Chapter 31 - 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.

And as I said before, if you wish to read ahead, you can head over to my Patreon to get early access to all the translated chapters.

Crow's fingers grasped the brass railing shaped like the delicate petals of a rose, guiding him up the marble steps. At the top, a grand hallway opened before him.

 

The floor, polished like a mirror, gleamed with a smooth sheen of white marble, and a scarlet carpet embroidered with golden roses stretched down the center. Though the hallway itself was wide, the carpet was notably narrow. Crow recalled hearing from Ernst that this carpet was reserved solely for the king's feet.

 

At the end of the long, straight corridor stood four guards, each holding a key adorned with rose engravings. Beyond them loomed an enormous golden door, its surface intricately carved with crowns, flowers, birds, and a great apple tree heavy with fruit.

 

They say Mother loved apples, Crow thought, his heart stirring with the memories whispered by those who had once known Queen Snow White.

 

As Crow approached, he could feel the tension in the air—the guards' unease was palpable. He moved carefully, walking just beside the edge of the royal carpet. Though they hadn't been particularly concerned by Crow's appearance at first, when they saw him up close, their eyes widened in shock, as if they had just seen a ghost.

 

None of the guards spoke, but Crow could hear the faint sound of their gasps. One even stepped back in alarm, causing the key in his hand to strike the door with a resonant chime, like that of a bell.

 

"I am Snow White, the second prince," Crow said firmly. "I seek an audience with my father, the king. If he is still awake... unless, of course, he is presently engaged in conversation with Grand Duke Ragnarcris?"

 

Crow made sure each guard saw his face clearly. Without Kyle there to vouch for his identity, Crow had no other choice but to rely on his resemblance to his mother, the late queen, to prove who he was.

 

"Prince Snow White...!" the guards gasped in unison, dropping to their knees. They bowed deeply, trembling with reverence.

 

Queen Snow White, though not a queen by marriage, had been the only princess of the kingdom of Green Valley. She could have ruled as queen in her own right. Though she had wed Prince Priss of the neighboring kingdom of Auden and taken on the title of his queen, she had been beloved by the people and nobility alike—far more than the king himself.

 

Seeing Crow, who so strongly resembled the late queen, brought the guards to tears. "Ah... Prince Snow White...!" they repeated over and over, overcome with emotion. In the end, one of them even broke into sobs, dropping his key to the floor.

 

"The king is awake and will remain so until dawn, I believe," one of the guards managed to say between sobs.

 

"The Grand Duke has not arrived," another confirmed, wiping his tears.

 

With great haste, the guards opened the door for Crow.

 

The door, though made of wood, was thick and heavy, and once fully opened, it revealed a continuation of the intricate carvings that extended onto the hallway walls, forming one unified picture.

 

The inner side of the door, gilded like the exterior, depicted a sweet young princess holding an apple—a carving of Queen Snow White herself, appearing even younger than Crow was now.

 

Though relieved by the guards' words, Crow felt a sudden wave of emotion as he stepped into a space so deeply tied to his late mother. But as soon as he crossed the threshold, his senses were overwhelmed by a strange, pungent odor.

 

What is this smell... sweet, yet sour...?

 

As the doors closed behind him, the odor became stronger. Though Crow had heard whispers of the Queen Snow White's body beginning to decay, what he smelled now was a mix of apples and wine—unpleasant, but not entirely foul. It was a strange blend: the rotten scent of grapes mixed with the warm fragrance of simmering apples, laced with the seductive spice of cinnamon.

 

Could this fragrance be meant to mask the stench of decay? Crow wondered.

 

Pulling his sleeve down to cover his face, he continued down the hallway. There were countless doors, but it was easy to tell which room the king was in. The door at the far end glowed with an otherworldly light—far brighter than could be explained by mere candlelight.

 

They must be cooking a great many apples in there... with wine and cinnamon, Crow thought, growing dizzy from the overwhelming scent.

 

At first, it had seemed unbearable, but now, the fragrance felt almost intoxicating. He no longer needed to shield himself with his sleeve; instead, he inhaled the strange, sweet air willingly.

