Zeppelin hesitated, then spoke.
The quiet night had a way of drawing out words he could never say in daylight.
“Do you know why I hate this place?”
“No idea.”
“This is where Father first hit me. The lilac scent was especially strong that day. I was only…”
“I’m not curious.”
As if confessing sins, he tried to dredge up his painful past.
But Rebecca cut him off like issuing an eviction notice.
A sharp smile settled on her lips.
“Zeppelin, I have no interest in your stories. Just as you’re not curious about how I feel being infertile.”
Her voice was soft, without inflection.
For a moment, he thought she was scolding him.
But her eyes held no hatred, no resentment.
They were empty, as if her soul had been devoured.
That unfamiliar look unsettled him.
He realized she’d always worn that face and stared blankly into her hollow eyes.
“You… knew?”
“How could I not? Fabiola—your mother—was screaming loud enough to shake the estate.”
Recalling the day, Zeppelin pressed his closed eyes hard.
That woman—he could barely call her mother now—had shamelessly admitted everything.
“Because you never looked at me. It was obvious what you’d do to me once a child was born.”
She’d blamed him to the end.
He’d once pitied her—her marriage to his father hadn’t been her choice.
He knew she’d tried to elope with a lover, failed, and was practically sold to his father.
But now she was no different from his father.
A despicable thief trying to take what he loved, someone to be eliminated.
Opening eyes burning with resolve, he’d banished Fabiola forever, seizing her mansion and luxuries.
Whether she died wandering the streets was no concern of his.
He glanced at Rebecca.
Her expression was as detached as the air between them.
He’d expected her fragile self to crumble at the news, so he’d kept quiet.
He thought her crying in this state would be unbearable.
But now he wished she’d rage at him.
He wanted a person, not a doll-like human.
Rubbing his face, he asked.
“Why… do you seem unaffected?”
“By what?”
“Our dream is shattered. Yet you look as if nothing happened.”
Rebecca nearly sneered.
Our dream?
We never looked in the same direction. There was never an “us.”
She turned slowly.
“What changes if I scream and cry?”
“What?”
“Unless time rewinds, what happened to me won’t vanish. Ah, even then, it’d probably be the same…”
“Rebecca!”
Her face looked like she might disappear, so he grabbed her shoulders as if to hold an afterimage.
But the heat from her blisters burned through her thin clothes, and he yanked his hands away.
“Ah.”
Shocked, he stared at his hands.
He’d shown, right in front of her, that he didn’t want to touch her.
Revulsion at her state mixed with embarrassment—he didn’t know what expression to make.
Seeing a bead of cold sweat on his forehead, Rebecca smiled.
“Just admit it. The Rebecca you loved is gone.”
She stood.
Then, kneeling before him as if in final plea.
“So abandon me.”
“Rebecca, what are you saying… How could I abandon you!”
“No, you can. Zeppelin. Because I love you, I’ll leave happily.”
Her unfocused eyes murmured.
Her voice professing love rang hollow, like a recording.
“My love, to protect you, I must take myself from you. Please discard me now.”
Rebecca Devonshire, who loved Zeppelin Devonshire, burned fiercely, as on the last day of her past life.
In Zeppelin’s dazed blue eyes, she wished to turn to ash and vanish.
Awakening from hell, Zeppelin blinked his long lashes.
Shadows deepened under his eyes. He’d fallen asleep after returning from the garden.
“Awake, my lord?”
Octavio greeted him with a grin.
Still drowsy, Zeppelin mumbled.
“I had a terrible dream. Rebecca was infertile. Impossible, right? My perfect wife…”
“Regrettably…”
Octavio paused, then spoke clearly.
“It wasn’t a dream. You can no longer have an heir through Lady Rebecca.”
“Lies!”
Zeppelin squeezed his eyes shut.
It had to be a dream.
“Abandon me.”
Her whisper—everything—a dream.
Tomorrow, she’d greet him with her usual radiant smile.
It had to be.
He whimpered.
“What do I do now? I never imagined life without her. Octavio, you always have wise advice—tell me.”
A sly smile crept onto Octavio’s lips.
He wanted to be the sole light in Zeppelin’s dark life.
Since meeting Rebecca, Zeppelin smiled like a boy in sunlight.
Octavio hated it.
Now, that eternal sun was setting.
The age of night was coming.
Octavio pulled the lamp cord.
The bulb flickered, then glowed, casting a soft crimson through the shade.
Zeppelin winced at the sudden light.
“Just do as always. As I taught you.”
“Abandon Rebecca?”
“When people or things lose their use, discard them. If they’re eyesores, remove them. New ones abound.”
Zeppelin covered his eyes with his arm.
Hesitantly, he said.
“But I love Rebecca. How do I replace love?”
Octavio swallowed a sneer, answering calmly.
“What did you love about her?”
Zeppelin recalled.
Faded memories still brought a smile.
“Hair sparkling in sunlight, her pretty voice calling my name, her perfect nose and lips like mine, those eyes that steal your soul…”
“Touching. Where are they now?”
“…”
“You don’t love Rebecca. You loved her. Past love has lost its use—discard it. Only then can you move forward.”
“My future was always Rebecca. Where do I go?”
“Wasn’t your dream your own beautiful kingdom, not her? In my humble opinion, there are women more beautiful. It’ll take time, but I’ll find them.”
Zeppelin fell silent.
Octavio waited, smiling craftily until the bait was ready.
“For now… I don’t need that.”
“Of course. You have much to do. And soon, a child will be born.”
“My child…”
“Who knows? Alicia might bear a daughter resembling you.”
“Even if not Rebecca’s?”
“The womb’s origin doesn’t matter. Your blood does. Imagine—a beautiful being just like you, another in this world.”
A faint smile crept onto Zeppelin’s lips.
Even if not Rebecca’s, holding a child resembling him, walking his kingdom, wasn’t bad.
Seeing it, Octavio knelt.
He pulled the blanket to Zeppelin’s chin, covering his ears with his hands.
A childhood ritual when Zeppelin feared thunder.
Strangely, it didn’t anger him.
Zeppelin looked up blankly.
Octavio grinned, revealing a sharp canine.
“Guard your heart tightly—no one must open it. Take what you want, discard what you don’t. If you can’t have it, destroy it—so no one else can.”
“Discard what I don’t need…”
Zeppelin burrowed into the blankets.
Swathed in opulent layers, he looked like a delectable main dish.
Octavio licked his lips, lighting incense.
Soon, a faint scent filled the room.
Zeppelin’s breathing grew rhythmic.
Octavio watched the blanket rise and fall until the incense burned out.
A sight he never tired of.
* * *
Sunlight woke Zeppelin. A rare late sleep.
He sat dazed at the bed’s edge, clenching and unclenching his fists to feel reality.
Heading habitually to the mirror room, he gasped at his reflection.
His dazzling looks remained, but he saw loss more than beauty.
A pimple had erupted under his chin.
Terror struck.
What if Rebecca’s illness was contagious?
A mere pimple, but he’d rarely had blemishes even in puberty—a catastrophe.
