I figured I was quite a decent man, one who Ray could proudly flaunt in front of his ex.
Besides, the fact that he only had one child in his entire life meant the contest was already over. In my opinion, his feeble excuse about avoiding the queen’s concubine due to the stench of power was just a cover. The real reason was obvious—he was impotent.
What good was all that power and status…?
I chuckled softly. If Ray and I were heterosexual and Ray were a woman, I would have impregnated him at least five times by now. We would have had a whole soccer team of Messara children. I was confident. By now, I’d already have fathered one, and Ray’s belly would be growing with the second.
A man who’s competent at home is always competent in society. Even Don Corleone was a great husband and father before being a brilliant businessman. Honestly, what’s the point of being born with a silver spoon? No matter how you looked at it, I, Four Messara, who climbed to the top of power with nothing but my bare hands and was excellent in bed, was far superior by hundreds of times. Ray had chosen a great second lover.
Anyway, that bastard was a joke. Even his crown, encrusted with jewels, was ridiculous. I scoffed and glanced at Ray.
Ray was silently gazing at the tomb. A sudden wave of melancholy washed over me as I saw the sorrow etched on his face. While I found this situation amusing, Ray was dead serious. He was standing in front of the grand grave of one of the people who had brutally murdered him.
Lying on top of the grave were statues of the royal couple. The queen mother, next to her husband, was in a praying posture, staring into the void. Below it was engraved:
Requiescat cum Sanctis tuis in aeternum
(Rest eternally with your saints).
“It’s time to leave. We’ve spent too much time here,” I said. Just then, Ray spat on the tomb. The spit landed squarely on the queen mother’s cheek, leaving a noticeable stain. I paused for a moment in surprise.
Ray turned abruptly and left the mausoleum. I quickly followed after him. As I walked out of the cathedral behind him, I felt an odd sensation. While Ray’s action made sense, it still shocked me.
It was like being struck on the back of the head. Or like being slapped across the face. Maybe it was because I had never imagined Ray doing something like this before.
Just how deep must his hatred run…
It left a bitter taste in my mouth. I felt like a heavy boulder, heavier than the abyss, had settled in my chest. Though the grief and rage stemmed from a world that only existed in Ray’s mind, the pain was real. It was tormenting his entire being.
What should I do? Even if the cause of his sorrow and anger was just a delusion, it didn’t matter.
How could I dispel such a vivid illusion, burning like a torch in the darkness? What was I supposed to do? I felt utterly helpless. It was like the god of death had clawed through my entire body with his scythe, leaving me with a deep sense of despair.
I put my arm around Ray’s shoulders. It was the only comfort I could offer. Ray leaned into me silently. Snowflakes scattered through the ebony night sky, turning it white.
I pulled Ray into my embrace and gently stroked his cheek.
It’s okay…
I’ll make you happy.
“Let’s go home.”
I kissed Ray on the forehead. Suddenly, a gust of wind brushed against my neck, and an unsettling feeling washed over me.
꙳•❅*ִ
While watering the plants, I suddenly realized I was smiling.
A smile. I was smiling.
Why? Was it because it was a sunny morning after days of snow? Or was it the satisfaction from spitting on the queen mother?
It didn’t matter. I simply felt happy and content. As I sprayed the plants, I sank into thought. Yesterday, I had brought up the topic of side work again. Messara had firmly told me to stop feeling indebted.”
― You’ve been legally recognized as a partner, and Ray is sharing the household responsibilities, isn’t he? That is also, of course, an economic activity. To think that just because it doesn’t produce tangible goods, it’s not economic activity, is an extremely outdated way of thinking.
After hesitating for a moment, I pointed out Messara’s wasteful habits. Messara was silent for a moment, then said that he would try to improve moving forward. He added that his salary was 250,000 talantens, which is about what a manager at a decent company would make, so I shouldn’t worry.
We also scouted the new store location, which was a 20-minute walk from home. Before Messara could even point it out, I recognized the store. It was an old red-brick building covered in ivy. It felt familiar. I immediately knew this was the one.
Messara said we could move the store within two weeks if I wanted.
― Winter is only a month away, but if Ray wants it, we should hurry. Someone I know is opening a small bar on 42nd Street. When I showed them Ray’s secondhand bookstore, they liked it a lot. Moving the store should go smoothly.
I suggested we move at the end of winter. As much as I wanted to start immediately, business anywhere would be slow in winter. I decided to focus solely on my treatment and manuscript for the next month. Though a full recovery was impossible, the plan was to improve enough to only need to visit the hospital once a week.
We also took photos in the studio. I felt awkward and wondered if this was really necessary, but Messara thought differently.
― We should at least follow the formalities that everyone else does.
He actively exchanged opinions with the photographer, chose the frames, and seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. The photos were scheduled to be ready this Wednesday.
After tending to the greenhouse, I made some tea. I sat on the sofa and spent time chatting with Diana. I rubbed my nose against her wet snout and closed my eyes.
― From now on, let’s only focus on living happily and joyfully, ha ha ha.
That’s what Messara had said.
Happily and joyfully… It felt odd because I had lived in such poverty that I couldn’t grasp what that meant. This morning over breakfast, Messara brought up the idea of a vacation. He said his workload would lighten soon, and we should take time off to relax on a southern island. He insisted I come along, even if I didn’t want to.
― I’ve only been on a handful of overseas trips myself, and those were for work. I want this one to be special. We should at least do this to celebrate our Pax marriage.
I flipped through a travel magazine. Guam, Phuket, Hawaii, Murano, Sicily, Capri… Capri caught my eye. The blend of the white, beautiful houses with the natural landscape was irresistible. The deep blue Mediterranean was a breathtaking sight you couldn’t find in the kingdom. I decided on Capri. My heart raced in excitement for our first trip.
Sunlight streamed gently through the window. Sleepiness overtook me. It’s not perfect, but it’s happy enough… I thought as I drifted into a peaceful slumber.
― So, what should we do?
― Ekdal doesn’t yet consider you a serious threat. His focus remains solely on Wolfscott. However, he is the only one among the trio who views you as a dangerous figure. Not that it matters.
― Of course, it doesn’t, ha ha ha.
― Of course. After all, our bullet shield is none other than that Wolfscott. He must be burning up inside. Ho ho ho.
I chuckled as I shook the Whitebirch branch.
What… is this?
I stared at the ceiling. The memory that surfaced the moment I woke up.
Was this from the time I was assisting Lord Manen? It seemed to be a moment when we were discussing Ekdal, likely early in my time as his aide.
But that version of me in the memory…
I felt uneasy.
Evil, perhaps? There was something sly and cruel about it. I seemed to be enjoying plotting schemes with Lord Manen.
A chill crept over me, seeping into my whole body. I shivered. Was it because of the Whitebirch branch? The thought of the witch party flashed through my mind.
The witch party.
It was happening this Sunday at the Duke of Vardi’s estate. Last Saturday, while reading an article about it in the hospital lounge, I had felt an indescribable excitement. Anyone wearing a sorcerer’s coat would be admitted.
Due to the Duke’s popularity, many would try to sneak in with fake coats, but most would be caught by the coat inspectors. The material was so unique that counterfeiting a coat was difficult—that was the main point of the article. It made sense. After all, the coats were made of donkey hide.
A sorcerer’s coat was crafted by soaking donkey hide in black dye. In this day and age, obtaining a donkey hide coat was nearly impossible. And mine was a worn-out, ancient coat that clearly showed its age at a glance. Sneaking into the party would be a breeze.
However, I decided not to go. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t curious, but I had to resist.
Diana meowed, possibly hungry. Startled from my thoughts, I fed her. I stroked her back as she ate, noticing how plump she had grown.
I really hated this…
I wondered how Messara would react if he found out about my hidden side. Even though the contract was made to destroy Whitebirch, it would be a lie to say there wasn’t a small, petty desire for revenge involved. Though I had long since washed my hands of it, the stain would remain on me for life.
Just thinking about it made me endlessly depressed. Diana, now with her large, dark eyes, gazed at me. She was lovable. Honestly, Diana wasn’t conventionally cute, but her clear eyes made her so endearing.
