Time of the Blind Beast - Chapter 78
Rose, in the nights without you, time does not pass.
The pounding headache felt like it would split his temples. Ezekiel rubbed his dry eyes, weighed down by lack of sleep.
It had been another sleepless night. It had always been that way since Rose disappeared. He had first learned the comfort of human warmth through her, and now he was enduring the aftermath of her absence, night after night.
He tried exhausting himself with physical training, following advice from subordinates who said that if you’re tired enough to die, sleep will come whether you want it or not. But it didn’t help. The only result was that he felt tired enough to die—yet sleep never came.
And then, every second or third night when he finally drifted into a shallow sleep, he always had nightmares.
In his dreams, he wandered through vast darkness, searching for Rose. He chased traces of the woman whose whereabouts he didn’t even know, walking, running, falling—until the overwhelming sensation of his heart collapsing jolted him awake. It was no different than when he was blind.
He even tried drinking for the first time in a long while. But with his absurdly high tolerance, it was difficult to even get drunk.
“It’s because you’re not here with me.”
It felt like he was being worn down day by day. His emotions faded, and his senses dulled. Some days, the world appeared in black and white. He had stood still for ages in a colorless, lightless world.
“Rose, you probably can’t imagine what you gave me—or what you took away.”
If she could’ve imagined it, that gentle and kind woman would never have left him so coldly. She was the kind who would’ve come back quickly, apologetically, even after a short departure.
Ezekiel slowly ran a hand down his face.
Rose, my imagination is poor. Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen your face, but not even in my fragmented nightmares do you appear.
“…Didn’t you say you’d stay by my side when I’m hurting?”
I’m hurting, and yet you’re not here.
“Rose, I said I’m hurting.”
No matter how many times he called her name, no answer came back.
Ezekiel closed his eyes and took a deep breath that made his chest rise. Lately, he’d developed the habit of deliberately taking deep breaths because he would sometimes be hit with a sudden, inexplicable sense of suffocation.
With a blank expression, he glanced around the shadows that stretched across the bedroom. Then he pulled the bell cord to summon a servant.
“Did you call, sir?”
The servant, hearing the bell, rushed in.
Ezekiel gave a calm order, “Bring me Laudanum.”
If he was going to spend another sleepless night thinking about Rose, he’d rather pass it watching even just the shadow of her. He had held out long enough. His patience had long worn thin. He was truly at his limit.
The servant asked nervously, “Are you feeling unwell?”
“I have a terrible headache.”
“Shall I call the doctor?”
“No need. Laudanum will do.”
“Yes, understood.”
The servant brought the laudanum kept as an emergency remedy. Ezekiel expertly poured the opium into his wine and gave it a stir.
The servant, watching the amount he used, widened his eyes. “You’re taking that much all at once?”
“Neither alcohol nor medicine works well on me.”
Ezekiel downed the entire mixture in a single gulp.
After watching him lie down, the servant quietly left the bedroom. At the sound of the closing door, all the noise in the world vanished.
For the first time in ages, his heart began to race. He felt the drug’s effects spreading through his bloodstream.
He closed his eyes and waited for it to take hold.
Rose, now I can see you.
Like a boy in love for the first time, his heart fluttered. Even the pounding headache at his temples felt sweet.
Step. A light footstep echoed. A soft and careful sound, barely pressing down.
Ezekiel turned his head toward the sound.
A woman with red hair and green eyes—an exquisite silhouette—was walking toward him, borrowed from the illusion of opium. The strange and beautiful world that stood at the border of reality and dream had returned.
He let out a quiet laugh. Ezekiel slowly curved his lips into a smile.
“My head hurts, Rose.”
A cool hand touched his forehead.
He had missed that warmth so terribly. Ezekiel lowered his gaze, savoring the sensation of Rose’s touch.
“So cruel. You never came no matter how much I said I missed you, but the moment I say I’m in pain, you show up?”
Then I’ll just be sick every day. And I’ll hold onto you so tight you can never run away again.
“I really am in pain.”
It’s because you’re not here.
He pressed his hand over Rose’s, which was caressing his forehead. On nights when he longed to feel her more vividly, he would often grasp her like this, tracing the sensation.
