Even If It Means to Break - Chapter 10

“…I.”

His voice was soft and damp, so faint it was hard to hear. Perhaps the moment she heard those words, her consciousness briefly slipped away.

The man tightened his hold on her and continued murmuring.

“Only I. Am allowed. To look at your sleeping face. To wash your naked body.”

The one who can make you the most miserable, the one who can force curses from you with eyes full of hatred—the only one who may possess every part of you is me.

With no one to hear him, he spoke as if making a declaration, then pressed his lips to hers. Still holding her, he rose to his feet.

It seemed that, at least for now, he had stepped back from the danger of forcing her to take his body again in this state. A large cloth was wrapped around her. Even through the haze of aphrodisiac, exhaustion, and utter weakness, Hill felt a flicker of relief at that.

And then, as if to contradict everything he’d said, she thought:

I will escape.

Far away—to a place you can never reach.

You will never own me. Never.

After roughly wiping her down, the man applied his blood to the torn places. When his hand rubbed between her hips, memories of gasping under the aphrodisiac’s influence surfaced.

Feeling pleasure at his touch was always humiliating, but having surrendered herself so completely—driven into heat after being violated that way—was a shame she wanted to carve out of herself entirely. It would likely remain a scar she could never forget.

Still… now she knows where this place is.

Even as her body and mind were both exhausted, self-loathing and humiliation seeped in like water. Enduring him was unbearably taxing. She desperately forced her thoughts elsewhere.

For instance, to the voice she’d heard, a voice that wasn’t his.

How long had it been since she’d heard someone else speak? A voice that didn’t belong to this man. Though it had been little more than a whisper, it remained vivid, as if she’d heard it face to face.

It was a young voice. Twelve, perhaps. Far too young to be burdened with the death of a loved one.

He’d said he would come back. That he’d prepare more and return.

—No. Don’t come.

In her hazy state, she repeated it silently.

Don’t come back. Unknown boy, whose name and face I don’t even know.

I don’t know who you’re searching for, but it isn’t me. And even if it were, it would be the same. Who would burden such a young life with danger?

Even if I spend my life locked in a rotting mortuary, crawling like a b***h—that has nothing to do with you. Don’t add your life to mine… please.

Thoughts churned endlessly in her head, spinning like a sandstorm. Something pale and indistinct fluttered in her mind like a scrap of cloth blown away. But she didn’t even have the strength to reach for it.

Her thoughts broke apart, her breathing grew sluggish. Clinging to the last drifting edge of consciousness, Hill let out a small sound, like sleep-talking.

“Why…?”

But the question was immediately swallowed by darkness. Unable to hold on any longer, Hill fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

When she woke, the light had almost completely faded, leaving the room dim.

She must have slept nearly a full day.

The bed that had once been soaked with blood and s***n was spotless. Hill ran her hand over the mattress, unable to find a single trace of what had happened, then pulled the blanket over herself.

Being violated by him while her body betrayed her with animal desire felt like an eternal shackle. But the memory of herself moaning through drugged, a**l intercourse was a humiliation too painful to dwell on.

Out of habit, she started to replay the previous day in her mind, then stopped. Her stomach churned.

Near the door, a meal sat untouched, already cold. Seeing the food made her aware of her hunger, but she had no appetite. The image of the man’s body forcing its way into her rose up, and nausea followed.

In the end, Hill vomited.

Only after blurring the memories of the night before did her stomach settle. She managed to eat again only after dawn broke.

Several more days passed like that.

Even though she now knew this place was the mortuary, that knowledge alone didn’t give her a way to escape.

She was fortunate to remember that the mortuary lay behind the Sixth Palace. But it wasn’t enough. She needed to learn the building’s layout, the surrounding terrain, everything.

And more than anything,

Hill stared blankly at the window where light poured in.

If she dragged over the wooden tub from the bath, she might just manage to climb out.

But the greatest obstacle was the man’s intent in leaving that window unblocked.

There had to be something dark behind it. Some filthy scheme to break her again.

Without at least roughly grasping his intentions, she couldn’t act recklessly. Every chance was precious. With each failed attempt, the possibility of escaping him would only shrink.

As she sharpened her senses and focused on gathering information, the memory of the one who had spoken to her from beyond the wall occasionally surfaced, then faded.

Did that boy escape safely? Surely he hadn’t been discovered and killed.

Lives lost because of her were already as countless as grains of sand. She didn’t want to add another. Please, let him run away. Let him never harbor such thoughts again.

She hoped the boy who had told her where she was imprisoned was still alive somewhere. Hill wished for his safety, recalling that young voice.

Perhaps it was nothing more than lingering regret for her dead sister.

Aill.

That bright, radiant child.