FYWAM CH 2

Chapter 2

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Regression

“Ah…….”

Calliope unknowingly let out a groan. The cold wind that was seeping through the gaps of the broken shutters was hitting her cheeks. She sucked in a cold breath and gripped the worn quilt she pulled to her out of habit, clutching it so tightly as if it were to tear. Waking up what seems to be like a long dream, she felt a stabbing pain digging through her hazy head.

This was the house where she lived when she was young.

Is this a dream?

She put down the dirty quilt and looked down at her hands. They were skinny. She clenched and unclenched her fists, doubting her own eyes. The movement of her hands and the sensation of her skinny hands felt too real.

Which one is a dream?

Doubting her own thoughts and raised her head, she heard a cough fit next to her. She stopped moving. The sound of coughing halted her from her confusion.

She turned her head toward the sound and saw her mother sleeping next to her on a rough bed made of straw. Dry platinum hair, sunken cheeks, and a face clearly showing signs of illness. She looked down at her mother, who was coughing in her sleep and her white hair billowing in the cold wind.

Calliope was well accustomed to this scene. Her mother lying there unconsciously was coughing and coughing, and soon…

Cough. Cough.

She would vomit blood aggressively.

The dirty quilt was stained with the blood she spat out. Calliope already knew that her mother couldn’t get up. Soon, the body that had been lying unconsciously began to gasp for breath. Her body which didn’t shiver even in the cold, was now trembling. With her thin and unattractive hands, she grabbed and tousled her own hair.

“What is this? What happened?”

Her mother’s cough had awakened her frozen head from the cold wind and confusion suddenly swept in.

She morbidly ran her hands through her hair, pulling out clumps of it. Calliope’s eyes widened as she saw the hair that had fallen from her shoulders to her knees. The hair that fell out was white like that of an old sick person. The color she had counted while waiting for Isaac, the man who had betrayed her and left her.

She realized belatedly. That she had returned to the past. She didn’t have to think about which time. The last winter she spent with her mother, just a year before she entered the marquessate. It was the morning when she was twelve.

She let out a hollow laugh. Calliope turned her tired eyes and looked at her mother, whose lower chin was covered in blood. She reached out and wiped the bloodstains with her sleeve, which was just as dirty as the quilt.

“I don’t know how it happened, but I returned to the past. The day my mother died in the morning.”

After a brief moment of confusion, she easily gave up. Calliope stood up and rummaged through the makeshift stove that still have embers. When the embers revived a little by the air, she pushed in dry branches next to it. She boiled half of the remaining water in the only brass pot in the house then poured the other half into a dented basin and placed it next to the bed.

She poured the boiling water into a basin and mixed it with cold water. She sat on a chair which she picked up on the street a long time ago and soaked the cleanest cloth she could find and carefully wiped away her mother’s sweat and blood stains.

Calliope’s mother, Ethiel, was the eldest daughter of Baron Hubert. She was kicked out of the family after her father, Marquess Anastas, divorced her. Her mother was a daughter of a poor baron who had nothing but greed, but she fell in love with her father, Elan, and married him.

Naturally, the elders of the marquessate didn’t look kindly on her, always picking on her for every little thing. She thought it would be better if she had a child, and so she endured until she finally gave birth to her first child.

The harassment stopped as soon as her pregnancy was announced. It must have meant that an unworthy daughter-in-law was nothing of importance, but the heir to the marquessate which was in her womb was important.

And that was how Calliope was born.

The harassment intensified as soon as it was confirmed that her first child was a girl. When she was able to recover, Ethiel was sent back to her parents’ house after receiving a divorce notice from the marquess. However, Baron Hubert who could no longer receive support from the marquessate, took away her alimony, saying that her divorced daughter was a disgrace, and kicked her out to a shabby house in the corner of the estate.

Ethiel did not despair at being thrown out of the family, she did what she could to raise her child. But how well could a noble young lady who had never done any hard labour do anything? As time went on, she became more skilled at her work but her body grew weaker and weaker.

She was a weak person by nature. She had many illnesses, suffering from all sorts of ailments due to her weakened body. But this was the first time she’d ever seen her cough up blood.

In the past, Calliope who barely calmed down, put on some thin, worn-out clothes, and went to call for Solita who lived next door and often helped her mother.

By the time she and Solita got home, her mother had vomited blood once more and Calliope finally burst into tears at the thought of having another adult present. Solita was shocked to see Ethiel’s condition, so she boiled water and began to take care of her, but her condition did not improve.

