The Butterfly in My Hand
Emmerville, the capital of Edelberg, was a city of art with a meaningful history and beautiful scenery.
As there are always villas of the wealthy in such places, Rosevel House was also one of the villas of the prestigious Campbell family.
The classic building was built on a hill overlooking the river, and not only did it have a fantastic view, but the forest path leading across the bridge to the villa was also very beautiful.
However, because Lord Campbell, the owner of the villa, mainly traveled between the capital and the main castle, it was rare for members of the Campbell family to come here.
The people who used Rosevel House were mainly poor relatives of the Campbell family or his artist friends.
A few months after the Delmore War on the Western Continent ended, a young woman moved into the empty Rosevel House.
She lived with a minimum number of servants and did not reveal herself to the outside world, but nevertheless, people could occasionally see her strolling through the forest paths, on the bridge, or among the wildflowers on the riverbank.
People who initially showed interest soon turned their attention away from her worn-out clothing and makeup-free face.
Thinking that, as always, she must be someone indebted to the Campbell family.
It was a late spring day with warm sunshine.
A season pleasing to the eye, where deep green leaves and fully bloomed flowers harmonized.
Ibella was walking along the forest path with her attending physician, Berne, who was visiting Rosevel House.
Today was the day of her psychological counseling therapy, but since the weather was nice, they decided to take a walk and converse.
“It has already been three months since you stayed here; are you not going back, Young Lady?”
“I don’t want to go back yet. The capital is suffocating.”
At Berne’s question, Ibella answered in a bitter tone.
She was staying here without revealing her identity as the only daughter of the Campbell family, the owners of Rosevel House.
She had participated as a nursing officer in the Delmore War on the Western Continent, which lasted for the past year, and upon her return, she had become a hero.
It was not only the first time a noble lady had participated in a war, but also because her achievements as the general manager of the field hospital were highly evaluated.
She left the capital because the public gaze was burdensome, but that was not the only reason.
“I heard you rejected His Highness’s proposal again this time?”
“I couldn’t help it. I can’t marry him when I have no feelings for him.”
As the story of the king came up, a dry breath escaped on its own.
Just as burdensome as the public eye was King Philip’s feelings toward her.
Philip, who had been hovering around Ibella since some point, proposed to her as soon as he reached adulthood.
Only after Ibella delivered her third rejection did he hold a wedding ceremony with another woman.
She thought it would end like that, but after the queen died of illness, his persistent courtship was starting again.
She had also tried to accept him considering the surrounding pressure and the king’s dignity, but her heart simply wouldn’t move.
“Do not worry too much. Problems are bound to be solved someday.”
“I hope so too.”
“By the way, how is your mood these days? Have there been absolutely no memories coming to mind recently either?”
Berne’s tone became serious, unlike before.
This was because this was the reason Ibella was staying here and the reason Berne visited Rosevel House once a week.
“There are none. Nothing other than what I mentioned back then.”
Ibella replied in a calm tone.
Although unknown to the public, she lost her memory at the end of the war.
It wasn’t that all her memories disappeared, but rather only ten days of memories vanished as if they had been carved out.
She was performing a mission with five soldiers, was captured by enemies, and returned after ten days.
She heard that all the others were found as corpses after dying or going missing.
As the sole survivor, Ibella, what on earth happened to her that the memories of that period disappeared entirely?
“Do not try to force yourself to remember. Your condition could worsen if you are careless. You are taking your medicine well, right?”
“……Yes.”
In fact, she wasn’t taking the medicine, but Ibella answered obediently.
The medicine didn’t revive her memories but only made her body sluggish and her mind dazed.
“Why did the memories disappear?”
“Perhaps the brain erased the most intense memory. And they say there is a high possibility that most of those memories are harmful to that person.”
“Then, it might be better not to remember at all.”
“Perhaps.”
Berne, who knew the general circumstances, replied quietly.
Ibella could guess his mind.
He must be suspecting whether she had experienced something terrible during the time she was captured as a prisoner.
In fact, she had thought so too.
That was why the desire to find her memories and the desire to never know them intersected.
When her peaceful daily life was repeatedly destroyed by being submerged in frustration, she wished to remember anything.
Then she feared that an unbearable memory would come to mind and crush her.
On some days, an unknown emotion choked her breath.
Because it felt like she had forgotten something she absolutely had to remember, like she had missed something.
The two people who were walking while talking before they knew it emerged from the forest and reached the riverbank full of wildflowers.
At the end of the long bridge dividing the river, there was a carriage waiting for Berne.
“I shall leave now. Shall I escort you back to the mansion?”
“No. I will walk a bit more, oh?”
Ibella stopped mid-sentence and opened her eyes wide.
