Beast Castle

“Episode 10”

For seven out of ten days, it rained, and for two days, the sky was covered in ashen clouds. Some days, the scorching sun beat down relentlessly, only to be followed by cooling rain in the afternoon.

Ray, wearing a large hat to shield herself from the gloomy rain, set out for a walk. In the flowerbeds skillfully arranged by the gardener, Mary, who followed along, was in charge of packing sandwiches.

But today, Clothan carried the sandwich basket. It wasn’t an easy stroll as it seemed. At any moment, he would pinch his own cheek and mutter under his breath, observing Ray with a suspicious glance.

And although it hadn’t been long, Clothan was the type to avoid the sunlight. He preferred stormy days or cool shade.

“Okay.”

And so Ray was happy. From the way he wrinkled his nose at the warm sun to the way he insisted on kissing her even when she was bored, and the way his eyes looked at her as if melting under the scent of flowers. Ray’s laughter grew louder, seeming to burst open flower buds from within her.

“What’s so good about it?”

Ray casually leaned on Clothan, who was shading himself from the sun with his hand. It was a privilege of comfortable lovers.

“Um… Clothan. Can I talk about something a little sad?”

Clothan, who adjusted his posture to make Ray more comfortable, expressed a wordless affirmation.

“No one has ever done that for me.”

“What?”

“Hating something.”

In Ray’s mind, a memory of her seventh birthday sneaked in. She had cried when her cousin snatched her plush doll, and then ran to her mother while she was talking to her aunt. Her mother, who had pushed her away to talk later, quickly gave in.

She had asked her aunt, her cousin’s mother, to return it, but to no avail. Instead, she returned home to her mother’s scolding all day long. Since her aunt and mother didn’t get along well, the mere noise was uncomfortable and unpleasant. And yet, her mother taught her not to complain about things she didn’t like.

“Even though I hate it, you do it because I like it.”

Why did such memories linger and stick in her bones?

“So that’s why I like Clothan.”

Clothan, who was gently combing Ray’s hair with his fingers, paused.

“Is there anything else Clothan doesn’t like?”

“Why? Will you bear with it?”

“As long as it’s not eating a whole raw carrot.”

“Behaving like this only encourages bad habits.”

“Bad habits?”

Sometimes Clothan spoke in vague terms. When he was in a mood, he could be stubbornly mischievous, but most of the time, he was affectionate. Every time he felt like a sharp thorn piercing her, she needed him. Clothan became increasingly indispensable day by day, while she had nothing to give in return.

“I really can listen.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t say it so easily.”

“Why?”

Clothan was silent for a long time. He seemed to be thinking about something before suddenly tidying up the sandwich basket. It was the end of the picnic.

Perplexed, Ray didn’t know what to do.

“Clothan?”

“Shall we head back now?”

“Oh. Uh. Should we?”

“Is there something else you want to do?”

“No. No, it’s okay.”

As Ray stepped away from Clothan’s embrace, she hastily grabbed her hat. Clothan, just as when they came out, took Ray’s hand, but walked away with a distracted air.

The mealtime that followed was the same. It was awkwardly quiet. It was a strange and empty conclusion to the picnic.

—

For the next few days, Clothan found it difficult to admire his handsome face due to the lord’s busy schedule. Mrs. Mary was busy baking apple pies, and even Philip, who used to greet him, was often out lately. Ray, who had no particular duties assigned to her, had a boring day.

Ray ended up reading a book. Soon, she could read simple history books by detaching the letters. The problem was her interest in the book. There was no humor to add to the origin of country names or place names, nor was there any humorous anecdotes associated with herbalism. As the content grew longer, Ray began to daydream.

“Huh?”

It was something she saw by chance outside the window. A flower bed drinking in the drizzling rain, with a blue rose blooming in the center. A sigh of admiration escaped Ray’s lips as she covered her restless cheeks with her hands. It was the flower she had secretly admired.

Captivated by the beautiful sight, Ray found an umbrella and went out into the puddle-filled muddy ground. It could have been a figment of her imagination soaked in rainwater.

But it was the actual touch of the flower petals. The color was as blue as if dyed with indigo. As the distance to the flower narrowed, the scent of the rainwater intensified with the fragrance of the flower.

“They say there’s no such thing as a blue rose…”

It was what Heishi had said to the little girl with pigtails who wanted a bouquet of blue roses.

Heishi, who had given Ray a lesson, treated her like a naive child. As Ray grew older and wiser, she accepted reality. Blue roses, as blue as the sea, were closer to a fantasy than a reality on this land.

“It’s like magic.”

Once, while looking at various flower beds, Ray had muttered to herself, “It would be nice to have blue roses among them.” Did a seed that listened to that conversation sprout on its own? Ray even imagined such a petty thing.

“Um.”

“Ah!”

Ray was startled and slipped on the grass. The umbrella flew away, and her carefully dressed dress was covered in mud.

The culprit was the gardener. But he, who politely held out his hat, also seemed flustered as he quickly ran over to help Ray up.

“Oh, it’s okay.”

