Year 00, April 2nd
The long-awaited day had finally arrived. The grand Flower Expo of the Kingdom of Murachevia had officially begun, turning the entire city into a breathtaking canvas of pastel blossoms and cascading white petals.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I stood beneath the stage lights. It was only a short performance for a small, fleeting event, but as my body moved through the familiar lines of the choreography, an overwhelming wave of happiness washed over me. To feel the wooden boards beneath my feet, to hear the quiet collective breath of an audience-I felt truly alive again.
But the beautiful dream lasted only a moment. The second the curtain fell, reality rushed back to greet me.
Slipping into a long, unassuming white trench coat, I left the theater behind and set out toward the restricted palace grounds. My mind was consumed by a single task: finding the specific carriage Gray Rotman had warned me about. That was the real, dark reason I had come back to this kingdom.
Approaching the grand arches of the palace courtyard, two armed guards in pristine white uniforms blocked my path.
"Miss, only authorized personnel are allowed beyond this point," one of them stated, his voice devoid of warmth.
"Ah, I performed in the main hall earlier," I replied quickly, forcing a polite, slightly clumsy smile as I dug into my pocket. "But I accidentally left my ballet shoes in the troupe's carriage. Here's my pass..."
The guard took the slip of paper, scanning it briefly under the lantern light. "Ah, yes. You may go in."
Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, I slipped past them, my footsteps echoing faintly as I hurried down the stone steps. The sky above was bleeding into a deep, brilliant crimson sunset, casting long, dramatic shadows across the courtyard where rows of aristocratic carriages were parked.
"A dark carriage pulled by four pitch-black horses."
Rotman's voice echoed clearly in my head as my eyes scanned the courtyard. "He said the horses would each have a distinct red ornament fixed to their foreheads."
Black horses... where are the black horses? I looked frantically left and right, scanning the rows of white and gilded status symbols. Fortunately, true black horses were uncommon among the kingdom's nobility, making them stand out sharply against the rest.
Ah, I think I found it!
Tucked away toward the edge of the courtyard stood a heavy, matte-black carriage. I pulled closer, my eyes locking onto the striking crimson ornaments gleaming on the foreheads of the four magnificent black stallions hitched to the front. There was no mistaking it. This was the one.
Reaching into my coat pocket, my fingers wrapped around the small, clear bag Rotman had given me. Inside were small, sugar-like cubes laced with a potent stimulant.
"At the appointed time, all you have to do is feed this stimulant to the horses pulling that carriage," his instructions repeated in my mind. "It has to be done within a few seconds, while the coachmen aren't paying attention."
A few yards away, three coachmen stood in a tight circle, smoking pipes and laughing heartily, completely distracted by their own conversation.
Thump. Thump.
My heart battered violently against my ribs. My throat felt completely parched, and I swallowed hard, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of my breathing. I gripped the bag of stimulants so tightly my knuckles turned white.
Don't be nervous, I whispered fiercely to myself, taking a slow step toward the shadows of the black carriage. It's not difficult. Just a few seconds, and it will all be over.
The Mistake
The memory always started with the same voice, cold and demanding, echoing in the shadows of the courtyard. "Just finish it quickly..."
"...and start over with the money you'll earn."
Those words had been my lifeline, a promise of escape. But in the dimming twilight of that fateful day, panic had blinded me. My hands had shaken as I dropped the stimulants into the feed troughs. In my frantic haste, I failed to notice the subtle difference in the woodwork, the precise arrangement of the horses, or the ornate golden crest gleaming under the lantern light-the proud emblem of the Serenity family.
I mistook the carriage.
The Fall
The consequences of those few rushed seconds were far more horrific than anything I could have anticipated.
The potent drugs took hold rapidly. The Serenity family's horses went utterly berserk, their eyes wild and muscles tearing as they bolted blindly along the treacherous cliff road. The heavy carriage swung violently out of control before plunging over the edge, smashing against the jagged rocks below. Several members of the noble family were killed instantly in the twisted wreckage.
The moment the news reached my ears, something inside me completely shattered. The realization of what I had done broke my mind into fragile pieces.
I was paralyzed by a singular, suffocating terror: Serena.
Had she been inside that splintered cabin? My hands and feet wouldn't stop trembling, my heart pounding so forcefully against my ribs that it felt like it was breaking down every single moment. Every time I closed my eyes, the dark abyss of the cliff swallowed me whole, plaguing me with relentless nightmares night after night.
If she had somehow survived the plunge, she would be seventeen by now. The thought haunted my waking hours, a silent scream in my mind: What have I done to you?
