Riftan’s POV (Under the Oak Tree Side Story) - Chapter 5 – Riftan’s POV

Chapter 5 – Riftan’s POV 

*** Trigger warning! – Dear readers, please note that in this chapter there will be depiction of suicide, it’s a bit heavy so think carefully before deciding if you want to read it or not. ***

Translator: LF

Proofreader: Nymeria

Riftan looked back at the girl, her eyes twinkled with anticipation.

… Did you come here only to find me and give this?

He cautiously touched the flowers on the crown. At that moment, a loud shout came from the smithy’s doorsteps.

“It’s deadly hectic, yet what the f*ck are you doing there!”

Frightened by the angry voice, the girl, who had hesitated for a while, turned around and ran into the forest. Riftan glared unpleasantly at the forge.

“… I’m just trying to bring more charcoal since we’ve ran out.”

“Then hurry up and stop daydreaming!”

Riftan sighed and pushed the cart into the woods, following the direction where the girl ran to.

He had to see with his own eyes that the girl safely returned to the outbuilding, otherwise he would feel uneasy. He gazed anxiously at her who was running through the lush forest trees. Then, he looked down again at the flower crown which was hanging on the handle.

Did you make this for me?

He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of her weaving a flower crown with her small hands. His fatigue was forgotten as he pushed the cart vigorously with light steps.

After confirming that the girl had safely returned to the outbuilding, he went back to the smithy where he saw blacksmiths busily hammering. One of them looked at him furiously, like telling him to hurry up and do his chores, and Riftan swallowed a sigh.

He yearned to go home and put the flower crown in a safe place, but there was still a lot of time left before the work in the smithy would end. Riftan hid the gift in the warehouse instead, then walked back to the furnaces and began fanning them with the bellows. Finally, when it was time to go back home after finishing the day’s work, his whole body was drenched in sweat.

He washed his face roughly with the water from the trough and went to the warehouse to retrieve the flower crown. After half a day, the flowers had withered a little. Looking at it with regret, he escaped the smithy and carefully held it with one hand to avoid damaging the petals.

Passing through the sunset-colored forest, he went to the back of the outbuilding where a garden full of summer flower unfolded before his eyes. However, the little girl was nowhere to be seen. She may have been scolded for secretly wandering alone.

Riftan looked at the spot where she often sat alone and reached into his clothes, pulling out the horseshoe crown he made. He thought of leaving it there for her to find, but it was still too shabby. Riftan, who touched the dull iron ring with his fingertips, took it back in his hands.

If I buy a few small beads from the village and decorate the crown with it, it will be more worthy to look at.

He quickly walked past the outbuilding and out of the castle gates. Even though he had a busier day than usual, he felt like he was flying. He went down the hill carefully, to prevent even a single petal from falling because of the breeze.

Their hut was quiet as a dead mouse, his mother was probably waiting on the hill again today. His mother, who always climbed up the hill, either stared at a distance or pretended not to know him. Riftan swallowed a bitter sigh as he looked at their chimney, where not a single puff of smoke rose. Thinking about the cold, uncomfortable stillness in the house made his chest feel tight.

He looked down at the flower as if to seek comfort, and then opened the door and entered the hut. A strange stench stabbed his nose, he thought that wild animals must had gotten in and left their filth behind. Riftan frowned as he opened a window to let in some light, then turned to lit the fire in the furnace, when he noticed a dark figure hanging in the air.

He stepped back and stumbled upon a chair that had fallen on the floor. The flower crown he carried so preciously was crushed under his hand, but he could not grasp the situation. He didn’t understand what he was seeing as he blinked his eyes in bewilderment. The dark hair that had always glistened as if doused with expensive oil, despite not having a single trim or care, now stuck out like a spider web against a face that was white as flour. It took some time for him to realize that the face he was looking at was his mother’s face. Riftan crawled back. A tight rope that seemed like it would break at any moment was strangling her neck, and two pale legs, white as a plaster, dangled underneath his mother’s skirt.

His head was spinning, barely functioning. He ran out of the cabin, vomiting a harsh sob. His heart pounded crazily against his chest with horror. As he ran for a long time toward the hills dyed with the red sunset, he saw the figure of his stepfather pulling a cow out from the fields.

Riftan couldn’t find the right words to explain what he saw and could do nothing but pull his stepfather’s arm. Taken aback by his strange behavior, his stepfather swore foul words at him but followed after seeing his pale face, sensing something unusual. Riftan gasped wildly as he ran back to the hut. However, upon reaching the door, he couldn’t bring himself to take a step closer. His whole body shook with his grieving face. His stepfather glanced at him with a frown and walked past him, asking what was going on.

Riftan stood three or four steps away, staring into nothingness, eagerly praying that what he saw wasn’t real. He wished that his stepfather would condemn him because it was all not real, but just a bad dream. However, his hopes were brutally trampled on as his stepfather ran outside with a sour face, only to drag him into the house. The man then locked the door tightly, lit a lamp, and shouted harshly.

“Close the window right now!”

Riftan mechanically complied to the instruction of his stepfather. The man then made him hold a lamp in his hand and fetched a ladder.

“Hold the light properly.”

Riftan looked up at the man’s face in horror and turned the lamp to his mother, who was hanging from the ceiling. He didn’t know if there was a nightmare worse than that. He held and shone the lamp while his stepfather brought down his mother’s body.

