Chapter 76
Chapter 76. Profusely Blossoming Hope
“The life I desire is not so special, quite simple really,” Vinea Madretta Veshnu confessed without urgency from Tatar de Tessibania, who patiently awaited her response, absorbed by the necessity of her words.
“I know our current position does not make it easy to achieve such a life, but if it were possible, if we had the power—”
With a tender smile, Vinea faced Tatar, her eyes softly folding, reflecting the man’s anxious anticipation.
“—it would be wonderful to share that peaceful future with none other than Your Majesty, for it would become our most splendid legacy, borne through the burdens we’ve endured together.”
Vinea extended a bouquet of flowers to Tatar. The bouquet, seemingly light, weighed heavily in his hands, trembling as he struggled to grasp it firmly, hastily preventing the flowers from falling to the ground.
His slightly comical effort caused an unexpected, clear laughter to resonate through the Baloua Garden.
“Haha—”
Vinea laughed brightly, directing it solely at him.
Tatar stared dumbfounded at her laughter. A sudden, immense guilt pressed upon him, suffocatingly heavy, as the pleasant scent of Baloua seemed to twist around his throat like poison.
It was a laughter he thought he would never see again, presumed lost in an endless cycle of returns, yet there it was, because they were together, and that was all that mattered.
His lips quivered. Could he really shatter this?
Having witnessed her radiant freedom, this happiness, this hope, how could he dare contemplate otherwise? Despite plummeting into an abyss, losing all her light, they had been together, fearlessly accepting their fated descent into madness.
Daring, ever daring.
Tatar staggered, his head shaking as he clenched the flowers so tightly their stems crumpled pitifully under his grip.
Vinea, realizing too late the sound of her own laughter, swiftly turned away.
“My apologies, that was impolite…”
She wanted to ask him to smile again, but only a metallic hardness could be heard in his tightly constricted throat.
Vinea picked up a Baloua flower that he had failed to catch.
“I feel strange, that’s all. Please understand.”
“Are you confused?”
“A bit. I don’t remember sleeping much, yet everyone around praises me, doesn’t hate me, worries about me—it’s all so surprising, considering these are achievements of a version of me that I don’t remember.”
“…Do you like it here?”
With effort, Tatar managed to utter his words as Vinea walked deeper into the glass garden.
“What about you, Your Majesty?”
Not long after, they reached a blanket spread over a densely flowered area of Baloua.
Visions of a younger, unknowing version of himself joyfully running over it flashed through his mind, the safest and most benign memory meddling he had experienced.
Memories he had thought to discard were resurfacing, shaking him to the core.
“Lineue, was it? You mentioned once that picnicking here would be nice, and here we are before it’s even ready.”
Stepping cautiously onto the thick blanket, Vinea looked up at Tatar.
“You can go back first if you’re busy.”
Tatar slowly shook his head, stepping onto the blanket while still clutching the bouquet.
Trying to step back to give him space, Vinea accidentally stepped on the Baloua flowers outside the blanket. Startled by the cold touch of the flowers under her thin lace shoes, she stumbled.
As she nearly fell, Tatar threw the bouquet aside and reached out to catch her. Grasping her slender waist but also losing his balance, they both tumbled onto the blanket.
He enveloped her protectively in his arms as they fell, ensuring she was unharmed. If there had been stones on the ground, he would have been hurt.
Sitting up on his chest, Vinea examined his face with concern.
“Are you alright?”
His platinum hair fell around his face like sunlight, his blue eyes filled with an ineffectual worry, reflecting her presumed memory loss.
“…Vinea.”
Maybe because they rarely used each other’s names before her regression, Vinea responded a bit slowly.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The usual response, but he had called for someone not present.
“Empress, Vinea…”
Each time he called, a void filled his eyes, emotions he could hardly contain welling up, his face contorting with pain.
“Answer me, Vinea, please…”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Even though she responded, he continued to call her name.
Vinea, Vinea. My Empress.
As her face closed off in confusion, tears finally ran down his temples.
Resting against Tatar’s chest, Vinea wiped his tears in an awkward position, neither fully rising nor lying down.
“Have you been very tired? Did the forces of Emperor Emeritus Maxiul press you too hard? Or did they oppose your views at the conference again?”
Tatar covered his eyes with his arm, unable to face her clear, worried gaze.
Vinea hesitated, then pushed his arm away from his face.
“If it’s not that, perhaps I made some mistake before losing my memory. I can’t recall anything to ask for your forgiveness. If there’s anything you want from me, please tell me.”
A wave of misery flashed through Tatar’s eyes.
Was this how the Empress felt? Yes, what you experienced is exactly this.
Unfathomable loneliness, isolation, and fear.
What arrogance had he spouted in front of her? That it would be okay not to recognize each other? That they should fall into despair together?
No, the true despair she spoke of was right here.
In front of him, in all her beauty.
Tatar, smoothing out the creases around his eyes, cupped Vinea’s right cheek.
“There’s no mistake on your part, Empress. It’s me who should not have dared to judge your despair so presumptuously.”
Although she did not understand his words, Vinea seriously pondered before speaking.
“Do you regret it?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head immediately at his instant reply.
“That’s okay then. Regret is merely an opportunity to correct a mistake, and I am willing to give you that chance.”
“…Will you really forgive me after you regain your memories?”
“If I remember this moment.”
Vinea raised her hand to his w*t cheek, touching it gently as she spoke, looking into his eyes filled with fear.
“At least I don’t think you are lying about your regret.”
He was afraid.
If his regained memories through regression were just a stroke of luck?
If he bet on a never-ending gamble, and the Empress truly ran away alone?
He didn’t think he could bear the hell of being left with only her memory.
It wasn’t simply because he lost something he wanted, or missed holding onto what he had.
All of it, the longing to keep her close, was not just because of greed, anger, or loneliness.
So, he reasoned again.
Why do I bow before your brilliant presence? Holding your fluttering wings in my hands, why can’t I bring myself to break them?
What does this guilt and regret stem from?
Tatar’s hand moved from Vinea’s cheek to her neck as he gently pulled her head towards him.
Following this incomprehensible emotion, the suppressed feelings he had ignored surfaced.
Having faced them once, he could no longer ignore these emotions.
“I give you this moment to engrave it. Even if you regain your memories, you won’t be able to doubt my regret and fear…”
Since he couldn’t impose anything more on her, he gave her just enough strength to push him away if she chose. His trembling hand conveyed this to Vinea.
She wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and nodded, giving him permission that he sealed with a desperate kiss on her lips.
Her long eyelashes fluttered at the sudden kiss.
Unable to look directly at his intense, ash-gray eyes, Vinea’s eyes closed.
As Tatar waited, he wrapped his other arm around her back.
Their breath and tongues intertwined until they ran out of breath. The late sunset light descended in the Empress’s glass garden, the fading light cloaking Vinea’s blushed cheeks and his tear-streaked eyes.
Vinea’s lips parted from his first, as he ran his hand down her collarbone, then grasping her round shoulder hidden under the dress.
His touch caused the side of her dress to slide down.
He called her name with a broken voice.
“Remember this moment, Vinea. The moment I finally lost our bet with you.”
