Chapter 245

The closed eyes slowly opened.

The dreamlike moonlight at dawn filtered through the curtains. Camilla’s gaze was soaked in the softly settling silver veil, resembling the color of her irises.

Fierce nightmares had persisted for several days. It felt as if she was tormented to the point of being unable to sleep. Camilla rubbed her tired eyelids and wiped away a bead of sweat that crossed her forehead with her sleeve.

It was winter now. Although the hospital room was well-heated, it wasn’t to the extent that she would be sweating profusely.

Perhaps it was a relief. If it had been spring or summer, the caregiver’s bed set up beside Camillia’s sickroom would have been damp with cold sweat.

‘…Why did this happen?’

Camilla quietly sat up. Aside from the creaking sound of the bed, there was no other noise.

She headed straight to the window of the hospital room. Moonlight was still seeping through the loosely drawn curtains, a fine silver beam that held no special significance.

Camilla cautiously opened the closed window. It was stubborn, as if it hadn’t been opened for a long time. Still, with some effort, it yielded a slight opening.

Through the half-inch gap, a cold wind quickly intruded. It wasn’t enough to drastically lower the room’s temperature, but standing right in front of the window, Camilla shivered involuntarily. Having broken into a bit of cold sweat earlier, it was only natural.

Camilla quietly acclimated to the cold wind. As the slight cold sweat evaporated, the refreshing breeze wrapped around her, allowing her to be in a state conducive to sleep again. There was no problem.

The problem lay with… Camilla.

The image of someone losing their life kept surfacing in her mind. In the dream, Camillia was always standing inside a medical tent, covered in blood, as screams filled the air from people dying in various ways.

Yet, Camillia could not lift a finger and could only stand still in the dream.

Was this a punishment from the Lord? As the people inside the church, where a majestic and chill wind did not penetrate, scornfully claimed they were the ones who would question the blood on Camillia’s hands, was this dream inflicted upon her as a means of judgement?

‘If so, I….’

It was a topic she did not wish to dwell on for long. Yet, as time went on, this dream became clearer and more vivid. Camilla found it agonizing.

It was so painful that the thought of splitting through this cold air and falling struck her mind uncontrollably, suggesting that perhaps she would find comfort in it.

Of course, she couldn’t actually do that. She still had her beloved family, and especially her younger sisters, whose safety was paramount. And even now, there was an older sister whose body had been ravaged.

There was no thought of leaving irresponsibly. She had no intention of doing that, but….

“…Sometimes, I think about wanting to just give up on everything…”

It was not directed at anyone in particular. She muttered as if engaging in a conversation with someone.

Leaning on the window frame, she held her breath as she wept quietly. For the moment, it felt like she was forever severed from the world.

“…Please….”

Until a sudden whispered sound of sobbing came from behind her. Camilla was so startled that she involuntarily jolted and turned around.

“Ugh….”

In the bed closest to the window, next to Camillia’s, Priest Lucio Antorelli was furrowing his brow, muttering something.

“Don’t go… please…”

He was crying. What kind of dream was he having? Clear tears welled up in his eyes as he lay on his side.

“Helena….”

Camilla doubted her ears. It was understandable, as such a familiar name slipped from the lips of someone she had never seen before.

The possibility of him being a namesake was overwhelming, but for some reason, Camilla felt a strong conviction that he was indeed connected to Professor Helena. Sometimes, such keen perception brought undesired revelations.

“Don’t go… Helena, please…”

“……”

Camilla stared blankly at the priest Antorelli, and then quietly closed the window and returned to her bed, lying down.

“Ugh….”

“Please… I….”

“My… arm… Paal….”

When one learns one thing, they inevitably learn the rest, whether they like it or not.

Only then did Camilla feel the faint weeping sound trickling in through the hospital room and beyond. She shut her eyes tightly, pulling the blanket over her head.

The sound didn’t diminish at all. In fact, it seemed to come from closer by. It even seemed to come from her older sister Camillia.

Camilla shed tears. Those tears were uncontrollable, flowing relentlessly like the flood of pent-up emotions.

“Why… why….”

Why can’t we find comfort?

Why must we live bearing guilt?

Why can’t we distance ourselves from that slaughter which felt so unavoidable?

Why must we bear this responsibility?

The questions derived from this ‘why’ spread endlessly, like ripples across a pond on a rainy day.

Then, whenever Camilla’s gaze unintentionally landed on Camillia’s face.

‘…I cannot afford to weaken.’

Ultimately, like snow on a spring day, she melted away.

