Chapter 46
“Actually, I was living in the countryside. At least, until my father brought me to the manor. Until then, it was peaceful. But he took me as if he were kidnapping me.”
To ‘Cynthia Obel’, there were people she truly regarded as her real parents, not Count Obel.
Young Cynthia, living happily with her mother and father, was one day seized by Count Owen, who appeared out of nowhere, bundled into a carriage as if it were a kidnapping. He then startled her by asking her name, saying, ‘You’re actually my daughter,’ and abruptly had her admitted into his family.
As Cynthia recalled that day—the memory seared into her body—she grew increasingly melancholic.
What became of her mother? She remembered, just before being dragged into the carriage, seeing her mother running toward her in tears and then collapsing.
What became of her father? She remembered him desperately calling her name as he tried to lift her fallen mother. But both images were nothing more than hazy shapes.
“It was so long ago that the memories aren’t clear, but sometimes I’ll think, if I weren’t here in this family, if I’d remembered that place and gone back, what would my life have been like…”
These weren’t the memories of ‘Cynthia’, but of ‘Cynthia Obel’, and tears flowed down her cheeks.
“Now I can’t even remember my parents’ faces.”
Just as Cynthia’s real parents had grown dim, so too were the faces of the parents in ‘Cynthia Obel’s’ memory. She found it unbearably sad that she longed to see them yet could not. And though she knew that a being like him who was not human could never understand that pain, the longing overflowed like tears.
At that moment, she sensed Segleninde approaching from behind. When she turned, he had lowered himself to meet her eyes and asked casually,
“Are you crying?”
“You… You damn bastard.”
For a moment, she almost felt moved, thinking he had come to comfort her. But anger surged up, and Cynthia turned her head back to face the sofa’s backrest, turning her back on Segleninde.
Immediately, regret flickered. Had she been too harsh with him simply because it was easy?
What if his affection for her had dropped? What if he actually left when she told him to go away?
‘I still need help…’
Caught in swirling worries and anxieties, Cynthia reluctantly let out a small voice,
“…I’m sorry. I apologize for swearing at you.”
But no reply came. The presence behind her did not leave, even after a long moment. Feeling strange, Cynthia glanced over her shoulder. She saw the back of Segleninde’s head, his silver hair shining. He was sitting on the floor, back resting against the sofa where she lay.
He did not pat her back, nor say anything, nor offer comfort. He simply sat there.
How could a creature who was not human, who killed humans, know what a crying human needed? He probably didn’t. So why was he doing this? Choosing the hard, cold floor over the comfortable sofa. He had said he hated messy things. He had said he didn’t even like her.
She could not understand it, but strangely, Cynthia felt a sense of ease. Her tears stopped.
‘I don’t know….’
Cynthia closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She had felt a bit cold throughout her stay in the dressing room, but for some reason tonight it didn’t feel so cold.
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