A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat - Chapter 119: A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat

“I’m so sorry.”

Margaret finally broke down, her entire body trembling with the force of her sobs.

For a moment, I found myself reaching out to steady her.

But just as quickly, my hand froze, hovering awkwardly in the air.

Did I even have the right?

The right to offer comfort to the very person I had hurt so deeply?

The question, fleeting at first, quickly morphed into a barbed hook, digging its claws into my gut.

‘I might have confessed to being conflicted…’

But Margaret’s feelings were undoubtedly a mirror image of my own.

Just as I resented her… 

She must have resented me in equal measure.

Perhaps even more so.

After all, I was the one who had set this whole disastrous chain of events in motion.

“…Are you alright?”

The only thing I could manage was a pathetically inadequate question, uttered in a voice devoid of any real conviction.

Margaret offered a weak sob in response, avoiding my gaze.

I simply stood there, helpless to do anything but watch as she crumbled before my eyes.

“Hicc… Sniff…”

She raised her arm, as if trying to shield herself from the onslaught of her own tears, but it was a futile gesture.

The downpour was too heavy, too relentless, to be held back by something as fragile as a hand.

It was a heart-wrenching display of grief.

And I… I was powerless to stop it.

What right did I have to offer words of comfort?

I, who had lashed out at others simply because the world had been cruel to me?

My own foolishness had only served to inflict more pain.

I had become a painter of scars, my canvases etched with the memories of my own suffering.

And Margaret… she was the canvas upon which I had used the widest array of colors.

‘Because of me…’

How much pain had I inflicted upon her?

How many nights had she spent tossing and turning, her heart torn between love and hate?

The thought filled me with a suffocating sense of guilt.

I had ruined her.

I had driven a wedge between her and her dearest friend.

I had manipulated her with my carefully crafted lies.

I had pushed her away, then had the audacity to resent her for hating me.

“Ugh… I’m so sorry… Because of me… Hicc…”

Once again, I had made her cry.

If I wasn’t a monster, then what was I?

Just as she felt responsible for my unhappiness, I deserved to bear the weight of my own actions.

“If only… If only I hadn’t left you… If only I had known… about your pain…”

I didn’t have the right to make excuses.

I was the one who had destroyed our future.

It was all my fault.

Guilt, guilt, guilt, and more guilt.

The relentless litany echoed through my mind, each repetition a sharp, venomous thorn digging deeper into my flesh.

“I’m sorry… Raiden… Hicc… Sniff… I… I…”

I shouldn’t have comforted her.

I didn’t deserve to.

I knew that… and yet, my feet moved of their own accord, carrying me towards her.

“Your Highness.”

Was this… foolish sentimentality?

I was reaching out for a light that was already long extinguished, a past that could never be reclaimed.

My fingertips brushed against her cheek, cold and damp with tears.

And then, I felt it.

A warmth that spread through my hand, as if her tears were tiny, burning stars, searing my skin with their intensity.

It was a strangely comforting pain, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

Not yet. Not while she was still hurting.

I waited for the storm of her grief to pass, swallowing down my own bitter emotions.

“Don’t apologize.”

“Raiden…”

“…If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”

My confession was laced with self-deprecation.

“I’m the one who wrote this miserable play.”

“But… I saw everything… I felt it… The pain you were carrying… the loneliness you kept bottled up inside…”

She must have been referring to the time our minds had been linked through Eivy’s ‘Soul Link’.

The emotions I had glimpsed in her eyes…

They had been a reflection of my own desolate winter.

“When I pushed you away… the sadness you felt… it was so… incredibly vivid… so painful…”

Margaret’s legs buckled beneath her, and she sank to the ground.

“If only I had known… If only I hadn’t left you… You wouldn’t be so… broken…”

She was blaming herself.

Blaming herself for not seeing my pain, for not being there for me when I needed her most.

…But would it have really made a difference?

There had been others.

Rachel, Ariel, my father, Gilbert…

There had been candles, offering their warmth, even as I raged against them.

And yet, I had still fallen.

I had rejected their light, choosing instead to stumble blindly towards my own destruction.

Perhaps it had been my fate all along.

So there was no need for her to blame herself.

Even if she had stayed by my side, even if she had never left… I still would have ended up broken.

It was no one’s fault.

I was the darkness…

And they… they were the light.

But my shadow had simply been too vast, too all-encompassing, for their flickering flames to banish.

I understood now.

Victim, perpetrator…

Such simplistic labels were meaningless in the face of what had transpired between us.

We had both been blind, our vision clouded by hurt and resentment, our fingers itching to pull the trigger.

I was tired of it.

It was time to let go.

To release the tension in the bowstring, to allow the arrow of blame to fall harmlessly to the ground.

Only then, I believed…

No, I hoped…

That we might find our way back to each other.