 

What is this feeling? Crow mused. I feel light, as though I'm floating...

 

His mind began to blur. What had he come here to do? What was the first thing he had intended to say to his father, the king? The more he breathed in the scent, the harder it became to remember. He tried to stop and clear his head, but his thoughts swirled like mist, elusive and unfocused.

 

Though his legs felt weak, he could not stop himself from moving forward, as if something were pulling him along. A sense of danger whispered at the edge of his consciousness, but the sensation was oddly pleasant, making it harder to resist.

 

Drawn ever closer to the glowing door, Crow passed beneath the portraits of his mother—Queen Snow White. In each painting, she smiled serenely, her beauty timeless, an apple held in her hand. In some, she stood beside her husband, Kyle's father, who resembled the crown prince greatly. In others, she cradled a young Kyle in her arms.

 

Snow White, the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, had once been envied by her stepmother, the Mirror Witch, whose jealousy had driven her to plot Snow White's death. Fleeing into the Black Forest, Snow White had been hidden and protected by the seven elves, whose enchanted essence had granted her a body that resisted the ravages of time.

 

Though she had been poisoned by the very apple she loved, a prince from a neighboring kingdom had saved her, restoring her to her rightful place and enabling her to vanquish her wicked stepmother.

 

Was my mother truly happy? Crow wondered, his heart heavy. Was she glad to be loved so passionately, escaping the Witch's curse that was meant for her? Or did she suffer greater pain as a mother, knowing her own child had become cursed in her place? Did she smile like that while her heart silently hurt for Kyle?

 

Lost in his thoughts, Crow passed by portrait after portrait, each more beautiful than the last, until he stood before the glowing door at the far end of the hall.

 

At that moment, the great clock in the castle's tower began to toll. The chimes announced that it was a quarter to midnight.

 

The clock, which had been in the castle since the queen's childhood, was originally designed to chime only twice a day—once at noon and once at midnight. But after Kyle's curse took hold, turning him into a beast at the stroke of midnight, Queen Snow White had ordered the clockmaker to add an additional chime at eleven forty-five, to warn of the impending transformation.

 

Crow remembered Kyle telling him that it had been their mother who had given the order. Though Crow could never truly know the depths of his late mother's heart, he could only hope that she had done all she could to protect her beloved son—issuing decrees, altering clocks, and forbidding anyone from ever harming the "Herald of Hell," as the cursed creature were called.

 

Perhaps, in her own way, she had done everything she could to shield Kyle from his terrible fate.

 

Though Crow could only guess at her true intentions, there was one thing he knew with certainty—the love in his own heart. He loved his brother so deeply that he wished to bear the curse himself, to spare Kyle from his suffering. And he knew, with the same certainty, that Kyle was grateful it had not been Crow who bore the burden of the curse.

 

That was the essence of love—an unspoken understanding, a bond that could withstand any curse.

 

In each other's hearts lay the power to break the curse, a strength that would never be overcome by misfortune or enchantment.

 

"Snow White!"

 

As Crow opened the door to the royal chamber, a tall man in a silken gown called out, his voice trembling with emotion. The man had been sitting in a chair near the glass coffin but soon rose and rushed toward him.

 

Though close in age to Philip, this man looked gaunt and pale, his once fine features hollowed by exhaustion. His once-golden hair was streaked with gray, and his beard, too, had lost much of its former color. Though age had taken its toll, there was no mistaking the familiar sharpness of his features, these piercing blue eyes—this was indeed Kyle's father.

 

This is my father... Crow thought, astonished.

 

There was no scolding for leaving the tower unbidden, no reproach. Instead, he was greeted with a wide, joyful smile and embraced in strong arms.

 

"You've returned... My Snow White, you've come back to me!" the man exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion.

 

The room, filled with the scent of apples, wine, and cinnamon, was bathed in the warm glow of the fire beneath a great cauldron. There were no candles, but the metal of the furnishings caught and reflected the flames, casting a golden light that made the walls themselves seem ablaze.

 

"Oh, how I thank the heavens! A miracle of love... God has brought you back to life!"

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