What’s going on?
As I tried to finish taking off my slip, I decided against it, put on a robe over it instead, and slightly opened the bathroom door, so my body wasn’t fully visible.
As I opened the door, I locked eyes with Ruth, who seemed about to knock again, fist raised in mid-air. More precisely, I met my own eyes reflected in his violet pupils.
“…….”
“…….”
The two gazes, thoroughly interlocked, only broke when Ruth covered his mouth and turned his head away.
As I felt a strange sense of regret that my reflection was no longer in his eyes, he muttered in a heavily suppressed tone.
“That outfit…….”
“It’s just a robe. I was about to take a shower, so it felt awkward to put the dress back on.”
“I see……. Right, I was the one who told you to go ahead and shower first. My apologies for speaking out of turn just now. This, well… this situation is… unequivocally a first for me…….”
Ruth, who seemed at a loss for words and rambled aimlessly, soon let out a deep sigh. Then, after splashing some water on his face a couple of times, he looked relatively composed again.
“Anyway, what I was about to say is, I just asked a staff member, and it turns out showers in the guests’ rooms are available for use. So, while you take your shower here, I was planning to go and use the one there. Is that alright?”
“I don’t mind. Please do whatever is comfortable for you Your Majesty.”
“Alright. I’ll be going then.”
“Yes.”
The errand that interrupted my efforts to bathe seemed to be just that, for he turned around and walked away immediately after receiving my answer. At first glance, his stride seemed relaxed, yet on closer inspection, it was stiff.
Unable to hold back a burst of laughter, I watched Ruth moving away. It was the sight of his red ears peeking out beneath his swaying hair that caused it.
This is just like the old times.
The moment that brought me back to reality from my nostalgia, with lips curled into a circle, was after the dandelion-like platinum blonde hair disappeared from my view.
***
After showering, I put on the robe that was prepared and went out, only to see Ruth, who was in the same attire, sitting on the sofa and sipping wine.
The distinct muscle lines visible through the slightly open robe were quite erotic, but I did my best to ignore them and sat opposite him.
“What were you up to?”
“Ah, you’re out.”
At my question, Ruth, who had just realized my presence, murmured briefly with a look as if he had just woken up from a dream.
I diverted my gaze from his somewhat hazy irises to the wine bottle on the table, wondering how much he had drunk by himself while I was showering; one bottle was already empty.
At this rate, I thought, anyone would get drunk, especially since he drank wine without any snacks.
Muttering to myself, I suppressed the surging worry and, pulling the empty wine bottle towards me, spoke in as dry a tone as possible.
“Your Majesty, you seem to be drunk; maybe it’s time to stop…”
“I’m not drunk. My body is fine.”
“One can be drunk yet physically fine.”
“Then what part needs to be fine to not be considered drunk?”
“Well, probably the mind? If the mind is clear, then you’re not drunk.”
“Is that so.”
Upon hearing my response, Ruth let out a chuckle and soon sprawled over the table. His still slightly damp platinum hair cascaded beautifully before my eyes.
“It seems I am indeed drunk. My mind isn’t clear.”
“……”
I was unable to respond to his self-deprecating story, merely biting my lower lip in vain.
Ruth, who casually admitted to being drunk because his mind wasn’t clear, wasn’t actually drunk. That was a clear fact.
Then why would he say something like that? It seemed he hadn’t been this way before going to wash.
“Did something happen while you were washing?”
“No.”
After hesitating for a while, I cautiously asked, and he immediately denied it.
That made my doubts only grow, and I frowned.
“Then why do you have that look on your face?”
“What kind of face do I have right now?”
“You look tired.”
“Ah.”
After I hesitated and then succinctly described his current expression, Ruth let out a light sigh, as if he had been caught in a fault but was pretending to be unfazed.
“You have remarkable observational skills, young lady.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Do you also have a first love?”
Even in such a scenario, when I quietly called Ruth who was making an insincere joke, he suddenly blurted out an unexpected question.
I flinched at the word ‘first love’, then regained my composure and retorted.
“Why bring that up all of a sudden?”
“Just curious.”
I wonder if everyone goes through this. A corner of my heart ached at the murmur he added at the end of his words. It was unclear whether the pain stemmed from a healing wound or from forming a connection with him.
