Chapter 35

Since he had promised to follow her wishes no matter what, Massera rubbed his face in distress.

“...Understood.”

***

Even after entering the room, Massera remained full of concern.

He could overlook the wine, cake, and fruit prepared for newlyweds, but the roses arranged everywhere were really bothering him. The sound of running water from the bathroom was no better.

‘What is the meaning of this?’

Regardless of their relationship, saying “Just stay with me” with such sorrowful eyes was a very suggestive signal to a healthy man.

It was also strange that her face was redder than usual. On top of that, she looked pretty.

Silken silver hair, gently downturned and big clear eyes, pale lips, and a harmless smile.

That very woman looked up at him while drying her wet hair with a towel.

“The hot water works fine. I was worried I’d have to use a wet towel to wipe myself down.”

‘Did I just call her pretty? Am I seriously thinking this?’

He had endured every kind of seduction, even women sneaking into his bed naked, but never had his composure been this shaken.

And yet, just a single line from her made him like this?

Fleeing quickly into the bathroom, Massera took a shower and dressed himself thoroughly.

When he came out, Cynthia had pulled the blanket over her head all the way.

“I’m—”

Just as he was about to say he’d sleep on the sofa, a flash of light lit up the window. It seemed the fireworks had started.

Bang—!

The soundproofing wasn’t great, so the explosions of fireworks leaked into the room.

Cynthia, who was under the blanket, flinched and curled up into a ball.

“What’s wrong?”

Only then did Massera sense something was off, and he slightly pulled back the blanket to check on her.

When Cynthia lifted her head, still covering her ears, her face was filled with fear and terror. Her already pale face had become even paler.

It was the same expression she had during the shooting at the engagement ceremony.

“Are you hurt? If you tell me your symptoms…”

At his question, Cynthia, still trembling, buried her head back into the sheets.

“...I’m scared.”

Could she be scared of the sound of fireworks?

Massera recalled the symptoms of war-related trauma people experienced.

War trauma wasn’t limited to soldiers—it affected civilians and even children.

He quickly turned off all the lights in the bedroom.

‘But that shouldn’t be possible. She was somewhere untouched by the war.’

Just as he was about to get up to ask a crew member for a sedative, she grabbed his hand.

“Don’t go.”

Massera turned to look at her.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

From Cynthia, who had buried her face in the blanket, came the sound of quiet sobbing.

Where was her mind drifting to? And who was she speaking to? Perhaps the “Oppa” she called for during the engagement.

Massera sat beside her.

Since she wasn’t hyperventilating or breaking into a seizure, it seemed better to simply stay by her side.

He looked down at the pale, slender hand that held his own so desperately.

As Cynthia always wore gloves, this was his first time seeing her bare hands.

“...”

For a royal raised in luxury, her hands were surprisingly rough.

Suddenly, he noticed her tears soaking into the sheet where her face lay buried.

He gently patted Cynthia’s curled-up, trembling back.

Boom—!

With a loud explosion, the bedroom was illuminated by the many colors of the fireworks. It seemed the display had reached its climax.

“Ugh, uuuh… Mom, Dad… Unnie…”

She was clutching her ears, trembling like a frightened child.

Just as he was wondering what to do, Cynthia pulled on his hand.

Massera’s eyes, taking on a purple hue in the darkness, slowly shifted upward toward the ceiling.

“You make it hard to ignore you.”

With a soft murmur, his body leaned toward her, just as Cynthia had pulled him down.

On the deck, some watched the fireworks show with nostalgic joy, while others cowered, haunted by memories of air raids.

And there were those who embraced the trembling, trying to comfort them.

Time passed, and silence fell as if the world had stilled.

“It’s over now.”

He tried to gently pull Cynthia, who held onto him tightly and had her face buried in his chest, back into reality.

Her head, resting under his chin, gave a faint movement.

Soon, her breathing became noticeably calmer.

And then, who knows how much time passed.

‘Should I tell the physician?’

Massera, who had changed his position and was now lying flat on his back, stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Cynthia had her head resting on his broad shoulder, her arms wrapped around his waist.

‘What should I do about her clothes?’

It seemed her trauma had triggered while changing into pajamas after her shower. She hadn’t fastened her buttons properly, and he could feel her bare skin against him.

Her body clung to his, and from her came the soft scent of milk and peaches.

***

Boom!

“It’s going to be okay. Don’t cry.”

Alongside Dad’s affectionate voice came the blaring sound of the shelter’s air raid siren.

Was this a dream or a hallucination?

Then the scene changed.

From under the bed where I was curled up, I saw military boots stepping into view.

Following Dad’s advice to count to 100, I closed my eyes and counted silently.

‘One, two, three, four…’

I counted along with the gunshots that shook the floor.

‘One person, two people, three…’

The sound of gunshots was always followed by the screams of people.

That day, Dad left us.

Back then when I could only count up to 50 as a child, my older brother, who carried me on his back after Dad’s funeral, said—

“Our little baby, I’ll protect you from now on. You promised Dad you’d always smile, right?”

I was just a child then, and my much older brother was a soldier.

“Oppa, why does everyone keep dying except me?”

“You were just lucky. You survived even when the building collapsed last time. Remember what Mom and Dad used to say? That your birth was a blessing.”

“When will the war end? I miss my friends.”

My sister, five years older, who taught me to count to 100 in Dad’s place, smiled with sorrowful eyes.

“...Think of it like a play. Even this war, this pain—it’ll all come to an end someday.”

“Unnie, if I think we’re all in a play where everyone ends up happy, will I really be happy too?”

My brother’s voice echoed in my head—saying I had to live for that to happen.

After that, my brother and sister died, but I survived.

As always, simply because I was lucky.

“Don’t leave me all alone…”

They say the world has a law of total balance.

If I gain something, someone else loses.

I suffered from guilt, wondering if my fortune had come at the cost of someone else’s misfortune. After hearing the resentment of families who had lost their loved ones, it just started to feel true.

Even so, I never gave up and lived with a smile—because that was everyone’s last wish.

Then came rumors among survivors that “the government had abandoned the city.” It was only a matter of time before it was taken.

What were we even fighting for? I never wanted any of this.

On the thirtieth day of the air raids, I didn’t go into the shelter.

Cold rain drenched the ruined city.

Wouldn’t it be better to leave this world quickly than to see everyone else die one by one and be left alone?

It felt nice, as if the falling rain was washing away all my sadness. I even felt relieved.

I sat down at an abandoned piano on the side of the road and tried pressing down on the keys. Some of the keys didn’t make a sound as they were broken.

“I should’ve practiced when I had the chance.”

Then I could’ve ended things gracefully, like a pianist’s finale.

Just then, airplanes in formation flew across the sky.

When did I stop being afraid of seeing planes?

Before the war, Dad and Oppa used to fold paper planes for me. Now the image of those times soared across the sky.

“Take me with you too.”

Smiling, I looked up at the overcast sky.

The light that streaked downward like a meteor shower was blindingly beautiful.

“Mom, Dad, Oppa, Unnie… I’m coming to see you now.”

That was my final will.

Beyond the light that surrounded me, someone’s voice called out.

“You’re okay now.”

Only upon hearing that gentle voice did I realize it was all just a dream.

I reached out toward the voice—and soon felt myself wrapped in a warm embrace.