Suddenly, I remembered the “smile” Messara had pointed out. I didn’t want to end up with a sharp, scheming old face. I glanced at the mirror on the kitchen wall. As usual, Ray Arisa’s gloomy expression stared back.
“Smile.”
I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I looked even dumber, but it was better than the gloomy face. The thing I disliked most about Ray Arisa’s appearance was that dumb look in his eyes. It was far from the “rebellious” or “sharp” eyes often used to describe cool male actors. I tried to channel James Dean’s intense gaze. Soon, I concluded that it was better to live naturally.
“Hm?”
I stared at the mirror with a serious expression. This is surprisingly fun…?
I was bored. I made a variety of faces at the mirror. I tried smiling in different ways. It was silly, but who cared? No one was watching. I even struck different poses. It was hilarious. I figured I should probably never pursue acting. I brought Diana close to the mirror.
I shouted dramatically:
“Were you shocked, Diana?! The truth is, you’re ugly!”
Diana whimpered and looked away.
“You’re so cute, I’ll gobble you up!” I shouted, and Diana barked. Playing pretend turned out to be quite fun, so I raised my voice even more.
“It’s a crime to hate baths! I’ll turn you into stew for lunch today!”
“Woof woof!”
The more I did it, the funnier it got. I set Diana down and went back to the mirror, striking different poses. I wondered if Levitan acted because it was this entertaining. I was about to grab a few outfits and perform a full one-person show when I heard a noise outside. Startled, I rushed to the living room and froze. Messara was quickly coming down from the second floor.
“M-Me, Messara? Oh, when did you get here? Why are you here at this time?”
I barely gathered my senses and asked. Messara smiled and raised the laptop in his hand.
“I realized I left my laptop, which has an important file, so I came back in a hurry. Sorry if I startled you. I was so focused on the laptop that I forgot to contact you. I’ll be off now, my colleagues are waiting.”
He seemed to be in a real rush. Messara hurried out of the house, and I slumped down on the living room floor, wiping off cold sweat.
Thank goodness. It seemed Messara had been too preoccupied with grabbing his laptop to notice my one-man show. If he had seen that, I wouldn’t have been able to show my face for days. I swallowed nervously.
But… did he really not see?
No, he probably didn’t. Yeah, yeah, he didn’t.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.
That evening, Messara came home with a large gift box in the car. It was a full-length mirror adorned with faux pearls around the edges. He had seen everything.
꙳•❅*ִ
Ryeong’s suspicion was right. After thoroughly reviewing footage from the recent royal party, we discovered a woman lingering around the king multiple times.
Tasha Swain, 27. She debuted in high society just three weeks ago. The only daughter of a low-ranking provincial aristocrat, she came to the capital after her parents’ death. She’s had suspiciously frequent contact with Pusher’s daughter lately.
Swain had a subtle beauty, like an orchid. The complete opposite of Irina. The king seemed captivated by her different charm, often casting her lingering glances even while laughing with Irina. It made me want to gouge out his eyes.
“Apparently, she’s a natural virgin. Can you believe it? Until 24, she was a student body president at a Catholic boarding school, known for her wit, intellect, and beauty. She even did two years of volunteer work in Africa. This is bad. The girl we picked doesn’t even compare.”
Cooperhead said this, then entered Leopard’s office.
“Check out who’s on the news.”
We turned on the TV. Lotus appeared on the screen, groaning with a plaster cast over his nose and a thermometer in his mouth. The guy’s acting skills surpassed even Manen’s.
The royal party was set for this Tuesday and Thursday. I ordered the final candidate list to be submitted by 2 p.m. At 1:30, Cooperhead entered my office.
“Well, what do we have here?”
“What else? Take a look. I’ve picked four candidates—three pure types and one sexy type. Like Pusher, I focused on the pure ones, and the best of the bunch is Sofia Botkina. She has long hair and slightly crossed eyes, which gives her a unique charm. She’s a devout Catholic with no cohabitation history. The hymen issue? Modern medicine will take care of that.”
I put my money on Cooperhead’s top candidate. She had a pristine innocence, the kind a worn-out hetero playboy would be proud to recommend. But there was no room for complacency. I ordered all four women to be sent to the upcoming royal party. I planned to overwhelm them with numbers.
At 4 p.m., I met with prosecutors in the planning office under the pretext of a tea gathering. The prosecutors looked at me with eager anticipation. First, I praised their hard work and spent 15 minutes complaining about their meager pay before getting to the point.
Perhaps you’re already aware, but Duke Vardi hosts weekly tea parties for noble children. Recently, I heard the most outrageous rumor—that this handsome duke secretly molests the children at these tea parties! Can you believe it? It’s pure slander. Just because the duke has tea with some children, they call him a predator? The world has gone mad! How could anyone have tea with a neighbor’s child anymore? Ah, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned this. The tea’s getting cold, enjoy yourselves.
The prosecutors were seasoned professionals. After a brief pause, they smiled knowingly. They spent the rest of the tea time talking about a famous black pop star from the 20th century, who had been falsely accused of child molestation after innocently drinking hot chocolate with kids. Then, they left with a significant promise: “Call us if you need anything.”
I’d summoned them to prepare for the possibility of not finding evidence of Karl’s misconduct at his tea parties. With this, the groundwork was laid. Whether evidence was found or not, the prosecutors would brand Karl a notorious pedophile.
All that was left was to act as the matchmaker for the king, introducing him to beautiful women before Karl’s tea party on Saturday. It was a nightmare.
Friday came, and Kruger’s photo, surrounded by six bouquets of flowers and beaming widely, graced the front pages of all the major newspapers. At lunch, Altonen informed me that Karl had called six times that morning alone. I instructed him to ignore every call.
Karl was finished. No matter how hard he struggled, it was pointless. This was what happens when you don’t know your limits. If he had kept his greed in check, he wouldn’t have been abandoned by Pusher and eliminated by me.
For now, I decided to watch and wait. I didn’t think Karl would go down without a fight. My instincts were right.
Just before I left for the day, Leopard came into my office and told me to watch the news. Karl was in an interview, veins bulging in his neck as he viciously criticized Japonica. He ended by wishing Lotus Pusher a speedy recovery. It was quite the spectacle. Watching him squirm as the heat got to him was intensely satisfying. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Hahaha.
As expected, he was a descendant of Shylock. A wise bird knows when to fly. If I were Karl, I would have already stepped down to ensure my own safety.
I shrugged and stood up. Starting this Saturday, I was going to be extremely busy. Until then, I intended to remain faithful to Ray. After stopping by a jewelry store to purchase a pearl bracelet, I returned home in a light-hearted mood.
“A pearl bracelet? Wait, you’re saying you’re going to wear this to work?” Ray’s eyes widened in surprise. I nodded.
“People often think pearls are only for women like Jacqueline Onassis, but that’s just a misconception. A pearl bracelet can surprisingly suit a man too, especially when worn on the wrist like this. I bought two sets—one for you and one for me. Don’t worry about it; they’re fakes anyway.”
I put the bracelet on my wrist and fastened the buttons on my shirt.
“See? If you wear it like this, it’s subtle, barely noticeable. It would look ridiculous if you wore it around your neck, but when it’s understated like this, it’s rather fun.”
“Messara, you must be really into jewelry. That big chest of jewels in the basement is quite something too.”
Damn. He found out.
I managed to maintain a calm smile.
“Haha, when did you discover that?”
“It’s been a while now,” Ray said, pushing a cup of tea towards me.
“About ten days ago? I was organizing the basement and stumbled upon it. I was surprised. Even someone with little knowledge like me could tell that the hairpin you gave me wasn’t an ordinary piece. The jewels in the chest were also remarkable. Even if they were imitations, I imagine they’d be quite valuable. There were over thirty pieces in there.”
“I’ve been interested in jewelry for about eight years now. For eight years of collecting, that’s not a lot. Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing to be seen as a man obsessed with vanity.” I spoke in a self-deprecating tone. While I was making excuses, it wasn’t entirely untrue. For someone with my wealth, this kind of spending was actually modest. Ray nodded.