A man was crossing the bridge and coming slowly toward them.
The man was eye-catching not just because his height towered high.
A man wearing worn-out, mud-stained pants and boots, and over a shirt so frayed it seemed about to tear, a chestnut-colored coat that vagrants would likely throw on.
If one looked closely, it could be seen that his gait was also unstable.
The man approached with precarious steps, his gaze fixed precisely on them.
Finally, he stopped at a distance where the contours of his face could be recognized.
In contrast to his large and robust body, the man’s face, messily covered in a beard, was as dark as someone who had suffered from a long-standing chronic illness.
A bandage was wrapped from his left eye to the back of his head, and disheveled bangs hung down randomly, covering it.
Whether he was out of breath from walking long, his chest rose and fell irregularly.
The man’s eyes, which had been blurry as if he would collapse at any moment, began to harden slowly the moment they saw Ibella’s face.
His rigid pupils took her in and tightened hard.
“He seems to be sick somewhere.”
It was just when Ibella tilted her head and was about to step forward.
Berne raised his arm and blocked her steps.
“Go back, Young Lady. He looks like a drunken vagrant, so you must not approach him carelessly.”
“But.”
“I will go check.”
“……I understand.”
Although it was her conviction that injured people, whether vagrants or anyone else, should be cared for, she stepped back this time.
The man’s strange gaze weighed on her mind, and since Berne was a doctor, he would be able to offer more help than her.
Ibella, who gave a nod to Berne, moved her steps back along the path she came.
However, before walking even a few steps, she turned around again, drawn by an unknown force.
Even though Berne was speaking to him, the man was staring intently only at her.
Only one eye was visible, but that gaze was so intense it was almost frightening.
Did he perhaps take some strange medicine?
Suddenly, goosebumps broke out all over her body, and Ibella turned around hastily.
It was the moment she re-entered the shaded forest path and was walking with quick steps.
Bang, along with the sound of a gunshot, a spark flashed before her eyes.
It was not a phenomenon actually heard and seen.
A fragment of her lost memory had popped out without warning.
A gunshot. And an unidentifiable white light.
Suddenly, a stinging pain arose somewhere in her head, and a severe headache rushed in.
☆☆☆
“……Look here. Hey, are you listening to me?”
Only a long time after Ibella disappeared from sight did the man notice the sound holding onto him.
When he lowered his head, a middle-aged man was looking at him with a scowl on his face.
“Are you sick somewhere? Although I am a psychiatrist, I have basic internal medicine knowledge, so tell me.”
“Psychiatrist?”
The man questioned Berne’s words back with a blank face.
“Sigh. I’m asking if you are okay since your complexion looks bad?”
“I am fine.”
As if telling him not to care anymore, the man replied in an annoyed tone and then turned his head away.
“Alright, then. If you happen to be sick somewhere, go see a doctor immediately.”
Berne, whose feelings were subtly hurt, backed away without asking further.
It was partly because he was busy, and partly because the man’s bizarre appearance and gaze were utterly unsettling, making him not want to deal with him further.
“Psychiatrist…… (Ugh).”
Left alone, the man clutched his side with his hand along with a short groan.
From his back and waist, chest and stomach, to his thighs and toes, there was not a single place that didn’t hurt.
He endured it with his eyes tightly shut, and as the pain subsided to some extent, he opened his eyes slowly.
A bizarre sight was unfolding before his eyes, which had lost strength and fallen.
He could see dozens of butterflies fluttering as if dancing above the wildflowers.
White, yellow, purple, sky blue. They were butterflies with beautiful patterns on monochromatic bodies or bodies with multiple overlapping colors.
Some landed on the flowers, some hid between the flower stalks, and others flew into the light and disappeared from view.
At that moment, a light purple butterfly came fluttering toward the man.
He instinctively reached out his hand and quickly grasped the butterfly.
“Ugh.”
Unable to overcome the pain brought on by the sudden movement, the man collapsed onto the ground just like that.
Amidst his fading consciousness, the sound of running footsteps could be heard.
“Hey. Are you okay? Pull yourself together!”
The doctor who returned, Berne, was calling out to wake him.
The man, who opened his eyes with difficulty, unclenched his tightly closed fist and looked inside.
Inside his hand, a crushed butterfly was faintly trembling, marking the end of its life.
All over his palm, the scales rubbed off from the butterfly were miserably scattered.
“Can you walk?”
Ignoring the sound that was growing fainter, the man looked at the pitiful creature in his hand.
After a moment, he raised the corners of his mouth and formed a strange smile.
Light was slowly entering his heart, which had been gloomy until just moments ago.
The butterfly that came into my hand.
Whether dead or alive, the butterfly is mine.
☆▪︎▪︎▪︎☆
