Chapter 44
Brunhilde asked again,
“Was it you? Did you get rid of the child I was carrying?”
“…Mother.”
Carlos took another step forward.
But this time, Brunhilde did not stand still. Staggering to her feet, she stepped back. Her violet eyes, wet with rain and something else, twisted in anguish.
“Answer me, Carlos. Did you kill your own child?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he broke into a run toward her.
Brunhilde turned and tried to flee, her tear-streaked face contorted with grief. But she could never outrun him. Frail and weakened, she was caught within a few steps.
“Why? Why did you do it?! Why did you kill your own child?!”
Her back hit a massive tree, blocking her escape. She turned on him, screaming. Raindrops clung to his long lashes before falling. His voice was calm when he spoke.
“Come here, Mother. You’ve been standing in the rain too long.”
“You promised me! You said you’d protect your child—that you’d love the one I gave birth to…!”
“If you keep acting like this, I’ll have no choice but to use less gentle methods.”
The quiet firmness of his words struck her like a blow. Tears streamed down her face. Through the rain and her sobs, Brunhilde slowly drew a dagger.
“This… is all my sin.”
“…Put the blade down, Mother.”
“The day I first raised a blade before you… I should have gone through with it. I should have slit my own throat.”
Her lips, blue from the cold, curved into a faint, broken smile. She couldn’t tell whether it was rain or tears blurring her vision. Everything was dark, chaotic—like the storm-filled sky above.
Without hesitation, she brought the blade to her throat.
“Don’t do this, Mother.”
“You broke your promise.”
“I never broke any promise.”
“Then who gave me the medicine that caused the miscarriage?”
He didn’t answer.
And she decided to end it.
In the pitch-black forest, lit only by the faint glow behind her, the blade flashed, and cut into her neck.
“Ah—!”
A burning pain tore through her.
She had meant to strike cleanly. But Carlos, rushing in like a gust of wind, knocked her hand off course. Warm blood spilled from the shallow cut, washed away immediately by the cold rain.
She tried to raise the dagger again, but he stopped her. Carlos easily overpowered his weakened mother.
“Let go…!”
“I warned you I might have to be less gentle.”
“Why?! Why did you kill the child?! You said you loved me! Then why the child—my child… your child…!”
Her voice broke, growing weaker as she struggled, until at last she collapsed into sobs. Carlos removed his cloak and wrapped it tightly around her cold body.
“As I’ve said before, I never broke my promise.”
“Liar… don’t lie to me…”
“It’s true. Shall I swear it upon the god’s sacred eye?”
At those words, invoking a divine oath, her expression faltered just slightly. As if he had been waiting, he leaned closer and whispered,
“I swear upon the great god’s eye, I loved the child in your womb more than Emily’s.”
“……”
“You asked me to protect and love the child you would bear. Is this oath not enough?”
Brunhilde said nothing. Her pale eyelids lowered. Carlos tightened the cloak around her and continued,
“I told you, didn’t I? The more I love you, the more I will love the child as well.”
“……”
“I still love you more than anything in this world. So of course I loved your child. Why would I have any reason to kill it?”
“I… don’t understand anything anymore…”
Her voice was faint, barely more than a breath. Instead of answering, Carlos pressed his lips to her cold forehead.
“Go back and rest.”
“…Carl.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll bring flowers to the child’s grave.”
She did not resist anymore.
Lifting her into his arms, wrapped in his cloak, he carried her back toward the Brandt estate.
* * *
In the bridal chamber of the Duke and Duchess of Brandt—
Behind the dark canopy that concealed the bed, someone was bound against the wall.
Emily.
“Mm…gh…”
Her arms were stretched upward, each wrist tied with long cords, leaving her hanging like a marionette. The ropes were fixed high above. If she stood straight, they slackened. But they were too short to allow her to sit.
If her legs buckled, the strain would yank her arms tight enough to feel like her shoulders might tear out.
Ever since Carlos brought Brunhilde back, she had been left like that.
She could barely sleep. Her arms were so overworked they no longer felt like her own, pain dulled into something distant and numb.
Back when she had been tied to the bed, she had thought that was hell. But as Carlos had said, that had been mercy.
Not that she would ever be grateful for the pitiful kindness of a devil.
“How have you been today, wife?”
The door opened.
And the face she least wanted to see stepped inside.
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