Chapter 62 â Carwen de Distria (2)
He had no time to think of anything, not even time to feel guilty for killing someone. As he became increasingly insensitive, even the happy memories of him no longer came to mind.
Swordsmanship in the morning, etiquette and various education in the afternoon⌠and killing at night.
At first, killing someone was excruciatingly difficult though it had become easy now. Every night, he killed the child the Emperor brought to him. The death of others was trivial. He didnât even have a nightmare. It was different from the time when he vomited and ate nothing after his first murder.
Kill if you want to kill, cut if you want to cut.
Feeling something disappear inside him, he didnât even know what it was. His indifferent eyes stared at the bloody floor.
âŚHe had lost something.
It was one night. His father looked at him in silence and wept.
I only have you. Youâre the one. Only you.
The Emperorâs mouth smelled of alcohol.
He looked at the crying Emperor. He shouldnât have done this to him. He didnât like the way the Emperor, who taught himself to control his emotions, was actually crying.
Even so, he remembered the Emperorâs love he had forgotten. He stretched out his hand and stroked the Emperorâs large back. Still, the drunk emperor might not remember the warmth that touched his hand.
His hand that had touched the emperor was in vain.
From that day on, there was no end to the violence inflicted on him. He was driven to death all the time and survived just as he was about to stop breathing. And gradually, the check on the princes began.
The Emperor did not appoint him as the Crown Prince. The Emperor didnât even meet him.
He knew in his head that the attention that the Emperor gave to him shouldnât bud in the first place, it should be cut. He thought the emperor loved him. He believed in the three words the Emperor who poured out his sincerity said while cryingâŚ
However, excessive sensitivity was poisonous. What was more, he was the son of someone the Emperor loved. All food was poisoned, his escort was always bribed, and assassins visited at night.
He killed them all. The boy found the source and killed them all.
It was a time of constant checks. Even the Emperor knew this. He yelled at others not to touch him. In fact, he didnât say anything to him.
It was a great love indeed.
âAre you okay? Iâm glad you werenât hurt.â
This was a play. If it was for him, the Emperor shouldnât yell at others. The Emperor was taking care of him behind his back, pretending not to know. This was a well-crafted piece of play. Who was he protecting and driving to death?
Why was the Emperor so dumb? Why couldnât he face reality?
It was all because of emotions.
It was all because of weakness⌠they made the mind anxious and disturbed emotions. The Emperor said he loved him though exposed him defenselessly to his enemies. In fact, maybe he misunderstood the Emperor.
âNo, the Emperor loves me.â
He murmured softly, like brainwashing himself.
He thought that the reason why the Emperor was dumbfounded and why he couldnât face reality was because the Emperor loved him.
The boy believed so. He thought he was the Emperorâs weakness.
Again, such a day has passed. A day between humanity and inhumanity. Still, he didnât want to be a monster. He persevered, endured, and waited⌠he thought of the Emperor who would praise him for finally rising to the throne after enduring the harsh time.
It was a piece of humanity he possessedâŚ
To believe in the Emperor.
It was a piece of his humanity. He thought of those words every time he was swayed.
After completing all the training to become an emperor, he had more free time. At the same time as the education was over, he was again subjected to constant checks, although he moved his steps to avoid the unwelcome guests who came today without fail.
He went to the detached house where he lived as a child. A bright girlâs voice sounded in his ear. He didnât even think there would be anyone.
âUngâŚ? Who are you?â
He had an intuition that she was his younger sister, whom he had been separated from without seeing her face when he was young. The child was standing in a dress with frills. She was small and cute.
She looked at him, holding a big doll before smiling childishly.
His heart was in agony when it stopped for a moment. It couldnât be. His heart got anxious, and his mind got tumultuous. He didnât like that there was such an innocent soul in this murderous and bloody place.
It was annoying⌠Yes, that was uncomfortable.
âMy name is Dia! Iâm seven years old! Whatâs the handsome oppaâs name?â
The feeling of having his heart broken into pieces and thrown on the floor. It reminded him of a nickname he had forgotten.
He listened to the child silently.
âMomâs not here. Iâm worried, but thereâs Dad! Itâs okay. They said that soon there would be a new Emperor, and Iâd leave this place. Until then, I have to be patient.â
It was dead⌠He didnât like the happy-looking kid. What he believed in was burned. The last remaining piece of humanity was gone.
Why did the Emperor lie and say that he was the only one? Why did the Emperor spit those words out of his mouth? Why did the Emperor make him look forward to it? This was the Emperorâs fault, not hisâŚ
What had been precariously balancing collapsed.
