Chapter 53
Zeppelin hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth.
The stillness of the night had a way of coaxing out words one normally could never say.
“Do you know why I hate this place?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“This is the place where my father first hit me. That day, the smell of lilacs was unbearably strong. I was only…”
“I’m not interested.”
Zeppelin was trying to drag out his painful past like a confession.
But Rebecca cut him off as if issuing a dismissal.
A sharp smile hovered at her lips.
“Zeppelin, I have no desire whatsoever to know your story. Just as you never cared to know how I felt when I became barren.”
Her voice was calm, without rise or fall.
For a moment, Zeppelin thought Rebecca was reproaching him.
But there was no hatred, no resentment in her eyes.
Her gaze was empty, hollow, like someone whose soul had been eaten away.
That look of hers was unfamiliar.
Then he realized—Rebecca had always worn that same face. Stunned, he just stared into her vacant eyes.
“You… already knew.”
“How could I not? Fabiola, your mother, screamed so loud the whole mansion could hear.”
At that, Zeppelin pressed his hands hard over his eyes, recalling the events of the day.
That woman—too repulsive now to even call “mother”—had admitted her sin outright.
‘Because… because you never look at me. The moment a child is born, it’s obvious what you’ll do to me, isn’t it?’
Shamelessly, she had shifted all the blame onto him.
Once, he had pitied her. After all, it wasn’t her will to marry his father.
Zeppelin knew she had tried to elope with a lover, failed, and ended up being sold off into marriage to his father.
But things were different now. Fabiola was no better than his father—someone who tried to take away what he loved, a scoundrel fit only to be eliminated.
Zeppelin opened his eyes, burning with fierce resolve.
He cast Fabiola out of the Devonshire household forever, reclaiming the mansion and all the gaudy luxuries he had once given her.
Wherever she wandered, whatever miserable end awaited her, it was none of his concern.
Zeppelin glanced at Rebecca.
She wore a detached expression, as indifferent as the air between them.
He had thought the fragile woman would collapse upon learning the truth. That was why he hadn’t told her.
If she had broken down, weeping before him in that state, he wouldn’t have been able to endure it.
But now, in this moment, he found himself wishing she would at least be angry at him.
He had wanted a doll-like woman, not a woman who only looked like a doll.
Dragging his hand down his face, Zeppelin asked her,
“Why… why do you act like nothing’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“Our dream—yours and mine—it’s shattered. So why do you wear the same face as if nothing’s happened?”
Rebecca almost laughed bitterly.
Our dream? Yours and mine?
Never once had they looked toward the same place. They had never truly been bound together by that word, “us.”
Rebecca slowly turned her face.
“What would change if I cried and raged?”
“What?”
“Unless time could be turned back, what’s happened to me won’t disappear. Ah, but even if time were turned back, it would be the same, wouldn’t it…”
“Rebecca!”
Seeing the expression on her face, as if she were about to vanish, Zeppelin gripped her shoulders as though to hold onto a fading afterimage.
But through the thin fabric, the feverish heat of blisters seeped into his palms, and he recoiled in shock.
“Ah.”
He looked down at his hands, startled.
The realization that he had just shown her—so plainly—that he couldn’t bear to touch her, left him rattled.
At the same time, disgust at her ruined body welled up, leaving him at a loss for what expression to wear.
Rebecca noticed the cold sweat running down his forehead and gave a soft smile.
“Just admit it. The me you loved is gone.”
She stood up.
Then, for the last time, she knelt before his feet and pleaded.
“So please, abandon me.”
“Rebecca, what are you saying… How could I ever abandon you!”
“No. You can. Zeppelin, because I love you, I’ll gladly go.”
Her unfocused eyes drifted as she murmured.
Her words of love rang hollow, like a sound recorded on a machine.
“My love. To protect you, I must take myself away from you. So please, discard me now.”
Rebecca Devonshire, who had once loved Zeppelin Devonshire, was blazing fiercely, just like on the last day of her previous life.
In his dazed blue eyes, she wished to vanish into ash.
Zeppelin, as if waking from hell itself, fluttered his long lashes.
Deep shadows pooled beneath his eyes. It seemed he had drifted off after returning from the garden.
“You’re awake, my lord.”
Octavio greeted him with a warm smile.
Still fogged by sleep, Zeppelin blinked and muttered haltingly,
“I had a dreadful dream. Rebecca… barren, she said. That can’t be true, can it? My perfect wife could never be.”
