“Episode 26”
I didn’t want to open my eyes. Why did the indifferent treatment from my parents, raised more with apathy than affection, suddenly feel like a blessing? If they hadn’t filled me from the beginning, I wouldn’t have noticed the empty spaces. Now, everything had slipped away, leaving only a hollow and flickering space.
Ray spent the day with an empty heart, only thinking about enduring. As a result, Clothan became terribly hateful. Why did he disturb a calm mind like a lake? Why tempt him to sit by his side? Why let him escape without remorse or conscience? Why did he do that? Why did he care so much?
Perhaps because he gave Ray a bad feeling. Maybe he didn’t want to sit and eat together, so he gave him an excuse.
Even just smelling food made him nauseous, perhaps from being fed too much.
All he did all day was lie on the bed, indulging in pessimistic thoughts, and staring at the door that no one visited. He understood the contradiction. But he hoped Clothan would relent just once. He wanted to kiss and laugh with him like before. He wished for a life where he could just do that. Why did it seem like his life was stuck in a quagmire?
When he was quiet, he had countless thoughts. Lately, he occasionally thought about Hash. He was the one who used to shout loudly that this mansion was the headquarters of monsters. He had even spat out absurdities. Now, looking back, it wasn’t all nonsense.
“Fool.”
Yet Hash seemed to have received a proper education, as he was very perceptive. Ray, who didn’t even know English, now sat in the mansion, consumed with food, livestock, and facing imminent separation from Clothan. But there was a problem. He didn’t want to leave this place.
Whether this was a den of monsters or a cozy nest, what Ray hoped for was Clothan opening the door and coming in. And saying this. Saying he was sorry and loved him so much. Saying he could pour out everything.
It was too foolish to put into words. It was just wishful thinking. He had already cut off his relationship with his lover, essentially becoming a host and a guest. And he was even living here without paying a single penny. The reason Ray didn’t want to leave the room was not only because he had nowhere to go if he was kicked out but also because he felt like he could never come back again.
Knock, knock. Right on time for dinner, a knock rang out. Soon, Mary’s voice, filled with concern, followed.
“Please don’t leave anything behind and eat it all.”
He knew it wasn’t her fault. Ray was just cowardly. He wanted attention from anyone, and now that Mary was involved, it felt pathetic. Tears welled up at such a ridiculous thought.
“There.”
He hadn’t left yet. Ray tentatively harbored hope. Perhaps Clothan was calling him, or maybe he was relaying Clothan’s words. There was a possibility.
“You might get sick if you stay here. Miss.”
No. Was he just daydreaming?
“Go for a walk or something.”
Yes. It was just a daydream. Feeling pathetic, Ray flipped the blanket over himself and writhed. There wouldn’t be any more. He would lock himself in the room, wither away, and die.
Mary’s footsteps, filled with hopelessness, gradually faded away. It was the end of another day spent crying until exhausted and falling asleep. Ray closed his eyes.
Blood-red wine is boiled with oranges, lemons, apples, and such. No sugar is added. Mary’s parents were too poor to afford it, and gradually, they developed a habit of not eating sugar. They felt guilty for being poor.
Anyone in the mansion who showed signs of a cold often boiled it, so the owner, Clothan, probably knew what it was. Mary carefully poured it into a teacup and calmly went up to the third floor where the owner resided.
“Master.”
The master’s appearance lately was not pleasant. Not that Ray was reliable, but compared to the master, he seemed tidy. It felt like a game. The more they missed each other, the sweeter it would be to meet, but by stubbornly flaunting their immature pride, they risked breaking apart easily.
The master revisited an experiment that had long been abandoned. It was amazing if something that had been botched thousands of times suddenly worked overnight. But the master’s disappointment wasn’t just that. He seemed to think opportunities were scarce, so he was hastily impatient, which didn’t match his nature.
