Chapter 248

Beyond the mountain of piled corpses, it reaches out a hand.

It is a symbol of the desperate longing that encapsulates the hearts of all who wish to live.

Camilla wanted to grab that hand.

So, she tried to grasp it.

She failed.

The hand was clearly right in front of her. Just one step… no, even half a step forward seemed enough to touch it. Yet her fingertips could not even brush against it.

At times, Camilla laughed at life with self-deprecation. Each morning and every night, she had to listen to her mother’s earnest prayers for Camillia to awaken. Her mother had become so gaunt.

Her two younger sisters had now reached an age where they understood everything. How shocking it must have been for them to realize that their only older sister had not awakened.

So, she had to grasp that hand even more tightly. But things weren’t going as she hoped. Camilla grew impatient.

Just a bit more. One step more. No, even just half a step more. If that wasn’t allowed, then at least a quarter of a step more.

If even that was denied, then perhaps like her sister. Like Camillia…

Camilla felt that the atmosphere in the silent hospital room was tightening around her throat, as if someone were gripping the nape of her neck forcefully.

– Say it again… again…

Ah, come to think of it, wasn’t this something she had already experienced before?

– What have I done?

– Let go of this…!

– What do you know…

Memories of her first meeting with Priest Antorelli came flooding back. It felt as though the tightening grip around her throat was loosening a little. She didn’t know why.

“Huuh…”

Camilla looked at Camillia, motionless on the hospital bed, lying there like a dead princess in the woods. Camillia was breathing evenly, just as she always had.

Her family lived each day with great difficulty. It wasn’t merely a matter of financial issues; the truth that Camillia had come to this state, coupled with the realization that there was no clear solution to this problem, weighed heavily with despair.

Camilla and her family felt as though they might be crushed under that weight.

Yet, today as well, Camillia’s breath flows evenly. Inhale, exhale. Inhale again, exhale…

“My sister…”

That sight filled her with immense frustration. She wished to hear a different kind of breath, not just this rhythmic one. But Camillia still exhaled like a machine.

Without realizing it, Camilla’s hand clenched tightly into a fist, trembling with resentment as she glared fiercely at Camillia’s delicate face.

“When are you going to wake up…?”

Camilla’s trembling hand soon relaxed, gently stroking Camillia’s cheek. Her skin was so pale, almost completely white from not seeing the sunlight for so long. It felt soft.

Camillia had always sported a light pink hue on her cheeks. She was not someone who lay like a corpse so pale.

Her once bright, gray eyes that always seemed to dream were now hidden beneath closed eyelids, out of sight for three years.

Today, Camilla realized she had reached the brink of her patience, almost worn down to nothing.

“Two years… no, it’s already been three years… It’s time for you to wake up…”

Inhale, exhale.

“Mother is still counting the days until you wake up… Monica and Moira are praying every night to meet you…”

Inhale, exhale as usual.

“Do you know how I feel watching that…?”

Camilla’s voice began to shake fiercely. Ironically, Camillia’s breathing remained unchanged.

“I know it must have been hard for you. I can’t help but lose sleep at the thought of how much pain you were in to make that choice… But…”

Camilla slowly buried her head on Camillia’s belly. She could feel Camillia’s faint warmth through the slightly prickly hospital blankets. A sign that she was still alive.

Was there ever a day that felt as resentful as today?

“At this point, it should be time to wake up…”

It should certainly be time. She wished for that pale skin to regain a hint of pink vitality, to gently stroke Camilla’s head with a warm touch like before.

She wanted her to wake up and embrace her again like she used to, treating her like a child. She surely would not resist being embraced and stroked now. It felt like something she could have.

Finally, she had prepared to be the beloved younger sister, basking in the warmth of her beloved sister’s embrace.

“Please wake up…”

Yet, Camillia’s breath continued to flow rhythmically. Inhale, exhale.

Camilla knew well that this was a futile wish. If merely deciding in her heart were enough to resolve everything, there would be no such thing as problems in this world.

It was impossible for someone who had been lying in bed for nearly three years, appearing as if dead, to suddenly spring up in the morning. According to the doctor, there might be a possibility of awakening someday, but no one knew if that day would be today or tomorrow.

However, today certainly did not seem like the day. That miraculous day was not yesterday, nor the day before, nor a month ago, nor a year ago.

Camilla, whose head was buried against Camillia’s belly, slowly lifted her head. Her tear-stained cheeks glistened in the sunlight seeping through the window.

