Chapter 23
“It was a council day, wasn’t it? What did they talk about today?”
Even after spending the previous night beneath him, moaning, Brunhilde spoke to her son as if nothing had happened. Careful not to startle her, Carlos reached out and touched her long hair.
“Nothing much. The usual.”
He forced down the thick desire rising from his throat and continued,
“They said it’s about time I take a wife and produce an heir.”
“….”
Brunhilde paused, then slowly lifted her head, tilting her chin to look up at him from an angle. He could almost grasp the emotions flickering in her eyes. Smiling smoothly, Carlos asked,
“Do you want me to take a wife, Mother?”
“…I suppose I’d like to see a grandson who resembles you.”
It was her way of urging him to marry. The smile on his lips deepened. Gently tugging the hair he held, he pressed his lips against its silky strands and murmured.
“I want a child who resembles you.”
“….”
“In the end, what the family wants is just the blood of Brandt. It doesn’t matter whose child it is, does it?”
His mother’s beautiful eyes trembled faintly. He swallowed down the heat building inside him once more and lowered his head. Tracing her softened cheek with his fingertips, he whispered,
“With the same black hair and violet eyes, no one would suspect anything, Brunhilde.”
“Carl… Mother is no longer young…”
“I meant you should stop taking those contraceptives you swallow every day. Was I too subtle?”
“…!”
Her eyes widened. Watching her gaze shake like a ship caught in a storm, the grown young man smiled sweetly, as though he might melt.
“Those pills aren’t good for your body, Brunhilde. I’ll throw them away.”
“I… I’ve taken them for so long. Even if I stop now…”
“You won’t know unless you try. And if, as you say, Mother’s body is already ruined, then stopping won’t matter anyway, will it?”
After planting a light kiss in her hair, Carlos straightened. Brunhilde was startled and got up after him, but he brushed past her and opened the drawer of the vanity. Taking out a bottle filled with round pills, he slipped it into his coat, a gentle smile still resting on his face.
“I’ll come again tonight.”
“Please… please, Carl…”
“Don’t skip your meals again. If you do, I’ll cut out the maid’s tongue for neglecting you.”
He pressed a brief kiss to his mother’s lips as she clung to him, then turned away.
Brunhilde watched the door close with a hollow expression and then collapsed to the floor. Clutching her chest, where even tears would not rise, she let out a trembling breath.
My child… my beloved child.
I am… destroying you.
* * *
That evening, just as he had said, Carlos returned to his mother’s room.
That night, his mother was beautiful.
A faint blush had been carefully painted onto her pale cheeks, her lips gleamed with red tint, and she wore a thin, flowing nightgown that revealed just enough to entice. Adorned with ornate jewelry, her oiled hair and skin carried a sweet, seductive fragrance.
It had been half a year since she had dressed herself so carefully—ever since the night she killed Franz.
Carlos loved every version of his mother, but seeing her adorned like this after so long only stirred his desire further. He wanted to claim those red lips immediately.
Barely offering a greeting, he strode toward her.
“You look especially beautiful today, Brunhilde.”
“Carlos.”
“What’s the occasion? I’d be happy if you said it was for me.”
“My child.”
Brunhilde reached out. Cradling his cheek—no longer soft with youth—she smiled with quiet sorrow.
“I love you more than anything in this world.”
“I feel the same, Brunhilde.”
“So… today, I’ve decided to give you the greatest gift of all.”
Her lips touched his cheek, then pulled away.
At her unexpected kiss, Carlos smiled, his eyes flooding with intoxicated desire.
My child… do you think the gift I’m giving you is permission for me to bear your child? Steadying the ache within her, Brunhilde took a step back.
Then, from what had seemed like a mere bracelet, she drew out a gleaming blade.
Sensing something was wrong, Carlos reached out, but Brunhilde was faster.
In one swift motion, she pulled the hidden dagger and pressed it to her own throat. The resolve on her face was the same as when she had stabbed Franz.
“I can’t harm you… but harming myself is easy.”
“…Mother, put the knife down.”
“I’m not afraid of death at all. You know that, don’t you?”
Smiling faintly, she tightened her grip.
The sharpened blade bit into her neck, drawing a thin line of blood.
“I’m sorry, Carl.”
“Mother, please, just put it down—”
“I should have done this long ago. That very first night you came to my room.”
I was the one who encouraged my son’s sin. If I had ended my life then, it would have been over in a single act—
How could I, as his mother, allow this sin to continue?
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