Ploca had decided to pour all her own into Ashtie and die. She had decided before. But when she saw the smile of the child, she thought she should live. “If I disappear, she will be really alone. Ploca. You know about the solitude. Shouldn’t you consider Ashtie? She did not do anything wrong.”

But—

“Come and lie down.”

“Don’t do this. Please stop. Please, the child, your daughter, is watching now!”

“Shut up.”

—the nights were—

“Please, don’t.”

“You are my wife.”

“Please, let’s go to the room, please.”

“Shut up.”

“Please, let’s do it in the room.”

“I will do it right here.”

—Endless.

Ploca laughed darkly. It had been a long time she laughed with sincerity. There was only self-deprecation and ridicule.

Or the smile that she showed to her lovely baby. She practiced it hundreds of times in the mirror. “I will never show my miserable looks to Ashite.” It was an obsession. She managed to do so while gathering guilt, frustration, hatred, anger, despair, all kinds of negative emotions.

But every day was a hard day for her. Even she didn’t know if the love she was pouring to Ashtie was true maternity or not.

“Ashi. Not every man in the world behaves like His Majesty.”

But at least, she meant that. “If ever you met some man like him, I really couldn’t live.” Ashtie was nodding to follow her mother’s words as usual. She smiled brightly. Ploca looked down at the child and thought, “I am sorry, Ashtie, my baby. I am too tired to love you purely. But I should love you. I am your mother. So, I will tell you again and again that I love you.”

“You will never know how much I want to die.”

When she opened her eyes in the morning, she just wanted to put her head in the washbowl. At lunchtime, her hands shivered when she held a fork. She wanted to stab her wrist with it. There were countless times she just wanted to jump out of the window. It was worse when she spent the night with the king. She had her nails grown long and clenched her fists. Then, her fists were so hurt. She thought it would be fine if she bled like that. She thought it would be good to just choke herself like that. She wanted to break her ankle while dancing. When she sang, she felt her voice was disgusting. “Shameless bitch, crazy bitch.” The crazy days continued.

Nevertheless, Ashtie grew up well without knowing anything. She had a mild impression. She could not help but think about Hetiron.

Then one day. The king came late at night. It looked like he had been drunk again.

Ploca never paid attention to the king’s trivial impulse. She just thought, whatever. The man, who was raised preciously, was trying to play insane. How hard could it be? She just laughed at the back of the king, who was dragging her to another room, as if she felt sympathy.

The king shouted a few words in the room. Ploca, of course, didn’t care. The one thing she could think was, “This man still has some affection for me.” He must be. Otherwise, he would not come here and do this after drinking. But she experienced so many times of his ridiculous lingering attachment. “I won’t waver again.” Ploca thought of it as usual.

But her leisurely mind broke as soon as the king said a word.

“Ploca. Is that girl really my daughter?”

“What? Is that an important matter?” she thought, “What is it about? Is that why you killed Hetiron? Was it the matter I spent the night with Hetrion? Was it something that made you too mad to stand? So, did you eventually kill Hetiron?”

“Your Majesty…How can you say that? She is our baby…How…”

“How could you be so brazen?” she thought.

“Do you deny my doubts?” he said.

“Yes, I do. Ashtie. Ploca has your blood. She is Your Majesty’s daughter.”

“You’d say that when you can see her?”

“Your Majesty.”

She wanted to slap him right now, but she suppressed it. She burned with anger, but she tried to answer calmly. After all, there would be no end if he tried to argue with it, so she had to endure. She was the weak one here.

“I know him.”

But she could not bear that word.

“Son of a bitch. Are you really a human? Are you not a monster just wearing a human mask?”

“…Your Majesty, no. How could…”

“How could you be the king of elegant Skara? You son of a bitch.”

“I do know you.”

“What the hell do you know? Son of a bitch. No, dogs will be better than you. Dogs know the royalty, recognize their owners, and shake their tails to other dogs, but you don’t know anything. Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch! The lowest man will be far more precious than you. You are worse than dog-like vulgar people. The garbage on the street will be cleaner than you!”

She didn’t know about his thinking so far. “How did I not know about this? Why was I naive? I am resentful.” The subject was unclear, but the anger that she could not control boiled in her mind. “Why on earth did I think he meant it? I didn’t know he had indecent desires. I didn’t know he tried to fool me perfectly. I behaved like such a child.” She hated young herself, who was happy and smiled to have a compliment about dancing from a high-status man. She hated it. Her anger boiled. She was sick of herself who said she didn’t like it but still mixed her body with this son of a bitch so many times. She thought she should have died already.

“I should have known that this would end like this. Too silly. Too pathetic.”

Ploca looked out the window. It was calm. It was dark and faint.

The child talked again in her sleep as if she slept fitfully. The silence was broken, and tears fell at the same time. Raindrops flowed on her cheeks.

“Is this all my fault?” she thought, “Is it really my fault? Is it because of the king? No, it’s my fault. I sinned so bad that I dared not hope for Hetiron. Even if I try to pretend not to know or that it’s not my fault, but it is all my fault. Did I wish Hetiron appear in front of me just once, at least? How can I be so blatant? Hetiron died because of me. The king took me because of me, the child was born because of me.”

“Ashtie. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I tried to whisper love to you because I felt sorry. I tried and tried. But I started from the mud, of course, every day was a mess.”

“I am too sorry that I even can’t look at you, but shamelessly, I tried to be your mother.”

But Ploca had no intention of asking her forgiveness. Forgiveness was something an only honorable person could ask. She had lost her purity since the moment she stepped into this royal castle, and she had no right to ask forgiveness to Hetiron, and to the child who did not know anything.

It was a cruel pain.

But she thought about dance.

In fact, it was over yesterday already. Today was the deadline. She had only lived for one reason; to achieve the last dream of conveying her dance. Without it, her life really would not mean anything. There was no hope originally. The relief was a luxury. There was no time to be soaked in frustration and despair. After she tried tirelessly, finally, she passed down all her dance.

“Now, there is no reason to live. Let’s die,” she thought.

“Yes, this is right. I should have died already.” Ploca stood up. There was nothing left for Ashtie.

But there was something to say to the king. She stumbled to the desk. A small note. She grasped it tight. And she sat next to Ashtie. She kissed on her cheek and patted her forehead. Tears fell down and dropped on the child’s face. She wiped the tears as not to wake her up.

“Goodbye, my love, Ashi. I really love you. I love you, Ashi.”

As if nothing happened, the world was awfully quiet. The dawn light was coming. The child was sleeping. Only her cheek that her mother kissed was red.

Ploca slowly left the room. It was quiet, dark, faint. The door closed quietly. As if nothing had happened.