Winter Bud - Chapter 40

“Please forget what I said.”

“…Yes.”

“I asked you for something dangerous,” Nanna muttered weakly.

Jerix watched her blankly, then sat on the edge of the flowerbed, keeping a bit of distance. Nanna glanced at him, then turned her gaze away again.

“Do you dislike getting pregnant? But you have to earn His Majesty’s favor to return to the main palace.”

“I don’t want to go back. Bearing a child is a nuisance for a woman.”

“Why…?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You’re not a woman.”

“But isn’t life in the Western Palace too harsh and exhausting?”

“Is that what you think?”

Nanna lifted her head. The man gave no reply. He was staring at her strangely. Well, who could possibly understand her heart? There was no helping it.

As he looked at her dim, lifeless expression, the man suddenly took something from his pocket and held it out. Nanna stared blankly at the yellow fruit with a hint of orange in his hand. An apricot.

“This is….”

“You don’t want it?”

“…No.”

Nanna shook her head. In truth, she didn’t want to put anything in her mouth, but out of courtesy, she took the apricot. Then she bit into it. It was well-ripened, the flesh soft and tender. Along with its subtle sweetness came a trace of tartness. Nanna looked up and wondered how long it had been since she’d eaten uncooked fruit.

“When I was little, there was an apricot tree in the yard.”

Nanna’s thoughts drifted back to her childhood. Those days had been so harsh she never wanted to remember them. Still, she could never forget that tree, with its yellow fruit hanging between green leaves when she was a small girl. When her little hands couldn’t reach, her father would lift her so she could pluck the fruit.

That was the extent of her father’s love. It was the only memory of affection she had.

“My father once lifted me up so I could pick fruit from that tree….”

Nanna’s lips trembled faintly. It wasn’t that she missed her father. She glanced at the man beside her. His expression was composed, unreadable. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Nanna lowered her head slightly. Memories of love remained as deep as the pain they carried. They were engraved so finely she could trace them with her fingertips. Even after enduring her father’s countless acts of violence, she couldn’t forget that summer memory.

Sometimes she wondered. Would Slan and Stella, when they grew up, have at least one memory like that? Would they live their lives anchored by some moment of affection they’d received from Orestes? Nanna’s lips parted as she met Jerix’s eyes.

His bright brown eyes were calm. Nanna pressed her lips together carefully and spoke the words she’d been holding back. Because… giving birth to a child who couldn’t be loved wasn’t right. Being unable to love a child meant being unprepared.  Just like her parents. Just like the Emperor. But pregnancy… Nanna couldn’t bear it any longer. She didn’t want to.

“…A sad memory, then.”

“A sad memory?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I thought it was a happy one.”

“I see.”

“Why did you think so?”

Nanna looked at him with a slightly displeased expression. But she also found his comment interesting. It was the only good memory she had of her father. Of course, if she told Thea, she wouldn’t understand.

Nanna had always envied her for having a good father like Duke Everhardt. More than her noble status or immeasurable wealth… sometimes, she envied her so much she could go mad, because of the affection and trust that came from a gentle father, something far more precious than riches or glory.

She had envied them so much it almost made her sick. Whenever she saw Duke Everhardt strolling affectionately with Thea, her stomach twisted with jealousy at the sight of their close bond. There were even times she wished she could become the Duke’s adopted daughter. Even if she had to be his fake daughter, she wanted to receive the same affection Thea did.

However, the Duke….

“I’m sorry if I offended you. You just seemed gloomy when you were speaking.”

“…I see.”

Nanna stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Jerix seemed to hesitate, studying her expression, before plucking a clover blooming between the cracks of the stone path and holding it out to her. Nanna’s eyes widened.

“Shall I make you a bracelet with the clover?”

“You can do that?”

“I used to make them often when I was a child.”

“You, Sir Jerix?”

“…Yes.”

He smiled faintly, almost shyly. Nanna looked at him quietly, then extended her hand. After rolling up her sleeve, he picked another clover and tied it around her slender wrist, making a bracelet. The white petals stood upright like rabbit ears, looking almost adorable. It resembled a small jewel hanging from her wrist. Startled, Nanna looked up at him.

For a man, his handiwork was surprisingly delicate. Even she, who had grown up in the countryside, had never done something like that.

“This is….”

“I learned it from my mother.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t have any warm memories of my father. He hated me. He didn’t even acknowledge me as his son.”

“….”

“So I was always with my mother.”

His brown eyes, searching the empty air, looked dazed. Nanna thought she shouldn’t have brought up her childhood. Hearing about another person’s pain was even more difficult than revisiting her own. Still, the strange sense of familiarity she felt toward the man didn’t feel unpleasant. It wrapped around her clearly, as if illuminating her inside.

The wounds from childhood. The emptiness. Even as an adult, her longing for boundless affection was so strong that she wanted to steal it from others.

“Sometimes my mother and I would play like this in the meadow with clovers.”

“Your mother must’ve been very kind.”

“Haha. Not exactly.”

“But….”

“She only took me out to the fields on rare occasions. My mother was rather hysterical, much like your father. Still, she was better than the father who abandoned me.”

Jerix lowered his gaze and muttered absentmindedly. Nanna stared at him quietly. His childhood, never belonging anywhere he wished, mirrored her own. Her chest felt heavy. Pity, or perhaps kinship, stirred deep inside her. As she looked at him, she suddenly turned her head toward a faint sound of footsteps. Then, as if cold water had been poured over her, she flinched.

Duke Everhardt was watching her silently. Jerix, realizing who it was, immediately stood and straightened his posture.

While he saluted the Duke, Nanna staggered to her feet and folded her hands neatly in front of her. The Duke approached at an unhurried pace, like a relaxed predator closing in. Her pulse quickened. With her head lowered, Nanna bit her lip and cautiously lifted her gaze.

Her demeanor was that of a lowly maid from the Duke’s household, not that of the Emperor’s concubine. Jerix, sensing something strange, glanced at her sideways. But Nanna was too dazed to notice.

“Have you made a friend in the Western Palace?”

“My Lord.”

“Let’s go inside.”

“I….”

“The summer sun is harsh.”

He cut off Nanna’s words. The man, who she thought would move ahead of her, wrapped his arm around her slender waist. She looked at his profile in confusion, but the Duke didn’t meet her eyes.

***

Nanna was born in a small, shabby village far from the capital of the Empire. In the days before the Old Empire, long ago, there had once been a large port nearby, and the village had prospered as well. But by the time Nanna was born, that port had declined, leaving only a forgotten village behind. Most cities, large or small, were governed by a lord who ruled the territory, but Nanna’s village was so desolate that no one wanted to claim it as their domain.

The land wasn’t fertile, nor was it well connected to other regions, so even the officials of the Old Empire had long forgotten it. Gradually fading from memory, Nanna’s hometown became a place that no longer appeared on any map. The villagers survived by cultivating the few small plots of farmland they had or by doing odd jobs in a neighboring village that was slightly better off, earning meager wages.

Her father was known throughout the village as a drunkard. According to her mother, he hadn’t always been that way. Once, he’d been conscripted into a war by chance, and after losing one of his legs in that war, he’d become the man he was.

As Nanna listened to her mother’s words, she pictured her father’s empty left leg.