I Pray That You Forget Me - Chapter 1
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
read more chapters on luna kofi
“You deceived me!”
The trembling barrel of the gun was pointed at the man. The man rose from the bed.
A crumpled white sheet slipped down, revealing the man’s naked body. It was then that I remembered that I too was naked like him just a moment ago.
I had just been entangled with that disgusting swindler on that bed a little while ago.
Chills ran down my spine. The lingering touch of that man was still vivid from the chest to the toes.
The sensation of the tongue that had worshiped my skin now felt like the greedy gesture of a snake ready to devour me.
The traces the man left in my womb last night gushed out between my legs and sluggishly trickled down my thighs before dropping with a splatter.
Like venom at the tip of fangs.
The cunning man’s venom had already spread through my body, and as I realized that, another shock swept over me.
“Don’t come any closer!”
The man tried to approach me, who was staggering as if I was about to faint. I snapped out of my daze in an instant.
Click.
I raised the gun that had hung downward and pulled the hammer.
“If you come, I’ll shoot.”
To make it clear that my words were not empty.
“Tell me. Who are you?”
Who had I been in love with until now?
Love? No. It’s a deception.
What I thought was love turned out to be deception.
***
The bells of the cathedral rang through the valley.
Upon the announcement that the holiday mass would soon begin, the villagers abandoned their tasks and hurried to the church, dressed in their finest attire.
“Please protect all fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers who stand against evil to defend their country and family…”
Once again, the priest’s prayer sought the well-being of the men fighting on the battlefield. As the priest’s serene words mixed with the congregation’s sniffles, the atmosphere became heavy with emotion.
The war with the neighboring country showed no sign of ending. The fluctuating tides of battle like the ebb and flow of the sea had turned the front lines into a wasteland, with the land trampled by boots and tanks.
Though this remote mountain village had managed to evade the fate of being swallowed by the flames of war, it couldn’t escape the consequences entirely.
The church, which once used to be so crowded that latecomers had to stand at the back, now had many empty seats. Even with outsiders like me taking up space.
Most of the residents gathered in the church were women. The few men left were either too old or too young to wield a gun, or their bodies were unfit for combat. The young and able-bodied men of the village were almost all on the battlefield.
Because of this, there was a shortage of men for labor in the village.
“Rize.”
After the mass, preparations for the festival were underway in the square in front of the church.
Brigitte, whose husband had been sent to the front lines and now lived with other women in the farmhouse below the hill, came up to me.
“Where is Johann?”
It seemed there was something to be done for my husband.
“Johann was summoned by the priest.”
“Again?”
Brigitte narrowed her eyes like needles, glancing at the church and muttering disapprovingly.
“Did the priest mark Johann as the one to climb the belfry?”
The belfry?
Instead of laying the worn tablecloth on the old table, I found myself looking up at the belfry before glancing back at Brigitte.
The belfry was fine. So, there was no need for him to tinker with it.
“They need someone to move the furniture from the vestry to the basement.”
“Hmm… I suppose they do.”
I didn’t say anything more. Brigitte often muttered strange things for no apparent reason, and the more I listened, the more my head ached.
By the time I finished arranging the tables, Johann still hadn’t returned. Unlike Johann, who was looked for here and there even if he just stayed put, my efforts weren’t as valued.
‘What should I do now?’
I looked around the square. Everyone was busy with their tasks.
The locals, who had experienced the festival since childhood, found their tasks without needing to ask each other. But as an outsider, I had no idea what was needed.
They seemed too busy, and I felt that approaching them to ask would only be an annoyance. I went over to a group that seemed relatively at ease.
“Wow!”
“You kids, can’t you keep your hands to yourselves?”
The grandfathers, who were supposed to be the band during the village festival, were surrounded by children, creating discordant sounds.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
The grandfather who was tuning the old violin seemed to brighten up at my question.
“I seem to have forgotten to put the chickens in the coop.”
“Well, then should I…”
I thought he was asking me to go and put the chickens in the coop, but it wasn’t that.
“I’ll be back in a moment, so please make sure these kids don’t touch my violin.”
Watching the hurried figure of the grandfather heading home, I looked down at the old violin he had entrusted to me.
‘It’s strange.’
Somehow, the violin and the bow felt familiar in my hands.
Since waking up in the hospital about four months ago, I had occasionally experienced a sense of familiarity with unfamiliar things. It was never baseless illusions.
‘Could it be that I know how to play the violin?’
I hesitated as I fiddled with the violin, then placed my fingers on the strings. From that moment on, my fingers began to move as if they had a mind of their own.
Goodness… I really know how to play.