Calliope’s family was poor, so was Solita’s. It had been an unusually harsh winter, so there was no work, and the money in their pockets was gradually dwindling. They were lucky if they had one meal a day.

Calliope, who had been weeping at Solita’s side, rubbed her face roughly and stood up.

“Auntie, please take good care of mother. I’ll go to the Baron’s house.”

Ethiel did not hide whose daughter she was or who were her paternal and maternal families. So, with the feeling of grasping for straws*, she went to the baron’s house.

[TL/N: feeling of grasping for straws; means to make a desperate attempt to save oneself, even if it has a little chance of success]

The baron's estate was small, but since their house was in such a remote corner, it took half a day even for a child to walk there. Calliope walked non-stop with her emaciated legs from lack of food until they were swollen, and arrived at the baron's house, but the guards did not let her in and did not even relay her message inside.

But she couldn’t go back empty handed. Young Calliope knelt in front of the main gate of the mansion, shedding tears constantly. She refused to go back until someone called her.

Even as evening and night came, no one came out of the mansion. Her hands, feet, and cheeks were all frozen, her whole body was shivering but she held her ground, by the next morning, the butler of the mansion came out to see Calliope.

“Your mother is no longer part of the baron’s family, so we cannot help you. Go back.”

The rejection that came back was more painful than her frozen and swollen hands and feet from the night. She grabbed hold of his trouser hem and clung to him.

“Please. Just once, please. At least give me the money for the medicine. Mother is very sick. Please help me.”

Calliope cried again, her frozen cheeks flowing with tears, but Calliope clung on, only to be dragged away by the guards and thrown far away

It hurts so much.

She cried and cried on the ground where she had collapsed. No one reached out to help her.

When Calliope finally recovered, she returned home only to be greeted by her mother’s cold body.

Cough

The sound of blood being vomited again woke her up from her reverie. She wiped the blood her mother had once vomited again. Translucent red blood mixing with the clear warm water.

“Maybe this time I can honour mother’s last wish.”

As she wiped the smeared blood, according to what Solita said later, her mother had breathed her last that evening when Calliope left. It was mid-winter, so she couldn't even gather herbs, and without money, she couldn't call a doctor. All Calliope could do was stay by her mother’s side.

Time passed that way. Her mother’s breathing gradually slowed down and her body became colder than ice. No matter how many times she fetched water from the village’s common well and boiled it to wipe away her sweat, her temperature did not rise.

Calliope could feel her mother’s death nearing. Outside the shattered window, she could feel the time ticking away as the sky changed color.

“Mother.”

She held her mother’s fragile hand, hardened by the cold wind and tightly with both hands and placed it on her cheek. Fortunately, she had experienced this before, so she did not shed tears. Her hand was colder than her cold cheek. Solita said that she had passed away peacefully. So, it was okay. She was glad to hear that.

Then, the back of the hand on her cheek twitched. Calliope, who had been looking down, lifted her head in surprise.

“…Calliope.”

“Ah, mother, are you awake?”

Solita once said that her mother died without ever regaining consciousness. But then Ethiel’s dry eyelids lifted, revealing her affectionate brown eyes.

“M-My daughter.”

“D-Don’t talk, I’ll go fetch you some water.

As she was about to get up from her seat in panic when she heard her mother’s voice cracking, a boney hand grabbed her hand tightly. It was so strong that she couldn’t tell where the strength came from. Calliope stopped dead in her tracks. Her mother’s brown eyes were filled with urgency and longing, but they were still staring straight at her. Her legs gave out and she sank back into her chair.

Ah, the end is approaching. Her mother's end was nearing.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. No. That’s not true.”

“I didn’t do anything for you. I’m such a bad mother.”

“No. Don’t say that.”

“I couldn’t protect you until the end.”

Ethiel also knew. That her end was approaching. That there wasn’t much time left. She held her daughter’s hand dearly and sorrowfully. Her frail hand trembled visibly as she mustered all her strength. Calliope gripped it tightly so it wouldn't slip away.

"The world may be harsh, but please... survive. Live on……"

Her voice already carries the scent of the dead.

“Stay alive...you... must stay…stay alive…….”

Calliope focused all her attention on her voice, not wanting to miss a single syllable.

But before she could finish speaking, before Calliope could open her mouth to answer, the strength in her hand suddenly disappeared. In a novel she had read in the past, it said that death was a slow process. The soul was slowly shedding its body, as if to appease those who are watching, even if it’s just a little.

Chapter 1

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Chapter 3