#37. The End of Absence
The candlelight in the banquet hall flickered softly. Ninia was seated at the place prepared for the Grand Duchess. After the guests had departed, she had expected to be moved back to a more distant seat, but events had unfolded differently.
Yet there was one thing she had not anticipated: she was completely alone in the banquet hall.
She had already waited for over an hour, but there had been no report that Tarahan had entered the inner chamber. Eventually, a servant approached and spoke to Ninia.
“Madam, it seems the master will be returning a little late. It would be best if you began your meal.”
Ninia had suspected as much. He had been delayed this long, yet not a word of news had reached her.
‘Could something have happened?’
If there really had been a problem on his way, the probability of him returning today was low. Outside the banquet hall, visible through the large arched windows, darkness reigned. Ninia gazed at the window for a moment before speaking.
“I want to wait just a little longer. But if he doesn’t come, I’ll go upstairs.”
The servant, though wearing a troubled expression, obediently stepped aside. Those attending the hall had also vanished, leaving her unbothered.
Rather than mock her, those who had seen her alone seemed more sympathetic. Ninia, sensing this subtly, gave an awkward smile.
Another hour passed. In the end, Ninia had to rise from her seat.
‘He won’t come today.’
Though she had guessed this while waiting, she could not bring herself to leave, having received no word about his whereabouts. She wanted to worry about what might have happened, but she had no knowledge of what he had gone out to do.
Eventually, Ninia returned to her quarters. Rosa approached her several times, perhaps concerned that she had not eaten.
“Do you need anything?”
“I’m truly fine.”
As Ninia continued to refuse, Rosa had no choice but to withdraw. Alone in the room, Ninia stood by herself.
She hoped he was delayed for a simple reason—perhaps he had ventured far, rested briefly, and forgotten the appointment. That, too, would have been a reasonable excuse.
Yet unease rose in her heart. Ninia stood in the middle of the room, hesitated for a moment, and retrieved a key hidden deep in a drawer. It was the key to the tower.
‘I’ll just take a quick look.’
Carrying a single lantern, Ninia slipped out of the room. The castle was quiet, the servants seemingly asleep. She reached the tower entrance without encountering anyone.
Click. The rusted lock yielded to the key. Ninia ascended the stairs slowly. As she neared the top, her pace quickened almost to a run.
“Hah… hah…”
Reaching the upper floor, she leaned against the wall, catching her breath. It took some time for her breathing to calm.
Eventually, the wind rushing through the tower pushed away the scent of nighttime dew and moss from the floor. A damp fragrance rose to her nose. Opening her eyes, she approached the open window with her lantern in hand.
“…I can’t see anything.”
It was her first time atop the tower at midnight. With clouds obscuring the sky, neither stars nor the moon were visible. Only a few scattered lights marked the guard posts; they did not signify anything extraordinary.
‘Of course I wouldn’t see anything.’
Even knowing this, she had climbed the tower. Yet standing before the black expanse, she felt an unfamiliar emptiness. A sense of loss she had not experienced while waiting in the banquet hall.
Feeling such emotion without having lost anything was strange, almost absurd. Perhaps it was the fear of facing a night so completely dark.
Only the moisture-laden wind brushed past Ninia. Her fingertips brushed against the wall.
She was used to waiting. Throughout her life, she had waited for the goddess, longing for the rest that would eventually come.
‘Then why…’
Things were naturally stored until they were needed again. Knowing this, Ninia still felt impatient. Only fifteen days had passed. Gradually, she realized that this waiting was not just a casual desire.
Had she ever waited with such joy and excitement for her prayers to reach the goddess?
If not, was it for all the things she would have abandoned in her final rest?
Yet even that did not cause such unease.
‘I don’t want to know.’
Ninia did not wish to understand the nature of her feelings. It was fear of the unknown, a form of self-protection.
Though the night sky remained black, her eyes, now accustomed to darkness, detected faint shapes. Heavy clouds loomed, ready to release rain.
‘Let’s go back.’
She chastised herself for venturing out at night. After all, she had seen nothing, only unusual confusion.
Her anxiety stemmed from the possibility of an accident. Assuming so, she began descending the stairs, unaware that the castle was beginning to light up gradually.
‘Why is it so bright?’
Locking the tower door behind her, she noticed that, unlike when she had left, the castle was now fully illuminated. Returning to her quarters, Ninia was puzzled by the distant lights.
As she observed the scene, droplets of rain began to fall from the sky.
‘Rain…’
As if waiting for her descent, a heavy downpour began. She hurried to a covered corridor, but her body was already soaked. It was the first rain of summer.
The rain sounded like the cries of wild beasts. She walked along the corridor, each step in her soaked shoes splashing loudly.
‘What’s going on?’
The lights in the castle late at night troubled her. Concerned, she hurried, but she did not consider that Tarahan had already returned.
If the lord had arrived, the torches announcing the castle gates’ opening would have been lit. Whatever had occurred, it seemed he was not involved.
Yet when she opened the door connecting to the main hall, all her assumptions vanished in an instant.
A thick stench of blood struck her nose. The broad back in a black cloak was someone familiar. Not Tarahan as the lord of the winter lands, but the one she had first met on the battlefield with him.
He faced the nearly unconscious servants. Ninia unconsciously called his name.
“Tarahan?”
Startled by her voice, she covered her mouth, but it was already too late. The words had reached him.
Tarahan turned toward her. Seeing him from the front was far worse than the view of his cloaked back. He was covered in blood from head to toe, and beneath his matted black hair, his dark red eyes glimmered at her.
It was difficult to tell if he was alive or dead. Ninia’s breath caught. Before her trembling hands could react, Tarahan lifted his head. Yet it was Ninia who moved first.
Standing before him, the strong smell of blood overwhelmed her senses. The black armor he wore made it hard to distinguish wounds from the tears in the fabric.
‘Ah.’
Perhaps it was the scent of blood; her head spun. In her blurred vision, an apparition of the past overlaid Tarahan’s figure. Ninia remembered the time she had been offered as a sacrifice. The long-forgotten pain consumed her.
‘I have to heal him.’
Her body was seized by urgency. Ninia reached out, but could barely touch his chest.
She realized too late that her own divine power had been depleted. Useless. A deep sense of defeat gnawed at her.
“…Are you hurt?”
All she could do now was ask about his condition. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from his body.
It wasn’t just her fingers that trembled—her eyes shook like leaves in the wind.
Just as her bloodied hand was about to pull away, Tarahan gripped her wrist.
“…!”
Startled, Ninia looked up at him. Yet he merely held her wrist, motionless for a long while.
“…No.”
A low baritone rumbled slowly. His blood-stained eyes, still warm from the massacre, fixed on her.
