Please Forget Me - Chapter 299

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

“I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.”

And so we began spending an hour together every night.

It became our secret, something Rupert knew nothing about. It felt as though we were reclaiming the memories that had been stolen from us by him.

Foolishly so.

When the one-hour dream ended, reality always returned. No matter what, Rupert was your lover, and I was not even a man. Just a priest, safely harmless.

The longing for you that I had spent ten years trying to suppress came back, foolishly revived. Because of that single hour, I had to endure the remaining twenty-three in torment, consumed by desire.

And whenever I saw you with Rupert, my craving for death grew beyond control.

Yet it was that one hour that kept me alive. For the first time, I understood those who devote their entire lives to fleeting pleasure, those who become addicted to a single moment.

You never knew how I felt. I did everything I could to hide it.

“Miss Loveridge.”

“You can call me Dana.”

One day, perhaps because you had grown comfortable with me, you allowed me to use your given name. Even then, I stubbornly kept calling you ‘Miss Loveridge’. It wasn’t only about keeping my distance.

P.S. You may call me Dana.

That line from your old letter surfaced in my mind, and I found I could not say ‘Dana’ without emotion.

“Father, could you try talking Rupert out of it?”

As you began to feel at ease with me, another change followed: you slowly began to reveal your disappointment in Rupert.

“He keeps saying he wants to die beautifully, at his peak, and leave behind a glorious legacy.”

“…He still says things like that?”

“You mean he said that even when he was young?”

“I thought it was something he’d outgrow….”

“When the war broke out, he was excited, saying he couldn’t just sit still as a descendant of Godwin.”

“…Dear God….”

Only then did I realize he hadn’t matured at all.

“Working in the hospital, I’ve come to believe there’s no such thing as a beautiful death. But Rupert doesn’t seem to agree.”

“He probably believes his own death will be different.”

Different from the deaths of ordinary men, men like my soldiers.

“He thinks he’ll die instantly, without pain.”

Heroic biographies and war histories never describe how heroes truly die, or what kind of agony they endure. The former mythologize; the latter consider such details irrelevant.

Someone who had only learned of death through books could not understand how horrific it truly was. A single visit to the trenches would have taught him, but he had never gone.

“He doesn’t listen to me, but maybe he’d listen to you.”

You still didn’t understand how little you knew of the relationship between Rupert and me.

“He won’t listen to me either. We’re not that close.”

“I see….”

“If he wants to die that badly, there’s nothing to be done.”

“…You really are unusual, Father.”

“It may sound cold, but there isn’t enough time to save those who want to live. Let alone persuade those who want to die.”

I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about you.

“So if Rupert plans to die here, what are you supposed to do, Miss Loveridge?”

“Well….”

“If that was his plan, he should have said so when he proposed. Something like, by the way, I plan to die before I go bald and make you a widow.”

You raised your canteen, then let out a small laugh before you could stop yourself.

Embarrassed, you tried to suppress it. But my words must have amused you, because you kept laughing quietly for the rest of the night.

I worried you might be offended. I had, after all, mocked your fiance. But to my surprise, you seemed pleased. Perhaps my sharp view of Rupert resonated with you.

“Do you know what Rupert said when he proposed to me?”

No. I didn’t and I wished I never would.

“He said he’d make me the most precious woman alive. But I wanted something else… no. I’m being ungrateful again.”

Who else would openly criticize a Marquis whom everyone adored and indulged? If you voiced dissatisfaction, people would surely dismiss it as spoiled complaining.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s keeping that promise.”

“I think we’ll marry after the war ends.”

That wasn’t what I meant to say, but the words had already slipped out.