Haunted Memories
In the quiet sanctuary of my mind, older, gentler memories tried to push through the horror. I could still see the soft glow of the dressing room mirror, recalling a time when Serena sat before me, a bright and innocent girl.
"There, it's almost done. Do you like it?" I had asked her, my fingers gently weaving through her dark hair.
"Yeah! It's pretty!!" she had beamed, admiring her reflection. She had turned to me with wide, excited eyes, her voice bubbling with pure affection. "I'm going to show mom as soon as I get home! She always asks me who ties my hair so beautifully!"
Every single time those memories of Serena came rushing back, the contrast between her innocent smile and the burning wreckage on the rocks was too much to bear. I could barely keep my sanity from one day to the next, drowning in a sea of overwhelming regret.
The Survivor
Then came the day the newspaper arrived, tossed carelessly onto the floor.
Not long after the tragic incident, the Serenity family's somber funeral was held. Printed clearly in black ink across the front page was an article about Serena-she was the sole survivor of the crash.
Knowing she was alive brought a brief, sharp gasp of relief, but it was immediately smothered by an even heavier shroud of guilt and fear. My mental state rapidly deteriorated. The shadows in my room began to twist, and I started hearing disembodied voices whispering in the quiet hours. There were entire days when I sat curled against the wall, weeping, unable to tell reality from illusion.
I still couldn't believe any of this was real. Every moment I spent awake, every breath I drew into my lungs, was laced with an agonizing, perpetual fear.
Deep down, part of me desperately wanted to go to Serena. I wanted to throw myself at her feet, confess everything, and beg for her forgiveness until my final breath. But the chilling truth remained: this was a sin that could never be forgiven. I was far too much of a coward to ever face the broken gaze of the girl I had ruined.
In the end, I chose to stay hidden, convincing myself it was better for her to live believing her family's demise had simply been a tragic, unavoidable accident.
No Escape
But the world would not let me hide forever.
Rotman, furious over the catastrophic failure, claimed I had completely ruined the job. He ruthlessly refused to pay me the remainder of the promised sum. Worse still, because I had already spent the advance payment to cover my mounting debts, I had no way to repay him. Using that debt as an inescapable leash, he began treating me like a disposable dog, nothing more than a tool to be used for his dark bidding. There was no way out, no path to escape his iron grip.
Now, kneeling on the floor of a dimly lit room, the red light of the setting sun bleeding through the window like the blood on the cliffside, I pleaded with him.
"I only did exactly what I was told," I argued, my voice cracking as I looked up at him from the floor. "I've said it over and over. It wasn't my fault there happened to be another carriage and horses that looked so similar that day."
Rotman merely sat on his stool, staring down at me with cold, unblinking eyes, entirely unmoved by my tears.
The dust motes dancing in the crimson sunset light looked like dying sparks. I remained on my knees, the rough wooden floor biting into my shins as I looked up at the silhouette of the man who held my life in his hands.
"I only did exactly what I was told," I pleaded, my voice cracking, a desperate attempt to patch over the terror threatening to swallow me whole. "I've said it over and over. It wasn't my fault there happened to be another carriage and horses that looked so similar that day."
I leaned forward, my hands gripping the fabric of my skirt. "The real black horses that day definitely belonged to that family. The ones you were actually targeting weren't even black, they were an extremely dark brown! So why is all of this my fault? I did exactly what I was supposed to do!"
My breathing grew shallow, my vision blurring slightly as I tried to force him to see logic-any logic that would absolve me of this debt. "So I can't give that money back. I already used it all to pay off my debts, and it was my advance payment."
The Trap Tightens
A sharp, humorless sound sliced through the heavy air of the room.
"Ha! You're completely out of your mind, aren't you?" Rotman sneered, leaning slightly off his stool. His eyes narrowed, glinting with a dangerous, unstable light. "Hey, you screwed up the job so badly, and you've still got the nerve to raise your voice at me?"
He stood up slowly, the sheer presence of him casting a suffocating shadow over me.
"Damn it, do you even understand the situation you're in? Do you have any idea how badly you ruined my plans?" He gestured vaguely toward the window, his voice dropping into a harsh, venomous whisper. "Because you targeted the wrong people that day, the ones we were actually after caught on and disappeared. Thanks to you, getting anywhere near them has become almost impossible. Got it?"
I shrank back, my knuckles turning white against the floorboards.
