Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 8
Freesia had always repressed her feelings.
But his indifferent remark ignited a spark of anger in her heart.
However, before the flame could fully ignite, his next words extinguished it.
“It’s better this way. “To be born to parents like us—happiness would forever elude that child anyway.”
“…Like us?”
“Yes.”
Freesia’s voice faltered at Izar’s piercing comment. Why did his words strike so close to the heart?
A child born to a man who does not love, and a woman who does not receive love.
Wasn’t that the very essence of her own life?
And how miserable that had been.
She knew the child could be unhappy, yet she ignored it, instead yearning for her own happiness.
Was this the consequence of her selfishness?
“…That’s true.”
“……”
“You’re right.”
She murmured, head bowed.
“Maybe it’s better… better he wasn’t born.”
“…”
To me, who’s like this. To us, as we are.
They sat in silence for a long time.
Eventually, Izar quietly turned to leave. Freesia couldn’t muster the courage to look at him.
As he was about to leave, he hesitated for a moment, but eventually left without a word and closed the door behind him.
What was he about to say?
But soon, his footsteps receded.
Click.
The sound of the door clicking shut resonated emptily.
And not long after, Freesia took her last breath. Strangely, her soul lingered in the castle until the day of her funeral.
‘They’re holding a funeral for the Duchess. Of course.’
But no one in the castle shed a tear.
Not even Izar, her husband.
His expression was calm, though a bit haggard.
‘I never expected more, but…’
Nevertheless, her already dead heart ached again. She knew she was an inadequate wife, but still, they had shared a child.
Couldn’t he have shed even a single tear, even if it was just pretense?
‘Was it that difficult?’
A searing pain spread from Freesia’s dead heart to her throat.
That agony was an endless regret, a longing, a resentment, the sole wish in this wretched life.
Please, cry for me.
Even a single tear.
Even if it’s just for show, just pretend…
[…How pitiful.]
As her consciousness began to fade into the dark night sky, a deep, resonant voice whispered in her ear.
[Dying to only now find your power. And yet, your life has already ended…]
That’s right. In the darkness, Freesia realized the irony of her fate. Why was her luck always so cruel? To discover a power when it was too late, what a mockery.
But the voice whispered again.
[What is it that you wish for, child? For your wish and mine, I ask you this. Will you tread the mortal realm once again, even if death would be a more merciful path to take?]
Was this the voice of God?
Or the sweet temptations of the devil?
Yet, it knew exactly what Freesia desired.
[…Alright, then I shall join you. I will grant you one more year to your ended life.]
As you wish, you shall see that man weep even just once.
And then, a brilliant light flooded her darkened vision.
It was the vivid light of life, shining like a comet.
***
On a familiar spring day, with a gentle breeze, Freesia stepped out of her humble cottage.
When she woke up, her mother was sleeping under a worn blanket, unmistakably breathing.
Her mother was alive.
“Strange…”
Had she somehow returned to being twenty years old? Were the last three years of marriage just a nightmare?
And what about this silver number on the back of the button necklace she always wore?
“365…?”
The number was faintly visible, changing with the angle of the sunlight.
For a moment, Freesia wondered if she had gone mad.
She thought, she must have hallucinated everything, obsessed with her unrequited love for Izar. So she spent the day as calmly as she could.
Izar being her husband? A ridiculous notion. And a child between them? And that child…
“Haha. Ha!”
It was a dry, hollow laugh of delusion.
But the next day, Freesia found herself standing frozen in front of her house.
‘That smell again.’
The unmistakable scent of blood, hard to forget.
“…Haah.”
Sighing without realizing it, she slowly turned the button on her necklace.
The back now read ‘364’ in shining silver.
Then those past years weren’t a nightmare.
They had truly happened, and some great being had mercifully granted her an additional year.
‘And one day has already passed.’
When the number reaches zero, this miraculously extended life will end.
‘What should I do?’
She could run away from this moment, this place.
…But her stepmother and knights inside might soon catch her. And if caught, she would inevitably end up married to Izar again.
However, her intense wish at the brink of soul’s extinction resurfaced.
‘I want to see you cry because of me, even just once.’
Her green eyes hardened with resolve.
The relationship between her and her husband had been like a failed knitting project. No matter how splendid the pattern, if the first stitch was wrong, it’s all meaningless.
That first stitch.
It had to be corrected.
In the end, Freesia stepped once more into the house filled entirely with the scent of her mother’s blood.
