Chapter 23
Chapter 23
“Is it good?”
I nodded vigorously.
“It’s just eating together, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I wish it could be like this every day.” Kin chewed on his bread, lost in thought again. Even so, I was happy. Eating with Kin banished my loneliness and fear. More than anything, I felt at peace. ‘I wish it could be like this every day.’
I was already anticipating our parting. If Kin knew, he might scold me for being callous and unfeeling. But this was my way of surviving. To avoid getting hurt, I had to prepare for the inevitable goodbye. And while doing so, I had to savor every moment of happiness today.
In the end, no one would stay by my side. I would be left alone to cherish the remaining memories. To preserve these memories, to prevent them from fading, I had to etch today’s feelings deep within my heart. Like writing in a diary, I imprinted the scene in my mind.
* * *
After finishing the bread, we chatted about trivial things.
“When do they take these dishes away?”
“A maid comes by whenever she has time. Sometimes before dinner, sometimes later.”
While showing Kin my meal had been a little embarrassing before, talking about such mundane things no longer felt shameful. Perhaps it was because I felt like I had already bared everything to him. Perhaps it was because I had wept earlier, purging all my shame. Or perhaps Kin’s presence had become so comforting that everything felt alright. I didn’t know the reason.
We sat together on the floor, talking. Before I knew it, it was time for Kin to leave.
“I have to go now.”
I wanted to hold him back, but I didn’t. Instead, I asked something else.
“You’ll come tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
I went out first to check the surroundings. My cautious glances were unnecessary; no one was there.
It was only our second time, yet we both approached the opening with a sense of familiarity. Should I ask him again to come tomorrow? Or would he find it annoying? I never felt anxious arguing with Kin, but asking these simple questions made me feel small. I craved reassurance, but I felt myself shrinking, unsure if I deserved it.
Kin hesitated, his face flushed, then gently took my hand.
“I’ll come tomorrow.”
“….”
Soft. His hand, holding mine so lightly as if afraid of hurting me, felt incredibly gentle. I had expected it to be hard, all bone.
A little belatedly, I replied, “Okay,” and smiled brightly.
“Goodbye.”
Kin nodded in response.
He crawled away, disappearing into the foliage. This time, I turned my head away, unable to bear watching him leave.
‘My familiar room, no, my familiar house.’
Being left alone in the empty room never got easier. Yet, today, I felt like I could spend the rest of the day in peace. I sat on the bed, hugging a pillow.
I hadn’t cried alone today. Kin had comforted me, as warmly as this pillow.
‘Was what he said about my ability true, or just words of comfort?’
This time, it didn’t feel like he was lying. Even so, I hesitated to go see my mother.
“Giving birth to you was the biggest blemish in my life….”
What if, even with an ability, I remained a blemish? It might be better to remain as I was, able to use my lack of ability as an excuse.
At some point, I had become incapable of doing anything without a clear vision of the future. In that sense, I couldn’t bring myself to run to my mother and tell her.
Nothing threatened me more than uncertainty. Foolishly so.
‘Tomorrow. I’ll tell her tomorrow.’
I postponed the decision.
* * *
Daykin returned home safely again today.
“I’m insane.”
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