"Even if you begged for your life, I'd still be wondering whether I should just kill you," Rotman continued, stepping closer until his polished leather boot was inches from my trembling hands. "And you're talking about your advance payment? Don't you dare try playing word games with me again. I ought to kill you right here."
A Cold Acceptance
Before I could even gasp, his hand shot forward. Clutch!
His fingers tangled brutally into my hair, wrenching my head back. A sharp gasp escaped my throat as the sheer force of his grip forced me to look straight into his cold, merciless eyes.
"Listen carefully, little ballerina," he murmured, his breath hot against my face as he leaned down, fixing me with an unsettlingly calm stare. "Until you've repaid every cent you owe me, you'll never escape me."
His voice grew smooth, almost conversational, which only made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "The moment you accepted my money, you became mine. And I'm very strict when it comes to collecting interest. So I expect you to pay that interest whenever I ask."
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, blurring his cruel features. My scalp burned under his grip, but the emptiness inside me felt far heavier.
"...Interest?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rush of blood in my ears. "I don't have anything left."
A slow, terrifying smirk spread across Rotman's face-a dark expression that told me he knew exactly what he wanted to extract from me, and it had nothing to do with gold. He released his grip on my hair, only to raise his heavy boot and plant it firmly over my chest, pinning me effortlessly to the floor.
Looking up from beneath the weight of his shoe, a crushing certainty settled into my chest. Before long, I'll either die at Rotman's hands... or I'll find a way to break these chains.
"Oh, you still have something," Rotman sneered down at me, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent as his polished boot pressed harder against my chest.
The breath caught in my throat. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, trapped beneath the weight of his absolute cruelty. Desperation clutched at my fraying sanity.
...Or I'll end my own life. The thought flashed in my mind, dark and final. Anything was better than this living hell.
The evening light faded over the city, casting the towering brick apartment buildings into long, ominous shadows. Down below, a lone streetlamp flickered to life, cutting through the encroaching gloom.
The heavy front door creaked open, and Friedrich stepped across the threshold, his duffel bag slung heavily over his shoulder. He froze.
The small dining area was in complete shambles. The wooden table was shoved aside, and the chairs had been violently overturned, their legs pointing uselessly into the air like broken limbs. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing over the wreckage.
"...Sister?" Friedrich called out, his voice echoing hollowly against the walls. Dread pooled deep in his stomach. "Are you home?"
A door cracked open down the hall. The elderly landlady peered out, her face pale and etched with deep anxiety.
"Oh my, Friedrich! You're finally back!" she gasped, clutching the doorframe as she stepped forward. "Where on earth have you been all this time?"
Friedrich didn't waste time on pleasantries. His jaw tightened as he turned his gaze toward her. "...Madam. Where's my sister?"
The old woman's hands trembled, her eyes wide with lingering terror.
"Then hurry up and go find her!" she urged, her voice shaking. "I don't know what happened, but while you were gone, these some scary men kept coming here and harassing Lise. They kept saying they'd kill her if she went to the police, so they wouldn't even let her report them. Of course, she told me never to tell you either, but...!"
"Scary men?" Friedrich echoed, his blood running cold as he looked at the shattered remains of the furniture. ...Debt collectors?
He shook his head internally. No, I thought my sister had already paid off the factory debt. Who were they?
"I-I think one of them was called Rotman or something," the landlady stammered, wringing her hands. "That man dragged Lise away again just a little while ago. They were shouting louder than usual today, and something felt terribly wrong. I'm so afraid something terrible is going to happen to your sister."
Friedrich stared at the floor, a dark, terrifying clarity washing over him. The duffel bag slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a heavy thud.
XX Year, May X. Rotman died, by Friedrich's hand.
The memory of that fateful night would forever be painted in shades of crimson and ash.
Later, Lise would look back on the nightmare that unfolded at the old industrial site. I had grown exhausted from everything Rotman had put me through and tried to run away, but he caught me. After dragging me to the factory in a fit of rage, everything happened in an instant.
"Just kill me already!!" Lise had screamed at the top of her lungs, her face pale, tears streaming down her cheeks as she glared at her oppressor. "I can't live like this anymore, so just kill me, you worthless piece of trash!!"
Rotman had merely smiled, a sickening, arrogant smirk cutting across his face as he leaned in close, his hand gripping her face roughly.
"You really want to die?" he whispered tauntingly.
Thud!
He never got to finish his threat. The heavy iron pipe Friedrich wielded struck true, shattering the darkness and ending Rotman's reign of terror once and for all.
