Adopt 164

Episode 164

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That evening was more delightful than any we’d had in a long time.

Dame Cherry hurried back so quickly that she didn’t even bother to brush the snow off her shoulders, yet, as always, she ate her meal in silence.

“So, the knights tossed me up into the air, and I flew so high that I nearly met Lady Belinda’s eyes from up on the second floor!”

Leaving out the part where I scolded the northern knights so harshly that their ears must have bled, Leo eagerly chirped on, recounting the events of the day to Dame Cherry.

Cherry, listening seriously to Leo’s tale, only wavered when an unfamiliar tea and a different dessert were brought out.

At the same moment, Leo’s gaze naturally gravitated towards the honey cake, its layers stacked with honey and cream.

As if by mutual agreement, the two of them sat up straight and began eating the cake side by side.

From the grand fireplace came the sound of burning logs, and the Cerberuses, evidently fond of the northern hearth, lounged lazily among the dancing flames.

It was so peaceful a moment, I wished I could capture it on canvas and hang it on a wall of Blanchezier, to savor again and again.

Yet the time unwoven by any canvas slips away endlessly, like grains of sand running through my fingers.

Once I confirmed that Leo was fast asleep, I draped a shawl over my shoulders, took a lantern, and made my way back to the drawing room.

As I expected, Dame Cherry, dressed lightly, had sunk deep into a comfortable armchair and fallen asleep.

It was true, as Sir Penadel had said, that in the past months our lord could count the peaceful nights of rest on one hand.

I moved carefully and took a seat opposite him.

He must have been exhausted, for even with his keen sense of hearing, he didn’t so much as stir.

Instead of waking him, I opened the book I had brought and waited for him to wake as I read.

How much time passed, I could not know.

Before dawn had broken, in that hour when the world is at its darkest,

I happened to glance up—and Dame Cherry was already watching me with clear, wakeful eyes, devoid of any sign of slumber.

He looked at me the way an explorer might, upon stumbling across a rare, ancient creature deep within a forest.

Perhaps, fearing I might flee at the very sound of his breathing, he stayed utterly motionless, like a still life.

I offered Dame Cherry a gentle smile.

Although the red glow of the fire cast shadows over his face, his blue eyes shone glacial and piercing in their clarity.

“Congratulations, Dame Cherry. Your eyes have returned to their true color.”

At last, Dame Cherry exhaled deeply, his shoulders heaving as if waking from a dream.

As I watched him lightly brush his fingertips over the corner of his eye, I asked, with feigned nonchalance,

“They say one can resist the curse of the demonic beast by recalling what is most precious. I’m curious—what did you think of?”

What could he have remembered, that made the curse, which had ruled him for months, disappear without a trace?

“Nothing… I didn’t think of anything.”

His answer felt rather anticlimactic. I was just leaning back against the sofa, lowering my gaze once more to the book, when—

“I simply looked at you, my lady.”

“…”

My eyes wandered absently over the passage detailing the Valuaishten family’s otherworldly abilities.

[Their abilities are deeply tied to mental strength… and the author dares write that only ‘true love’ can eternally free them from the chains of the curse.]

I closed my eyes tightly, then opened them, and faced Dame Cherry with an expression that betrayed nothing.

If my face had turned red, it was surely the firelight’s doing.

“Well, I suppose I am quite beautiful—enough to lift a curse.”

“Yes, it must be lo—”

“Just laugh. I’m joking.”

Dame Cherry’s lips twitched into a creaking, awkward smile.

At that, I let out a sigh-like chuckle and closed the book.

And, as if continuing the previous conversation, I spoke.

“Today I entered the Black Swan chambers.”

“I heard from the head housemaid. She said you stayed there for quite some time.”

“Yes, I saw many things. The Valuaishten family tree, the origins of the Barrier Wood, and even the story of the accursed child with red eyes.”

Dame Cherry showed no visible reaction.

Perhaps because he once anticipated the day would come.

After all, it was he who had granted me permission to see all corners of this castle.

“Leo…”

Suddenly, my voice caught, and I closed my mouth.

I became faintly dizzy, thinking how many miraculous coincidences must have entangled themselves in the words I was about to utter.

“Is Leo… the eldest son of the late Grand Duke, your nephew?”

“That is what I suppose.”

“…And it’s true, then, that like you, he was born with red eyes?”

My question not only touched on Leo’s origins, but also pierced the secrets held by Dame Cherry.

Even so, Cherry answered without a hint of hesitation.

“That is correct.”

Such a curt, almost hollow answer left my shoulders slack.

There were so many things I wanted to ask. Yet at the same time, I felt a contradictory desire to know nothing more.

After much thought, I managed at last to address him by name.

“Dame Cherry.”

Now I knew what I wished to ask.

Looking straight at him, I said,

“Tell me about your childhood.”

This was where we needed to begin.

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“Remember this: Whatever feelings you may have, never give them a name.”

