Killing Your Sweet Breath - Chapter 3
Chapter 2.1
Winter was accepting her death.
After the castle of Ruhen burned down and the disgraceful collapse of her family, it was a life she had no choice but to continue.
She couldn’t forget everything and just live for herself; she was tied to the past, living solely for her remaining younger sibling. There had been more than enough times when she felt so burdened and tired that she wanted to die.
It was only terribly fitting that her life would end at the hands of the emperor’s detestable offspring. Yet, a part of her felt a sense of peace at the thought that it was all over, and her heartbeat calmed.
That’s how exhausted she was.
Living a life that couldn’t move forward, endlessly circling in the midst of pain.
The world around her was pitch black.
Winter stopped her musings about death and instead thought about the money she had deposited in the bank vault.
It wasn’t because she regretted the hard-earned money she had saved.
It was simply a last act of responsibility, to check if there would be enough to send to her one and only sibling.
At least five years’ worth, she figured. After that, there was nothing she could do.
She would have liked to take care of that child for life, but now that Van had discovered her identity, it was better for the both of them if she disappeared without a trace, rather than barely surviving and risk being tracked down.
She had already informed the bank. If there was no news from her by the time her balance ran out, they were to deliver her last deposit along with a message.
That letter contained a harsh final farewell. It told them not to look for her as she was leaving far away, that she was sick and tired of it all. Otherwise, her sibling might wander in search of her.
‘Mother, Father, please forgive me for not being able to take care of my only sibling until the end.’
The faces of her parents conjured inside her mind.
Ah, could she even dare to meet them? Her parents had lived their lives without shame, but these hands were tainted by blood. Could she still go to where they were?
Surely, she’d be going to hell.
It had truly been a long and arduous life. She failed to protect it all—her family, her pride, even the ancient heirloom passed down through her family, and, in the end, her own life.
Winter let go of it all, resigning herself to the darkness.
She found a sense of peace in her own self-mockery.
But then a cold touch landed on her face.
Rough, calloused fingers wiped the dampness from her eyes and gently caressed her cheek before they traced her dry lips.
Then, the sensation of soft skin touched her lips, prying open her dry, closed mouth, and warm liquid seeped through.
The tasteless, odorless liquid soaked into Winter’s mouth like water penetrating dry soil, feeling the moisture spreading through every cell in her body.
It revived her fading life, and sensation returned to her numb body, followed by pain.
Winter slowly started to move her fingertips.
“Winter, it’s been four days already.”
A familiar voice spoke to her.
The light behind her eyelids slowly brightened.
Her muddled consciousness gradually returned.
Winter hadn’t died.
In the serene silence, she began to hear the unmistakable sounds of life.
The sound of wind squeezing through the cracks in the window.
The footsteps of people passing through the corridor.
The rustling of bed linens.
And then, as if softly chanting a spell, a low, sad voice murmured.
“Trying to die in front of me, isn’t that a bit much?”
That voice reminded her of a certain boy with eyes that shone brighter than the sun.
“You should’ve let me. What do you think you’re doing?”
But the first words that escaped her dry lips were filled with resentment.
She didn’t need to gauge his reaction, she already knew he was surprised. Winter slowly sat up, opening her eyes.
Everything she touched was soft. Instead of the black clothes she had been wearing, her bare body was now covered by a white silk robe. She didn’t have time to bathe while pursuing him, but even the dirt and grime on her skin had been washed away.
For a split second, she felt embarrassed by the unexpected treatment, but then, through her blurred vision, she saw Van’s figure sitting beside the bed.
His jet-black hair was as smooth as snake scales, and his golden eyes glittered warmly in the sunlight.
Meeting those eyes, for just a moment, made her feel as if she had returned to the past.
But the clear sight of him as a fully grown man and the excruciating pain pulsating through her body reminded her that this place was neither heaven, hell, nor a vision before death.
Clearly, those damn alchemists and their drugs couldn’t be trusted. She had asked for a poison, and they gave her a fake one that only left side effects.
The metallic taste of blood lingered in her throat, possibly from continuous vomiting, and her entire body felt utterly drained of strength.
“Where did you learn to kiss someone without their consent, Your Grace?”
Winter asked sarcastically, addressing Van as he silently watched her.
She was annoyed at having wasted money and energy, and more so because she had ingested a poison that failed to kill her properly. It didn’t help that seeing his smug and smiling face only angered her more.
“You are aware that you almost died, right? You were unconscious for four days.”
Van was smiling brightly, despite Winter’s sarcastic words.
His smile was that of a man who had reunited with an old lover, not one facing his would-be assassin.
His treatment of her proved it. She hadn’t woken up in a prison cell after trying to kill him by breaking into his room through the window like a rat. No, he had laid her down in his bedroom, where Winter lost consciousness.
“Of course I’m aware. I was trying to die.”