Beast Castle

“Episode 34”

The day began with a disguised calmness, as if a raging fire hadn’t spread. Ray took his seat at the table, engaging in conversation with Mrs. Mary as usual.

A tidy breakfast was served, and Mrs. Mary was relieved when she mentioned that the gardener was unharmed. Everything seemed normal. Even when Clodan arrived for breakfast, there were no particular issues. However, tensions arose between the two during the conversation.

“I don’t want sauce.” “Do as you please.”

Closan, who was holding the sauce spoon, put it down abruptly. They usually had a harmonious mealtime, sharing and enjoying delicious food with each other due to their similar tastes. But when Ray expressed his refusal first, it marked the beginning of an uneasy day. Mrs. Mary, who had been busy preparing dessert in the kitchen, sighed deeply at the tense atmosphere.

Nevertheless, as the day progressed, the master seemed to regain some sense, but Ray’s demeanor turned as cold as ice. Witnessing this, the master’s behavior became even more indifferent. It was a vicious cycle.

“Why are you slamming the dishes, Clodan?” “Is that also a complaint?” “I don’t want to hear it.” “If you don’t like this and that, why don’t you just leave? It seems like everything bothers you, but I think it’s me who’s bothered.”

It was a pitiful sight, the spread of food between the two glaring at each other from a distance. Although the dishes were meticulously prepared, from the seasoning to the dessert, they seemed to lose their luster due to the unpleasant exchange of words. It would have been better to serve the food to a grumbling child than to a person who barely touched it.

“Mrs. Mary.”

“Yes, yes?” Mrs. Mary felt deeply stung, whether it was due to unkind thoughts or not.

“You ate well.” It seemed Ray was the first to escape. With a faint smile, Ray pulled out his chair, and even Clodan, who tossed the fork, started speaking.

“Mary.” “Yes…”

“Did you tell Philip?” Mrs. Mary only timidly protruded her chin. She racked her brain for an excuse, but there was no follow-up questioning. Clodan just smiled and remained silent. His gaze lingered on Ray, who had yet to say a word.

Mrs. Mary felt suffocated. She wondered if it was a wise decision to intervene in the situation.

Mary chose several pieces of thin and elegantly patterned stationery, selecting the whitest one among them. This was the method devised by Mrs. Mary herself. Inspired by her past relationship with her husband who lived in the neighboring town, it involved conveying one’s inner thoughts through writing instead of speaking.

Conversing with someone involved nuances in tone, voice, and facial expressions, which could lead to misunderstandings if not synchronized. Mrs. Mary believed that expressing oneself through writing, free from such nuances, would be better. If this method failed, there was nothing left but silence.

With a warm cocoa in hand, Mrs. Mary handed the fine stationery to Ray. “Why?” However, a completely unexpected response came back. Ray, who received the cocoa like medicine, held the stationery without looking at it.

“If it’s difficult to say aloud, writing it down here might help ease your mind.” “Did Clodan ask you to do this?” Ray was by the fireplace window, while Clodan was secluded in the study. In order to bridge the gap between these two, Philip and Mrs. Mary were ready to become doves willing to fly. However, Mrs. Mary, who couldn’t even retrieve the letter, encountered a cold barrier.

Now that it had come to this, they had to wait for Clodan, the master, to send a letter first. However, it was doubtful whether Philip, who was eager to please the master, could bring it to fruition. “Clodan probably won’t even read it. He’ll probably tear it up out of spite.” “He would never do that. How much he cares for you…” “He doesn’t love me.” Nonchalantly sipping on cocoa, but her trembling hand holding the cup betrayed her true feelings. Mrs. Mary, feeling sorry, left the room first. “Don’t think like that.” “It’s not just thinking. It feels like it’s true.” Ray’s subsequent words were cynical. If he were in the same situation, he wouldn’t treat someone he loved like that, and above all, Clodan had never explicitly said he loved her. Where did the gentle and tender lady go, who had become someone else overnight, drinking cocoa with a changed demeanor. “Um, miss.” Unable to make excuses or give up like this, he opened his mouth to express some sympathetic consolation, but the creaking sound of stairs signaled Philip’s descent.

Seeing Philip’s stern face, Mrs. Mary naturally assumed he would come back empty-handed. After all, she had already given up hope.

However, what Philip pulled out from his pocket was a piece of stationery with a yellow rose pattern. Mrs. Mary wondered why he brought something different from the white stationery. Before Mrs. Mary could close her gaping mouth, Philip placed the letter near Ray without hesitation.

“If you wish to reply, you can leave it under the vase next to the stairs,” he said.

Ray, with an air of mockery rather than anticipation, glanced at the letter with narrowed eyes. Even though he didn’t dare touch it, the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his eagerness to read it. Mrs. Mary and Philip exchanged glances and nodded as if they had planned it.