“Regrettably…”
Octavio paused, then enunciated clearly, as though carving the words into Zeppelin’s ear.
“It was no dream. Lady Rebecca can no longer bear you an heir.”
“Lies!”
Zeppelin squeezed his eyes shut.
It had to be a dream. It must be a dream.
‘Please, abandon me.’
Even her whispered plea had only been a dream.
Tomorrow morning, when the sun rose, Rebecca would greet him with her same beautiful smile as always.
She had to…
Zeppelin whispered, almost sobbing.
“What am I supposed to do now? I’ve never once imagined a life without her. Octavio, you’ve always given me wise counsel—you must know the way this time too, don’t you?”
A sly smile spread across Octavio’s lips.
He wanted to be the one true light in Zeppelin’s darkened life.
Since meeting Rebecca, Zeppelin had often smiled like a boy basking in sunlight.
Octavio had hated that.
But now, the sun that seemed eternal was finally setting.
The age of night was at hand.
Octavio tugged the lamp cord.
The bulb flickered a few times, then lit, casting a soft crimson glow through the lampshade.
Zeppelin winced against the sudden brightness.
“My lord, simply do as always. As I’ve taught you.”
“You mean… cast Rebecca aside.”
“Whether person or object, once its use is gone, it’s natural to dispose of it. If it troubles your sight, clear it away. There are always replacements.”
Zeppelin shielded his eyes with his arm.
Hesitant, heavy words spilled out.
“But I love her. How can I replace love?”
Octavio held back a sneer, answering smoothly,
“What is it about Rebecca that you love?”
At the question, Zeppelin’s mind went back.
A memory now faded and far away, yet enough to bring a smile to his face.
“Her hair, glittering in the sun, the lovely voice calling my name, the perfect nose and lips that mirrored my own, and those eyes I could only ever lose myself in…”
“Touching. But tell me, where are all those things now?”
“…”
“You do not love Rebecca now, my lord. You loved her. That love, too, has served its purpose. It must be cast aside for you to move forward.”
“My future has always been Rebecca. Where else am I supposed to go?”
“Hasn’t your dream always been your own beautiful kingdom, not Rebecca? Forgive my boldness, but there are women more beautiful than her. It will take some time, but I shall find one for you.”
Zeppelin said nothing.
Octavio did not rush him. With a sly smile at his lips, he simply waited until the thought took shape in a form the count could swallow.
“For now, though… I don’t think I’ll need it.”
“Of course. You have plenty to attend to as it is. And soon, your child will be born.”
“My child…”
“Who knows? Alicia may give birth to a daughter who resembles you.”
“A child not born of Rebecca?”
“What does it matter whose womb carried it? What matters is that your blood runs through it. Imagine it, my lord—another being in this world, beautiful and perfect, just like you.”
A faint smile spread across Zeppelin’s lips.
Even if not Rebecca’s, walking through his kingdom hand in hand with a child who resembled him… it didn’t sound so bad.
Seeing his smile, Octavio dropped to one knee.
He pulled the blanket up to Zeppelin’s chin and cupped his ears with both hands—just as he had done whenever the boy was frightened of thunder long ago.
Oddly, he didn’t feel angry at being treated like a child.
Zeppelin simply stared blankly up at Octavio.
Octavio smiled, baring one unusually sharp fang.
“Steel your heart, my lord. Lock it so no one can open it. If you want something, take it. If you don’t need it, discard it. And if you cannot have it—destroy it, so no one else may.”
“If I don’t need it, I discard it…”
Zeppelin burrowed under the blankets.
Wrapped in the layers of splendid covers, he looked like a lavish main dish, ready to be devoured.
Octavio licked his lips and lit an incense candle.
Soon, a faint fragrance filled the room.
The sound of Zeppelin’s uneven breathing followed.
Octavio watched the blankets rise and fall until the candle burned all the way down.
It was a sight he never tired of.
Morning sunlight streamed in as Zeppelin opened his eyes. He had slept in for once.
Sitting blankly at the edge of his bed, he clenched and unclenched his hands, reality feeling strangely dulled.
At length, he rose and, out of habit, made his way to the mirror room.
One look at himself there made him gasp.
His dazzling looks were unchanged, but all he could see was not what he held but what he had lost.
A pimple had sprung up under his chin.
Zeppelin froze in fear.
What if Rebecca’s illness was contagious?
It was only a blemish, but to someone who had almost never suffered such imperfections even in adolescence, it was nothing short of a catastrophe.
