mindwomanjigrave
(The Witch's Cat)
-The Witch's Cat-
W. Seolha
Trigger Warning,
There are numerous scenes of violence and some graphic depictions of gore that some viewers may find offensive.
Please be careful.
The wind was cold.
Yoon-gi looked down at Hong-wol, who had already fallen asleep in his arms, breathing evenly, her breaths deep and clear. The dim dawn sunlight shone on her beautiful forehead, making her already pale skin look even more beautiful. Her bulging forehead, her softly closed eyes. Yoon-gi's gaze, which passed her high nose and touched her coral-red lips, remained fixed on her. "How beautiful," Yoon-gi muttered to himself, and he tightened his grip on the arm supporting Hong-wol. He lifted her light body. Her head, still in a deep sleep, tilted towards Yoon-gi.
"...."
I want to lock you up.
I want to live like that, locked in this palace, right before my eyes, so that I can't go anywhere.
These were thoughts he never would have entertained under normal circumstances. Suddenly, Yoongi came to his senses and carefully placed Hongwol on the bedding. Perhaps because the warmth had vanished, Hongwol, who had been tossing and turning for a moment, began breathing evenly again. The sound of her breathing tickled his ears. Yoongi watched every moment without missing a single moment.
I don't know why I act like this. Why does my body seem to move on its own in front of this woman? The wind blowing through the window caused her black hair, which had been fluttering, to fall on her snow-white face. The hair swayed in the wind over her beautiful face. Yoon-gi, who had been watching Hong-wol's frown as her hair gently tickled his face, reached out. His fine black hair, resembling the color of night, tumbled from his hand. Yoon-gi absentmindedly smoothed the hair that had been flying wildly across his face, gathered it together, and tucked it behind Hong-wol's small ear.
"...I, you,"
Could he kill her? The words he couldn't quite utter scattered from her lips. Yoongi's hand, which had been hovering near Hongwol's forehead, gradually descended. From her nose, to her mouth. From her mouth again, to her neck. A shadow fell across her pure white nape, and her thin neck was completely engulfed in Yoongi's thick-boned hand. Blue veins bulged on the back of Yoongi's hand, as if he were about to strangle her delicate neck at any moment.
"...."
But that was all. There was no strength in his grip.
The hand that had been gripping that pure white neck wouldn't let go. Yoongi, who had been wandering around it for a while, quickly pulled his hand away and stood up. He hurriedly flung open the door, as if being chased by someone. Even as he quickly walked down the silent, empty hallway of the Hwabindang, his attention was focused on one thing. Suddenly, Yoongi stopped walking and looked down at his hand. His hand was pale, bloodless. Yoongi, who was looking at him, let out a hollow laugh. "Am I crazy?" The emotion he'd briefly felt wasn't just hesitation. He'd clearly felt something, however faint,
Because it was fear.
"...your majesty,"
Yoongi suddenly raised his head at the familiar voice calling his name. Seokjin, who had been guarding the door of Hwabindang, was looking at him with considerable worry. Yoongi continued his steps, which had been halting. Those straight steps were clearly headed towards Daejeon, so Seokjin followed quietly without further comment. His hesitant steps, however, soon became straight as if they had clearly decided on their destination.
"...Call 'him'."
Yoongi gave the order. Seokjin obeyed, bowed his head before Yoongi, and then walked away.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Hongwol's eyes opened, their red pupils wandering through the air for a moment. "Ah," Hongwol let out a final groan, then forced a deflated smile. The warmth of the hand wrapped around my neck was vivid. Hongwol brought her hand to my neck. Just like Yoongi had done to me, she clutched my neck as if she would suffocate me at any moment. I could feel a faint pulse throbbing at the tips of her fingers.
"...when,"
"Will you kill me?" Hongwol muttered. The hand that had been strangling my neck had long since moved away from him. A reddish mark remained on her soft skin. Was it favor, obedience, or perhaps the opposite? To keep his contract with me, he worked harder than anyone else, trying to find a way to kill her, but he couldn't break my neck, which was still in his grasp. Even though his thick, warm hand held my thin neck for a long time, it didn't move a muscle. It was fun. Hongwol found this situation simply delightful. The witch's cat must obey its master. As a descendant of the tiger I created, he had to obey me according to that slogan. But when the time came, would he be able to kill me according to my command? A doubt arose. It was a doubt that had blossomed from a single moment of hesitation.