How pathetic it was to act this way in front of Camillia, who had returned home with a disability after serving at the frontlines, having merely had a nightmare. It was unacceptable.

Camillia must have suffered more. The current Camillia was in more pain than she was, and perhaps in the future, Camillia would continue to suffer more. Just thinking about it felt redundant in comparison.

As she sank into the caregiver’s bed, her body, which had cooled in the wind, began to warm up again. Camilla gently closed her eyes.

This time, praying that she wouldn’t dream at all.

* * * * *

Camilla visited Camillia almost every day.

If she couldn’t find the time, she would only go when she had to, but indeed, the church still showed no signs of trusting Camilla with anything. Perhaps sweeping the front of the church every morning wasn’t enough.

‘…Should I stop?’

Camilla walked with tired steps toward St. Antonio Hospital, where Camillia was hospitalized. Today, she had taken her two younger sisters back home, which made her a bit late on her way to the hospital.

The winter sun was short. The streets grew crowded as darkness fell.

Camilla quickened her pace. Something felt unsettling.

‘…Damn it!’

An alarm became breaking news; breaking news soon turned into a sprint. Camilla raced toward the hospital.

A sense of unease dominated her senses. Everything passing by blurred into obscurity.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Soon, beads of sweat soaked her brow. The cold wind grazing her damp forehead felt sharp and stinging like a blade.

Yet, Camilla did not stop. She kept running.

An anxious and overwhelming unease… refused to relinquish control of her mind.

And so she arrived at the hospital.

Camilla gasped for air. The time shown on her wristwatch read seven o’clock PM.

“Ugh… huff….”

The hospital appeared chaotic. People were shouting and running about, and individuals had rushed in from somewhere, hurriedly making their way toward a certain direction.

Something… something was off. This atmosphere was never present during ordinary times.

Camilla found it difficult to fix her confused gaze. Her pupils flickered wildly as if an earthquake had struck.

“Someone fell?”

“I heard that’s what happened. It seems to be an accident for now….”

“Well… I heard the person who fell was a priest. Surely it can’t be suicide….”

“Considering they killed someone, I doubt they would commit suicide as well. That’s not something people do. That’s a path to hell.”

An anxious conversation. Normally, she would have the thought of ‘I wonder if that person is okay?’ and treat it as a story far removed from herself. Surely that would be the case.

But today, for some reason.

‘No… no. No, no.’

Suddenly, an unsettling thought brushed through Camilla’s mind.

Not that she kills anyone each night, but that even she, who merely dreams of people bleeding and dying, found it so painful— It even led her to contemplate throwing her own body out through the open window.

For Camillia, her sister— if anything, she would likely feel compelled to turn such thoughts into action.

‘No—!!’

Camilla nearly screamed internally. Her mouth opened wide as if wanting to release that screech, but she soon couldn’t contain her rising breath and closed it again.

“Well, at least they survived.”

“It’s the Lord’s grace. To survive falling from the fourth floor… what luck.”

“They say it’s fortunate they didn’t hit their head first when they fell.”

The gathered crowd churned out an endless stream of gossip. Camilla felt an overwhelming desire to scream. She wanted to shut all these people up, to block out their voices.

She held it in and continued toward the area where the crowd was thickest, wondering how long it would take.

“Ah…?”

Gasping for air, Camilla stared blankly at the scene before her.

Black hair, albeit reddish with blood flowing from it. It resembled Camilla’s, but there were many people with black hair littering the roadside like stones.

Yes. So it couldn’t possibly be that person. There was no way it could be Camillia.

It had to be that way…

“Ah… ugh… ah…?”

Camilla collapsed onto the ground. Her legs, suddenly devoid of strength, refused to move.

That hair, those facial features, and even the old bracelet she once gifted her as a child….

The face flowing with blood, that face….

“Sister…?”

If it looks familiar, it shouldn’t.

“Get back, everyone! What are you doing?!”

“Everyone! Back up! Please step back! Move further back!”

“Don’t shake her! One, two—!”

As paramedics arrived and placed her on a stretcher, Camilla’s lifeless, dull, bloodshot eyes continued to gaze at Camillia until the very end.

“Why…?”

Camilla turned her head. There was faint blood on the ground.

‘I wanted to be happy now….’

Happiness was distant.

The pain of loss that someone was supposed to endure came to Camilla far too late.

It was delayed for so long that Camilla had to continuously suffer.

Powerlessly collapsing in front of the blood-stained flower bed. Forever.