After I Died, He Died After Me Too - Chapter 37

Chapter 19.1

She had a dream.

She saw a child crying. The little girl sobbed endlessly as if consumed by sorrow.

“Why are you crying?”

Bianca opened her mouth to speak, but her throat constricted. She reached out to comfort the child, to gently pat her small, curled-up back, but her hand never made it. Without withdrawing her outstretched hand, she simply stared blankly at the child.

The sight of the crying child felt strangely familiar.

“Huuk, keuueuk.”

The choked sobs tightened her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Just let it out. Don’t hold back your feelings.”

The child was so small, yet it felt as though even crying wasn’t permitted. The sight struck a chord in her as if it were her own pain.

People walked past the crying child without so much as a glance.

The surroundings felt all too familiar—the towering buildings, the maids in their black-and-white uniforms, and the faint, heavy scent in the air. One by one, memories she had desperately tried to bury resurfaced, and the world around her grew dim and distant. It felt like the ground beneath her had turned to quicksand, dragging her down.

“Heuk, huff.”

Her breath hitched.

It felt as though water was rising to her nose, threatening to drown her, as cold sweat spread across her fingertips. Despite thinking she had grown numb to this feeling, she now realized she hadn’t. She stood frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from the crying child.

Just then, a woman approached and stopped right in front of them.

Ah.

Bianca knew her well.

She was someone she had longed for, pitied, and resented all at once. The sight of her, after all these years, made tears well up in her eyes.

It didn’t matter if she couldn’t see her.

“If only you had never existed… If only I hadn’t imprinted… This is all your fault.”

The child’s body flinched at the woman’s words.

Her voice was icy, filled with disdain. Though she shared the child’s features, her gaze was colder than a stranger’s. Her hollow eyes that bore into the little girl were filled with quiet contempt, as if just looking at them was unbearable.

“You should never have been born… Because of you, I can’t even escape… How much longer…how much longer must this go on…?”

“….”

“I can’t take this anymore. I’m so sick of it. Why do you keep getting in my way…? If only you weren’t here, I would’ve already left this place…”

“It’s okay. So… you can leave me.”

The child’s small hand trembled as it clung to the hem of her dress. The woman’s shoulders shook slightly as she heard the little girl’s words.

“Hah… heh, hahaha.”

A sound escaped the woman’s lips, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. As she lifted her head, strands of brown hair framed her hollow green eyes. She was thin and malnourished, and for a long moment, she simply stared at the child with a vacant gaze.

“…Leave you? Me? How…how could I… Ah… Ah! What have I done? What have I said…!”

The woman grasped her head and let out a desperate scream. Her tangled hair fell over her face as she sank to the floor, muttering incoherently to herself.

The child no longer cried. Instead, she wiped her face, stepped forward, and wrapped her small arms around the woman in a quiet embrace.

“You’re not the one leaving me, Mother. I’m the one leaving you. So, it’s okay for you to leave now.”

“…Really? I… I can leave this place?”

Her head slowly lifted, her face alight with joy. The child struggled to smile in return.

“Hurry and go. Get as far away as you can before Father comes back.”

At those words, the woman ran toward the door as if in a trance. However, just before stepping through, she froze and slowly turned back to face the child.

“I’ll… come back for you, Edith.”

For that brief moment, her mother seemed completely lucid.

The child, with tear stains dried on her cheeks, only smiled. Her expression seemed to say that if her mother could just escape to a place where she could at least breathe, even for a moment, before her father returned to this hellish place, then that would be enough.

Bianca didn’t want her mother to be trapped here because of her. It was unbearable to watch her slowly break apart.

This was her only chance.

And yet, a small part of her had never let go of the slightest hope—that maybe, just maybe, her mother really would come back for her.

Bianca opened her eyes. Her pillow was damp.

“…Nonsense.”

How could she have forgotten this memory?

She pushed herself upright, running a hand through her damp, sweat-soaked hair. This was a memory she could never forget—no, a memory she must never forget.

The fog in her mind had finally lifted. Now, she understood why she had been so reluctant to guiding and refused to imprint. Her father had used imprinting as a means to control her mother, and her mother had been forced to submit to his pheromones.

Her mother’s feelings had never mattered. Her father had used her for his own gain, taking everything without restraint, keeping her to himself, and demanding guiding whenever he wanted.