“That makes sense. But such extravagant jewels must be hard to wear out in public. Unless you’re wearing a robe like the nobles do, but you only wear uniforms every day, Messara.”
“Shiny and beautiful jewels are enjoyable just to admire.” I deflected while sipping my tea.
That was the truth. “Robes that nobles like to wear.”
My interest in jewelry started there. Men like me, who had risen from nothing and climbed to where we were with sheer ambition, often longed for a noble title. For seven years, before I brought Lord Wolfscott to ruin, my burning ambition was to receive a title and make my official debut in noble society. I was confident. I planned to lead my peers and sweep the political scene clean.
From then on, I started to take an interest in jewelry. Imagining myself walking through a ballroom in a robe, I would often wonder which jewels would suit me. If it hadn’t been for Manen’s interference, by now, the newly minted noble Four Messara would have been gracing magazine covers every day.
Now, it’s all just a fantasy…
But I didn’t mind. I had no intention of playing this charade for the rest of my life. Within the next five years, I planned to reveal my true self to noble society. I would become the youngest ‘Orkis,’ enter the Orkis Hall in the royal palace, and have my coronation amidst a storm of applause. The thought alone sent shivers down my spine.
I set my teacup down with a firm clink.
“Ray, I’m going to be away from home this Saturday and Sunday.”
“Huh? Why?”
“There’s an emergency from Saturday to Monday. All the senior officers have been put on standby. Even though I’m in administration, I’m still considered a senior officer, so I have no choice.”
“What kind of emergency?”
“How would a lowly figure like me know? Still, I’m getting overtime pay, so it’s not too bad. I can even save up for a trip. It’s not a bad deal.”
I leaned back comfortably on the sofa, feeling content. On Saturday night, I planned to receive the video footage and carefully edit it on Sunday before handing it over to the prosecution to immediately arrest Karl. I was already looking forward to Monday’s morning paper. After that, I’d be free to enjoy my honeymoon. Ha ha.
This was going to be fantastic.
I pulled Ray close and we shared a long, sweet kiss. Ray enjoyed kissing. He often wrapped his legs around my waist in bold moves that he seemed to do unconsciously. This time was no exception.
I lifted Ray up and carried him to the bed, intending to have a thorough session before falling into a deep sleep. As I headed toward the bedroom, Diana followed behind, her fish-like eyes blinking as she waddled along. Ray burst out laughing. I playfully scolded, “No,” and slammed the door in Diana’s face.
The sound of scratching at the door erupted, followed by pitiful whining.
“Ray’s moans must have made this bedroom a place Diana despises. Ha ha.”
“This isn’t funny! The door is scratched all over!” Ray said with an embarrassed expression. I stripped off my clothes and did the same to Ray. I positioned him so he sat with his legs wide open, looking right at me. His embarrassment made for a delightful sight, especially since, despite his shame, he didn’t close his legs.
I began rubbing my already stiffened member between Ray’s legs. He gasped softly. I deliberately didn’t engage in foreplay, instead teasing him repeatedly. Ray’s nipples were standing straight, and his body was visibly covered in goosebumps. I wanted to dive in and lick and suck him right away, but I held back.
I continued rubbing my shaft against Ray’s now sensitive lower area. His lips trembled as his eyes sparkled with a dazed light.
That was the signal that he wouldn’t last much longer. His hips twitched, and it seemed his entrance was already heating up. Thanks to the careful training I had given him, Ray had fully adapted to anal sex. He no longer grimaced during the loosening process; instead, he squirmed in pleasure. He had reached the point where his excitement would start from there, making it easier for me to take him without hesitation.
Ray bit his lip, moaning softly.
“Me-Messara….”
“Yes, I’m right here.”
I kept a straight face and spoke as if nothing was out of the ordinary, all while rubbing Ray’s front with my tip. It was already drenched with fluids. Ray glanced at me briefly before lowering his head. I wondered how he would react, and as expected, he grabbed my hand and pulled it toward his lower half. I smiled softly.
See what I mean?
I laid Ray down and lifted his thighs. Just as I thought—his opening was twitching, clearly ready. The sight was deeply satisfying. I took my time applying oil and loosening him up. Teasing him, I dragged it out. Watching Ray squirm in frustration was entertaining.
After thoroughly riling him up, I finally entered him. I deliberately moved slowly, inch by inch. Ray moaned, “Ah, ah…” He was on the verge of losing his mind from impatience. With a feigned look of concern, I said,
“Oh dear. Is it painful? I’m putting it in slowly. Should I go even slower? Or should I stop altogether? Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
Ray’s expression crumpled adorably in response to my cheeky words. His lips moved slightly as if to respond, but he bit them shut again. He was stubborn. Of course, I planned to train that stubbornness out of him, thoroughly molding his body to my liking. It wouldn’t be difficult—Ray was already highly sensitive.
With a shrug, I stopped moving. Then, without warning, I plunged deep into him. A loud slap echoed as my pelvis smacked against him.
“Ahhhhhhhh!”
Ray screamed. His voice sounded desperate, yet his hole clenched tightly around me, twitching as if begging for more. He even wrapped his legs around my waist, pulling me closer.
His words and actions didn’t match at all…
This was just how Ray was. It was unbelievable. Even a year ago, when I first started making moves on him, he would say, “Don’t do this,” while spreading his legs wide as I barely grazed his nipples. I hoisted his hips higher, pressing tightly into him with no room to spare. I started moving my hips. I pounded him roughly, just how I knew he liked it, causing wet, smacking sounds at the entrance.
Ray gripped the sheets tightly. His pupils dilated as he lost control. I spread his legs as wide as they could go and thrust deeply and quickly. His opening was gradually stretching. I slapped his butt, coaxing him to tighten around me.
“Squeeze harder… There’s still a lot left. You can’t lose it so soon.”
“M-Messara, you spread my legs too wide.”
Ray shook his head, moaning. He wasn’t exaggerating—he truly looked like he was struggling. I withdrew from him and repositioned Ray on his stomach. In this position, the penetration would be deeper, and I could wrap my hands around his waist to control the pressure. I wanted to savor the tightness early on, and I knew Ray found this position comfortable too.
I thrust into him and squeezed his waist. Instantly, the tight pressure surged through me, making my vision blur. I pounded into him relentlessly, making wet slapping noises. Ray cried out. His thin arms wobbled under the pressure, barely holding him up.
“Ah! Aaaaah! Ah…! Slow, slow down!”
“Does it feel good? Do you like it? Ugh, don’t lean forward. It’s tough, but stay just like that. Don’t bend your arms. Yes… just like that.”
“Aaaaaah! Aaaah!”
Ray sobbed, but I didn’t stop. I pounded him harder, thrusting deeply and forcefully. I grabbed his waist, squeezing it tighter to intensify the pressure. While thrusting into him from behind, I reached around to stimulate him in front as well. The double stimulation drove him wild. I alternated between teasing him slowly and speeding up, drawing things out. I changed positions often, letting Ray suck on me as I pleased.
The bed creaked noisily as Ray lost himself, moaning and shaking his hips desperately. His tight opening gripped my thick length snugly, twitching every time I pulled out. When I delayed re-entering, he pushed his hips back eagerly, silently begging me to fill him again. It was an indecent sight—one I witnessed every night, which was probably why my possessiveness over Ray hadn’t diminished in the slightest.
His body was incredibly sensitive. From head to toe, every inch of him was an erogenous zone. His tight opening seemed to have been made just for me. He not only felt amazing, but his tight grip was also unbelievable. I still couldn’t fathom how someone like him had managed to live quietly on 42nd Street for so long. At times like these, I was truly grateful for Ray’s delusional nature and obliviousness.
I was at my limit. I squeezed Ray’s waist as if I would break it. Ray screamed, and I buried myself deep inside him, spilling my release. My cock trembled inside his tight walls as I shot my seed.
Everything went white. The electric shock of pleasure shot up the back of my neck. I could feel the sensation of my cum filling him, overflowing and slowly dripping out. I spread his ass open to watch it spill out.
