TTI 1

 Sometimes the body remembers clearer than the mind. That's probably why memories that we want to forget stay like scars. If we call past memories scars, then what is freshly engraved on top of them should be called bleeding wounds.

The fingertips of the woman lying on the bed twitched. Every time the man's lips climbing her body touched and then withdrew, heat was engraved on her body. The woman's fingernails, twitching convulsively, left long marks on the man's arms and the back of his hand, but the man paid them no mind and was only focused on ruining the woman's appearance.

The man's lips touched her cheek, nape of her neck, her hollow collarbone, and the rapidly rising and falling chest area below. A moan escaped the woman's mouth as the action deepened.

It seems like heat rises wherever he touches. The skin he had just kissed, the wrist he held, the gaze staring at her as if indulging, all made her feel hot. With her distracted like this, he was looking down at her as if none of this had anything to do with him. But she could tell. What was engraved in those azure eyes looking down at her was undoubtedly a clear thirst.

The swollen lips breathing heavily, the chest rising and falling rapidly, and the reddened skin all incited his primal desire. If there were no reins called patience, the man's grip would surely spread her legs right away. He would explore the most intimate places and kiss untouched skin. Unsatisfied with playfully marking her like children playing, he would engulf her with caresses as if he would swallow her whole.

The reason the man persevered despite such vivid desires was simple.

"Your majesty. Do I still look like her?”

“…”

The man's brow, immersed in lust, furrowed slightly.

Only I am by your side, and only I can quench your thirst.

The man's lips, tightly sealed against the snake-like woman's whisper, opened.

"...Call my name."

"Peter."

The man's patience seemed to become more fervent. She loved this moment the most.

A moment when she could capture a man who seemed unshakable by anything, with just a single name.

The moment when the madness and desire that he had been trying so hard to suppress hit him like a tidal wave.

“Peter.”

She whispered again and traced the man's skin. The hand caressing his heated right cheek resembled the temptation of a snake. The man's eyes wavered, and just as she was about to open her mouth again.

“…Stop."

The man violently shook her hand away. His face was straight and unwrinkled, but she knew very well that this was the limit of his patience.

The man's low voice flowed fiercely, scratching the earlobe.

"Don't act so presumptuously. Remember why you're here. What your purpose is."

“Of course I know. I am Your Majesty’s doll.”

A doll that replaces the man's dead lover. A plaything thrown to calm his madness.

She existed only to whisper sweet words.

So she whispered sweet words in the man's ear again today, but the words she received in return were cold.

"I will never sincerely desire you."

He desired her, but he abhorred that fact.

In the midst of this contradiction, the woman, Rowell, smiled inwardly as she kissed the man.

No, you will come to love me.

And I will leave when you love me the most.

'Remember well, Peter.'

I am your most brilliant madness. I will become an endless white night.

* * *

There were things that usually come to mind when you stand in the abyss of life. Commonly known as a lingering regret or a "deathbed wish." This was what the world calls the lingering attachment to life that cannot be let go even before death.

Rowell's lingering regret was a young boy. A boy with a face more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen. Peter, the childhood friend she loved more than anyone, and who loved her in return.

Whenever she faced the prospect of death, the same voice echoed in her mind.

[I wish you would die in the spring.]

A voice as clear as the wind wandering through the wheat fields. Memories that often replay when closing her eyelids.

[So that I can put a lot of flowers on your grave.]

The boy in her memories always had the same face.

Deep blue eyes firmly fixed on her. A face devoid of laughter like an emotionless voice.

Even the corners of the mouth that were faintly raised when their eyes met.

Looking at such a boy, Rowell smiled quietly and replied.

[I wish I died in winter.]

[Why?]

[Snowflakes are also flowers.]

Then, even if Peter doesn't come, Rowell's grave will be an entire white flower field.

