Chapter 14 - Snow White's Son

Translator's Note:

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The Beast immediately pulled back, hiding his arm beneath his cloak. "No!" he cried softly. "My hands... my face... my body... they're all hideous."

 

"They are not," Crow insisted, his voice firm but gentle. "At first, yes, I was surprised. But as I grew to care for you... even your beard and your fur became beautiful to me. I think they make you look strong, and... noble."

 

"Please," the Beast groaned, "Do not say such things. I do not need your pity."

 

"It's not pity," Crow said, sadness in his voice. "It hurts me that you despise the very things I love."

 

"Love?" the Beast asked, confused.

 

"Yes, because they are yours. They are part of who you are. And I love everything about you."

 

Though Crow wondered if it was wrong to touch the Beast where he felt most ashamed, he could not help but trace his fingers gently across the fur on the back of his hand. The coarse hair pressed against Crow's palm, but he didn't mind. Not at all.

 

Every word he spoke was the truth. It saddened him that the Beast, disliking his appearance, would not sit across from him at the table. From his place beside him, Crow could scarcely see his face.

 

"You seem so beautiful to me. I can't help it."

 

"Lies," the Beast whispered. "It's impossible. You've always spoken of your admiration for Crown Prince Kyle… always eager to hear tales of him, so full of interest."

 

"I do admire my brother. He is beautiful, yes, but he is like a figure in a painting—distant and unreachable, even in his presence. His blue eyes have never seen me. I no longer gaze at his portrait the way I once did. It is your eyes I wish to meet, eyes that see me clearly."

 

"Snow White..."

 

"You always sit next to me like this… but you pull your hood low over your face, and you never look at me directly. But I know… I know that when I lower my gaze to the table, you look at me. You look at me so kindly, with such warmth..."

 

The Beast drew in a sharp breath.

 

To gaze upon and be gazed at, to touch and be touched—if this is not love, then what is it?

 

The time they spent together brought him happiness, and the coming of dawn, when the Beast would leave, filled him with sorrow.

 

His chest warmed when he felt the Beast's gaze upon him, filling him with a yearning that could not be ignored. Even if the Beast despised his own form, even if he was ashamed of it, Crow desired him all the same.

 

No longer content with stolen glances, Crow wished to gaze upon him fully, to touch and be touched, to hold and be held.

 

"I love you. Even if this is a forbidden love, I..."

 

"Enough. Be silent. I won't listen to such foolishness."

 

"Please... listen. I love you."

 

"Snow White," the Beast murmured. "You have lost the Elves, and in your loneliness within this tower, your judgment has faltered. I have been by your side each night, offering you some measure of kindness, but... you would have felt the same for anyone in my place. It is mere dependency, nothing more."

 

"Beast..."

 

Crow wanted to shout that it wasn't true, but could he truly say that? Could he really be certain?

 

If it had been someone else who visited him every night for the past year? A handsome hunter, a kind-hearted maiden, or even someone who wasn't human—an elf or a wizard?

 

If that person was kind and their presence enjoyable, would he still fall in love with them? Would he come to believe they were the one he wished to spend his life with?

 

Would he have longed for their gaze, yearned for their touch, and mistaken it for love?

 

"No! It's not true! There's no reason to dwell on such what-ifs. They are mere fantasies, not the reality we live in. The truth is this—over the past year, you alone have come to see me. That is reality!"

 

"Snow White... calm yourself."

 

"We met because we both wanted it. You climbed the tower in your beastly form because you wanted to see me, and I pulled you up with my hair because I wanted to see you. Is it so strange that, through these meetings, I've come to love you? No one else has come to visit me as you have, and yet you claim that anyone would do?"

 

Crow's words grew more resolute as he spoke, his heart firming in conviction. Yes, this must be love.

 

It wasn't mere dependency. His heart fluttered, filled with desire. During the Beast's wild moments, Crow had bound him with his hair, stealing glances at his bare body and manhood, burning those images into his memory, only to relive them in his dreams again and again.

 

In his dreams, he would press his lips greedily against the Beast's, feel the rigid heat of his manhood at his entrance, and be overwhelmed with bliss. But then, he would wake, and sorrow would crush him as he realized it had all been but a dream.

 

Sometimes, left with no other choice, he would even touch himself, inserting his fingers to soothe the aching of his body.

 

 

When had the longing to touch him begun? When had the urge to taste him arisen? Crow could not recall. All he knew was that his desire stemmed from love—for the one who came to him each night and gazed at him with such fervent, heated eyes. It was because it was him that Crow wished for his body. It was because it was the Beast's manhood that he yearned for it.

 

From the thick black fur dangled that raw and pulsing part of him, and Crow longed to make it rise, to feel the heat of the Beast's milk—the seed he craved with every fiber of his being.

 

"Please, do not deny my feelings. I beg you... make me your lover..."

 

"There is still time before dawn, but I am leaving now. Cool your head for a while," the Beast said, rising from his chair.

 

"W-Wait... Please wait!" Crow's voice cracked as he watched the Beast pull off the single glove he had worn, placing it neatly alongside the one Crow had made for him, both resting now on the table.

 

Turning his back to Crow, the Beast untied his crimson cloak with familiar motions.

 

"Wait! Don't go yet...!" Crow called out, but no matter how loud he pleaded, the Beast's footsteps did not falter.

 

With a graceful sweep, the Beast removed his long cloak as he approached the small, shuttered window. He always revealed his naked form just before departing, and tonight was no different.

 

"Beast... please... wait!" Crow's voice broke again, his heart aching.

 

Though the scene was the same as every night before, the color of the sky beyond the window was different this time. The eastern horizon was still shrouded in thick darkness, yet the Beast was already preparing to leave.

 

"I'm sorry... I won't say anything more... Please... wait."

 

"Thank you for the gloves. I will use them from tomorrow night onward," the Beast said softly, leaving behind a promise that he would return.

 

With those final words, he transformed into the black beast once more. His body shifted as he launched himself from the window, leaping effortlessly into the air.

 

He had grown skilled at avoiding the branches below, landing with grace. As always, he paused after a few steps, looking up at the small window in the tower. His blood-red eyes lingered on Crow, full of a quiet longing, before he disappeared into the forest.

 

Though his form had shifted back into that of a beast, the way he left was undeniably different from how he had arrived.

 

Everything was as it had always been—except for the color of the sky.

 

"U...uh... ugh..." Crow's chest tightened with unbearable pain. If only he hadn't spoken so much, they could have spent a few more hours together.

 

The thought of the time he had lost made his heart ache, nearly splitting with regret, and his tears fell without end.

 

Though he had finally spoken his heart, the sorrow of the Beast's departure crushed him, filling him with a bitter regret. Doubts began to stir in his mind once more.

 

Was it truly love, or was it simply loneliness?

 

Was it anyone else who could have filled the void, anyone who might have comforted his aching heart?

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