White liquid gathered at his entrance, dripping slowly onto the bed. I pulled out swiftly, and cum streamed out from his loosened hole, dripping onto the covers below. The sight was intoxicating.
Ray’s arms collapsed, and his amber hair fluttered as he fell face-first onto the bed. I pulled him up so he was facing me. His face was drenched in sweat. After kissing him deeply, I let him suck me clean. Ray enjoyed swallowing my cum. I made sure he licked up every drop before kissing him again.
Ray wrapped his arms around my shoulders, completely satisfied. I held him gently, giving him time to rest.
“What does it feel like?” I asked suddenly. Ray, eyes closed, asked, “What do you mean?” I caught the cum still dripping from his opening and answered.
“You know what I mean—when my cum is spilling out of you like this. I’m curious. Haha, it’s still pouring out. It didn’t seem like I came that much, but here we are.”
Ray’s face turned red. I mischievously teased him, “I’m asking, how does it feel?” and shook his shoulder. Ray, in an attempt to change the subject, said, “Diana is still scratching at the door.”
Honestly… what did I expect?
I suppressed my laughter and let the remaining cum drip from his hole onto his lips. There was a certain satisfaction in this act, similar to the pleasure of domination. It wasn’t just humiliating for Ray—it also required a level of trust and affection toward me to engage in such an act.
After Ray regained some energy, we moved on to round two. I indulged Ray in his favorite—oral sex. We engaged in a long, intimate session of mutual pleasure in the 69 position. Later, we experimented with some light toy play, stimulating Ray from both ends simultaneously. I pushed him to the brink of insanity.
We tumbled around, entangled in his amber hair, before enjoying a refreshing bath together. It had been a satisfying night overall.
It was early evening, with the cold darkness settling over like the deep, still waters of a lake. The wasteland was as silent as a frozen winter path. Suddenly, something caught my eye.
A black shadow swayed precariously beneath the spindly branches of a white birch. The shadow was a corpse, hanging from a rope tied to the birch’s branches, swaying eerily in the wind. I wondered—why? Why had they chosen the white birch to end their life?
A familiar sensation enveloped my entire body, akin to the loneliness of a traveler wandering aimlessly, having forgotten their bag, money, and destination.
An aimless traveler… It’s not wrong.
I smiled and glanced once more at the Whitebirch, shrouded in darkness, with the corpse hanging from it.
If the body had been hanging from a willow tree, I might have thought it was due to the guilt of selling someone out for thirty pieces of silver. But it was a Whitebirch, wasn’t it? Had they perhaps killed their spouse in a fit of blind greed?
I uttered the name of someone I loved. No answer. Only barren silence returned. I knew—no matter how much I called and called again, until my voice cracked, there was no one left to answer. That person was gone. They had died long ago.
We had ended 31 years ago. The enchanting first love had rotted away, leaving only a stench behind. On that festival night 31 years ago, the moon had shone so brightly in blessing, but now it stared silently at me with a pale, sickly face. And I had transformed into a skeleton, standing there in a crown and blue cape. I would never see them again. All I had left were long hours to reminisce about them until the day I died and a single faded portrait.
Suddenly, Roche approached me. I quickly regained my composure.
「Reporting in. The Royal Steward confessed to the newspaper that they sent just enough food to barely sustain him and pocketed the rest. He also admitted to never visiting the tower.」
I remained silent.
My mind was blank. So it was true. Not once had they gone to the tower.
When I ordered the investigation into the Royal Steward after reading Sorel’s memoir, I had desperately hoped that the horrific revelation was false. But it wasn’t.
That shabby attire from our two encounters hadn’t been a disguise after all. Just 15 years of imprisonment had made even his fingertips cold, and he had only been barely fed. He lived like that for 31 years, and all the stories the Royal Steward had told me about him were lies.
Why was it that the more layers I peeled away from your life, the more horrifying it became? Why, after suffering so much, did you never once protest to me? Why did you stay silent for 15 years?
Did I seem so frightening and cruel to you that you left without even revealing your name?
I looked around. The howling wind swept softly across the desolate wasteland. On the brutal, blood-red ground, not even weeds grew. Only a few bare Whitebirch trees stood.
My vision blurred with moisture. I murmured.
「This place will do.」
“…Hah.”
I opened my eyes. Dawn’s faint light filtered into the room. Sweat dripped from my forehead. I had clearly dreamt something dreadful and pathetic, but the memory was fuzzy.
As I sat up, I flinched. Ray’s pale hand was sticking out from under the sheets.
It was Ray. They looked like a corpse. When I had made a mistake at the hospital, Ray had also stayed under the sheets, keeping a grave silence.
On impulse, I yanked the sheets off. Ray murmured, “Mmm…” and pulled the sheets back up to their neck.
Outside the window, a milk delivery truck passed through the faint morning fog. A sudden thirst came over me. I slipped on my robe and went into the living room. Diana, who had been curled up on the sofa, lifted her head. I moved her to her dog bed and stepped outside.
The cold morning air washed over me. I still felt uneasy. A strange sensation tingled in a corner of my body. I had no idea why. I lit a cigarette.
As I rubbed a cold bottle of milk against my cheek, I tried to recall the dream. It was hazy, but piecing it together wasn’t difficult. It was absurd. I cursed under my breath. My God, Jesus, damn it, even cursing sounded ridiculous. Was this for real?
In my dream, I was playing the role of an impotent king!
I shook my head violently. This was the pinnacle of absurdity. It seemed like the warped world inside Ray’s head had infiltrated mine as well. To think I was the protagonist in that twisted world—what a nightmare. And to top it off, in such a role. A castrated king reminiscing about his wife on a barren wasteland? Absolutely not. Even if they offered me top-tier Hollywood money, I’d refuse. What kind of sick mind wrote such a script for my narration to end up like that? I thought my wife had lived comfortably in the tower? Only to realize, 31 years later, that I had been utterly deceived by the Royal Steward?
The more I thought about it, the more horrifying it became. I threw my cigarette into the garden trash bin. Snowflakes began to fall slowly. But the morning air felt warmer than before.
April already…
It had been three months since that phone call had come like an ambush. Spring was drawing near. I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure.
I straightened up and got to my feet. There was no time to lose myself in strange dreams. It was Saturday. The day I would go capture Karl.
I took off my robe and stepped into the workout room. Turning on the lights, I pressed play on the stereo.
꙳•❅*ִ
“I’m off, then.”
Messara kissed me and rolled up the car window. After watching the car leave, I went back inside and stared at the dining table.
More than half the food Messara had been served was left untouched. Messara, who was usually a hearty eater, had left food behind. Especially since it was food I had made—no matter how bad it tasted, they never used to leave anything.
I tilted my head, puzzled, as I cleared the table. Something was strange. Throughout breakfast, Messara had barely touched the food, drinking juice repeatedly. They had been chatty as usual, but there was a sense of distraction. As if their words were disjointed. No, there was a more accurate way to describe it…
Yes. As if they were trying to shake something off.
What?
I furrowed my brow. Messara? Trying to shake something off? That was unusual. Messara was always proactive and assertive. If there was a problem, they confronted it head-on, not the type to avoid it.
Why, then? Was it because they were unsatisfied with last night’s sex? I thought it went well.
I sprawled out on the sofa. The framed photo on the wall caught my eye. It was the picture Messara had taken when they visited on Wednesday. A simple black-and-white photo. Messara had said they had purposely ordered it to look vintage.
There was a photo of Messara’s parents in their youth beside ours. The resemblance was striking. However, Messara hadn’t seemed to notice how similar we looked to their parents. I couldn’t help but laugh.
Shaking my head, I went to the kitchen and placed a tea pot on the stove. I was unsettled.
It seemed I would soon need to tell my therapist that memories were starting to resurface. Although fragmented, it was clear. The memories of Lord Manen that came back on Monday were like that, and yesterday, while having sex with Messara, another memory surfaced.
I could no longer deny it. I had overcome Whitebirch sometime in the past year.