“So don’t disappear. Promise me. Promise you won’t leave.”
If Rose were to disappear again, he would summon her back. Three times, four, five—even ten, twenty, or more.
Ezekiel willingly surrendered himself to this precarious and intoxicating hallucination.
***
Lisanne was stirred from a light sleep by a strange, uncomfortable sensation poking into her shoulder blade. The brief rest that sleep had granted her was instantly dispelled, and her vision spun. It seemed her cold had worsened. Lisanne quickly covered her mouth with her hand and let out a series of coughs. She then held her breath to endure the pain that always followed.
“If your eyes are open, get up.”
The guard, avoiding the inmates tangled in disarray, prodded her shoulder a few more times with the end of a long pole and quietly ordered, “You have a special visitor.”
A visit was one thing, but she had never heard the term “special visit” before. Besides, there was no one who would request to visit her. Ezekiel always arrived without warning, never announcing himself in advance.
Lisanne propped herself up from the floor with effort and sat up.
No matter how she thought about it, there was no one who would secretly come to see her this late at night.
Surely it couldn’t be her parents.
That must never happen. If it did, her entire family would die in this camp.
Fighting back the worst possible thought, Lisanne trembled with anxiety.
“…Miss.”
A moment later, a barely audible whisper called out to her.
Lisanne lifted her head.
It was Merlot.
“Good heavens… What is this? Why are you here, Miss?”
Merlot gasped in a hushed voice when he confirmed her identity.
Lisanne also remembered him—Merlot, who had come to fetch Ezekiel the other day and nearly fainted when he saw her. He had been so shocked that he couldn’t even speak, frozen in place. Thankfully, Ezekiel had already left the detention center by then. Had he turned around even briefly, he might’ve noticed something strange just from Merlot’s expression.
Lisanne, too, had been startled by the encounter. But she had recovered faster than Merlot and quickly shook her head, urging him not to say anything to Ezekiel.
“Are you alright?”
Lisanne nodded.
“You don’t look alright at all. Do you realize how pale you are? Even in this pitch-dark night, you’re the only one who looks deathly white.”
Merlot narrowed his eyes.
Lisanne shook her head again to insist she wasn’t unwell. Merlot, Ezekiel’s errand boy, was an uncomfortable presence for her. His suspicion that she might be aiming for a place beside Ezekiel still lingered vividly in her memory.
Why had Valdemaira’s errand boy appeared here?
Lisanne regarded Merlot with caution.
“Say something, will you? All this nodding and shaking—why won’t you speak a single word? You spoke so clearly back at Derosa.”
As expected, he pointed out the most difficult truth.
Lisanne hesitated for a moment, then pointed to her throat and crossed her fingers.
“You mean you’ve lost your voice?”
Merlot asked again to confirm. Lisanne said nothing in response.
“Why?”
“……”
An awkward silence settled between them.
“…I really didn’t expect this. When you left so easily, I was surprised, thinking you were just unusually free of attachment—but now I see it wasn’t that you didn’t cling, it’s that you couldn’t.”
“……”
“What am I even supposed to say to this…”
Merlot clutched his head.
“Anyway, the reason I came here… Honestly, this is so absurd I don’t even know what to say.”
Merlot’s gaze scanned Lisanne from head to toe. His expression was a mixture of emotions.
“Red hair and green eyes, huh.”
“……”
“Is Rose your real name?”
Lisanne remained silent. Merlot, understanding her lack of response, gave a bitter laugh.
“None of the information was right.”
She had thoroughly deceived a man of Valdemaira. She deserved his reproach. Lisanne quietly waited for him to state his business.
Finally composing himself, Merlot began.
“I debated for a long time whether coming here was the right thing to do… but since we’re at least acquainted, pretending not to know you didn’t sit well with me.”
After glancing around, Merlot motioned for her to come closer to the bars. When Lisanne moved closer, a very soft whisper reached her ears.
“Miss, do you want to live?”
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Juminizz
what even after few chapters why the maid Serva and the others or this boy Merlot mentioned anything about real Rose. Especially Merlot he knew it whose Major was looking for. why everyone kinda dumb in this part