The heavy, metallic scent of rust and fresh blood hung thick in the air inside the abandoned factory structure. On the cold concrete floor, Giery Rotman's body lay completely still, the brutal finality of his death leaving an eerie quiet in the room.
The woman sat collapsed against a pile of broken wooden crates, her knees pulled tight to her chest as she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with violent, silent sobs, the sheer weight of what had just transpired crashing down upon her. Standing just a few paces away, Friedrich looked down at his splattered military uniform, his expression grim and unreadable.
"...What exactly happened?" Friedrich's voice cut through the silence, tight and strained. "Did you really work for Rotman?"
She couldn't answer right away. The memory of her desperation was too fresh-she had been so entirely exhausted by the torment Rotman had inflicted on her that running away felt like her only choice. But he had caught her, dragging her back into this very factory in a blinding fit of rage. She remembered screaming at him, begging for the end, shouting that she couldn't live like that anymore and calling him a worthless piece of trash. He had only smirked, mocking her desire to die, threatening that she would finally learn to obey once she stood at death's door. And then, in a single, chaotic instant, Friedrich had stepped in.
Friedrich stepped closer, his boots clicking softly on the floorboards as he stared down at the corpse. "Were you out of your mind?!" he demanded, a mix of panic and anger flaring in his eyes. "Do you even know who Giery Rotman is?!"
He gestured harshly toward the dead man. "Was the money you used to pay off the factory debt came from that bastard too? I wondered where you'd suddenly gotten that much money to pay off the debt. Was it really Rotman's money?"
The woman pulled her hands from her face, looking up at him with tear-filled, terrified eyes. Trembling, she tried to steady her voice.
"...Get out of here. Now," she whispered desperately, pushing herself to stand up. "We'll say Rotman died because you shot him... if you turn yourself in, you won't be held responsible."
She pointed weakly toward the heavy iron structure of the factory's massive ventilation fan, where the shadows of the night stretched long. "Everything happened because of me, so I'll take responsibility," she insisted, her voice cracking. "Besides, you're a soldier. If you get caught up in something like this..."
She paused, looking out toward the dim entryway of the facility. "Are you going to say all those men lying outside were killed by you too?"
Friedrich stood entirely still, his lips pressed into a hard line as he remained silent.
"I'm so sorry, Friedrich," she wept, the guilt threatening to crush her completely. "I should have refused Rotman's offer that day..."
Before she could spiral further into regret, Friedrich stepped across the gap between them. Reaching out with his gloved hand, he gently placed it over her mouth, silencing her panicked words. His gaze softened, filled with a deep, protective sorrow.
"...No," Friedrich said quietly, his voice steadying. "I should have paid more attention to you all this time."
He lowered his hand, his eyes locking onto hers with absolute certainty. "I'll take care of everything, so don't think about anything else. Go straight to the train station."
She stared at him, bewildered, as he continued layout out his plan. "Then stay quietly in the kingdom for a while. It's too dangerous for you to remain here until everything is settled."
XX Year, May XX. This will be my final diary entry.
Later, far away from the blood-stained floor of the factory, she sat beneath the dark expanse of a starry night sky, penning her final thoughts.
Rotman's death made the situation far more serious than I had imagined, she wrote, her hand shaking as the ink met the paper. I couldn't understand what the death of the leader of an organization had to do with the nation, nor could I learn the details, but one thing was certain, it was a far bigger incident than I had ever expected.
She paused, staring out into the darkness, the crushing realization of Friedrich's sacrifice settling deep into her soul.
Friedrich killed him even though he knew what the consequences might be, she concluded, a final tear dropping onto the page. The fact that he placed himself in danger because of me is almost unbearable.
XX Year, May XX.
This will be my final diary entry.
The candle flickered on the wooden desk, casting long, dancing shadows against the walls of the small room. Outside, the night was vast and unforgiving, but inside, the only sound was the rhythmic, tragic scratching of a pen against paper (sarak, sarak). Lise sat hunched over the pages, her heart heavy with a truth too massive to carry.
Rotman's death had made the situation far more serious than she could have ever imagined. She had thought of him only as her personal tormentor, a shadow hanging over her life. She couldn't understand what the death of the leader of an organization had to do with the nation, nor could she learn the intricate political details. But one thing was certain: it was a far bigger incident than she had ever expected.
And Friedrich had killed him anyway. He had struck the fatal blow even though he knew exactly what the consequences might be. The fact that her dependable little brother had placed himself in such absolute danger because of her was a guilt that felt entirely unbearable.
