Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 204
Electra smirked just as fiercely, shedding any pretense of ladylike decorum as she hurled venomous words at him.
“Izar, you don’t know a thing about yourself, and you know even less about that girl! Go back and look at her face—she doesn’t care about you at all! She doesn’t care about you or anyone else in this land!”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant whom the imperial descendant holds in her heart.”
As long as she stayed by his side. As long as she didn’t die.
He tried to steel his mind, but—
“Then what about the baby? What about the child she’s supposedly carrying?”
Electra’s sharp words struck at the one point Izar wanted to avoid most.
“Has that woman even begun preparing a nursery, Izar?”
“……”
“Is she making clothes or handkerchiefs for the baby? No matter how high her status, even the noblest of women take part in such things themselves!”
Izar’s eyes darkened as if shrouded by a black fog.
There was a room prepared for the baby, yes.
But had Freesia ever once set foot in it? Had she ever spoken of making anything for the child?
She and the baby she carried…
But before he could dwell further, the sound of commotion from outside the room interrupted him.
“Master! Master!”
These were not the guards stationed to monitor Electra, but Freesia’s attendants.
“What’s going on?”
“Her Highness, the imperial descendant, seems to be in critical condition, but she keeps pushing us away…!”
Without hesitation, Izar pushed past them and stormed out of the room. From behind the closed door, Electra’s voice rang out, sharp and desperate.
“That wench abhors you, Izar! She despises you so much she might even be plotting to kill you…! You’ve gone completely blind!”
Despite her anguished cries, no one reentered the room. Alone, Electra wept bitterly for a long time.
She wept as though she were the only one who could foresee the catastrophe that would befall this land, as though she were the sole prophet aware of the inescapable doom ahead.
***
Unlike her first child, this pregnancy came with relentless nausea.
She had noticed the signs as early as her time in the imperial palace. She had dismissed it, assuming it would eventually subside, but that had been a grave miscalculation.
Weeks passed, and the nauseous torment showed no signs of abating—in fact, it only grew worse.
“Haa… Ugh… blegh…”
All she had eaten were plain bread and some fruit juice, yet what was the child in her belly so dissatisfied with?
It was as though the baby was determined to twist her esophagus until it broke.
“Urgh! Cough… ugh…”
The most infuriating part was that whenever Izar was nearby, her nausea eased, transforming into a manageable queasiness.
Even before birth, the baby was already choosing sides. That realization made Freesia seethe with anger as she cursed inwardly.
‘I will never love something like you.’
Why would she love something that caused her so much pain?
‘I don’t even love Izar anymore.’
Izar.
Where was he now?
He usually hovered around her to the point of being a nuisance, yet when she was in this much agony, he was nowhere to be found.
She was so filled with hatred that her mind felt like a chaotic mess.
“Ugh…”
“Your Highness, are you all right?”
Servants rushed to her from all directions, eager to support her.
They were utterly bothersome. The sight of them bustling about, drawing warm water for the bath to ease her discomfort, only grated on her nerves further.
Even when she was left in just her chemise, they showed no sign of leaving. Her patience snapped entirely, her thoughts fracturing in frustration.
“Get out.”
“Y-Your Highness, but we must assist you with your bath—”
“Does my smile make my words seem amusing to you?”
Freesia grabbed anything within reach and threw it indiscriminately inside the bathroom.
“Get out immediately! You’re in the way!”
Startled by the imperial descendant’s sharp outburst, the attendants hurriedly fled the bathroom in panic.
Only then did Freesia collapse onto the floor, gasping for breath.
“Hah… haah…”
She was used to being struck, but this maddening, internal pain was unbearable. It was unlike anything she had ever endured before.
New, unfamiliar suffering shattered her mental defenses again. Pretending to eagerly await the baby’s arrival like a doting mother was exhausting. Acting like a forgiving wife to her husband was tormenting. Playing the role of a compassionate Duchess was even worse.
Even pursuing vengeance with unwavering focus toward a fixed end was, in truth, unbearably difficult.
‘Should I just give it all up now?’
She had avenged herself against the Antares family for causing her child’s death and dishonoring her mother. She had done the bare minimum—wasn’t it enough to stop here?
Deep down, she knew such thoughts would fade by tomorrow. But for now, this overwhelming state felt like a sticky spiderweb, making every step forward feel insurmountable.
‘Let me return to the arms of God.’
To the place where her briar baby, the only child she recognized, was waiting. She would simply go there a little sooner.
Izar had obsessively removed all dangerous objects from her room, but there was always a way.
With trembling hands, Freesia clutched the pendant hanging around her neck. She had already confirmed that if she sharpened the leaf-shaped part of the flower pendant, even a piece of jewelry could become a deadly blade.
The moment of confirmation had stung, but the water prepared for her bath was warm, after all. Sliding into the tub, she watched as the water gradually turned red.
However, as her vision blurred from the steam and dizziness, her surroundings began to fade into a hazy white.
“Freesia!”
The bathroom door burst open with a loud crash, and a man stormed in. There was only one person who could barge into this space.
Izar.
He pulled Freesia out of the bloodied bathwater, holding her tightly as he shouted.
“Get the doctor! Call the doctor immediately!”
Ah, again.
Once again, this man had come to disrupt her peace.
The man who persistently dragged her back to this miserable world.
She couldn’t bear it anymore.
“Get away…!”
With blood dripping from her hand, Freesia lashed out at Izar’s left eye.
In her hand, she still held the sharply honed pendant.
