Chapter 51
“You said you’d be back before nightfall… you’re late.”
There was no response to the faintly muttered words. Kyle didn’t even flinch.
I fiddled with the bandage in my hand and stepped a little closer.
He didn’t even bother to answer—what on earth did the warden expect me to do here?
The silence made me feel helpless.
Is he asleep?
The bandage wrapped loosely around the hand hanging off the bed caught my eye.
I decided it would be enough just to quietly change the bandage and leave.
As I reached the bedside and began untying the knot around his hand,
a sudden movement—silent and swift, like a snake striking from the grass—yanked me down hard.
He’d grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto the bed.
I barely managed to catch myself beside his head, avoiding falling directly on him.
Kyle lay there staring up at me, but his unfocused eyes didn’t seem to truly see me.
Though his gaze was fixed on my face, the words that came out next didn’t sound like they were meant for me at all.
“I’m sorry… but you can’t go. If I let you go, you’ll leave me.”
I tried to pull my hand free, but his grip was iron-strong.
The scent of strong liquor lingered on his breath.
So he drank himself stupid.
Or maybe the warden just dumped this troublesome task on me to get rid of it.
My wrist throbbed under the pressure. Annoyed, I snapped,
“Let go! I said let go of my hand!”
Kyle’s eyes darkened.
They were filled with exhaustion—and despair.
“No. I’ll never let go. Even if you hate me forever, I won’t let go…”
I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh.
So that’s what he’s like when he’s drunk—pathetic.
“Is this how someone who wants to be loved is supposed to act?” I said, dryly.
Then came a soft, fragile murmur from him—barely a whisper.
“Please… love me, Mother.”
“…!”
I froze. His golden eyes were vacant, unfocused.
It was clear he had no idea who was actually in front of him.
“Who… who are you talking to right now?”
He didn’t answer. His eyes fluttered shut, and this time they didn’t open again.
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
As he fell back asleep, his face looked pale and still—so different from the anger and obsession I’d seen moments ago.
Had his cheeks really sunken in and his jawline sharpened in just a day?
What in the world had happened to him out there?
I tore my eyes away from his face and glanced down at his hand still gripping mine.
The bandage had loosened during our struggle, revealing a half-healed, reddish wound beneath.
If I told the warden, maybe he’d bring antiseptic or ointment, but Kyle wasn’t letting go, and I couldn’t exactly get to the door like this.
So I did the bare minimum—just enough treatment to get by until morning.
I began wrapping the bandage again, my technique clumsy but careful.
Once I tied a secure knot, I felt a small sense of relief.
Still, I didn’t leave.
I couldn’t—not after hearing those drunken words.
“Mother”…?
A sharp, splitting headache stabbed at his temples—so bad it made Kyle want to crack his own skull open.
He slowly retraced his memories.
He’d visited his father for the first time in a year, on his mother’s death anniversary.
After seeing her tomb in the underground crypt, he’d stopped by a tavern to dull the bitterness with their strongest drink.
There’s no way a single glass should have knocked him out like that.
Someone had approached him—quietly, insistently offering him a drink.
Said it would make him feel better.
The person’s shabby appearance and reeking odor had irritated him so much that he’d just paid them to leave.
That bastard must’ve slipped something into his drink.
“Damn it… what the hell did you mix in there?”
He couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming or awake.
His memories of the past and present blurred together—he could vaguely recall talking nonsense to no one in particular.
He only hoped the guards hadn’t seen him babbling like a lunatic.
He thought he’d seen Veronica in that haze too, but that must’ve been a hallucination.
She was supposed to be waiting quietly in the underground cell.
But that illusion shattered the moment a soft hand brushed through his hair.
Kyle blinked up, disoriented, to find Veronica sitting beside him.
Her calm voice carried both gentleness and quiet reproach.
“Feeling better now? Can you recognize me?”
He realized then—his head had been resting on her lap.
She’d even clumsily rewrapped his hand herself.
She hadn’t gone back to the dungeon.
She’d stayed there, waiting for him to wake up.
He could hardly believe it.
His lips were dry and cracked as he muttered,
“Why are you here? You should be in the underground cell.”
“Looks like you’ve sobered up. You don’t handle liquor well, do you? You should avoid it next time—showing your subordinates this kind of disgrace could ruin your authority as warden.”
Kyle slowly sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
He rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a long, weary sigh.
“…What did I say?”
There was unease in his tone.
Veronica tilted her head, her expression unreadable, then said casually:
“You talked about your mother.”
And just like that, the memory he’d dismissed as a drunken illusion came rushing back.
His mother had always stayed inside her room.
Her back was always turned toward the window, unmoving.
Every day, Kyle would stand quietly by the door, watching her.
She must have known he was there—but she never looked back, never acknowledged him.
He’d even dreamt the night before that she smiled at him and opened her arms for an embrace.
That dream had made her silence feel all the more cruel.
He just wanted to play with her—like the other children did with their mothers.
That’s probably why he did something so foolish that day.
“Mother…”
He’d crept up and tugged gently at her sleeve.
Her gaze turned to him, slow and cold.
Her face was calm, expressionless—utterly devoid of emotion.
He whispered, as if sharing a secret.
“Let’s go outside, Mother. Father’s gone to the prison, so we can leave now. I’ll take you.”
She said nothing, but her eyes quivered faintly.
Kyle knew the servants would never let her go even while Father was away,
but still—he tugged at her arm, eager and hopeful.
“Hurry, Mother. We have to go now.”
Her face showed confusion, but to him, it looked like life—like hope.
When he tugged harder, she hesitated… then began to follow him.
Down the hallway, down the stairs—her steps quickened, almost running.
Soon it was she who was pulling him along.
They reached a small, hidden room where he often played.
Kyle stopped, smiling brightly.
“We’re here! This is it.”
Unaware of her stiffening expression, he beamed.
“Let’s play here, Mother. I told the maids to bring snacks.”
Her face twisted into something indescribable.
Kyle’s smile faltered.
“You tricked me! Pretended to let me go—mocked me! Why would you do this to me? Weren’t you trying to help me escape?”
“B-but you can’t leave, Mother. Father said you have to stay inside! I just wanted you to love me more, that’s all…”
“You’re just like your father!”
Her scream was filled with hatred.
She shoved him to the floor and wrapped her hands around his throat.
“You want to cage me too! You talk about love, but all you want is to trap me forever!”
“M-Mother…!”
If his father hadn’t come in just then… would she really have killed him?
The memory was distant, but the terror remained sharp.
From that day on, he never begged for her affection again.
And she never attacked him again either.
But the wound she left behind never healed.
No one knew that story.
No one could have known—
Yet somehow… Veronica did.
Kyle’s face twisted in shock.
