Chapter 62

🜼 🜼 🜼

The following day, a terrible stench woke Yuri.

A cross-shaped wound had been left across the back of the boy who returned from the edge of death. Despite injuries that should already have killed him, Yuri had somehow survived. Perhaps Igor had intended to keep at least one portion of his promise. Medicine had been smeared across flesh too mangled to be called a wound, and bandages had been wrapped around him.

But if he had truly intended Yuri to live, he should have removed him from the open ground beneath the merciless sun. He remained a coward to the end. Yuri slowly opened his eyes and realized he was still in the square from the day before. The sun boiled overhead as though determined to melt his weakened body.

His throat was parched.

He was freezing despite the heat.

His whole body convulsed like a trembling aspen.

With immense effort, he raised his head—and saw another horror.

The stench came from directly ahead. In the summer heat, his mother’s precious body had already begun to rot. The beautiful form she possessed in life was rapidly disappearing.

Yuri’s blue eyes rolled back. Somehow, they returned. Burning rage toward Igor, who had shown no respect even for the dead, mixed with madness born from witnessing a tragedy no sane mind could endure. Just before Yuri lost his reason completely, his mother’s voice rang inside his head.

—Survive, Yuri. You must live.

But how? How am I supposed to survive here? You’re telling me to remain alive after seeing this?

He had no confidence. The urge to surrender rose inside him. He wanted to release the thread of life he barely held.

But Yuri forced his eyelids shut, though they were crusted with dried blood, and repeated inwardly: I have to live. Stay alive. I have to stitch together the life Mother gave me however I can. He repeated it mindlessly until he suddenly opened his eyes within the dream. Then he blinked at his mother’s body lying before him without a head. That was… long ago. But whenever I sleep, I return here. Can something truly be called the past if I am always brought back to it?

The scene before Yuri had occurred many years earlier. Yet inside him, it remained a living, breathing present.

His breath.

His scars.

His pain.

All had grown from that horrific summer.

Perhaps that was why living had always been so unbearable. He had never taken a single step beyond the summer in which he lost his mother. That was why every day hurt.

It hurts.

Living because I have to live is unbearable. The smell of a rotting corpse is always beneath my nose. Gunshots and the buzzing of flies never leave my ears. I have no idea how to erase these sensations.

Mother. Must I continue living? How long must I obey the will you left behind?

None of his mother’s words had ever felt true. Yuri had preserved his life only to honor her final command. But the life he had forced himself to endure was not beautiful as she had promised.

There had been moments of happiness. There had been far more that were not. Because he was not permitted to die, he killed those who attempted to kill him.

Living that way layered his life with nothing but evil traces. When he finally stopped and looked behind him, he saw only ruins in the places he had passed. Yuri was certain this was not the life his mother had wanted.

Yes. I’ve been living wrongly all this time. Surely Mother never wanted me to survive by doing such things. If I had understood sooner, I would never have stained my hands with blood. What did I endure all of this for? The beautiful things Mother described were nowhere to be found.

As the thought formed, a gentle breeze came from somewhere. The terrible guilt that had always tormented Yuri gradually faded. It whispered that he could rest now. Yuri wanted that desperately.

Perhaps he could finally sleep.

He had endured for so long.

He had done enough.

Just as Yuri prepared to surrender his soul to the peace that had finally found him, a voice called out.

“Wolfie!”

The clear cry pierced through the horrific noise surrounding him.

Yuri flinched. All he had to do was fall asleep now. Yet the voice made him hesitate. Peace gently stroked his eyelids. Drowsiness began to pull him under.

“Wolfie, come on!”

Someone called him again.

The instant Yuri heard the cry, a desperate urgency seized him. He felt that he had to run toward the voice at once. The need to reach the person calling for him so desperately overwhelmed even the peaceful rest tempting him away.

The sun-beaten square where his mother lay transformed into a deep-green summer forest. Branches swayed beautifully beneath a sky so blue it could bring tears. The fresh, almost raw scent of dense foliage touched his nose.

A breeze brushed his cheek. Within it, Yuri caught Cherriot’s pheromones. Sweet, yet heavy enough that the scent could never easily drift away.

Longing and tenderness rose inside him. Yuri stopped the peace attempting to draw him onward and looked toward Cherriot, who stood in the lake beckoning to him. The handsome man smiled more beautifully than a peony and pushed wet reddish-blond hair from his face. He opened both arms.

“What are you doing? Come in.”

Clear drops rolled down his arms and fell into the lake, forming rings. The small circles expanded until they spread across the entire surface. The emotions blooming inside Yuri whenever he saw Cherriot had taken the same shape.

When Yuri did not approach, Cherriot tilted his head and drew his dark brows together. Hurt entered his green eyes. Yuri realized he could not leave that man behind. He turned toward the peace holding his wrist.

The transparent, formless shape tilted its head.

Yuri slowly freed himself and spoke, “Someone is waiting for me. ”

The translucent figure gradually changed into the form Yuri remembered. Soft brown hair stirred in the wind blowing toward Cherriot. Between the strands, his mother’s face appeared. She looked exactly as beautiful as Yuri remembered.

“Come slowly, my little jewel. Don’t hurt yourself.” Her loving voice stroked the back of his left hand and disappeared.

For the first time, Yuri turned away from the memory that had held him captive. He faced the man who had remained unchanged and was still waiting. Cherriot stood with his arms folded and lips pursed in a sulk. However, as Yuri began approaching, his eyes softened as if he had never been upset. His lips followed, forming a faint smile on one pale cheek. Yuri walked toward him.

The distance gradually closed.

When he reached the lake, he gazed down at the water washing over Cherriot’s white feet.

Without hesitation, Yuri stepped into the water. The moment his foot touched the surface, he felt as though his entire body was being pulled beneath the water. Despite the fear, he was not afraid.

Remembering the solid arms and thighs that had once supported him, Yuri willingly threw himself into the lake.