‘I’m so tired of hating… and being hated.’

It was a poison that ate away at the soul, leaving behind only emptiness and despair.

It stole your warmth, your love, your capacity for happiness.

‘I finally have a second chance… I can’t waste it on something as destructive as hatred.’

Life was too precious, too fleeting, to be wasted on such things.

I had been given a gift.

The people who cared about me had welcomed me back with open arms, despite everything I had done.

Now, it was my turn to do the same.

“Raiden… I… I…”

Margaret was still sobbing, her words lost in a torrent of grief.

She remained slumped on the ground, her body racked with tremors.

I offered her my hand.

“It’s cold. Please, get up.”

“…I can’t… You should hate me… You deserve to…”

“Don’t say that.”

“But…”

“Your Highness.”

I cut her off, my voice firm.

And then, speaking with a clarity I hadn’t realized I possessed, I said the words that had been trapped inside me for far too long.

“I don’t blame you anymore.”

“…You’re lying.”

“You don’t have to believe me. Not yet. But I’ll stay by your side until you do.”

It might have been selfish, but there were things I needed to say.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the pain I caused you, for the scars I left on your heart.”

“…”

“I regret everything I said and did to hurt you.”

Standing there, beneath the weight of the winter sky, I asked her a question.

“Will you please… take my hand?”

“Ugh… Sniff…”

“Can I… dare I hope for your forgiveness?”

“Please… Stop looking at me… with those kind eyes…”

“I won’t move from this spot until you take my hand.”

“Hicc… Ugh…”

I knew, of course, that simply holding her hand wouldn’t magically erase the past.

It would be foolish to hope that things could ever go back to the way they were.

We were both too broken for that.

Perhaps we were beyond saving.

Perhaps the hate outweighed the love, even now.

“This time… I won’t let go.”

But even so…

If she would just reach out and take my hand…

If she would give me another chance…

I would spend the rest of my life trying to mend the shattered pieces of our past.

“…Why…?”

Margaret looked up at me, her eyes filled with confusion and a flicker of something akin to hope.

For a moment, she simply stared at me, her expression unreadable.

And then, with a fresh wave of tears, she reached out and took my hand.

I pulled her to her feet, and she collapsed against me, her sobs shaking her small frame.

“Raiden…”

Her voice was muffled against my chest, her words barely audible.

I held her close, my hand resting gently on her back.

For a brief moment, it was almost like old times.

“Ugh… Ah…”

A wave of nostalgia washed over me, and I had to blink back the sudden sting of tears.

I focused on comforting her, pushing aside my own tumultuous emotions.

The storm of her grief raged on.

***

Eventually, her sobs subsided, replaced by the gentle rise and fall of her breath.

She had fallen asleep in my arms, exhausted from crying.

I carried her back to her room, my steps slow and deliberate.

Each footfall was a silent prayer, a plea for her to find some measure of peace in sleep.

“My lady…!”

“Shh… She’s asleep. Keep your voice down.”

A maid startled us in the hallway, her eyes widening in surprise.

I silenced her with a look, and we continued on our way.

I reached her bedroom and gently laid her down on the bed.

I stood there for a moment, watching as she slept, listening to the soft murmur of her breath.

“…”

Our hands were still clasped together.

I lowered my head and carefully brushed a stray strand of silver hair away from her face.

The scent of roses…

It was the same scent that clung to my memories of her, from a time when things had been so much simpler, so much more innocent.

I closed my eyes, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek.

And I prayed.

I prayed that for tonight, at least…

“…You would be free from nightmares.”

And so, I stayed by her side until dawn.

***

Meanwhile, Margaret drifted through the depths of her subconscious.

She was dreaming.

Dreaming of a wish she had long held secret, a wish she had tried so hard to deny.

-I don’t blame you anymore.

-Can I… dare I hope for your forgiveness?

-This time… I won’t let go.

It was a tempting fantasy.

An irresistible siren song that promised solace and forgiveness.

And despite her better judgment, Margaret found herself reaching out, grasping for the hand that was offered to her.

It was the moment when the nightmare she had been having the night before was shattered.

‘How can you be so kind…?’

She trembled with a heart full of terror.

It felt like she was using a boy’s kindness.

She couldn’t bear the despicable person she had become.

She realized the truth.

Although the boy had lent her his hand, she felt she didn’t deserve to lean on his warmth.

She had already hurt him once with her filthy resentment.

The girl had to live with a heart that sought eternal atonement.

‘Eternally… for your sake alone…’

Of course, it wasn’t a normal way of thinking.

But the girl’s mental state was already tainted with guilt, so it was pointless to consider it broken.

‘I’ll live for you… I’ll die for you…’

Perhaps that was the last thing she could offer him.

The girl wandered, lost in thought, and made the same vow to herself over and over.