I poured the tea into a cup. I recalled the memory that surfaced as Messara and I left the hospital greenhouse. The black hair that fluttered there. And then, yesterday.
As Messara and I reached the climax of our intimacy, a memory returned. Perhaps it was because the situation was similar. It was a memory of having sex with Messara.
Once again, the setting was the hospital. I was receiving Messara in a similar position, and Messara was moaning with pleasure, moving their hips. Even the gentle smile they always wore during orgasm was the same as now.
But I was not in my right mind. I could feel myself slipping back 600 years into the past, unable to move. Ah, again… I opened my eyes wide. Interpreting my reaction as pleasure, Messara whispered, asking if it felt good. I barely managed to move my lips.
Since childhood, I had experienced the eerie sensations that Orchitunica bestowed upon me, something indescribably terrifying.
At first, it was like a gust of wind sweeping over my entire body. Then, all my senses became extremely sensitive. After that, a brief moment of pitch-black darkness covered my vision, only to be lifted suddenly, like a curtain being drawn. And then came the hallucinations.
The world of Whitebirch would open. It felt like I was being cast into the 16th century. The distant sound of dogs barking, the smell of ash rising from torches, and the cruel wind that seemed like it would tear through my skin overwhelmed me. It was a strange and frightening era, filled with savagery and madness. In that darkness, Whitebirch was running… consumed by jealousy, their tattered cloak flapping as they were swept along by the storm.
It was the dawn of a collapsing festival. The impoverished queen had exchanged a silver coin and a curse with a witch she met on the road. It was a night lit only by the pale moon. They say yellow symbolizes jealousy, madness, and heretics. In that ominous and insane amber night, Whitebirch laughed wildly as they ran.
That memory had come to mind. I clicked my tongue and walked to the living room with my tea.
My therapist seemed to have caught on already. They appeared to have deduced that my Whitebirch obsession had some deeper cause, persistently asking sharp questions. Even Messara, who occasionally had sessions with the therapist, seemed to have a vague idea. Of course, they would never imagine something like reincarnation.
I decided I would confess to Messara about my past life. I thought I could carefully bring it up during our next trip. Now, they were my only family. I didn’t want to hide anything from them anymore. Though I would still take my secret relationship with Lord Manen to the grave.
I felt relieved…
I placed the tea cup down and lay on the sofa. Diana climbed onto my chest. As I scratched her neck, I began to ponder again.
According to my calculations, the dark veil of the 16th century would no longer appear. That would explain everything. The reason Whitebirch, who had plagued me for so long, had now disappeared entirely? There was only one answer.
Whitebirch was dead. They had left Ray Arisa. At the early age of twenty-seven.
The memories that had been replaying sequentially forced Ray Arisa to endure Whitebirch’s demise and then vanished. After spending ten years drowning in miserable sex, perhaps I had made a fresh start upon meeting Messara. That was the conclusion I came to.
How strange…
I let out a quiet laugh. Humans were indeed fickle beings. After sorting through everything, I found myself fretting about something else entirely. It was none other than the STD test.
Messara had suggested that we go for a full check-up, including an STD test, next week. They explained that since we didn’t use condoms often, getting regular tests was part of our sex life routine. When I expressed shock, wondering why we needed an STD test when we were only with each other, Messara firmly replied:
— Because bacterial infections can still occur. Even heterosexual couples suffer from such issues. There’s a reason why master bedrooms often have en suite bathrooms.
It was only then that I realized the true meaning behind Messara’s love for bubble baths after sex. They handed me a form and added:
— Fill this out first. Don’t get embarrassed and write nonsense.
As I took the form, everything went dark. Questions about anal sex, the number of times we had sex per week, the use of sex toys, whether we used condoms, and if I swallowed semen…
Better to fill this out than have something rot, but my face still burned with embarrassment. The number of times we had sex per week, huh? Including oral sex, hadn’t we gone without missing a single day last week? It was around this time that I began to truly understand the Eastern concept of “draining one’s vitality.”
Having completely dealt with Whitebirch, my new top concern seemed to be Messara’s insatiable libido. Lately, I had even started to feel a sense of crisis. After much deliberation, I consulted Louise, who suggested:
“Excessive sexual desire is a form of aggression, so try satisfying it with horror movies or sports.”
That night, I subtly showed Messara a horror movie. The attempt failed miserably. Messara quickly changed the channel, saying, “Work is enough of a horror show for me, I don’t want to watch this at home too,” and switched to a mushroom-child anime instead.
Now, there was only one option left. I would have to complain to my therapist that I couldn’t keep up with Messara’s high sex drive. If they were perceptive enough, perhaps they would say something to Messara during our individual sessions.
As I hugged Diana and started to drift off for a nap, I suddenly remembered. Tomorrow was Marata’s death anniversary.
The weekend without Messara felt odd. It was the first weekend I’d spent alone in over two months. Far from resting, I kept myself busy all day. I learned how to make pastries from Mrs. Castlemaine, worked on my manuscript, and tended to the greenhouse garden. I felt proud every time I looked at the garden. In a little while, I’d be able to eat the vegetables I had grown myself.
After dinner, I stood in front of the pearl mirror Messara had gifted me. I didn’t feel right standing before Marata’s grave with my hair dragging like this. I grabbed a pair of scissors and stared intently at my hair.
This damned hair… In the end, I only managed to cut 15 centimeters off from my heels. But even that much was a huge success.
Tomorrow evening, I would quietly visit Marata’s grave, offer some flowers, and return. Now that I thought about it, tomorrow was the festival. Maybe I could take Diana to see it. She sniffed and nuzzled the hair scattered on the floor.
“It’s not food.”
I gave Diana a light smack on the bottom, and she whimpered in protest. After throwing away the hair into the trash, I picked her up and headed to the bathroom. Diana hated baths but oddly loved swimming.
I filled the Victorian bathtub with water and slipped in, while Diana splashed around joyfully. It was adorable.
I chuckled and glanced at the phone next to the bathtub. Messara seemed very busy today. Normally, he’d call two or three times a day, but today, not a single call.
What could the emergency be?
Given the current situation, there was likely only one reason for a state of emergency in Guiger. It had to be something related to Duke Vardi. The operation to purge him must have officially begun.
He’s finished.
I clicked my tongue and leaned back in the tub. Thanks to his sister, Duke Vardi might avoid death, but he would still suffer a great deal. Snake would ensure Vardi never regained his wings, crushing him completely. While Snake and Vardi tore each other apart, Pusher would quietly reap the benefits.
Despite his delusion that he’s the most handsome man in human history, Pusher is actually smart and bold, a rare noble. Out of all the nobles I observed through Lord Manen, Pusher was the only one who impressed me. With 11 years having passed, he’d likely matured even further.
In my estimation, Pusher’s future vision is to eliminate the royal in-laws who have long drained the kingdom and make parliamentary politics transparent. Unlike other nobles who raise their daughters to marry into royalty, Pusher had long been grooming his daughter, Rosemond, as the heir to his family. His obsession with supporting the queen wasn’t to become an in-law himself, but to prevent military nobles from gaining power as royal in-laws.
It was fortunate Snake was still young. If not, he surely would have tried to marry off his grown children to the royal family and run rampant as an in-law himself.
So far, Snake’s actions have shown that he knows how to scratch the common people’s itch. He generously rewarded his subordinates, securing their absolute loyalty. He hated waste and was a forward-thinking type.
But at the same time, he was a master of underhanded tactics, unafraid of murder or conspiracy. For now, his alliance with the Commoners’ Assembly kept his temper in check, but once his opponents were eliminated, he’d run wild. Serving under Wolfscott for so long had also been a minus. Wolfscott, a lone-wolf type, was not a proper political mentor, but more likely fueled Snake’s cruelty, exerting a negative influence.
More importantly, Snake was still too young. The de facto Japonica leader was only in his early 30s. At that age, one’s ambition burns brightest, and they’d stop at nothing. Daytanz was 29 when he claimed to be laying the foundations for his reign by murdering Whitebirch through extreme measures.