Was he the Emperorâs weakness?
It was he who was dumb, stupid, and unable to face reality. The Emperor didnât love him, not even a little bit.
Staring at the little girl who was bleeding and cooling off, he wondered how his father would react to seeing her dead body. Would the Emperor think he did well? Blame him�
He blamed the Emperor instead.
Her blood soaked his toes. It rained.
Even though he killed his own sister, he still felt nothing.
âWhy did you kill this child who knew nothing? She was your sister! It was for your sister!â
He interrupted the Emperor. He pretended not to know the beating of his heart, seething with rage as he uttered to the man in front of him as calmly as possible, excluding his emotions.
The Emperor covered his face with one hand as he held the cooled corpse in his arms. The Emperorâs eyes staring at him went blank.
âYou taught me this way.â
âYou made me this way.â
Tears flowed from the Emperorâs eyes, but he didnât feel anything.
Even if the emperor looked at him with a hateful gaze, even if the Emperor looked at him with cold and dead eyes, it didnât matter. How was he before entering the West Palace? It had only been a few years, but he didnât remember.
He left the room, leaving the tearful Emperor behind.
Was that the man who educated him? That man looked like a different person.
There once was a bird in his garden. The bird did not leave even if he left the window open, so he raised it with joy. The smell of blood didnât seem to go away even after washing and washing, so how could the bird come to him like this?
They spent quite some time together.
The bird was by his side even when he was wielding a sword with calluses and even when he was studying until late every day. When he went to an official event or when the Emperor visited, the bird left on its own.
He visited the bird every day and fed it. That day was the same as usual. After the official event, he went to the garden.
The wing of the bird he was raising was torn, and it was suffering on the floor.
âDid father make it like this?â
âYou shouldnât make something that could be a weakness. Be it animals, people, objects, or places. Nothing. You kill it.â
At first, he was very sad that he had to kill his favorite bird. It was heartbreaking, but it was fine because that was what his father said.
He thought the Emperor was right.
The little girlâs body was still in the Emperorâs office. She was lying in a coffin enchanted with an ancient magic that wiped away all the spilled blood and preserved her. This was the girl who would become a weakness. He never lost sight of everything his father taught him.
What about the person who taught him that instead?
A lot of time had passed since the girl died, yet her body was still lying in the Emperorâs office. He broke the glass with the preservation magic on it and brushed over her hair through the broken glass.
Was his motherâs hair color silver? He didnât remember.
All the happy memories⌠he didnât remember.
As the corpse whose preservation magic was released quickly rotted away, he murmured softly.
Time passed, and he became Emperor. It was his foreseen place, yet he wasnât happy.
Since when did his heart die like this? Since when did he stop feeling anything?
When he realized the Emperor didnât love him? When he killed his mother with his own hands? When he cheated on the truth and betrayed the trust of those who believed in him? When he became Emperor after killing all his brothers who were born from another womb? Or when he killed his fatherâŚ?
Did he have any feelings in the first place? Killing his humanity, killing people⌠sometimes, he killed people for ridiculous reasons. How many people had he killed for looking happy?
He shook his head as he counted.
âŚToo many. He killed too many people. Even so, he saw many people who would kill him.
He looked down at the nobles. They were incompetent, couldnât handle their job properly, and emotions took precedence in everything. He killed them all. They deserved to die. They didnât deserve this place.
He knew he was a cruel person. Even so, he couldnât stand the feeling that his insides were twisted.
âItâs a place where you will be.â
Sounds like nonsense. Still, the nonsense was comforting to him⌠but that was what his father said.
It was a place he didnât want.
He didnât want to become Emperor. However, while receiving unwanted education, he lost all of his humanity and was driven to the brink of death⌠so wasnât it ridiculous that he couldnât occupy this place?
It was a position he gained after losing his humanity, losing his family, and losing something.
Precious place, precious person⌠So how far can he go? He wanted to experiment. How much was the value of this place he gained while losing everything?
Sometimes, they took away someone elseâs person who was loyal, just, and pure. He broke them⌠that somehow made him feel happy. It made him feel happy that those who were initially upright, true, and stiff in front of power were losing their original light.
They just changed according to the situation. They also changed and became monsters, but what about the others?
There were no people who would not change in the face of violence. He kept them in check from time to time to make sure he wasnât wrong by destroying the place he had, the power he had, and others.
He knew. He knew that, too.
He just didnât know how to get better.
Would it be easier if he died? Hell seemed easier to him than this. Rather, if his memory began from a very young age, when he ate poison and became sick, what would have changed?