Looking back, the memories of her journey flashed through her mind like distant, fractured ghosts. She remembered sitting by the train window, watching the landscape blur into a haze of grey.
Everything has gone wrong, she thought, tears welling in her eyes as the ink blurred on the page. I should never have returned home. I should have stayed in the kingdom and endured somehow. Why did I come back only to make everything even worse?
A bitter sigh escaped her lips. Nothing remained now except pointless regret, while everything she loved had fallen apart beyond repair.
She remembered the way Rotman had treated her-how he used her, controlled her, and tore her dignity away piece by piece. She had heard rumors about his network, a chilling reality she only fully understood too late: once his enormous organization marked someone, they would never let that person go for as long as they lived.
And now, Friedrich was their target. Because he had killed their leader to protect her, they would never stop hunting him.
They'll use me to bind him down all over again, she realized, a cold dread freezing the blood in her veins. As long as I remain alive, I am the weapon they will use against my own brother.
The tears finally spilled over, tracking hot down her pale cheeks and dripping onto the wood (ttuk, ttuk).
Not once was I ever able to be the kind of older sister you deserved, she wrote, her hand trembling violently. I can't bear to keep holding you back like this.
That was the real reason she had stayed behind when Friedrich had frantically insisted that she seek asylum in the empire. He thought he was saving her, sending her away to safety. But she knew the truth. There was no reason to run away. She was going to disappear anyway.
In the end, I suppose my life was never meant to have a happy ending.
With a heavy, final breath, she poured the remainder of her soul onto the last lines of the diary, addressing the people she loved and the lives she had inadvertently touched:
To Serena, whom I wounded in a way that can never be healed...
To my dear friend Esther, whom I treated so coldly without knowing it would be our last goodbye...
To my kind, dependable little brother...
And to my beloved parents, who will one day hear of my death...
She stared at the words, the ultimate confession of a broken heart.
I'm so sorry that I can't even bring myself to say those words aloud, so I'll leave them here instead.
Gently, her fingers slid across the cover of the small notebook, the name Lise embossed on the front. With a soft, decisive slide (seuk), she placed the diary safely inside the desk drawer, hiding her final thoughts from the world.
Tak.
The drawer clicked shut, sealing the testament of her life away in the dark. Lise stood up, leaving the empty chair behind. She stepped away into the shadows of the room, fully prepared for the quiet void that awaited her, knowing that this final act of surrender was the only way to cut the chains binding her brother.
Even if this repentance never reaches anyone.
The heavy wooden door creaked open with a low, agonizing groan, letting a sliver of weak, wintry light pierce the darkness of the abandoned room.
diah
High-heeled white boots stepped softly across the threshold, their sharp heels clicking lightly against the dusty floorboards. The hem of a long, heavy overcoat brushed against the doorframe as she entered, moving with a deliberate, haunting quietness.
The room smelled of stale air, old paper, and the lingering aura of someone who had long since vanished.
She walked toward the desk. Her gloved hand-adorned with a plush, fur-lined cuff to ward off the biting cold-reached out toward the small brass knob of the desk drawer.
Deureureuk...
With a smooth, hollow slide, the drawer rolled open. There, resting exactly where it had been left in the dark, lay the small pink notebook. The gold-embossed fairy on the cover caught the faint light, and right beneath it, the elegant, cursive name was written: Lise.
Tip's
- THE FLOWER FESTUVAL OF THE KINGDOM OF MURACHEVIA,
- WHICH HAS A HISTORY SPANNING HUNDREDS OF YEARS, IS HELD - EVERY SPRING FOR ABOUT ONE TO TEN DAYS, RARE FLOWERS AND PLANTS, SHOPS, PERFORMANCES, AND EXHIBITIONS FILL THE FESTIVAL - GROUNDS, AND THE CELEBRATION CONTINUES LATE INTO THE NIGHT. PEOPLE FROM BOTH INSIDE AND OUTSIDE THE KINGDOM GATHER TO - ADMIRE THE FLOWERS AND WORKS OF ART WHILE ENJOYING THE HEIGHT OF SPRING.
팁
- 무라체비아 왕국의 꽃 축제는
- 수백 년의 역사를 자랑하는 이 축제는 - 매년 봄 약 1~10일 동안 개최됩니다. 희귀한 꽃과 식물, 상점, 공연, 전시회가 축제장을 가득 채우고, 축제는 밤늦게까지 계속됩니다. 왕국 안팎의 사람들이 모여 - 꽃과 예술 작품을 감상하며 봄의 절정을 만끽합니다.