Snake needed to age slowly and dilute his cruelty. Pusher could serve as both a great political rival and a mentor for him. Having the two balance each other out would be beneficial for the kingdom’s political progress. Perhaps, this could be a turning point in the nation’s political history, which has been rotting with corruption since the mid-19th century.
I yawned. Time to sleep…
After drying off Diana’s fur, I went to bed. In my dreams, I became the Cheshire Cat and wandered through Wonderland.
꙳•❅*ִ
I got lucky. It was Saturday afternoon when Leopard entered the office.
“Chief, good news. The team in Germany extracted information from the wife. Apparently, her young son was raped by Karl. They’ve even secured a medical certificate, so the evidence is solid. The wife is asking for 100,000 talantens as a reward for the information.”
I reviewed the report. After examining the attached copy of the medical certificate and the victim’s photo, I felt a chill.
“Doesn’t it look familiar?”
Leopard grinned sinisterly.
“Except for the freckles and hooked nose, doesn’t he look like Redfox? Especially the blonde hair.”
“It feels unsettling, even if it’s just a coincidence.”
“Redfox is eternally youthful. Remember? That first night with Redfox, when we left the hotel, you were worried they might be underage.”
“Was I?”
“Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten… you said, ‘She’s a virgin, isn’t she? Feels like she might be underage.’ I remember you shrugging it off at the time, but it was suspicious, wasn’t it? Haven’t you ever been stopped by the police while walking with Redfox? Haha.”
“Well, Ray isn’t underage. She’s almost thirty now.”
I lit a cigarette. I was annoyed. Leopard had hit a sore spot and kept scratching at it, adding salt to the wound.
Three weeks ago, at a neighborhood barbecue, a high school friend had discreetly informed me that rumors were spreading. The “Troublemaker Four” had supposedly sweet-talked a naive, barely legal kid into moving in together. Since then, I’d been bothered. Ray’s behavior was always mature, and I often felt like she was older than me. But apparently, the neighbors didn’t see it that way at all.
In any case, with solid evidence now secured, the operation had gained serious momentum.
“What about Karl’s movements?”
“Nothing significant. Oh, but it seems he’s planning a much grander witch party this time. His position’s become unstable recently, so he’s probably trying to gain more public favor to tip things in his favor.”
I chuckled. Prosecutors had said that a 20th-century Black pop star, who had been criticized for drinking hot chocolate with kids, had sold albums globally. Karl’s album sales were currently at 70,000 copies.
Might as well enjoy it while you can…
“Get out,” I said, and resumed my work. I needed to clear things up if I was going to go on my honeymoon next week. I tapped the table, staring at the files.
It was a report I’d ordered from my direct subordinate after the Pax submission. It covered the management state of the kingdom’s administrative institutions. As I skimmed through it, I was appalled. Incompetent lower-ranking officials and aristocrats occupied 88 percent of all administrative positions.
I resolved to clean out the administrative offices under Japonica’s jurisdiction. I hated incompetence. I had no intention of wasting taxpayer money to feed parasites. I also planned to put an end to the rampant distribution of titles.
I hadn’t even gotten halfway through the files when it was already 7 p.m.
“Aren’t you going to eat, Snake?”
Cooperhead entered the office. While I was putting on my coat, he skimmed through the file next to me, then burst out laughing. “What is this?” he asked. It was the photo of the child victim of the sexual assault case.
“Hmm. It looks alike.”
“This is intriguing… Do you remember? Manen once compared Ryeong’s impression to Moreau’s
Salome Dancing Before Herod
. The comparison felt uncomfortable back then, but now I know why.”
“Uncomfortable? How so?”
“Salome, under her mother’s orders, seduces the powerful King Herod to kill John the Baptist. Don’t you think that Manen instinctively recognized Ryeong’s thirst for revenge, someone who volunteers to be Manen’s close aide without asking for anything in return?”
“And?”
“And alongside that, Manen felt a sexual desire toward the young and beautiful Ryeong. But being a devout Catholic, he couldn’t fully realize his own desire. That unconscious desire might have surfaced in his comparison to
Salome Dancing Before Herod
.”
“So, Salome is Ryeong burning with vengeance, and King Herod is the powerful Manen?”
“Bloody hell,” I muttered, throwing my cigarette away. Cooperhead laughed, quickly picking it up. His interpretation was sickening. According to him, wasn’t Manen a potential pedophile? I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling. I remembered how Manen, after Ryeong left, had drunk himself senseless, as if heartbroken by a lover.
As I put on my coat, I furrowed my brows. The vicious words tossed around by Leopard and Cooperhead kept bothering me. Could there really be a latent attraction to minors inside me? I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
I quickly dismissed the thought. It was like asking whether you like a rose because it’s a rose or because it’s red.
Karl liked children because they were children, not because they had pretty faces. I liked handsome men, not because they looked youthful. In other words, Four Messara was a perfectly healthy, normal man. There was nothing to feel guilty about in my relationship with Ray.
After coming to this conclusion, I felt much lighter and headed out for dinner.
At 2 a.m. that night, a file of clandestine recordings arrived. Three in total—one from a lounge where the ladies gathered, one from the children’s playroom, and one from the reading room. Each was a four-hour-long epic. We gathered in the manager’s meeting room and meticulously reviewed them for a full twelve hours.
The result was a resounding success. My prediction was spot-on. In the playroom, Karl was slyly touching the children. He didn’t discriminate by gender. He even had a preference—he was obsessed with blondes.
Irina stormed into the playroom multiple times, glaring daggers. Each time, Karl would swiftly adjust his behavior. It seemed like Irina had been keeping an eye on her brother’s perverse tendencies all along.
By 2 p.m., we completed the review. After handing over the recordings to the editing room, we went out for a late lunch. Jaguar stuck out his tongue as he poked at his salad.
“Amazing. When Snake said the guy had those kinds of preferences, I thought, ‘No way.’ Even now, I’m still in shock. How can someone who looks that clean-cut do such things?”
“It’s always best to trust Chief’s instincts without question.”
Leopard laughed slyly, while I just shrugged.
Of course. Who am I? I caught Ryeong by trusting my gut alone. No matter how powerful the opponent, I was always the one who had the last laugh. Always.
I swirled my vodka glass slowly, feeling a surge of satisfaction. I was confident I’d win the bet with Ray too. The moment wasn’t far off, and I could already taste the thrill.
“Alright then, Jaguar, Lizard, Falcon, Sturgeon, Gharial. You’re attending the party hosted by Altonen tonight. The rest will stay at headquarters. Vulture and Atrax, escort the prosecutors. We’ll hand over the recording right away to begin the arrest operation. Cooperhead, gather the East Eden journalists and brainstorm some striking headlines. Leopard and I will be at the editing room for the final touches.”
“So, Pusher is the only one left, right?”
Cooperhead raised his glass. I and the other department heads smiled and clinked our glasses together. A sharp
clink
echoed in the air.
It was 6 p.m. After skimming through the key scenes in the video, we took a break. After working non-stop for nearly 41 hours, fatigue was starting to set in.
As I sipped my whiskey, I reviewed our progress. We would likely be able to hand over the footage to the media by 3 a.m. Cooperhead had just reported that the draft of the article was about 50% complete.
The go-ahead signal was planned for 6 a.m. We’d dispatch both the police and media to Karl’s arrest site, broadcasting the event live on the morning news. Cameras would flash as Karl, restrained by officers, walked majestically forward.
This was the mise-en-scène I had envisioned, dripping with dramatic flair, set to slow motion. I had even chosen Karl’s new song
Love Ballad
as the background music. A fitting title for what I called the “Final Recital.”
Just wait, you arrogant third-rate pianist.
I smirked, a thrilling sensation coursing through my body. It was the familiar rush I always felt when bringing down my opponents. I was, after all, an unrelenting sadist.
I turned on my computer to cool off and ordered a red bicycle for Ray as a gift, a replacement for a car.
Ray had been practicing driving for a month and, a few days ago, had finally driven me around our neighborhood for a test run. We drove 5 kilometers in an hour. As soon as we returned home, I snatched the car keys from Ray. My stern expression left him speechless.
