Chapter 65
“Hhk, hiiic…”
Prina sobbed.
Happy had died because of her. It was all her fault.
Happy was dead.
The name had been given so the bird would be happy. So he would surely live in happiness.
She had hoped someday he would heal and soar freely into the sky. That he would sing his song without restraint. But looking back now, it had been nothing more than a vain hope.
She still couldn’t believe he was dead. No, she didn’t want to believe it. What if he suddenly opened its eyes? What if he regained awareness, only to find himself trapped in the dark soil? How terrifying would that be, for her little Happy?
After long hesitation, Prina finally found a way. She left only his small head aboveground and covered the rest with soil like a blanket. As she tried to cover even that last bit, her vision blurred. Her hands trembled so violently that she could do nothing.
Happy was dead. And Prina’s happiness had died with it.
A life she had saved with her own hands had suddenly slipped away.
Why did he die so suddenly? He had been healthy.
Was there a reason to die?
Even as she tried not to think of it, her mind kept overlaying the image of the knight whose neck had been snapped, lying dead… with Happy’s little head peeking out from under his earthen blanket.
No. No, that couldn’t be. Surely not. Impossible. Should she ask Hunter?
What use would it be? He would say no. But what if he said yes?
“…T-The Grim Reaper!”
“L-Lies! You witch! That jet-black hair… you’re a reaper!”
Mr. Lawrence’s despairing cries echoed in her ears.
…No, she wasn’t anything like a reaper.
“That, that man. It was him. He… on purpose…!”
The knight’s final desperate attempt to speak the truth also resounded in her memory.
“I broke you on purpose.”
Hunter’s whisper, spoken as though he wanted her to hear, without a shred of remorse.
“You’re my gift to Prina.”
Even those words—gift to Prina—all of it swirled together, buzzing relentlessly in her ears. She thought she would go mad.
Prina. What was it you had wanted?
She had only… wanted to be happy with someone. Wanted to be loved by someone. Even if she could not be called a good child, she had wanted someone to know she was not a wicked one. That she was not something frightening or filthy. That was all she had wanted.
Just that. But why had it come to this?
Why was something so natural… considered a sin for her?
Why was she never given any chance…
As her hands shook and she wept uncontrollably, Lucky rubbed against her feet.
As though he knew her heart completely. As though to comfort her.
Yes. Lucky was still here. Perhaps he was her last stroke of fortune.
At that moment, Prina realized it.
She had to leave this mansion of living death.
At last, she resolved.
She would protect the single stroke of fortune that had been given to her, her first and last.
* * *
After spilling out all those emotions, her reason grew sharp and clear.
She was frightened and terrified, but she had to leave this place. She had to break free of the suffocating helplessness, escape the secret forest that had consumed her.
Prina retrieved from the dead knight’s pocket the written order announcing the disappearance of Prina de White. With that, it was confirmed that what the knight had said was no lie.
According to his words, knights were still stationed around the forest. So there really had been knights surrounding it. Hunter had not always spoken lies. Perhaps he had not intended to kill her after all. But of course, she had never asked why they were there…
Prina. Get a hold of yourself. You must leave this place.
In a way, this was clearly a good opportunity. If she could just escape the forest and reach the knights, it would all be over. She could reach the father who, though she had never once seen him, was supposedly searching for her.
When should she act? The safest way would likely be to leave in secret on Sunday, when he went to market. Prina tried to reckon the days.
But today was not Sunday. And she could not endure until Sunday.
She had barely managed to lift her head above the surface, and if she stayed with Hunter, she would surely sink back down. Deeper, deeper.
Her resolve would dissolve like foam on water.
She was too weak to escape easily, and this place was far too safe.
She could not allow the fragile thread of her resolve, so barely held, to loosen again.
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