Chapter 52
Watching him in his torment, Cinq’s blue eyes welled up with tears.
She asked in a voice full of sorrow,
“Priest, where is my husband, Ylfus?”
Cinq’s words tore Quiel’s heart to shreds.
In the end, he broke down, crying like a child, covering his face as he sobbed in agony.
Her sorrow was still his sorrow. Her pain, his pain. Her despair, his despair.
Tears poured into his palms as he silently screamed within.
Cinq, Cinq.
My sinful purity, my untainted lamb who still captivates me while loving another man.
You want to leave me with the man you love?
I’ve never imagined myself without you. If you were to leave, what would become of me? Even the thought alone drives me mad.
Cinq, I cannot lose you. It’s better to prolong this hellish moment forever than to lose you for good.
I’d rather keep you in my embrace, mourning, raging, and drowning in despair.
Quiel took a deep breath, his shoulders trembling as he finally spoke,
“Cinq, abandon him. I will protect you. I will cradle your sorrow, anger, and despair. Please, seek solace in me.”
Cinq, her tears falling, replied,
“My fears and pain are mine alone. So are my sorrow, anger, and despair. I won’t give them to anyone anymore.”
Her words startled Quiel. He lifted his head, still mired in grief, and asked,
“You mean you won’t entrust your heart to anyone?”
Cinq firmly nodded.
“Yes.”
Quiel, peering at her through his fingers, his bloodshot eyes gleaming red, rasped like a demon,
“No, Cinq. You can only say that because you’ve never truly despaired. Soon, an unbearable sorrow will engulf you.”
He picked up something lying beside him and handed it to her.
It was a lamb’s mask.
“Cinq, your freedom was nothing but a fleeting illusion. The Black Wolf will soon be executed, and you cannot escape from here. So abandon him. Put this on and promise to stay by my side.”
Cinq looked up at him with tear-soaked eyes.
She could not abandon Ylfus. Losing him would bring her a pain so immense that everything she had suffered until now would feel trivial by comparison.
She had to find a way to bring him back, no matter the cost.
Cinq said,
“Priest, tell me what I can do for him.”
“There’s nothing you can do, Cinq!”
“If it will save him, I’ll do anything. I’ll even wear the lamb’s mask. If I have to live as the village’s harlot this time, so be it. Please, save him.”
Her words shattered Quiel completely.
Quiel screamed,
“Cinq! How can you say such things!”
Her words denied the entire life he had devoted to his radiant longing.
Quiel tore at his veil, crying out in agony,
“Please, abandon him!”
“Why?” Cinq asked. “Priest, he’s not the Black Wolf. And I am not a villager of this place—I was merely Red Riding Hood. So why won’t you let us go? Why ask me to stay by your side?”
Quiel’s lips quivered, but no words came.
He could not call this love. It was too selfish to be called love.
The more he yearned for her, the more depraved he became. This was the very bottom, and he knew it wasn’t love. It was filthy longing, base desire.
Love remained far removed from him.
It lay with Ylfus, who, even when faced with torture tools, had pleaded only that his wife be left unharmed.
It lay with Cinq, who said she would do anything to save Ylfus.
Cinq crawled toward Quiel on her knees, clutching the hem of his veil as she pleaded,
“Please, Priest, tell me.”
Quiel screamed again,
“Cinq, Cinq! Stop!”
At that moment, someone knocked urgently on the bedroom door and shouted,
“Priest! The knights from Kalasca, or whatever it’s called—they’ve arrived! They’re inspecting the pyre in the square right now!”
Quiel steadied his voice and replied,
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it now.”
He stood, and the veil Cinq had been clutching slid off his head, crumpling to the floor like discarded skin.
He picked up the white goat mask and placed it over his head.
Looking at her, he said in a voice trembling like a goat’s,
“Cinq, you’ve been utterly deceived by the Black Wolf. But soon, everything will return to its rightful place.”
“Priest…!”
“Cinq, wait here for me.”
With that, he left her behind, retreating as if to escape.
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