I swallowed the emotions surging up and slowly mentioned the word I had compulsively never spoken aloud before.
“I did, have a first love.”
“Oh. How was it?”
How was it?
I pondered a question I had never thought about. Then, I started listing expressions that came to mind, folding my fingers one by one.
“Beautiful, thrilling, happy, and more…”
“And then?”
Ruth urged me to continue speaking as my voice trailed off.
Seeing him like that, I barely managed to part my lips, which refused to open, and squeezed out a cracked voice.
“I was sad.”
“Sad, you say?”
“Yes. I realized too late, so I never got to confess my feelings.”
“…I see.”
My first love, which withered right before it could bloom, remained as a ghost named sorrow. Thus, whenever there was an empty space in my heart, it made its presence known, creating a fresh wound on top of an old one, and then another on top of that, ultimately leaving a scar.
Upon my honest confession, Ruth’s irises momentarily darkened. A thin shadow cast by his unflinching eyelashes fell across his face.
I quietly watched Ruth’s composure then straightened my posture and spoke.
“Do you also have a first love, Your Majesty?”
“Of course.”
“What was it like?”
“Just as you said, it was beautiful, exciting, and seemed happy.”
“Weren’t you sad?”
“Not really.”
“!”
I raised my eyebrows at the word Ruth spat out without hesitation. It was unexpected that his first love was not as sad as he claimed.
Every time he spoke about ‘that child’, the look in his eyes seemed to belong to someone consumed by sorrow. That’s why I had always thought that for Ruth, first love was synonymous with sadness, just as it was for me.
But it wasn’t.
As my thoughts reached that point, Ruth, who had been idly spinning his wine glass, added in a nonchalant tone.
“It was more about yearning than sadness.”
“Yearning…?”
“Yes, yearning.”
The more we talked, the more tangled the conversation became. Yearning didn’t seem to fit with the Ruth I remembered.
“Why did you yearn?”
“That child had eyes that were not eroded by reality. It was the first time I had seen such unblemished eyes.”
“…”
“It was not a look of wanting to live but one of wanting to save, I suppose. Anyway, every time I looked into that child’s blue eyes, I felt as though I was facing an angel descended from the sky.”
“It felt like I had come face-to-face with an angel who had descended from the sky. I pondered Ruth’s words and weakly clenched my robe. I never dreamed he looked at me this way. Maybe that’s why I felt a lump in my throat. It was uncertain what caused this feeling.
“So I was desperate. If a person with such eyes could assert my innocence, it would truly feel as though I were innocent.”
“Did you have a sin?”
“People, I killed them. Until my hands were dyed bright red.”
“…”
I was momentarily speechless at Ruth’s shocking confession.
I had known for a long time that he was good with a sword, and I wouldn’t be lying if I said I hadn’t considered he might have used that skill to kill people.
But to think it wasn’t just one or two, but enough to dye his hands bright red.
As I struggled to find the words amidst my shock, he twisted his lips as if he understood.
“I know. How terrible what I did was. I have no intention of making excuses, but I just wanted to survive.”
“…”
“I wanted to live. Desperately.”
A self-deprecating sincerity, unadorned with any pretense, settled in the heart like petals at dusk. Sometimes, a succinct sincerity had more appeal than thousands of words.
Thus, Ruth’s genuine wish to simply survive resonated deeply, like a small stone thrown into a calm lake. Not wanting to clumsily understand his shadow or awkwardly empathize, I fell silent. Observing my reaction, Ruth added a postscript.
“Since then, I’ve been unable to take another life. So, during the preparation for the rebellion, I put down my sword and focused more on mastering magic. As you know, taking a human life with magic isn’t forbidden.”
Of course, one could still kill with magic, but his lightheartedly completed addendum carried an implicitly heavy weight.
“Anyway, back to the main point, I wanted to be innocent. I was desperate to be innocent.”
“Ah.”
“And then one day, I saw that child crying. Crying as if they had seen the world collapse. Realizing that, I saw something.”
“What?”
Curiously observing Ruth, who leisurely brought a wine glass to his lips, I asked. Then, sipping wine of a color resembling his own iris, he coolly narrowed his eyes.
“That there’s no one who isn’t eaten away by reality.”