After ordering the red bicycle, I opened the laptop’s video chat channel. I hadn’t seen Ray in over 24 hours, and I missed his face. The screen split into eight panels, displaying live feeds from two bathrooms, a greenhouse, a garage, and four rooms.
I briefly worried that he might be undressed, but fortunately, Ray was fully clothed, busy baking a cake in the kitchen.
Leopard came closer, squinting.
“What’s this? You don’t even have kids, so why all the indoor surveillance cameras?”
“I got sold on the security company’s pitch. I figured it’s worth installing, even without kids, in case of burglars. I just opened it for a moment to check if anyone broke in while I was away.”
Leopard wasn’t buying my excuse.
“Burglars, my foot… You missed Redfox’s face and wanted to see him, huh? So this is your sweet home with Redfox, huh, Chief? For someone rich, it’s surprisingly modest. And look, a Chihuahua! Just like a blonde couple would have… hehehe.”
“It’s a stereotype that blondes love Chihuahuas. I wanted a Schnauzer.”
On screen, Ray started doing the dishes. Something felt off. I examined the video more closely and realized it—Ray’s hair was slightly shorter.
Leopard tapped on the desk.
“Chief, there’s a mountain of work. Let’s stop and go get some dinner.”
“Hmm.”
I closed my laptop and stood up. Ray’s shortened hair kept nagging at me. Why had he suddenly cut his hair? Ray was always extremely afraid of cutting it.
As I was putting on my coat, I paused and quickly checked the date on my phone.
Of course…
I immediately called Ray.
“I was just wondering how you’re doing. Aren’t you bored without me? Why don’t you go out for a bit?”
Ray fell right into my lead.
“Actually, I was thinking of taking Diana out for a short trip since there’s a festival going on. I was just getting ready to head out.”
“I see.”
I bit my lip. Someone with such severe social anxiety going to a festival alone? And today, of all days?
My suspicion was correct. Today was the anniversary of Marata’s death. Ray was preparing to go to Marata’s grave to lay down roses. A tightening sensation crept across the back of my head as Ray hesitated and spoke.
“Well, it’s not just the festival. Today is the anniversary of someone very dear to me—Marata. I was planning to quietly place some roses at their grave.”
“I see…”
I paused before responding.
“Could you postpone it for a day? Let’s go together tomorrow night. You’re not feeling well, Ray.”
“Hmm… But Messara will have worked two straight days and needs to rest tomorrow, right? Don’t worry, I’ll just go out quickly and be back soon.”
Ray’s voice was bright. After thinking for a moment, I relented, “Alright.”
“It can’t be helped. Just be sure to take your phone with you. Have fun at the festival and come back safely.”
I hung up the phone and left the office with Leopard, lost in thought.
Ray had confided in me for the first time.
Was it a good sign? Until now, Ray had hidden everything—his spells, his connection to Manen—but this was the first time he’d shared something with me. So, I agreed to his request. It made me happy, too. I took it as a sign that Ray had decided to trust me completely.
I knew Ray well. I still remembered his demeanor when he was interrogated as Manen’s subordinate. He seemed to have resigned himself to the situation, confessing easily and not even asking about Manen’s fate. I, who had arranged for Manen to be sent off painlessly and buried in a small countryside chapel, felt almost hollow.
Ray was that kind of person. In some ways, he was like me—a cold-hearted person.
Would I hear more stories after work tomorrow?
I had many questions. Of course, Ray wouldn’t reveal all his secrets at once. But I believed that, with patience and calmness, I would eventually learn everything. A strange feeling came over me. It had already been a year. After that terrible incident, time had flown by.
I looked up at the sky. Snowflakes were falling in shreds, and dark clouds, like a flock of hungry crows, were gathering chaotically.
꙳•❅*ִ
I bought a bouquet of roses from a flower shop near Negellein Station. The snowstorm raged fiercely. I regretted not coming earlier in the day, but it was too late. Ryeong loved the moon. Ryeong’s tradition was to perform powerful spells only on nights with a full moon.
Despite the blizzard, the moonlight was clear that night. It was early evening when the festival had just begun. Beyond the Whitebirch Forest surrounding the city cemetery, the sounds of drums and flutes drifted merrily.
How amusing.
I smiled. It had only been a little over two months since Marata crossed the river of the dead, but in reality, it had been eleven years.
Marata’s grave came into view in the distance. The thick moss covering the headstone clearly marked the passage of time. Ah, just as I thought… I muttered to myself.
“I’m here.”
Standing before Marata’s grave, I spoke. The snow piled high on the tombstone obscured Marata’s name. After placing the bouquet down, I cleared the snow. Even through my leather gloves, the cold seeped deep into my bones. Once the snow was cleared, I laid the bouquet on the gravestone.
“Thirty-eight roses—one for every year of your life. Why did you leave so early? Eleven years… it doesn’t feel real. In my mind, I buried you just two months ago.”
I chuckled bitterly. Not only Marata’s funeral but also my pact with Lord Manen—it all felt like it happened only two months ago. I had sealed the “contract of love” right here, in front of Marata’s grave. I still vividly remembered where I had broken off a branch of Whitebirch.
Why had I sought a pact with Lord Manen? There were many reasons, but in large part, it was an impulsive act. After Marata’s funeral, I spent three days locked in my room, crying. I neither ate nor slept, just wept, until I realized I couldn’t go on like that. I picked a book off the shelf, one I had bought a year ago but never read. A novel titled
That Story is Not Right.
That book was the cause of it all. Unlike most novels inspired by
The Snow Queen
, where Daytanz repents for his mistakes, this one was brutally realistic. There were forty relentless pages of torture descriptions, and a scene where Daytanz laughed uncontrollably at a portrait. I was so engrossed that I forgot about Marata’s death and shuddered as I read on.
Then I slammed the book shut.
As if possessed, I grabbed my sorcerer’s coat and rushed outside, convinced that a wild and crazed 16th century awaited me. But outside, there was only the cold, indifferent 22nd century. The dense Whitebirch forest was gone, and the pointed gray roofs of the royal palace had vanished. All that remained was the cold sidewalk of a red-light district, where neon signs glowed more crimson than blood.
A fierce protest was underway in the gray alleyways. Burly Guiger soldiers, their faces covered by masks, were chasing down vagrants. The streets were filled with men running, overturned cars, pamphlets fluttering, torn newspapers, shattered Molotov cocktails, and thick smoke. Through that desolate, deathly street, I walked, deep in thought… until…
I stopped.
Right in front of me, men were tangled in a fight. A short-haired blonde man was mercilessly crushing the vagrants.
“Hahaha!”
Leopard knocked on the desk firmly.
“Chief, there’s a mountain of work. Let’s stop and go have dinner.”
“Hmm.”
I closed my laptop and stood up. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ray’s newly shortened hair. Why did he cut it all of a sudden? Ray had always been terrified of cutting his hair.
I paused while putting on my coat and quickly pulled out my phone to check the date.
As I thought…
I immediately called Ray.
“I was wondering how you’re doing. Aren’t you bored without me? Why don’t you go out for a while?”
Ray fell for my leading question right away.
“Oh, I was actually thinking of taking Diana out for a bit because of the festival. I was just getting ready to go.”
“I see.”
I bit my lip. Someone with severe social anxiety going to a festival alone? Especially today?
My guess was right. Today was Marata’s death anniversary. Ray was getting ready to go out and lay roses at Marata’s grave. My head throbbed as Ray hesitated and said,
“The festival is fun, but more importantly, today is the anniversary of someone very dear to me, Marata. I’m planning to visit the grave and offer some roses.”
“Ah…”
I hesitated before saying,
“Could you delay it by just one day? Let’s go together tomorrow night. Ray, you’re not in the best condition right now.”
“Well… you’ve been working for two days straight, Messara. You need to rest tomorrow, don’t you? I’ll just go and come back quickly, so don’t worry.”
Ray’s voice was bright. After thinking for a moment, I replied, “Alright.”
