Chapter 29 - Snow White's Son

Translator's Note:

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Even as the night deepened, Crow's hands moved ceaselessly, knitting while he waited for Kyle's return to their shared chamber. Kyle's words echoed in his mind: "I will remain in another room until you allow me to come back." It seemed his brother had no intention of coming back unless Crow called for him.

 

Yet this room alone held the hidden door to the underground passageway, and as midnight neared, fate would inevitably force them to meet once again. Crow was determined to finish half his knitting before that moment came, his hands working swiftly.

 

His vision had mostly returned, and the shawl he had been crafting for himself was long finished. Now, he busied himself with a lap blanket, the fine sapphire-colored yarn a gift from one of Kyle's trusted retainers. Though spring had arrived, the nights remained chill away from the fire, and Crow hoped Kyle might find comfort in it, using it even occasionally.

 

When my brother returns, Crow thought, I'll smile and show him this blanket as if nothing has happened. Perhaps it will ease the tension, soothe his heart before the beast overtakes him at midnight. And maybe—when he returns in the morning—he'll find it easier to care for me as his little brother once more.

 

With a wistful hope, Crow resolved to finish the blanket before dawn. When Kyle returned, he would offer it as a gift and, as always, sing his brother to sleep with a lullaby. He longed to stroke Kyle's weary hair and let him rest, body and soul.

 

Yet he knew this alone would never be enough. Deep down, he yearned to break the curse and seal their love by joining their bodies together—both in Kyle's beastly form and in his human one. But if such actions only brought his brother more suffering, then Crow knew he must continue to offer him solace as his brother, nothing more. He must wait patiently until Kyle's heart was ready to change.

 

Crow's knitting needles danced between his fingers, his thoughts tethered to Kyle's return. As he wove an intricate pattern into the fabric, a sudden knock broke through his concentration, earlier than he had expected.

 

He doubted his senses, wondering if he had lost track of time. Yet the clock confirmed it: the hour was still far from midnight, and Kyle's descent to the underground passage lay well ahead.

 

"Kyle, it's me. I'm coming in."

 

The voice that called out was low and heavy, unmistakably masculine.

 

Crow sat still, his confusion mounting. He had met several of Kyle's most trusted retainers before, but this visitor was older than any of them—and the fact that he addressed Kyle without formality left Crow unsettled.

 

The door creaked open before Kyle had given his permission, and in stepped a tall man with flaxen hair. He was dressed in deep burgundy, his attire fit for a nobleman, though Crow's vision, still imperfect, could not make out the finer details from a distance.

 

"Who are you?" Crow's voice wavered as he sat on the settee, knitting still in hand. He briefly wondered if he should have hidden, but the stranger's brisk entrance had left him no time to retreat.

 

The man had already seen him, and Crow had no choice but to greet him with a soft, "Good evening." He couldn't reveal his name yet, uncertain of the man's intentions, and so he clutched his knitting needles tighter, silently calculating.

 

Who could this man be to speak so informally to Kyle? His first thought was the king, their father—but Crow had been told the king possessed the same striking golden hair as Kyle. This man, though noble in appearance, did not resemble a sovereign.

 

His many medals suggested he was of royal or noble blood, and his age was likely close to that of the king.

 

"Snow White... could it be? You're Prince Snow White, the second prince?"

 

The man's face came into sharper focus as he hurried forward, and with that clarity, realization dawned upon Crow.

 

"Ah, the likeness is undeniable! You are the spitting image of Queen Snow White. I can hardly believe it!"

 

"Uncle...?" Crow hesitated before asking, his voice barely a whisper.

 

"Yes, my boy, it's me—your Uncle Phillip! What a surprise, and how beautiful you've become…"

 

The name rang familiar in Crow's ears. Kyle and the seven elves had spoken of him often: Phillip Ragnarcris, the Duke of the neighboring kingdom of Audin. He had once been the fourth prince of that land, and when his brother, Prince Priss, wed Queen Snow White and married into the Green Valley Kingdom, Phillip had accompanied him, marrying the Queen's cousin.

 

"You... who were said to be imprisoned in the tower of the Black Forest... what are you doing here?" Philip's eyes darkened, but before Crow could answer, he continued, "No, there's no need to ask. Kyle must have brought you here. But why didn't he tell me? Does he trust me so little as his uncle?"

 

Philip's brows furrowed in sorrow, and his flaxen mustache twitched as his expression grew grim. He bent a knee slightly before Crow, who sat bewildered upon the long settee.

 

"Kyle has been acting strangely of late," Philip began, his voice thick with concern. "Even today, there was an important decision about the new liquor tax, yet he was absent without explanation. Because of that, the king—my brother—was left to make the choice alone."

 

"What... my brother did that?" Crow asked, his voice barely a whisper.

 

Philip sighed. "Once, Kyle would have clashed fiercely with the king—he cared deeply for the people. But over the past year, I've noticed a change. He's grown weary, burdened by something, yet still, he would never have done anything to harm the people... until now. Just these past few days, he's been so far gone that he left a visiting lord waiting half a day, only to meet with him for mere minutes—his mind somewhere else entirely. I wanted to shout at him, so great was my anger, but now I see... I see it all."

 

Philip clasped Crow's hand, his weathered features tinged with bitterness. There was a resemblance between him and Kyle, one that hinted at what Kyle might become in the years to come.

 

With a heavy sigh, Philip continued, "Kyle took you from that tower, didn't he? And now, he lives in fear that the king will discover your presence and have you put to death. No wonder he hasn't had the strength to concern himself with the affairs of the kingdom. As a crown prince, it's unforgivable... but as a man, perhaps it's understandable. You, Snow White, are special to him."

 

"Special...?" Crow echoed, tilting his head in confusion. He knew Kyle cared for him deeply, but if there was something more he had yet to understand, he hoped to learn it from his uncle.

 

It wasn't a matter of wanting to know how much he was cherished—what Crow truly sought was the key to helping Kyle. He wanted to understand what Kyle needed, how he could lighten his brother's burden.

 

Philip's expression softened. "Perhaps... Kyle considers you his only family," he said, his voice tinged with sadness, as if lamenting that he himself could not be included in that circle.

 

"His only family?" Crow repeated, his heart heavy with the words.

 

"Yes," Philip replied. "Your father, the king, has always been a bit... strange. And Queen Snow White, well, she has a secretive, even cruel side to her. From his youngest days, Kyle was always on edge, always tense. It seemed as though he trusted no one, not even me. Though he wore a smile, there was a wariness in his eyes that never faded."

 

Philip paused, his gaze distant as he recalled those long-past days. "But in the three months between your birth and the day you were imprisoned in the tower, Kyle was a different person altogether. It was as though he had become a father or mother to you, caring for you with such devotion. And yet, during that time, he looked more childlike than ever before—so happy, so full of joy. Perhaps it was because, for the first time, he had someone he could truly trust—a family member who could give him peace of mind."

 

As Philip spoke, a vision of a much younger Kyle, smiling warmly, flickered in Crow's mind—an image he did not remember but felt as though he should. And with that, the reason for Kyle's reluctance to sever their brotherly bond became clear.

 

Perhaps, Crow thought, I truly am the only family he has left.

 

It struck him then that the bond they shared, fragile yet profound, must be far harder to break than he had ever realized. The burden of Kyle's role as crown prince, cursed by the witch's magic and unable to trust anyone, seemed unbearably heavy now.

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