Seo-ah sometimes thought that it would have been far better if she had never been born.
This life—one she had never wished for—why, for what reason, had she been born into it at all?
Some said that life itself was a gift. But her life was not a gift. It was closer to a disaster.
A disaster was something that simply happened. Not only that, but something that inflicted immense damage on those around it.
And then, her disaster-like life swept over—
“My child.”
Fear seized her.
“My child, lift your head.”
If she lifted her head, would she not see the face of someone she no longer recognized?
“Lift your head and look at this father.”
She was so afraid of that possibility that she could not bring herself to raise her head.
Warm hands cupped her cheeks. Large, gentle hands lifted her lowered face. A smiling face came into view, eyes filled with wisdom as they looked down at her.
What her disaster-like life had swept over—what had been swallowed by it—
“My beautiful daughter.”
Was it not you?
Seo-ah opened her eyes.
Her mind was dazed as she sat up. She rose awkwardly, like a weed that had sprouted in a place where it was never meant to grow, and stood there for a long while without moving.
Only gradually did her scattered consciousness return, carried back by the sound of rain reaching her ears.
She parted the tightly drawn curtains just enough for the outside to rush in with a chill. The sky was dark, making it impossible to tell the hour. A mist clung thickly to the forest surrounding the mansion, and the color of the distant annex looked deeper and heavier than usual.
When she cracked open the fogged window, the distant rain suddenly felt close. Cold air laden with moisture and scattered raindrops struck her face, stirring her dulled senses awake.
“……”
Then, like a tidal wave breaking through a collapsed dam, the events of the previous night came rushing back.
The scenery beyond the window blurred, and her focus narrowed to the droplets of water clinging to the glass. The world seemed to shrink to the size of those droplets. In a world with no room for her body, Seo-ah held her breath.
A world shaking violently.A pain she could never grow accustomed to.
And eyes—strikingly clear, vividly blue even in the darkness.
At times, when their gazes met, she found herself thinking something she could not explain.
That he, too, had been engulfed by the disaster that was her.That the disaster she carried had swallowed him as well.
Where had it all gone wrong?
That question, as always, led her back to the beginning of her life. And the thoughts that followed inevitably brushed against something she most wanted to hide.
Just then, another sound mixed into the white noise of the rain.
Her blurred vision sharpened instantly. Seo-ah’s gaze turned toward the mansion’s garden, where the rain was falling heavily.
From beyond the mist-shrouded forest, a black carriage emerged.
Her heart dropped.
Still standing motionless, Seo-ah bit down on her dry lips, flinching at the sharp pain. She traced her lips with her fingertips. The spot she touched felt cool.
Her lips were swollen—injured from biting them hard enough to endure the pain.
At that moment, men dressed in black suits lined up at the entrance of the main building. Unfazed by the downpour, they bowed deeply as the carriage climbed the ramp and came to a stop at the entrance.
An umbrella was raised over the carriage door. A moment later, the person hidden beneath it stepped into view.
A man wearing only a shirt—unlike the others.
Seo-ah instinctively hid behind the curtain. The hand hovering near her lips slowly fell.
From deep within her chest, which felt hazy like fog, a suppressed urge stirred.
She wanted to run.
But where would she go?
The impulse, which had barely managed to surface at all, fell silent. The place where it had gathered was empty.
It felt as hollow as a night without substance.
She found herself wishing that something—anything—would wrap around her body tightly enough to break it. Perhaps then, even if she shattered and shriveled, this unbearable emptiness would finally disappear.
Seo-ah closed the window and turned away from the curtain, forcing her reluctant feet to move.
Oscar’s voice, telling her to go to the lounge, clung to her like mud on a tidal flat. Having been able to do nothing but endure him the night before, she had never received confirmation of whether she was even allowed to remain here.
She hurriedly slipped on her outer garment and left the room.
The moment she opened the door to the hallway; she sensed heavy footsteps drawing nearer. As she walked toward them, her own steps felt unbearably heavy, as if each one were dragging against the floor.
Seo-ah stopped. She forced her retreating feet to move, desperately trying to compose herself. But when she reached the landing of the central staircase and saw him ascending the steps, her body reacted before her mind did, pressing itself against the wall.
The pounding of her heart filled her ears, drowning out even the sound of the rain.
He continued to draw closer while she held her breath. His footsteps seemed to trample not only the frantic rhythm of her heart but also the shallow breaths she was suppressing.
She couldn’t remain hidden forever.
Just as she had the night before, Seo-ah gathered what little courage she could. She pulled herself away from the wall and turned toward Oscar as he climbed the stairs. At the same time, a shadow as large as a mountain range brushed past her.
There was no time to greet him.
Whether he truly hadn’t noticed her hiding like a ghost along the wall, or whether he had noticed and chosen to ignore her, she couldn’t tell. Madam Barbara and the men following Oscar showed no reaction either.
He was like the Grim Reaper, leading the figures behind him as if they were fixed posts. They looked like people who belonged to an entirely different world—one she could never enter.
She couldn’t bring herself to call out.
The courage she had gathered scattered instantly, crumbling like damp sand left to dry. As it dispersed, even her gaze grew heavy. Her eyes fell to the floor, staring at the remnants of courage that had turned to dust.
Then the heavy footsteps stopped.
As if in a chain reaction, every step halted, and the sound of rain enveloping the mansion suddenly surged closer.
Swoooooosh.
The sound of countless raindrops striking the ground felt as though they were pouring directly onto her.
Seo-ah slowly raised her eyes.
The clamorous rain receded the moment he turned to look at her.
Oscar had stopped at the entrance to the hall. Without turning his body, he looked at her over his shoulder. One by one, the sturdy men behind him also turned, following their master’s gaze.
Her vision went white. Fortunately, her mouth moved before her thoughts could stop it.
“I heard you coming…”
“………”
“Welcome back.”
She felt as though a mocking voice would surely follow.
You have such good manners.
After replying indifferently, as if letting it flow away, the man who seemed like he would disappear without looking back, for some reason, simply watched her. Then, without a word, he turned his head forward.
“………”
It seemed he had no intention of acknowledging her greeting.
Seo-ah, feeling that she should at least have been answered, could only stare at his retreating back, a sense of helplessness weighing on her chest. But just as he seemed about to leave without a glance, Oscar turned back once more.
He looked at her—frozen, uncertain, unable to speak—and spoke in a low voice.
“Look at me for a moment.”
“………”
He said only that, then resumed walking as if nothing had happened.
Yet those who had been following him did not move.
Madam Barbara, who had been standing directly behind Oscar, remained still. And because she did not move, neither did the others.
As Oscar disappeared beyond the hall, Barbara turned and looked at Seo-ah.
Under the unspoken pressure of that gaze, Seo-ah stepped forward as if enchanted. The burly men standing behind Madam Barbara moved aside one by one, retreating like guardian statues to clear a path.
Only Madam Barbara and Simon remained.
Seo-ah walked toward Madam Barbara, her pale hands clasped tightly together. As she passed through the corridor of bodies, she unconsciously held her breath. When she passed Simon—who continued to stare at her intently—Barbara turned toward the hall.
She led Seo-ah to the Marquis’s door—the door she had been warned never to enter without permission.
The massive door, towering easily twice a person’s height, opened without a sound.
“Enter.”
From beyond the ornate doorway, a familiar cold seeped out.
Fear churned violently in her chest, but it was not enough to stop her.
Seo-ah stepped across the threshold Madam Barbara had opened.
The cold pierced deep into her bones, making her shoulders draw in instinctively. Yet it wasn’t only the cold that made her body recoil.
The memories of the previous night surged back, layered over one another, impossible to push away.
—