Thinking about the fact that they were just fifteen at that time, it was quite a whimsical conversation. Children discussing death at the age of fifteen was absurd. However, for Rowell and the boy, this conversation was not particularly surprising.

Because Rowell was terminally ill.

Rowell Hessen, the youngest daughter of the Hessen family, whose territory is famous for being the warmest in the Welfga Empire.

She was weak from birth. Being sickly was part of her daily life, and falling ill with the changing seasons was a regular occurrence. However, until then, Rowell was only slightly weaker than other ordinary children.

But at the age of ten, in the winter.

Everything changed after a severe fever.

It was the memory of death that existed at the bottom of Rowell's memory. The delirium and the body burning up were still vivid. Rowell returned home without shedding a single tear even when her legs were completely scratched after falling down a slope. However, at that time, she cried loudly out of pain and fear.

Several times she walked the tightrope at the boundary of life and death. Fortunately, Rowell barely survived.

But the problem was on the other side.

[Miss, you probably won't live for more than five years from now.]

The reason was that the major organs of the body were damaged by high fever and could not function properly.

Everyone in the Hesse family shook their heads, saying it couldn't be like that and that the doctor must be a quack, but those words soon became reality. Rowell could no longer return to her old life. Even the slightest breeze would cause her fever to rise frequently, and even the slightest movement would drain her stamina and she would often doze off.

Neither her family's wealth nor any of the knowledge she learned to become a great person when she grew up were of no help to Rowell. Because organs that were already damaged could not be repaired by anything.

Rowell's parents contacted doctors in every possible way and tried all kinds of medicines, but the words they received were similar.

[I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it. To be honest... It wouldn't be surprising if she collapsed tomorrow and never regained consciousness.]

Every day, the best option was just to keep her alive, the doctor said. To hope that she could open her eyes again tomorrow, and if she couldn't open her eyes tomorrow, there was nothing to be done.

The family eventually accepted RRowell's fate.

From then on, Rowell became distant from her family. Even though they lived in the same mansion, the only time Rowell could see her parents and other family members was when they came to visit her.

[It’s time for your older brothers to go to private school. Because of that, I'm busy so I don't have much time to come visit.]

Although Rowell's parents filled her surroundings with expensive and good things, Rowell could sense the reason they didn't come to visit her wasn't because of her other siblings but because it was hard to watch their daughter, who had to leave someday.

But Rowell was fine. Because she wasn't alone.

Just like Rowell, there was another noble boy from the capital, who was unwell and came alone to the Hessian estate to recuperate.

Even though she did not know the deep circumstances, Rowell felt a sense of kinship with Peter. The fact that a young child came for care without any family was clear.

‘That kid was neglected.’

A person who was sick like her and has been shunned by their family like her.

It wasn't so surprising that two children in similar circumstances became good friends.

However, as the seasons passed, a gap formed between Rowell and Peter. While Rowell gradually withered away over time, Peter's condition showed a steady improvement.

By the fourth year, Peter had become healthy enough to finish his care and return. Unlike Rowell, who was visibly pale and frail, he was the opposite.

So this conversation was also had just before Peter left.

[…But Rowell, I still hope you will die in the spring.]

Rowell tilted her head as if asking what Peter meant. When their eyes met, Peter took Rowell's hand. The boy's hand came up to hold Rowell's wrist as if to restrain it.

[I will return to the capital and come back to you before spring.]

[…I would have been dead then.]

[I will find a way to save you.]

Rowell's eyes widened slightly at those words. However, the girl's face quickly returned to normal. Rowell was too tired to have any expectations from just those words. This was largely due to the fact that it was difficult to trust the words of Peter, who was young like herself. How can a child find something that her parents couldn't find even though they searched everywhere?

Rowell said with a sigh.

[My parents also visited many doctors. But they said no one could save me. You know that.]

[There is a way, Rowell.]

But Peter was persistent.

[I can’t go into detail, but… There is definitely a way.]

How to extend your lifespan.