Ray reassured the flustered gardener. She shook off the mud while pretending to be nonchalant. With an awkward expression, the gardener picked up the umbrella and followed her like a loyal servant, holding it over her head.

“Yes?”

Wringing out her wet hair, Ray suddenly exclaimed as if she had realized something.

“By the way, it’s the first time I’ve heard your voice.”

“Um. Yes.”

“Aren’t you asking if I like it?”

Ray smiled happily, while the embarrassed gardener blushed.

“I really like it. It feels like a dream come true.”

“Um. That. Reward.”

The gardener glanced briefly at Ray’s bewildered face. It certainly wasn’t a feeling of love. Ray, who happened to meet him, always shared sandwiches with him. She had never damaged the flowers she had been admiring for so long. She didn’t ignore or belittle him, who lived separately in the annex.

It was a petty action, but he was thirsty for human interest. That alone quenched the thirst he had struggled with for decades.

“But was it a variety of blue roses that exist?”

“Um.”

“It was not something achieved by human hands. It was a talent bestowed upon her by the master’s plea. But it was difficult to lie to Ray, who was sparkling with anticipation. As usual, the gardener chose to remain silent.

“Miss!”

Mrs. Mary, who leaned out the window, exclaimed in horror. Ray was covered in mud, soaked like a deer that had fallen into the river, dirtying herself all over. It was a mistake for her to stumble like a two or three-year-old who had just learned to walk. Ray felt embarrassed.

“Come in quickly!”

Mrs. Mary, who eventually came to the door to greet her, glared at the gardener. It was an expression that said, ‘You made her stumble on purpose.’ The stabbed gardener instinctively averted his eyes.

“I fell by mistake…”

“You must have been quite shocked. What should we do now?”

“It’s okay. I have spare clothes.”

“Don’t come out when it rains from now on. Don’t go out for no reason.”

And Mrs. Mary closed the door firmly. She didn’t forget to take one more look outside.

“Who needs to carve a tombstone inscription.”

“Yes?”

Mrs. Mary’s face, as she put firewood into the fireplace, was filled with worry.

“Miss.”

“What’s the matter?”

Remembering her rolling on the floor last time, Ray asked as she took off her clothes.

“You’re not better yet. Are you still in pain?”

“I told you I’m okay.”

“Is there a doctor in the village? Should I ask Clothan? Can he allow you to go out for a moment?”

Mrs. Mary laughed as if she had heard a joke.

“Going out! It’s been so long since I’ve heard that word.”

“How long?”

“Do people still bring croquembouche when they go on dates?”

“Oh, yes. Sometimes.”

Ray lied. To be precise, the trend was something her grandfather would empathize with.

Croquembouche was a representative menu item of Veronica, a famous patisserie, consisting of crispy bread topped with plum cream. However, Veronica Patisserie’s reputation had faded long ago, and the culture of enjoying desserts had declined due to the war. Nowadays, dating was more about arranging meetings between families, and chance encounters like in the old days were rare.

After that, Mrs. Mary asked a few more questions. Since they were all trivial and moldy anecdotes, Ray tried to hide her embarrassment.

She could have gone on without knowing. But once she had a doubt, even trivial questions sounded different.

Why was her time frozen at that moment?

—

Ray washed her hair with warm water and drank the tea Mrs. Mary had brewed. It was a comfort she hadn’t experienced in years. Moreover, the pajamas prepared separately reminded her of her mother.

On the day invited by the queen, when she went to the manor out of courtesy, her mother came back with a gift, which was a piece of cloth from a famous region known for its fabric. Her mother, who thought haughtily of the noblewoman, made pajamas out of it. The pajamas, which even the young Ray considered precious, were similar to what she held in her hands now. She put them on cautiously, afraid of any defects.

Then, the sound of the main gate being locked came through the window. It was Philip’s daily task.

Ray twisted her hair, which was not yet dry enough. Today, she was going to sleep deeply, so she wanted to prevent it from becoming messy.

She pulled the curtains to block out the moonlight. When she blew out the candles with a breath of cold air, her vision darkened from the front. A long yawn escaped her. Her body signaled that it was time to sleep, but as Ray wiped her eyes and headed for the bed, she stopped in her tracks.

The white blanket was bulging. Although the owner was standing upright, the bed seemed to be weighed down.

“Ah…”

It was an unexpected gift, not a brazen thief.

Underneath the blanket she peeled back little by little, Clothan was sleeping. He was sound asleep. Ray, who had been hesitating for a moment, rolled over to his side like a feather.

“Ray.”

“Yeah?”

She thought she woke him up. She pulled him into her arms, but his eyes were closed like shells, and his pronunciation was muffled by sleep.

“Clothan, did I wake you up?”

Although he was deeply asleep, there was no response coming back anymore. Only his steady breathing fluttered Ray’s bangs. Ray smiled quietly.

“Sleep well.”

After kissing Clothan’s cheek, Ray prepared for a peaceful dream. Clothan was a good sleeper. That’s what Ray thought as she drifted off to sleep.