“Well, if that’s the case, just be sure to take your phone with you, just in case. Have fun at the festival, and come back safely.”
I hung up and walked out of headquarters with Leopard, deep in thought.
Ray had confided in me for the first time.
Was it a good sign? Ray, who had always hidden everything—his magic, his connection with Manen—was finally opening up to me. I was happy too. It felt like Ray was finally trusting me completely.
I knew Ray. I still remember how he behaved when we interrogated him as Manen’s proxy. He confessed calmly, as if he knew there was no hope, and didn’t even ask about Manen’s fate. Considering I was the one who ended Manen’s life peacefully and arranged for a secret burial in a small countryside chapel, Ray’s lack of reaction made me feel somewhat empty.
That’s the kind of person Ray was. In some ways, we were similar. Cold-blooded.
Would Ray tell me more when I see him after work tomorrow?
I had a lot of questions. Of course, I didn’t expect Ray to spill all his secrets at once. But I was willing to wait patiently. It had already been a year. Time had flown by since that horrible incident.
I looked up at the sky. Snowflakes were scattering in all directions. Ominous black clouds swirled like a flock of ravenous crows.
꙳•❅*ִ
I bought a bouquet of roses from a flower shop near Negelline Station. Snow was swirling fiercely. I regretted not coming earlier in the day, but it couldn’t be helped. Ryeong loved the moon. He always chose the night of the full moon to perform powerful magic—it was Ryeong’s tradition.
The snowstorm raged on, but the moonlight remained clear. It was just past early evening when the festival began. The sound of drums and flutes floated merrily from beyond the Whitebirch forest that surrounded the cemetery.
Interesting.
I smiled. Though Marata had only crossed the River of the Dead a couple of months ago in my memory, in reality, it had been 11 years.
Marata’s grave came into view from a distance. The moss covering the headstone showed the passage of time. Ah, as I thought…
“I’m here,” I said, standing before Marata’s grave. The name on the stone was obscured by the snow. I placed the bouquet down and cleared the snow. Even with leather gloves, the cold seeped into my bones. After clearing the snow, I laid the bouquet on the gravestone.
“Thirty-eight roses, one for each year of your life. Why did you have to go so soon? Eleven years… it doesn’t feel real. In my memory, your funeral was just a couple of months ago.”
I smiled bitterly. It wasn’t just Marata’s funeral, but also the moment I made my pact with Lord Manen. It all happened right here, in front of Marata’s grave. I still remember exactly where I broke off that Whitebirch branch.
Why did I seek a pact with Lord Manen? There were many reasons, but impulse played a big part. After Marata’s funeral, I spent three days locked in my room, crying non-stop. I didn’t eat, I just cried, until finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled a book from the shelf—a novel I had bought a year before but never read. “That Story Isn’t Right.”
That book was the problem. Unlike most novels inspired by
The Snow Queen,
where Daytanz regrets his actions, this one was brutally realistic. The 40-page description of torture and the scene where Daytanz laughed hysterically at a portrait left me trembling, forgetting even Marata’s death.
I closed the book with a thud.
As if possessed, I threw on my sorcerer’s coat and ran outside. It felt like the 16th century, filled with barbarity and madness, had unfolded beyond my door. But outside, there was only the cold, emotionless 22nd century. No lush Whitebirch forests, no spire-topped palaces—just a seedy red-light district, its neon lights bleeding into the cold pavement.
Down a grimy alley, a protest raged. Guiger officers in masks chased after vagrants. The alley was filled with men running and falling, overturned vehicles, fluttering pamphlets, torn newspapers, broken Molotov cocktails, and thick smoke. I walked through that desolate street, lost in thought… and then…
I froze.
A man with short blonde hair was savagely beating the vagrants.
His face was twisted in pure euphoria. After kicking them around, he sprinted down the street again. He brushed past me, his grey eyes glancing briefly in my direction.
It was Messara.
Messara…
His hair was much shorter than it is now, and he looked younger, but it was unmistakably Messara. My eyes widened. Messara?
That couldn’t be. Messara, with blood splattered across his face, mercilessly beating vagrants? Messara, laughing gleefully as he ran down the street? It was impossible. Hadn’t he told me that he’d only ever run away from vagrants during the protests?
It must’ve been someone who looked like him. After all, people say that there are at least three people in the world who look exactly like you.
But the resemblance was uncanny. Aside from the cruel aura that dripped from him, even his laughter was the same.
White snowflakes speckled the roses. I brushed the headstone with my hand again as memories of Marata flashed before me. Marata, frail as she was, had been desperate to train a successor. She gave me enormous tasks every day and made me fast and pray for an average of one week each month.
She really was like a witch.
I chuckled as I stroked the headstone, but then I paused. There was a small dent in the center of the stone. What was that? It looked like a bullet hole. I pressed my finger against the mark. Without realizing it, I stared at the dent, drawn to it in a strange way.
It couldn’t be an actual bullet hole, could it…?
A strange sensation crept over me. My head felt light. One, two… one, two… Someone’s voice whispered in my ear. It was the same voice I had heard during my recent hypnosis therapy. I couldn’t understand why that voice was suddenly ringing in my ears. I took a deep breath. Stay calm. Stay calm, Ray Arisa.
With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and pressed my therapist’s speed dial. Only a missed call message returned. I felt like I was losing my mind. The dizziness surged uncontrollably, and the phone slipped from my hand. With a metallic clang, the screen shattered. Panic spread through me.
I collapsed against the headstone. A red veil descended before my eyes. Several shapes swirled together before gradually taking form. Fluttering red flowers. A gun pointed at me.
What is this…
The sound of boots approached from all sides. Suddenly, someone grabbed my waist. It was the god of death. He aimed the gun at my chest and pulled the trigger without hesitation. Even in shock, I realized it. I saw it clearly. The reaper’s eyes gazing at me, smiling. His grey pupils were softly smiling, filled with amusement.
Why? Why is he smiling so joyfully? In those laughing grey eyes, I saw someone else. A man in black. He too was smiling. His lips curled up in the darkness.
Ah…
Somehow, Whitebirch’s nail-scarred hand rolled across the stone floor. Blood, red as crimson, spread like a web.
Incredible…
The crazed Whitebirch muttered.
I still have blood left to spill. How much more does the king plan to wring from me?
Whitebirch thought of the king’s gaze, gestures, and words. It was an image that had appeared countless times in the torchlit darkness. Daytanz… You used to call me the “Red Flower Girl.” You called me that with eyes that seemed captivated by my very soul. But I wasn’t the Red Flower Girl—I was Whitebirch.
I hope your gaze, gestures, and words were sincere. That way, you’ll be hurt, even if just a little, by the truth that’s colder than the layers of ice painted over your portrait. I never wanted much. I just wanted to stroll through the garden of the sunlit palace with you.
The blood flowed like thread, spreading across the floor. At the end of it, someone stood. A man dressed in black. There was an odd sound too.
“Hehehe.”
Whitebirch felt confused. Someone was giggling. So happily.
“Hehehehehe.”
Even in his fading consciousness, Whitebirch struggled to identify the figure. It was Levitan.
And then Whitebirch’s breath stopped.
Ray Arisa’s scream mixed with the swirling snow. The mad wind and cruel snowflakes raged on. I slammed my fist against the headstone. My gloves were stained with blood.
Levitan stood there. He watched the brutal torture, laughing as if watching a comedy show.
“Stop! Stop it! It has nothing to do with me!”
I shouted hoarsely. Yes. It has nothing to do with me. I had suspected it all along. I was just in denial. I had tried to fool myself, thinking there was no way he would have gone that far.
I lifted my head sharply. Stay calm, Ray Arisa.
It was 600 years ago. No matter how much I rage, they won’t be punished.
“It has nothing to do with me.”
I bit my lip and picked up my phone. The screen was completely shattered.
I left the cemetery and walked out into the street. I entered a coffee shop and tried to calm down. As I drank the warm coffee, my reason gradually returned. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair. Stay calm.
Whitebirch is Whitebirch, and Ray Arisa is Ray Arisa.