As a result, alcohol increased. He also smoked consecutively after taking a brief hiatus. The pungent smell of potions and smoke mixed together, assaulting the nose when going up to the third floor. The master focused intently on his experiment without batting an eyelid. Occasionally, the sound of something breaking hinted at progress, but it didn’t seem to be unraveling smoothly.
“Master.”
There was a burn mark on his wrist. Mixing purple and green potions while smoking indicated something. Bloodstains were vivid on the sleeve.
“Get out.”
The concern was overshadowed by something else, as the wound on the master’s hand was healing. Besides the occasional curse, the master had never been bedridden before. Even Mary, who didn’t know the master’s identity, was surprised.
“The miss is sick.”
The master’s eyes, which had been scrutinizing the boiling potion, turned to Mary, then to the tray she held. His voice came out slowly.
“Where to?”
Mary was an ordinary woman. One of those common women who lived supporting her two clumsy sons and a rotten husband. Born and raised in a house where a dozen siblings scuffled, she was about to boast of living decently. One son was languishing for a few days. Then the second one started coughing up blood, and her husband, after feverish days, often collapsed.
Thanks to the belated diagnosis of a visiting doctor, they learned that even city folks were affected by the epidemic. The medicine was outrageously expensive, and ordinary villagers just bit their fingers and rolled their feet. But no one was as unlucky as Mary.
The whole family except her was stricken with the epidemic. Even praying in the church while clutching the armpits did nothing. Rather, believing the words of the fake priest and feeding them made them break out in rashes the next day. It was a harsh time in their already tough life.
Mary, who didn’t hesitate to do inn chores, happened to hear a rumor from a passing traveler. It was a story that there hadn’t been a lord for decades, so he was probably dead. They said it was a mansion where gold was piled up. If you had the courage to sneak in, refusal was only a matter of time. It sounded absurd now, but at a time when tears were a luxury, it was a sweet sound.
So Mary sneaked in secretly. Of course, she was caught by the owner, and after hearing her situation, the owner willingly gave her effective medicine. He mistook her for a forsaken angel hiding there. Until the owner asked for something in return.
“Even if I have two sons.”
“Yes, yes.”
“The flower garden is a mess these days. When one is fully grown, send it to me.”
It was a request for someone to handle menial tasks. It seemed absurd. After swearing and accepting the medicine, it was administered to the sick members of the household one by one. The results were remarkable. The fever began to subside the next day, and after ten days, her husband even joked about finding work. God had helped them. They lived each day in gratitude to the lord.
But people’s hearts are fickle. Even though only twelve had been taken, sending the eldest son to the mansion posed a dilemma. People around them were dubious about the existence of the lord, and even if they acknowledged it, they only spread unpleasant rumors. Hearing stories about a cursed ghost living there, it was unbearable to send the eldest son back after seeing him regain his color.
Only until he was fourteen, only until he was sixteen. They kept postponing it like that. They couldn’t muster the courage to bring up the subject of marrying off the eldest son when he reached the right age. After all, it was just a verbal promise, and deep down, they hoped the owner would be a generous person. And they convinced themselves. If someone lived in such a mansion, there must be someone capable of helping, even if it wasn’t the eldest son.
But one day, her throat started itching terribly. She scratched incessantly, to the point where blood would ooze even in her sleep. Even when her husband brought a doctor, the result was similar. It was a psychological problem. But when fangs grew, and her flesh softened like kneaded flour, the situation became serious.
Why she suddenly remembered the owner’s mansion, she couldn’t understand. It was clearly an intuitive feeling. With regret pressing in, Mary went to the owner that day and begged for mercy. But the owner informed her that she had been cursed, and as you know, there was no clear way to escape from this. She bid farewell to her family, inevitable parting ways.
At first, she resented the owner. She yelled that if she knew this would happen, she wouldn’t have taken the medicine, but when the owner cowered in fear, she even felt contemptuous of herself. Time healed the mental illness. To tell the truth, it didn’t resolve it; it just made her numb. If she thought of it as atonement, it was comforting.
