Even If It Means to Break - Chapter 37

It felt as though the darkness that had surrounded him seeped into his skin then poured back out again.

The texture of the air touching his body changed. His senses gradually spread their range. The five senses drew in tightly for a moment, then surged outward, stretching as if in a sprint. Scenes and sounds from beyond the room flowed directly into him, as though he were seeing and hearing them with his own eyes and ears.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. But when his perception fully opened and expanded. When he could sense everything within several dozen paces.

The boy realized that something special had awakened within him.

An incomprehensible power: the ability to move objects without touching them, to exert physical force through sheer intent alone.

In that instant, he knew it instinctively.

Someday, he will no longer have to crouch.

Someday, certainly. Whether he would one day stand tall at the highest point, or fall endlessly into the deepest abyss, he could not know. But that day would come.

The boy formed a faint smile, much like the one his mother used to have on rare occasions.

* * *

Time passed once more.

The boy was ten years old now.

Six cycles of the same seasons had gone by since his mother’s death, and all that time he had remained crouched inside the room where he was born.

But staying hidden inside did not mean he knew nothing of the outside. Since awakening his power, he could perceive everything as if he were truly out there.

The information he gathered layered itself steadily, growing more solid with time. He was confident that, with little trial and error, he could speak and act like any ordinary person.

Is it time to trample and rise?

He asked himself this question almost every day. As always, shook his head. His instincts whispered that it was not yet time.

Then he will wait longer.

Hiding his claws and crouching in patience was something he had done since birth, like breathing. It was not difficult at all.

Deciding to train his senses as usual, the boy focused his mind.

Outside, the sun was harsh today. Still, an occasional breeze would ease the heat. The rustling of leaves in the wind, the sharp green scent of plants, the rough texture of tree bark.

He swept his awareness through the interior of the building as well. As was typical for this hour, there were few people nearby. He examined the familiar stillness of the outside world with care, then tried to focus even further beyond…

—Where is this place?

A sudden, unfamiliar voice reached him.

Startled by a voice he had never heard before, he almost opened his eyes. It was young and clear. It was a voice rarely heard in this palace. He couldn’t see the speaker yet; perhaps they were not within visual range.

But the footsteps were drawing closer.

Tap, tap—light, cheerful footsteps grew louder and nearer.

And at last, a young girl stepped into his domain.

She looked a couple of years younger than him.

And like his mother, she had faded, sand-colored hair.

Chewing on a fruit she held in her hand, the girl looked around restlessly. Then she muttered, sounding disappointed,

—No one’s here.

She kept walking, even wandering into the servants’ quarters. She darted freely between rooms—open and closed alike—hopping about without restraint.

As she drew closer, the boy’s heart began to pound rapidly. An unfamiliar sensation crept up from his chest, but he had no idea what emotion it was.

At last, after checking every room, the girl approached the one where he was hiding. Just sensing her presence made his heartbeat thunder so loudly it seemed to shake his head.

Not understanding why he felt this way at all, the boy desperately wished that she would find the door and open it, and that she would fail to notice it and pass by altogether.

—What’s this door?

She found it.

Tilting her head in curiosity, the girl stared at the door to the room where he was crouched. After a brief moment of hesitation, she slowly reached out her hand.

Without realizing it, the boy clenched his fist.

A small, pale hand grasped the handle and pushed. Creak—a loud sound rang out as the door opened. The girl he had only sensed until now appeared before him through the doorway. Even backlit, her hair shone bright, just like his mother’s.

“Huh? There’s someone here?”

The voice that called him ‘someone’ was so clear and untainted that it struck him deeply.

The girl stepped inside without hesitation. One step, two, three—and she was standing right in front of him.

Her gaze, which had been fixed on his red eyes, suddenly dropped downward. She crouched on the floor, just as he was, her eyes sparkling as she spoke.

“Hi.”

The smile blooming on her pale lips was fresh, like a flower after rain. After studying him quietly, the girl spoke again.

“Your eyes are really pretty. They’re the same color as the king’s.”

His eyes… pretty?

The red eyes everyone had called ominous and ill-fated—she called them pretty. She even said they were the same color as the king’s, meaning she had seen his father.

“…Who are you?”

His vocal cords, unused for so long, failed to produce sound smoothly. A rough, cracked voice—almost a growl—spilled out. Startled by the sound of his own voice, the boy didn’t know how to react, but the girl only blinked her round eyes and broke into a grin.

“My name’s Hillstein. But my father and Aill call me Hill.”

“……”