Hongwol closed her eyes. Still, she felt good. Perhaps it was because she hadn't felt that warm hand in a long time, or perhaps it was for some other reason, but the thought suddenly crossed her mind that even if it was a favor born of submission, it was okay. The corners of her lips curled up prettily, and Hongwol pulled the blanket up to her neck.
Somehow I felt like I could fall into a good sleep.
* * *
The Emperor's walks to the Hwabindang became more frequent. The first day, Hongwol, who had fallen into a deep sleep without realizing it, opened her eyes again to find the Emperor sitting next to her, bathed in the dim moonlight. The next day, too, the Emperor made the lame excuse of visiting the sick, and continued to walk to the Hwabindang every morning and evening.
"It seems that the position of Emperor of the Nation was a much more relaxed one than I had imagined."
"You're free,"
“I always thought you were so busy that you didn’t even have time to breathe, but I never thought you would spend so much time with me.”
On the third day, today, the evening breeze was cool, so hadn't he suggested a walk to Hongwol simply because it felt good? Hongwol carefully paced with the Emperor as he strolled through the vast gardens of the vast Imperial Palace. When the Emperor asked, "Am I feeling any discomfort?", Hongwol smiled and shook her head. The corners of her lips lifted gently before she opened her mouth.
"I'm fine, except that the Master looks at me as if he's going to tear me apart."
"...."
The voice was full of mischief, and Seokjin, who had been silently listening to their conversation, flinched and frowned. Yoongi turned his head to look at Seokjin. Seokjin followed them at a distance of about ten paces, and a similar expression of anger was plastered on his face, so Yoongi let out a deep sigh. Perhaps the cause of that anger was because of him. The pile of petitions, which had already piled up to a height that was well above his sitting height, seemed to pass before Yoongi's eyes. Nevertheless, Yoongi blurted out the words that Seokjin absolutely did not want. The moment Yoongi gave the order, "The Provincial Governor, wait here," Seokjin's face contorted into an even fiercer grimace. "Your Majesty," Yoongi raised a hand to stop Seokjin from saying something. He grabbed Hongwol's hand tightly and ran towards the center of the garden. It seemed like Seokjin's deep sigh was lingering in my ears.
"Can I just leave it there?"
"What else is there that can't be done? Isn't that what you wanted?"
“Well... I just threw it out there, but it’s surprising.”
“Unexpected?”
“I didn’t know you would grant a girl’s request so easily—,”
“Is that so?” Yoon-gi said with a low laugh. It was a pure, pure laugh. They walked through the garden. They chatted with each other, and didn’t stop walking for long.
The unusually crimson sunset tinted Hongwol's hair. Her hair, once as black as ebony, now glowed a deep crimson, like blood. It was pure curiosity. Yoongi unconsciously reached out to touch Hongwol's hair. The strands slipped through his thick-knotted fingers, feeling incredibly soft.
“What is this flower?”
The flower, boasting a beautiful crimson hue, snapped limply. One leaf after another, the overlapping red petals fluttered in Hongwol's hands. Hongwol nodded at Yoongi's words, "So they call it a rose." "I see," he said, slowly removing his hands that had been neatly folded. The red petals fluttered and fell. Hongwol gazed at the scene with red eyes that resembled the petals themselves. The petals fell to the ground with a thud, becoming damp with the moisture of the earth.
“Have you found a way to kill me?”
“...Why are you suddenly asking that?”
“The red petals falling look just like drops of blood.”
With a thud, thud, the petals fell. The petals that had formed a single flower piled up at Hongwol's feet. The red petals, bathed in the crimson glow of the sunset, glowed even crimson, and just as Hongwol had said, they looked just like blood.
Hongwol mercilessly plucked the green stem. A prickling sensation pierced her, and she let go of the flower she'd plucked. A red drop of blood had formed, as if she'd been pricked by something. Frowning, Yoongi grabbed her hand and carefully wiped the blood away with his sleeve. The once-white sleeve was dyed crimson. Hongwol silently took in the scene.
