Chapter 20 - Snow White's Son

Translator's Note:

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Wiping away his tears, Crow ran toward the stairs, descending quickly. He paused only briefly before a mirror on the eighth floor to gaze at his unevenly cropped hair, but no more tears came. Without hesitation, he took a pair of shears and swiftly trimmed it all to the shortest length.

 

There was no time for sentimentality. No time for delay.

 

There was more to cut than just his hair.

 

Crow sliced through sturdy sheets, binding and knotting them together to fashion a long, sturdy rope. He had made up his mind—no more doubts, no more fear of the wolves that roamed the forest below.

 

The wall of thorns that once protected the forest had crumbled over the past year. The forest was no longer a place of safety for the wild beasts. Inside or outside, it made no difference now.

 

If he continued to hesitate, Prince Kyle would arrive, and it would be too late.

 

I'm sorry, brother… Crow whispered silently toward the portrait of his brother. I know you've always cared for me. I love you dearly, and I promise, I will see you again and thank you properly one day.

 

Crow's heart ached as he apologized to the image of his brother, the Crown Prince. He loved him deeply, as a brother should, but the Beast was the one who had been by his side for the past year.

 

Even in his monstrous form, driven mad by his instincts, the Beast had come to see him every night, climbing the tower just to be near him. It was because of the Beast that Crow had become an adult, not just in knowledge, but in heart. Through their bond, he had learned what it meant to love.

 

Forgive me… forgive me, Crow murmured, tearing his gaze from the portrait. Yet, even as he prepared to leave, the image of his brother lingered in his mind. Over and over, he whispered apologies while he packed his belongings.

 

It didn't take long, as he had kept his things ready since the last time he had planned to flee the tower. He filled his bag with apples, then rushed up to the ninth floor to gather the sweets and bread his brother had once gifted him. In and out of rooms, he dashed—grabbing fresh sheets, lamp oil, and anything else he might need.

 

With his hair cropped short, he felt strangely light, almost weightless. But the burden of managing everything with only his two hands reminded him of the loss. He could no longer rely on the magic of his hair.

 

I must hurry… If dawn breaks, the Beast will vanish once again.

 

Crow knew that the Beast roamed the forest only in the darkest hours, from midnight until just before dawn. He hastened his preparations, tying the makeshift rope to lower his belongings to the ground.

 

Once everything was secure, he tied the other end of the rope to the fireplace. The eastern sky was just beginning to pale as he made his way out of the tower.

 

Placing a small lantern on the windowsill to light his path, Crow descended. The dim glow revealed the surface of the tower—metal and stone, all scored with the Beast's deep claw marks.

 

To those who knew nothing of the tale, the sight would seem terrifying. But to Crow, those claw marks were a sign of their bond—a testament to the Beast's tireless efforts to see him.

 

Crow began his descent, following the trail of claw marks down the tower, each one a memory, each one a promise.

 

"Ugh... ah..."

 

It was far more difficult than Crow had imagined, supporting his own weight with just his hands. He had tied large knots in the rope to rest his feet upon, but even so, the strain on his arms was immense.

 

Instinctively, he found himself trying to rely on his hair, but of course, it didn't move. It was cut short now, and no longer possessed any magic.

 

I must learn to live without it, as an ordinary person.

 

"I've made it this far!" Crow said with a bright laugh, his voice echoing into the night.

 

Below him, the smooth iron plates gave way to rougher stone, with cracks wide enough for him to wedge the tips of his shoes. As long as he held onto the rope, the descent became easier.

 

Once I reach the ground, I'll head east, he thought, his mind clear with purpose. I once told the Beast about the house where the elves lived, and he knew of it too. No one lives there now, so perhaps he's resting there.

 

Crow knew he needed a place to start his search and considered the hidden elven home as he glanced eastward.

 

He had spent far too long preparing, but the night was still dark.

 

It will be alright... I'm sure I'll find him. When I see him, I'll sing, just like always. The lullaby he loves so much... And I'll bring him back from beast to man. We'll be fine. We can make this work.

 

With renewed determination, Crow placed his foot onto the next ledge and carefully avoided the thorns of the tangled vine roses that clung to the tower walls.

 

The roses, once enchanted by the elves, had withered, not a single bloom in sight. The vines and thorns had dried to a brownish hue, their sharp tips now brittle and needle-like.

 

"Ah!"

 

Despite his caution, one of the thorns pierced his hand, sending a sharp pain through his fingers.

 

Reflexively, he let go of the rope.

 

In that instant, he foolishly thought he could rely on his hair to catch him, as it once had. But the magical hair, now gone, could no longer obey his call.

 

"Ah… no—!"

 

How easily one falls into the trap of habit, he thought, as he felt his body slip. He had grown so accustomed to the magic that now failed him.

 

Unable to hold himself with just one hand, Crow's body plummeted, descending swiftly. The last sight that met his eyes was the small lantern glowing faintly in the tower window above. As it grew distant, the world blurred.

 

He didn't know how far he had fallen, but his descent was broken here and there by his clothes snagging on the dried thorns. Finally, he tumbled into a bed of withered briars below.

 

"Ugh... ah...!"

 

The thorns were like a sea of needles, tearing at both his garments and skin. As he lay there, the pain in his face was greater than the ache in his body. His eyelids burned as though set ablaze, and all around him was darkness. No matter how he searched, he could not find the light of the lantern.

 

His fall had been cushioned slightly by his clothes catching on the way down, and though bruised and bleeding, his limbs were still able to move. He could stand.

 

For a moment, he thought he might be alright.

 

But then—"Ah, my eyes...!"—he knelt on the cold earth, his hands flying to his face where the pain was most intense. His eyelids, still tightly shut, were pierced by countless broken thorns.

 

"No... no, please...!"

 

Oh, if only he could wake up now, safe in his bed. If only this were all just a terrible dream—a fleeting nightmare that would vanish with the dawn. None of this could be real. He wasn't truly in pain. Nothing had truly happened.

 

He longed to start the day anew, from the very beginning. He wished he had never found the courage to change the course of their relationship, to take that step into the unknown. It was his own greed that had led him to this—his punishment for wanting more.

 

If only he had been content with the simple bond they shared, as master and apprentice. Then, perhaps, they would still be together now, bidding each other farewell for the night and promising to meet again tomorrow.

 

"Beast... please... help me... Beast..."

 

The weight of what was happening crushed him, and he longed to surrender to unconsciousness, to escape the bitter reality. Even as he removed the thorns and tried to open his eyes, the world remained black. There was no lantern, no moon, no stars.

 

Crow's world was swallowed by a thick, suffocating darkness, and with it came despair.

 

Yet within that abyss, one light remained—the seven glowing stones left behind by the seven elves.

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