Chapter 15 - Snow White's Son

Translator's Note:

Hello, I hope you've all been doing well.

Here you go, and I wish you a good read.

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A week had passed since Crow confessed his love to the Beast, yet nothing between them had changed.

 

The only differences were the gloves Crow now wore and the melting snow in the Black Forest, which revealed more patches of green each day.

 

Crow longed to say, "I love you," once more, or even twice, or as many times as it took. But fear held him silent—fear that his words of love might cause the Beast to leave early, as he so often did when their conversations strayed too near the heart.

 

Doubt gnawed at Crow's courage, draining his confidence. He wanted to confess again, to affirm his feelings, yet found himself paralyzed by uncertainty. Perhaps it was better to remain as they were—like master and apprentice, or old friends separated by age, rather than risk the fragile bond they shared.

 

"That outfit... I've never seen it before. Is it new?"

 

The Beast, as usual, sat close beside him, his face hidden beneath the deep hood of his cloak, his gaze cast toward Crow.

 

It had been hours since Crow's lullaby brought the Beast back to his senses, but only now did he mention Crow's attire, which he had been quietly observing since the beginning of the evening.

 

"Yes. This morning, I looked down from the tower and saw another wooden chest placed there. It was the same plain, unadorned box as always, but inside... inside, it was a beautiful treasure chest lined with silk cushions. Ten new books, some clothing... undergarments, soap, bread, cheese, butter, sweets, and tea leaves, all in abundance."

 

Crow described the contents of the gift sent by Prince Kyle, even showing the Beast the list of book titles he had written down.

 

He always did this, and every time he asked, "Have you read them?" the Beast never once said no.

 

"They're all love stories, of course—about proper love between a man and a woman."

 

"Ah... I see. I haven't had a chance to read them yet."

 

The Beast, as expected, answered that he had read them all before, and with the words "proper love," Crow felt a tight, painful constriction in his heart.

 

For Crow, who had spent every moment since his confession thinking about his love for the Beast, this was not an opportunity to speak of his feelings again—it was quite the opposite. It was a reminder.

 

Loving another man was unnatural, the world outside would teach him to desire a woman's love... it was as though both the Beast and Prince Kyle, by some cruel coincidence, had conspired to warn him against his folly.

 

"There were hardly any love stories before... why the sudden change? Usually, only one or two of the ten are like that."

 

"Perhaps it's because you've turned seventeen. You are at the age where it's expected you will one day love a woman, marry her, and understand what takes place between a husband and wife in the bedchamber."

 

Crow had no response to the Beast's words.

 

Normally, he would have simply answered, "Yes," as expected. But now, no words came.

 

Could it really be that his love was so wrong? So wrong that it must be condemned by comparisons to the "proper" love between man and woman, emphasized again and again?

 

"Is the love between a man and a woman really so righteous?"

 

"Of course. Read the books, and learn well."

 

Crow felt a deep sadness that he could not see the expression hidden beneath the Beast's hood. And tonight, even when the Beast let his guard down, his gaze never sought Crow's face.

 

Was it too complacent to wonder if perhaps the Beast, despite himself, had fallen in love with Crow? That Crow's confession had made him aware of his feelings, and now he feared to meet Crow's eyes, feared to acknowledge the love between them?

 

Beast still hid behind his fur, unwilling to reveal himself. Crow began to wonder—could it be that Beast was also hiding his heart? If his visits were not motivated by love, then why did he endure the arduous climb to the tower night after night? Why did he devote such effort to teaching Crow, if not for some deeper feeling?

 

It was impossible to explain otherwise. The intensity with which both the rational and irrational sides of the Beast were moved could only suggest that a special emotion lay beneath it all. Crow felt that perhaps, just perhaps, it was not too much to hope for.

 

"To think my brother would send me so many love stories, just when my heart is troubled by love... It's as if he could see right through me."

 

"Prince Kyle is your brother, after all. Of course, he understands you. And he has ten more years of life than you. He probably chose those books, remembering how he felt at seventeen."

 

"Is it his wish, then, that I one day return to the castle, fall in love with a woman, marry her, and have children?"

 

Crow's question lingered in the air, and the Beast did not answer right away. He bowed his head so low that not even the tip of his nose was visible from beneath his hood. After a long pause, he finally spoke.

 

"Yes, I believe that is his wish."

 

"My brother is such a grand person, isn't he? He never makes mistakes."

 

"No, Prince Kyle is human, too. He makes mistakes and struggles, like anyone else. But it is said he strives to be rational, always behaving as the exemplary prince he is expected to be."

 

"Yes... I'm sure he is working very hard."

 

Though Crow cared for his brother, the thought of having his love denied made him recoil from the idea of returning to the castle. The desire to see Prince Kyle grew fainter and fainter with each passing day.

 

Even if the Beast were to deny Crow's feelings, he would still rather stay here, in the tower, with him.

 

If it were merely loneliness driving him, surely he would yearn to escape this solitude, to leap into the wider world beyond. Yet, despite turning his back on all the pleasures that might await him elsewhere, Crow chose, time and time again, to spend his days with the Beast. And still, the Beast would tell him that this was not love.

 

If Crow were to put his feelings into words and ask the Beast directly, he knew this answer would come: "You're only afraid to leave this place and face the new world beyond."

 

No matter what he said, it would be reasoned away, denied.

 

"I hope you can return to the castle soon," the Beast said.

 

"Beast..." Crow whispered softly.

 

"Word has reached me that the king's affliction has worsened. The time may soon come."

 

The "time" the Beast spoke of was when Prince Kyle would ascend the throne, gaining power, ensuring Crow's safety, and summoning him back to the castle. It would also mark the moment of parting with the Beast.

 

Hearing the Beast speak of that time coming swiftly filled Crow's heart with sorrow.

 

"My father's illness... has it grown that bad? How so?"

 

"The late queen's body, once miraculously preserved from decay, has finally begun to wither. She was kept in a glass coffin, always near the king, but in the past year, her body has started to rot, and the stench now fills the castle. Even so, the king refuses to bury her. He no longer moves the coffin, but still, he cannot part with it."

 

"That must be terrible... Perhaps it's because the elves have vanished, and so her body can no longer stay preserved."

 

"Is that it, then? Even the briars surrounding the forest have begun to wither. It's all connected, isn't it?"

 

"My own hair's power will fade one day as well."

 

"Before that happens, the prince will surely come for you."

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