“Are you okay? Be careful, there are thorns on the rose stems.”
“Yes, it’s okay. I’ll be careful next time.”
“...For your death, I am trying my best to find out who you are.”
"okay."
“...I will definitely kill you.”
“That is what you should do.”
Hongwol answered. Her voice was impassive. A numb voice, devoid of any emotion, flowed from her crimson lips. Yoongi stared down at Hongwol, who was clutching the flower, for a long moment. He would kill her, he must kill her. He unconsciously resolved this, looking down at her beautiful face. Skin so pale it was almost pale, and beneath her round forehead, empty eyes held nothing. A woman who spoke of her own death without a shred of hesitation or regret.
“Aren’t you sad?”
Yoongi bit his lip at the words that came out of his mouth without his knowledge. His chapped lips were cut by sharp teeth, dripping a pungent stream of blood. Hongwol's gaze turned to him. As always, his expression was impassive, his eyes empty of anything. Thinking back, it was true. Even when he rushed at me like a madman, even when he swallowed poison and collapsed, spitting up blood, even when he finally opened his eyes to greet me after days of illness, those crimson eyes held nothing.
“I’m not sad.”
“....”
“On the contrary, I feel good.”
“...Do you feel good?”
"Yes, you're so faithful to your contract with me, a mere monster. What could possibly be wrong? I'm neither disappointed nor offended."
“...I don’t understand,”
“You don’t have to understand.”
“It’s only natural that you don’t understand,” said Hongwol. The corners of her pretty lips curled up as she spoke. Hongwol’s gaze turned back to Jangmi, but Yoongi’s gaze remained fixed on Hongwol.
“Why do you want to die?”
“....”
“Is there nothing in this world that can hold you back so much that you wish to die?”
“Yes, there isn’t.”
“....”
“Not just one.”
Yoongi remained silent. He couldn't find a proper answer. He couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to have nothing to cling to. He dropped the flower he was holding to the floor, and her graceful footsteps outstripped Yoongi's as she left the garden. Yoongi's steps remained in the same place.
A hand with thick bones grasped the green stem of a rose. Sharp thorns scratched his pale hand, but as if nothing had happened, Yoon-gi roughly plucked the flower and walked away. In the distance, a figure appeared, precariously shaky, as if about to collapse. Closer, a little closer. His pace, almost running, caught up with the woman whose back had been visible only.
“You resemble a rose.”
Gorgeous and thorny. Yoongi, swallowing back his words, swiped the back of his neck. Meeting Hongwol's crimson eyes, he quickly passed her and exited the garden. His ears were flushed from the rush. Hongwol stared blankly at Yoongi's back, which was gradually fading away. Until the moment when Yoongi's figure disappeared beyond the wall, Hongwol's gaze remained fixed on his back. Soon, she thought she could faintly hear Seokjin's rage.
Hongwol-eum took a step forward, her steps having paused for a moment. Slowly, very slowly. Her beautiful face, bathed in moonlight, wore an unusual smile, a beauty that would have dazzled anyone who saw her. Her hair, fluttering in the gentle breeze, enveloped the rose blooming at Hongwol's ear. It was the beautiful red rose that Yoongi had placed at her ear.
“There are people who resemble roses.”
A drop of red blood formed at the corner of Hongwol's eye, where she had been scratched by a thorn. Ignoring the stinging wound, Hongwol took the rose from her ear. It was beautiful. A sweet fragrance rose from the flower. Hongwol, who was looking at the gorgeous rose, tore off the thorn from its stem with a tap, tap. One, two, tiny thorns followed her steps and stuck themselves into the ground. After removing all the sharp thorns, all that remained was a single gorgeous flower and a single, bare stem.
Holding a flower in her hand, Hongwol emerged from the garden. Yoongi and Seokjin had long since left. The entrance to the garden, devoid of any sign of life, was utterly eerie. Hongwol took a step forward. At the end of the path, which had become so familiar, lay Hwabindang. The smile on her face never faded.
The scar on Hongwol's pure white cheek had long since disappeared cleanly without a single scar.