Chapter 21 - 1
The light of the flame spilling from the lamp beside the bed flickered quietly across the man's face.
The man lay on the crude wooden bed, his face ashen. His eyes were slightly open, as if lost in thought. The flickering of the faintly burning flame felt like the last glimmer of a man about to depart for the land of the dead.
In the simple log room, there was nothing that could be called a luxury; the faintly flickering lamplight was the room's only illumination.
A bed, a side chair, and a small writing desk were all the room contained.
Even in this poor, sparsely furnished house, this room in particular lacked any sense of being lived in.
At the brink of death, the man's gaze wandered faintly. He couldn't help but feel that this lonely room suited him, a man who had cast away his own status and honor to flee.
But…
The man looked at the woman sitting in the chair beside him, her body slightly bent as she knitted. In her hands was a half-finished child's sock, knitted from old cotton thread.
It would be one thing to die alone in a ditch. But he had a beloved family. He had always wished he wouldn't burden them, yet in the end, he had to leave them with a heavy load. He was a disgrace to himself.
But she had accepted it all with a smile, without a hint of resentment. Her smile was completely unchanged from when they had lived in that dazzling world. Even that filled him with guilt.
"I'm causing you so much trouble."
When he spoke, the woman beside him—his wife—offered a quiet, soft smile that seemed to unravel. The man's cheeks relaxed as well. It was because of her that he had been able to endure any hardship. It was because of her that he had been able to hold on to the hope he had nearly cast away.
It was because she was there that he had been able to accept even the downfall of his life and continue to live until now.
"It's no trouble at all."
"But…"
The man knew. He knew that her clothes were remade from old ones. That their child's socks were re-knitted from an old sweater. That she, who had once lived in that glamorous world, now struggled for a single piece of clothing.
"It's alright. I've never truly suffered. After all, we have him, don't we?"
"…You're right."
"Yes. So I'll be fine. You can rest easy."
The wife said this with a smile, but the man could sense the deep sorrow that faintly colored her expression.
The lamp's flame popped with a small crackle.
A sacred, tranquil air flowed between the two.
Unconsciously, the couple sensed that this was their final moment. And so, she listened intently, so as not to miss a single word her husband said.
"I wish I could have left you with at least a little something more."
With a quiet sigh, the man closed his eyes in pain.
"We'll be alright. We'll manage somehow."
"…I see…"
In the quiet, the man suddenly reminisced about the past. Himself in his glamorous days, and himself living a life of simplicity. Which had been happier?
The woman simply watched quietly as the man's consciousness wandered hazily through the past, waiting for him to speak again. The only sounds in the room were the faint crackling of the lamp's flame and their breathing.
In the silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, the woman heard the man's final, great, and quiet sigh.
"…My love?"
She spoke to him, knowing that no reply would ever come.
"My love… are you gone?"
No answer ever returned from the man. The woman knew her companion was lost to her forever.
He had departed on a distant journey.
Leaving her behind…
The man had quietly drawn the curtain on his own life in a final reminiscence. It was very fitting for him, she thought vaguely.
The woman left behind simply stared blankly at the flickering lamplight, her tears flowing endlessly.
"I'm home! Mom, where's Dad?"
The sound of light footsteps came from the next room, and a small boy came to the woman's side, nestling close.
All the man had left behind was the mountain this house stood on, a certain secret fortune, and this boy.
But that alone would be enough to support the woman.
"My dear, say goodbye to your father…"
At the woman's words, the boy seemed to understand everything.
"Dad… is he dead?"
The woman silently nodded at the boy's trembling question.
"…Dad… Dad! No, wake up!"
As she watched her child cling to the man's body and cry, tears overflowed endlessly. But she wiped them away, slowly stood up, and turned her back on her husband's remains.
After her farewell with the man was over, she had things to do. She had to accomplish them perfectly.
"No matter what, I will raise this child to be a fine man. Until the day I can tell him who you truly were."
The woman placed her hand on the door and quietly left the room.
To do what she had to do.