She sacrificed herself so that her son and husband would have important tasks in God’s presence. Later, even that faded. She just lived a life like a water wheel that goes back when water falls.
“The miss is offering you a cold-relieving tea. Please open the door for me.”
The motivation for the owner, who had let go of the curse, to get up again. There was nothing to say even if she mocked him for being wicked. Her concept of good and evil had already become blurred. If their relationship became as close as it used to be and found stability, her life would be comfortable, and if they were to part again, she would live spinning the water wheel.
With Ray in the mansion, she felt like she was living a normal life as before. Mary hoped that the owner, who had regained his senses, would hold onto her tightly.
“The miss said your voice is boiling with fever.”
Was the mansion only filled with lonely souls on the brink of rotting? Mary handed the tray to the owner.
“If it’s you, sir, I believe you’ll open it.”
Mary knew the owner wouldn’t refuse. Even attempting to revise the experiment to lift the curse was already an enormous achievement. She hoped there would be meaningful results this time too. Mary smiled bitterly.
He woke up intermittently and said, “I’m hungry,” then fell asleep again because there was nothing to do. Nightmares persisted, tormenting Ray. The most terrifying dream was being tied up in a sack and driven out of the mansion. He cried, calling out Clodan’s name, but he was told to leave because he was sick of it. Then Ray regretted. He regretted not asking anything. He regretted not being reckless and angry. Dreams always ended with regret and contempt for oneself.
Should he approach him tomorrow and pretend nothing happened? But the probability of being casually ignored was high. Just imagining it made him tear up. As tears flowed away, rough fingers stole the place of tears. It was the warmth of a person. Ray woke up immediately.
“……”
“……”
It was Clodan. He wanted to pinch his arm to see if it was a dream. But he only looked with his eyes, afraid he would wake up if he did. Clodan was holding a teacup. They made eye contact silently, and then Clodan placed his hand on his forehead as if checking for a fever. It was real. It was really Clodan. A wave of sadness flooded over Ray all at once.
“Why are you here?”
His hand was immediately withdrawn. Ray staggered to his feet and approached Clodan standing by the bedside.
“Leaving?”
He thought he could stop being lovers if he threatened and insisted. He didn’t know it would end up being nothing at all. Even though he had nothing, he erased their intertwined relationship with his own hands. Even if he wanted to threaten more, there wasn’t enough evidence.
“Not going.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t seem sick.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Clodan pushed the teacup towards Ray’s face. It was a wine-colored tea with floating fruits.
“Drink.”
Ray accepted the cup and took a sip as he emptied it. It tasted bitter like wine. Would he leave after he finished it? He hesitated as he sipped the tea to a more palatable level. Clodan waited silently.
“C- Clodan.”
When he had almost finished the cup, Ray tried to coax him. He knew it was futile. Ray furrowed his brows and held his stomach.
“My stomach hurts.”
Cadan’s hand immediately rested on his stomach. Slowly drawing circles around his belly button, he then stroked it, and then Clodan spoke.
“It hurts more here.”
“My shoulders! And my back is stiff too. My calves ache. And I have no appetite. I think I’m sick.”
He was caught. Clodan realized it was nonsense and looked at Ray, then grabbed his wrist firmly. Desperately pressing their lips together, they kissed passionately, seeking solace.
Ray covered the hand that grabbed his cheek to prevent him from escaping. Now he felt fulfilled. Affection that pushed away hatred and despair grew larger. This was it, what he had always wanted. To love more, cherish more, and be crazier. And thus, forever.
Whether he was a monster or anything else didn’t matter. If he was such a tender and loving monster, wouldn’t it be okay to be devoured? After all, the world didn’t know him, and everything he needed was here. He had never dreamed of someone better.
Ray wrapped his arm around Clodan’s neck and pushed him onto the bed. They had to infuse the bedroom, where his scent had disappeared without a trace, with love again. After a few days, Ray could genuinely smile again.
