Chapter 18 - Snow White's Son
Translator's Note:
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Crow was certain that the Beast felt the same, that the intense gaze the Beast often cast upon him was not a misunderstanding. The Beast simply couldn't admit it, bound by the chains of propriety and fear. But Crow believed in the truth of their connection, and he had to say it all, even if it was reckless. The Beast's heart was fortified like a great castle, and Crow knew that only by breaking through with force could he reach the truth hidden within.
"I love you, Beast. I love you so much, it consumes me with shame... but I can't stop."
"Why? Why would you say such things, like... like wanting to drink my semen?"
In stark contrast to Crow, whose heart was aflame with passion, the Beast's complexion was as pale as if a ghostly veil had settled over him. His lips had lost their color, and his bloodshot eyes seemed even redder against the pallor of his skin.
"Have you... have you done such a thing before?" the Beast asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"That is..."
"There are no such indecent books in this tower. Why, then, would you imagine such acts? Has another man been coming here?" The Beast's voice rose, fury and disbelief flooding his features.
"No! No, that's not it!" Crow exclaimed, the accusation of infidelity stinging like a blow. He quickly denied it, his thoughts turning to the elves' words.
Crow had spent the past year reading many books, and now he understood the meaning of what Ernst had told him at the end. The things he had done since he was young, acts he now understood should be reserved for the one person he truly loved. He understood that what he had done with the seven elves was a unique act that should be kept secret from others, but Crow didn't think it was something so obscene as to amount to infidelity. To him, it had been nothing more than nourishment, a playful exchange.
"Snow White, answer me! Have you allowed another man into this tower?" The Beast's face twisted with rage, jealousy unmistakably shining in his eyes.
Though being accused of infidelity pained Crow, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of joy. Jealousy and possessiveness were natural parts of love, after all, and sometimes, the appearance of a rival was what made one aware of their true feelings. He hated being suspected of betrayal, but he believed he was so very close—so close to the Beast finally admitting his love.
"No, I am not interested in any man other than you. You are the only one who comes to see me. But... I was raised by drinking the milk, no, the semen, of the seven elves."
"The semen... of the elves?" the Beast echoed, his voice trembling with disbelief.
"Yes. It is not something special to the elves, for their way of life is different from that of humans. But in the end, they taught me. They told me that from now on, I must only drink the seed of the one I truly love, and let them drink mine too. They said I mustn't let anyone else do that to me. They told me that kisses, the touch of bare skin, and the sight of one's naked body should all be shared only with the one I love most. And I have followed that teaching, even in my fantasies. Beast, it is you. I desire no one but you."
"Surely... this cannot be..." the Beast muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
The more Crow spoke, the more the Beast backed away from the bed, his body trembling, lips quivering as he whispered a desperate prayer. "God, no... Please tell me this is a lie."
The Beast retreated until his back was pressed against the wall at the far end of the eighth-floor chamber. His movement knocked over a basket of apples, sending them tumbling to the ground, along with a fruit knife that clattered loudly, its metallic sound echoing through the room.
The sweet and sour fragrance of the bruised apples filled the air, and though the silence that followed was brief, it felt to Crow as though the fresh apples would rot before Beast finally spoke.
"The seven elves who raised you... they appeared as children, didn't they? They could not have been more than five or six years old..."
The Beast finally found his voice, though it wavered amidst the scent of the fallen apples, his hands grasping at his own hair.
Half-cradling his head in disbelief, he cried out again, "What does this all mean!?"
"They were, in truth, nearly two hundred years old," Crow replied softly. "The elves told me that they were bound by a magic that preserved their youth. Their true forms were those of tall, strong young men, though not quite as tall as you, Beast. But they found it inconvenient to remain in their adult forms—their clothes would waste too much fabric, their homes would feel cramped. So, they chose to live in the shape of children. But please, don't misunderstand me… What I shared with them was no more than sustenance, like a meal…"
"Snow White… Ah, Snow White…" The Beast moaned, collapsing to his knees amidst the scattered apples.
A knife lay perilously close to him, and, fearing for his safety, Crow instinctively moved his long hair. With a gentle swish, his strands curled around the knife handle, attempting to lift it back to the table.
But before he could, the Beast seized the knife and Crow's hair along with it, lifting his tear-streaked face.
"This hair... it's grown so long… imbued with their magic, hasn't it?" the Beast murmured through gritted teeth.
"Beast, your eyes!"
Crow cried out, his voice trembling. Beast, with labored breath, slowly peeled Crow's hair away from the knife's hilt.
His eyes, filled with grief and fury, were no longer his deep and calm gaze, but closer to how they were before he sang the lullaby. They flickered, shifting in hue. Not fully red, nor fully blue, but a swirling mix of both—sometimes blotched, sometimes changing between red and blue, even appearing as a shade of purple as they shifted restlessly.
Beast's inner turmoil was written in every changing shade.
"Her body... it didn't decay for years because of this magic, didn't it?" The Beast's voice cracked with realization.
"Beast...?" Crow trembled on the bed, his heart pounding in fear, his voice locked in his throat. He thought of singing the lullaby that had soothed the Beast so many times before, but the words wouldn't come. He could barely breathe, as if something had gripped his throat.
"I've been deceived… All this time, I've known nothing of the truth. I believed the seven elves to be good, innocent beings. But now… now I see! Their childish forms were but a guise, and I… I brought my loved one near such vile creatures!" The Beast's voice rose to a thunderous roar as he stomped barefoot upon the apples, crushing them underfoot, their juice spraying out and mingling with the air.
Crow shuddered, barely understanding half of what the Beast was saying. The sheer force of his fury shook him to the core.
"No… please, stop…!" Crow begged, the words spilling from his lips without thought, for he sensed that something terrible was about to happen.
"I will never forgive them… The elves… those wicked, deceitful creatures!" The Beast stood by the bed, gripping the knife in one hand and Crow's hair in the other. At first, he held the ends of Crow's hair, but soon he grasped closer, near the roots, pulling him up as though Crow were no more than a helpless rabbit caught in a snare.
"Ah, no… please, it hurts! Let go!" Crow cried, tears streaming down his face as his hair was yanked cruelly, his body suspended painfully by the merciless grip.
"This cursed hair… this witch's hair!" The towering figure before Crow was no longer the gentle, blue-eyed Beast he knew, nor was he the wild, uncontrolled creature from before. His eyes had fully turned red, bloodshot with fury, burning with a terrifying rage. Yet even as he raged, tears poured down his face, unstoppable.
"This hair, tainted by the lust of those elves… I'll cut it away!"
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