Chapter 23 - The Girl Wants to Be M*rdered

**Chapter 23: Those Left Behind** --- ** Blessed are those who mourn Blessed are those who mourn Blessed are those who mourn Blessed are those who mourn Blessed are those who mourn Blessed are those who mourn Blessed are those who mourn Blessed are those who mourn For they shall be forever sorrowful 『Eight Blessings』 Yoon Dong-ju. Sorrow is the most universal emotion. At the root of all growth, it lies beneath. "—My favorite poem." ** The day my sister pushed Aris off the cliff. My world lost its color. Nothing could make me smile. No one could bring me joy. The well-roasted meat had a stench so foul it seemed to pierce my nostrils, and the buttered bread was nauseatingly greasy. In my dreams, Aris, blood dripping from everywhere, greeted me. Although she could have easily expressed her fierce dissatisfaction at me for being unable to save her, she smiled with all her might—just like the kind younger sister she was to everyone—by the time I came to my senses, I found myself alone, weeping in an empty room. It was cold. The bed, which always felt too small, now felt astonishingly vast. That itself filled me with immense sadness. A month passed since then. No rain lasts forever. Nor does a clear sky endure eternally. The dark clouds that had hovered over the palace gradually dispersed, and people began returning to their lives. Everything Anna did sank beneath the surface, and Duke Akitten, the perpetrator who cursed with sorcery, bore the brunt. Records left by Aris, the enchanted earrings found at the scene, a maid's testimony, and the suspect’s escape. There was no trial, as it held no value. The harshest possible punishment was decreed. The reason for such a penalty was simply because there was no more cruel one available. Naturally, my parents forgave Anna. Although she killed her sister, Anna was still family, suffering from the mental attacks caused by the curse, remorseful and regretful in her heart, and above all, revealing the truth threatened national chaos— Thus, the truth was buried. Only fabricated lies would remain, to be recorded. To me, it felt disrespectful to Aris's death, who struggled so hard to hold on. Of course. I know. I understand. I’m not naive enough to deny that these matters should be acknowledged. My mind forgave Anna. Anna was a victim too, a pitiful person who Aris, always reluctant to act out of line, would want me to forgive. However. However, my heart could not fully forgive her. Disappointment, betrayal, irritation, malice, revulsion, annoyance, discomfort, wrath. Every time I saw Anna driven mad by intense studying, my heart burned with rage. There were elements of pity, but a mere handful of water couldn't suffocate the blazing fire. That good child. The one who was kinder and more considerate of others than anyone else. —And to think she was killed by mere jealousy. Though I didn’t know all the details of the curse, I knew roughly. The earrings were not enchanted with a strong type of curse. Surveys conducted in secret concluded that beyond amplifying emotions and adjusting anxiety, nothing else was found. —Anna chose to kill Aris of her own will. You did it. You killed Aris. You trampled, tormented, and relished in torturing that suffering child. You hacked her mercilessly with a blade, leaving not a trace of her body in the end. How could you? How could you do that to the child who cherished you more than anyone? I grabbed her by the collar and asked. Was Aris’s talent something you envied so much? Even though you, destined for the throne with everything you could desire, would kill her over something so petty— That sacrificial child who always put her eldest sister first? Knowing this brutal truth made it even harder to forgive her. Anna said nothing. I will never forgive her. Nor the parents who forgave her, nor anyone associated with her. All. For life. Forever. A month has passed. News that seemed immeasurable in grief also fades with time. Perhaps it’s impossible to mourn forever. Bards who praised Aris’s wisdom, the maid who secretly helped dress her in a disguise alongside me, the knights who watched over her sparring—all returned to their lives. The palace slowly regained its vigor. Everyone returned to the harmonious days of old. When their day’s work ended, they would relieve the fatigue of the day and prepare for tomorrow. With smiling faces, they would return to their shelters. But. But listen. Even now, Aris, beneath those frigid waters, is calling out each of our names in hope. Starving, she is crying out below, desperately wishing for someone to find her. She’s hurt, begging for rescue, crying that she’s lonely. Then why, how? How can you smile in a world where Aris is not happy? The tick of the clock hand dropped. While others' clocks move perfectly, only my time has stopped, paused in lonely solitude. How can you forget Aris and live looking forward to tomorrow? I can’t, even if I want to. My world is frozen in place. Every day felt suffocating. It was maddeningly frustrating. Unreasoning fury welled up, and I wanted to break everything that crossed my path. This burning emotion, this urge to release it all. But I can’t. Because Aris wouldn’t want that. Unable to grasp Aris’s falling hand, and oblivious to the nights Aris spent worried and researching sorcery on her own—I have no right to act differently. So, ultimately, all the arrows pointed back to myself. Incompetence, heartache, regret, depression, misery, grief, isolation. And a murderous intent directed towards myself. "Aaaahhhhhhh—!!!" "...!!" Emotions lost in direction, like a snowball, grew larger and larger. I enveloped them all— "...?!" "—Ha." I swung my sword with a rush. ** Swish. "The Princess Remi’s growth is astonishing." "........" Swish. "And next year, Princess Remi will be entering the academy." "......." Swish. "Did you sleep well?" "........" In a quiet room where only the sound of turning pages could be heard, the silence was broken by an elderly man kneeling nearby, reporting the day's events methodically. Peyrn, former head of the knights. Once Aris’s swordsmanship instructor. Now, Remi’s mentor in swordplay. Though he spoke at length, Anna Acaia, the one flipping through the pages, showed no sign of stopping or responding. From the start, she hadn’t offered any reaction. Silently and diligently, she continued with her task, turning the pages. Despite what could be considered coldness or disrespect, Peyrn continued his report without a hint of concern. He was used to it. Most of his reports pertained to observing Princess Remi. Estrangement. Severance. Who could have anticipated such a relationship would span between the two princesses who were once inseparable? No one. Remi, concealing her sense of betrayal, anger, and murderous intent, treated Anna as if she didn’t exist. Anna, on her part, couldn’t bring herself to face her sister due to her overwhelming sense of guilt. Peyrn's reports aimed to bridge the gap between them, even if just slightly. But their bond had grown too distant to mend with such minimal effort. "—Peyrn." "Yes, Princess." With a soft thud, the book was closed, leaving Anna's gaze sharp enough to cut with a mere look. In a voice colder still, she commanded. "Leave." "......" "I have unfinished tasks and wish to concentrate." After Aris’s death, Anna Acaia dedicated herself to her studies, sleeping no more than three hours a day. Even then, her routine involved waking in a cold sweat, mumbling in her sleep. Everyone urged her to take rest, concerned for her health, but she never did. Perhaps, her obsession with academics was to flee from her dreams. Dreams that resurrected memories of back then. Blood-drenched hands, the screams piercing her ears even when covered, the desperate pleas for life. She feared tomorrow. Because with sleep came the necessity. The rising sun felt unbearably tormenting. Of course, Anna’s academic achievements soared in proportion to her efforts, but Peyrn could find no joy in it. A corpse, a puppet. Anyone who encountered Anna Acaia today might describe her thus. A living corpse. A puppet devoid of self. What drove her to move, even in this state, was no longer of this world—her younger sister. "Are you planning to stay longer?" "...I obey, your command." Such a tragic affair. Squeaking, Peyrn thought as he closed the ungreased door. Too tragic. ***