Chapter 24
Brunhilde took another half step back.
Each time Carlos tried to approach, she pressed the blade deeper into her throat, forcing him to stop. Half a step, then another. The fabric she had so carefully chosen was now soaked red across her shoulders and chest.
“Please… be happy, my beloved Carl.”
“Mother, please don’t do this… Mother…”
“The desire you feel for me is nothing but the curse that runs through Brandt. Break free from it. Be free.”
Even as blood continued to pour from her neck, her expression grew strangely peaceful and relieved, as though she were finally being released from the suffocating fate that had bound her for so long.
Tightening her grip on the dagger, she pressed harder.
The sharp blade slid deeper toward the blue vein at her throat. And just as she was about to sever the final thread of her life—
“Then, Mother…”
Carlos called out to her.
His voice trembled, completely undone.
“…kill me first.”
His dark eyes widened, and suddenly, clear tears fell from them like scattered jewels.
His face twisted in anguish as he staggered toward her, each unsteady step resembling that of someone crawling rather than walking. His movements were halting, uneven—like a wounded man.
The sight of him, weeping so miserably, snapped her gaze and stilled her thoughts.
At last, standing before her, he clutched desperately at the hem of her clothing and whispered through tears,
“A world without Mother has no meaning for me.”
“Carl…”
“So please… let me die by that blade first.”
Hesitation flickered across Brunhilde’s face.
Her beloved son—who had never once shed tears since he grew older—not when his cherished dog died, not when he fell from a horse and broke bones, not even when he suffered deep wounds—
Now stood before her, crying.
Seeing the face of the son she had treasured more than her own life, her heart shattered. Tears welled in her own eyes.
Sensing it, Carlos clung to her more desperately.
“Even if you don’t kill me first… if you harm yourself now, I’ll follow you immediately.”
“…Don’t say such terrible things, Carl.”
“You’re the one saying terrible things. If you truly love me… you wouldn’t do this to me…”
He stood close enough to grasp her clothes, yet couldn’t bring himself to take the knife from her. He only wept helplessly.
She felt dizzy.
And in that moment—whether by will or by accident—she let the dagger fall.
Clang. The sharp sound of metal striking the floor rang out. Carlos’s trembling hands immediately grasped her neck.
“I—I’ll stop the bleeding first, Mother.”
“Carl…”
“If anyone should die, it should be me—the one who made you suffer. Why should you… because of me…”
The frail boy’s hands, stained with her blood, trembled violently. He looked exactly like the son she had always loved.
At last, she could breathe again. Tears streamed down her face as she exhaled deeply.
“My child… I love you more than my own life.”
“I know… I know.”
“How could I ever command you to die?”
Carlos tore his own clothing and wrapped it around her neck. Watching his desperate efforts, she slowly lifted her hand and whispered,
“But… there is something else I want to ask of you.”
The blood loss made her dizzy, but she couldn’t stop now. Leaning into his support, she spoke through uneven breaths,
“Get married.”
“….”
“Marry another woman… and give me a beautiful grandchild.”
At those words, sorrow swelled in Carlos’s eyes—something else that resembled betrayal. But Brunhilde believed without doubt that this was the right path.
“And from now on… stop coming to me at night.”
“…Mother.”
“If you don’t promise me, then next time… you’ll find my corpse.”
Even with her lips tinted red, her words showed no bluff, only absolute sincerity.
Tears fell again from Carlos’s eyes. Clinging to her fragile shoulders, he forced out a strangled whisper,
“I love you, Brunhilde.”
“…I am your mother.”
“I love you so much… I desire you so much I feel like I’ll die…”
His hand traced her cheek, over her hollowed face, then down to her cool lips. His thumb lingered against her reddened mouth as he lowered his head, gazing at her with tear-filled eyes.
“Then… just once. Let me kiss you one last time, Brunhilde.”
“….”
“Just for tonight… before I become your good son again, let me hold you the way I want—just this once. Please?”
His tear-soaked lashes trembled. His touch, so desperate as it brushed her lips, was impossible to reject.
Brunhilde slowly closed her weighed down eyes.
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