“…Today, Head Priest Antoinneri visited.”

Camilla began recounting what had happened today. Since Camillia had fallen into this state, it had become a daily routine to visit her hospital room.

If she couldn’t hear Camillia’s story, she wanted to tell her beloved sister about her own day.

“Yesterday, I caught Monica trying to scribble behind the church. I thought she might do it again today and stepped outside the church… Who would have thought I’d bump into Head Priest Antoinneri? If I had known, I wouldn’t have gone outside… I would not have…”

What a cruel twist of fate; to bump into Head Priest Antoinneri while he was visiting the Holy Empire. Camilla intended to greet him with the same ‘nonchalant attitude’ as before.

“There was something about him, like he had something to say. So… I thought, ‘It seems the time has finally come.’”

Camillia remained silent, just as usual.

Yet Camilla did not stop explaining.

“Head Priest Antoinneri told me that he wanted to apologize to Camillia…”

She still couldn’t forget the look in his eyes.

It was a gaze aimed at something in front of him. A look that sought to move toward the future, confronting the present while reflecting on the past. How could that be possible?

“He feels so sorry. He wants to see you and apologize… Truly, truly regrets it… He doesn’t want to run away anymore…”

He was well aware of his own past.

He couldn’t possibly not realize that he had said harsh words to Camillia, which had ultimately led her to give up hope.

But how could he disturb that old, painful wound again?

There are no pain relievers for wounds of the heart. The more they squirm, the more they hurt, making it difficult to extract the core of the injury that is wrapped deep inside, like a stubborn nail. Ah, one must endure that excruciating agony.

Yet, Professor Antorelli stated his willingness to do so.

With such a calm expression, as if it were only natural for him to do so. His shining eyes sparkled like a composite of a brilliant future.

He always appeared dark, dull, and gloomy. It was truly unimaginable that hope would ever delicately settle in those eyes.

Yet, Professor Antorelli succeeded in doing just that.

“Then, what should I… do…?”

Was it for Professor Antorelli to meet Camillia? It wasn’t a difficult task.

Although Camillia was currently unable to do anything on her own, her self-awareness was still alive. She could hear Camilla’s words, smell the air, and feel Camilla’s warmth radiating from her hand.

And because of that, Camilla was incredibly reluctant about Professor Antorelli meeting Camillia.

Even if Professor Antorelli were to be allowed to meet Camillia, would that truly be what Camillia wanted? Did she genuinely long for Professor Antorelli’s apology?

If Camillia were able to move freely, she might refuse the apology given her personality. She could very well welcome him with a smile, as if nothing had happened. She would say it’s been a long time since they’ve met, and greet Professor Antorelli just like before, innocently.

And that was something Camilla truly did not want.

Camillia could not express anger. She couldn’t articulate her grievances. She was that frustrating, indecisive person who would simply smile foolishly even after suffering losses.

She wanted Camillia’s forgiveness to remain within her own will. She wanted to leave no external factors influencing that.

Even though she could no longer move by herself, or even speak, Camilla wished to hear Camillia’s thoughts at least. She wanted to hear her heartfelt advice.

“I… what should I do…? Answer me, sister…”

Yes, perhaps what she truly wanted was advice. Camilla couldn’t stand how despicable her own attitude had become.

“What a wicked girl.”

A wicked girl. A truly wicked girl. Since when had she come to think of Camillia like this? It would be understandable if she were merely mulling over such hypocritical thoughts while salivating, but it felt like she was shamelessly pretending to care only when she needed help.

The phase of self-hatred is always painful and torturous. It feels as though one is stabbing their own body with a sharp object.

“I… don’t know anymore… I don’t know what I want…”

Camilla mumbled in a dying voice against Camillia’s belly. Her murmurs echoed softly.

“So please, wake up and answer me… Please…”

In the end, Camilla shed tears. She felt the blankets deeply burying her face becoming wet with her tears. Camillia would surely feel this too.

She wished that her yearning would be acknowledged. That the truth that it was time to wake up would be recognized. Camillia might not be able to do anything, yet she hoped for a miracle to happen.

“Ugh…”

In the silent hospital room, only the sound of Camilla’s sobs resonated softly.

Holding a heart torn by tears, Camilla overlooked one fact.

Though it wasn’t yesterday, nor the day before, nor a month ago.

– Rustle.

That day could indeed have been today.