“Well then, I’ll go first since I have some business left,” Ray said. “It’s cold outside, so please come in.”

Ray picked up the letter as if there was no other choice and walked away. But as he walked, his pace quickened. The rapid sound of footsteps echoed through the mansion. The lady who had sneezed discreetly earlier seemed to have been a mere illusion.

“Mary.” “Yes?”

“The master knows everything.” “What?”

Philip’s expression hardened as he descended the stairs. Mrs. Mary was more worried about being implicated with the gardener, but Philip assured her that the master hadn’t given any specific orders. He only mentioned that drawing a yellow rose on the stationery was the only unusual thing he did.

“I really don’t know,” Mrs. Mary said.

She wasn’t sure which direction things were heading. But Mrs. Mary, who had changed her mindset positively, praised Philip for his efforts. She thought that the result was close to success. She thought it was okay to change her attitude and try again. Being alive and well was better than anything else.

***

Hiding in a safe corner, Ray fidgeted nervously before opening the letter. He didn’t want anyone to see the emotions that might surface as he read it. Was it an apology? Or was it a notification of the end? Seeing the innocent yellow rose on the cover, it didn’t seem like it contained any harsh words to end their relationship.

Taking a deep breath, Ray cautiously tore open the letter.

[Ray,

When do you plan to return the book you borrowed from me? I remember everything that belongs to me. Every time I see an empty space in the library, I remember what book used to be there. I’m not sure if you remember the first time I showed you the secret room. I never treat anything I cherish carelessly, and I certainly don’t share with others. How do you feel about that? Am I strange?]

It wasn’t a love-stricken or apologetic letter. It appeared to be a simple demand, but it resonated deeply with Ray. He couldn’t ignore it. Taking the pen tucked away in the corner, he scribbled a reply with crooked handwriting.

[To Clothan,

Forgive the strange spelling. This is my first-ever letter. Of course, I remember the secret room you showed me. It was the day we first spoke, wasn’t it? The things left there were obviously precious to you. However, Clothan, I am not an item to be locked away in a secret room. Just because I received a flower picked from the garden doesn’t mean I can share it with you. My heart has always belonged to you.

Even when I received that flower, I was thinking of you. Clothan, I’m not as clever as you are. I’ve barely grasped the art of writing. That’s why it’s been hard for me to understand you. But I understand, I think, and I miss you. Now I’m waiting.

Do you really think the things that make me angry actually upset me?]

The brief response he intended to send had suddenly grown longer. This was his feelings towards Clothan. No matter how hard he tried to contain it, it exceeded twice the length of the letter Clothan sent. Ray debated whether to send the letter or not. But it was clear that Clothan’s letter was intentional. Mrs. Mary was right. While words spoken aloud might provoke anger, written thoughts could be more composed.

Following Philip’s advice, he placed the folded letter under the vase, and strangely, it disappeared after lunch. And again, just before dinner time, a reply slipped under the door. No one was seen delivering it. It was eerie, as if the wind had taken on the role of a messenger.

Nervously, Ray opened the letter while sipping mint tea to calm his nerves. Once again, it was on yellow rose-patterned stationery.

[I want to hear it.

The voice that tells me you love me.]

[I think he’s greedy. Yet, Clothan was a man who knew how to wield silence as a weapon. Was his request for compromise when we first became lovers meant something like this? But it’s not spiteful, strangely not spiteful at all.

As I imagine Clothan sitting down to write, succumbing to tender emotions, I’m overcome with a sense of vulnerability. Ray, carefully pressing his lips to the paper, then picking up the pen he had left aside.

[If you want to hear, come to where the yellow roses bloom tomorrow morning.]

Ray neatly folded the letter and placed it under the vase. It was a cool evening breeze. Ray laid Clothan’s letter on the empty seat next to him. The hatred he had been scratching at out of loneliness melted away like midsummer ice.

Like a fledgling learning to fly, up and down. Can a person become so resentful that they weaken at a single unexpected word? Could it be that everyone who followed love until now went through such laborious efforts?

Certainly not his parents. Married for the sake of the household through strategic alliances, they never argued, but neither were they deeply in love with each other. It seemed fitting as children to prioritize the etiquette of a married couple.

Mother loved the fortune that would give her strength in the eyes of honor and relatives, and Father, with few words, I’m not sure. Probably business. Judging by how it was buried in the soil after losing it. Hesh loved clothes and dignity. That’s what Ray had been hesitating about all along.

Tomorrow morning, he envisions Clothan standing in the yellow rose field. What kind of reaction will he show when Ray speaks as much love as he desires and embraces him? That night, Ray fell asleep with a smile, a long night with the comfort of a reassuring letter by his side.