That maxim was the shackle of reason that governed Caesar Valuaishten’s life—the only inheritance and affection his father bequeathed.

Before Caesar ever received a name, he was but the accursed child, confined within the northern manor of Valuaishten.

The child’s quarters were the most opulent and grandest in the north, yet his world was far too small.

From outside, he often heard the weeping of his mother—a face known only through brief glimpses.

“My own child, and yet I can’t even hold him, not once… What wrong has that poor boy ever done?”

“You never know what moment the young master might become a demon. They say there was once a mother who embraced a cursed child, only to have her throat torn out. My lady, it’s for the young master’s own good as well. You must be strong.”

For as long as the boy could remember, only his father and Sir Penadel, his father’s lieutenant, were permitted to enter that room.

The Grand Duke would sit his young son down and repeat, always,

“If ever you hear a beguiling voice, ignore it. Never surrender yourself to such things. Feelings will do nothing but ensnare you, steering you towards ruin.”

“What are feelings?” the child would ask, innocent eyes wide, lips pressed tight.

The Grand Duke replied heavily, with pain in his voice,

“Everything you sense within you. So, my son—deny every emotion you feel, and live only by the duty of the Valuaishten line. Only then can you hope to overcome the curse.”

Anger numbs the reason, and would lure the boy towards monsterhood.

Sorrow breeds melancholy, and would lure the boy towards monsterhood.

Joy excites the spirit, and would lure the boy towards monsterhood.

Desire goes by many names, and would lure the boy towards monsterhood.

Thus, the Grand Duke raised his young son in the strictest discipline of emotional restraint.

Better to live for justice alone, then his soul would not be corrupted and become a demon.

The Grand Duke’s efforts seemed successful.

By the time the child turned six, he showed no signs of becoming a demon, but neither did his eyes return to their true color.

One day, a stranger visited the child’s room.

He bore the same black hair and blue eyes as the Grand Duke, but at once looked utterly different.

“I am Theodore. This year I’m fifteen—Father’s eldest son, and your brother. You may call me brother.”

The child stared at the man who called himself his brother, with a face blank of emotion.

The man was too close; the proximity made him uneasy.

The way he crouched down, trying to meet his gaze, disturbed him.

His constant smiling face, somehow…

The child shook his head.

‘No, that’s an improper thought. Improper thoughts will make me a monster.’

Shaking off the thought as he was taught, the boy offered a stiff, formal greeting.

“Pleased to meet you, brother.”

At that, Theodore swept the child up into a sudden embrace.

“…!”

“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

Feeling a hug for the first time, the child panicked and tried to escape the man’s arms.

At first, he thought the man meant to kill him. That he would one day become a demon and kill others, so best to kill him here and now.

But the man’s arms were, in truth, easily thrown off by a frightened child.

Flushed red, his resistance faltering, the boy managed, with trembling fear in his voice, to cry out for the first time,

“Let go—let me go! You—you never know, I might bite your throat—!”

Only then did Theodore’s grip loosen.

The child scrambled away like a wild animal, crawling under the desk.

His heart thundered.

Perhaps it was the first sign of turning into a monster.

With knees drawn up to his chest, his head bowed, the boy struggled to steady his heart.

‘It’s nothing. I must feel nothing. I will never, ever turn into a demon.’

But Theodore persevered.

“No need to worry. I’m strong enough now to hold you. I won’t ever die by your hands—so please, come out, alright?”

“…”

“Come to think of it, you don’t even have a name yet, do you? I’ll need a name if I’m to call my little brother. What would be good? Why don’t we choose one together?”

The child shut his ears to block out the sound.

Still, Theodore’s voice, honey-smooth, slipped right through to the boy’s heart.

“There’s a secret I wanted only my little brother to know, but I suppose I’ll have to keep it to myself.”

In the end, it was the word “secret” that caught him.

He wasn’t really leaving, was he? The moment the boy peered hesitantly from beneath the desk,

Theodore whisked him up in a hug and burst into laughter.

“Gotcha! You’re still just a kid. Can’t believe you’d fall for such a simple lie.”

The child’s face contorted in shock, his shoulders trembling.

A lie. According to all his lessons, that was one of the gravest wrongs.

Theodore, though embarrassed, quickly shifted his gaze from the plainly crimson eyes staring up at him and cheerfully changed the subject.

“Alright. From now on, I’ll call my little brother ‘Cherry.’ See? Because your eyes are as bright and red as cherries and look so pretty.”

“I don’t have a name yet. And Cherry is the name of food—not a person’s name.”

“Whose wits did you inherit, being so clever? Hm? Is it mine?”

“You didn’t give birth to me, so I can’t have inherited yours, Brother.”

Paying no mind to the retort, Theodore rubbed his cheek against the boy’s.

The boy hated both the name Cherry and the brother who bestowed it, yet as he had been taught, not a single glimmer of emotion crossed his face.