Her hands rattled and her legs shook. The sound of his mother’s body thumping and falling against the floor sent shivers down his spine. He unconsciously stepped back but his stepfather approached him and held him firmly by his shoulders.

“Get a hold of yourself and listen carefully. Do you remember what happened to the girl across the street?” 

He looked up at his stepfather blankly with a bewildered face. He couldn’t think of anything, like his head was empty. The man shook him back and forth, waking his senses.

“The youngest daughter of the miller who was raped by miners in the woods! She took her own life, and they couldn’t give her a proper funeral. The old priests do not forgive those who commit suicide.”

Suicide. Killed herself. Funeral…

The words his father said barely made sense to him. Riftan looked at the dark body stretched out on the floor and turned around to throw up. A sour smell and terrible stench stung his nose. His stepfather brought him back to his feet as he gasped for clean air.

“If the priests don’t bless her body in a funeral ritual, your mother will wander this world for the rest of her life and become a ghoul. You don’t want your mother to become a monster, do you? Then, you should never speak of what happened here. Do you understand?”

Riftan bit his lips and nodded. The man released his shoulders and walked to the bed, fetching a blanket to wrap his mother’s body with. He then took out a sack, stuffing it with a candle and sickle, and wrapped it around his waist.

Riftan still couldn’t come to his senses, he couldn’t even believe it when he saw his mother with his own eyes, yet his stepfather was so calm. He sat crouched on the corner while watching the man suspiciously, figuring out what he was planning to do. The man wiped his forehead that was dripping in cold sweat and opened his flask with trembling hands to take a sip.

“When it gets dark, I’ll take her body to the woods and disguise her death as if she was killed by animals, like bears or wolves. We have to move quietly so that no one else will see.”

The man failed to cap the flask and dropped it on the floor. Even though he usually treated the drink as something as precious as his blood, he stood there in a trance, not bothering to pick it up.

They waited in hellish silence for the sun to completely set and for the surroundings to sink in darkness. At last, the night grew deep. They each wore their own coats.

His stepfather carried the mother’s body against his back. But after a few steps, he slumped down like his legs were exhausted. It seemed that the only thing calm about him was his expression.

The stepfather tried to get back on his feet several times, but when he couldn’t, he held his head silently for a moment. Eventually, he looked at Riftan with a helpless expression.

“You have to carry it to the forest. Can you do it?”

Riftan swallowed dryly, took his mother’s body wrapped in the blanket and carried her against his back. As he struggled to stand up, his stepfather lit a candle and started to lead the walk.

The strands of hair that fell out of the flowing blanket stuck eerily to the back of his neck and the texture of the soft body against his back felt vivid. He couldn’t figure out whether to feel grief or fear.

Just why on earth… what made you do this?

He coughed up a repressed sob between his unevenly rough breathing. After walking for so long in the dark, his stepfather looked around and pointed beneath a gigantic tree.

“This spot will do. Put it down here.”

Riftan crept past the man and unloaded the body off of his back. His stepfather lifted the blanket and turned to him.

“You should go over there.”

Then, he took the scythe out of his sack with trembling hands. Riftan hurriedly hid behind a far tree. He heard the sound of a mountain bird chirping from somewhere and the rustling of the winds felt like someone was weeping. Riftan wrapped his hands around his head and sobbed.

***

The next morning, his mother’s body was found by a forest keeper. After retrieving the body, his stepfather went straight to the priest and requested for a funeral ceremony. The Catholic priests, who were exclusive to the Gentiles, reluctantly allowed for Riftan’s mother to be buried in the cemetery. It was all thanks to his stepfather who offered to give all the remaining silver coins he had.

The funeral was held right that afternoon. Dead bodies decayed rapidly during summer so they couldn’t put it off for another day. Riftan looked down with an indifferent face as a pile of dirt sprinkled on top of the coffin he obtained with the money he worked so hard to earn. The priest then recited a long prayer that would have saved his mother’s soul. Riftan wondered if she really would be saved by something like that.  He glanced at the figure of his stepfather whose shoulders dropped.

Did you really want to save her by doing this?

Riftan clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug his palms. His stepfather was probably going to have nightmares for the rest of his life. And Riftan too.

Strangely, no tears trickled from his eyes. He stood paralyzed and placed a flower in front of the shabby tombstone erected haphazardly at the urge of his stepfather. Finally, when the funeral ceremony was over, the mourners offered their condolences one by one. There were only four people who attended: two were maids from Croix Castle who had been close to her, an old lady from a neighboring house and a strange man in his mid-thirties.

Riftan was puzzled as he gazed at the mysterious man of profound appearance, who was dressed in fine-looking clothes. The man had a dark brown beard and a burly build. At first glance, he seemed to be a nobleman.

“… You’re more alike than I thought.”

Riftan’s face hardened at the man’s strange tone. The man rummaged in his arms and held something out to him.

“Here, it’s your biological father’s memento. It’s supposed to be handed over to his relatives… but I’m giving it to you as he doesn’t have anyone else that bears his blood. Keep it well.”

The man took out a dagger, which was long a little more than a kvet. Riftan didn’t think of accepting and did nothing but look down at it, so the man hastily pulled his hand and forced him to hold the dagger. Then, as if he had already done his duty and had no other business with him, he turned away without any hesitation. Riftan hurriedly pursued him.

“The memento of my biological father, what do you mean by that?”

“Didn’t you hear about him from your mother?” The man frowned at him and sighed. “Your biological father was killed in action. That dagger was what he treasured the most.”

Riftan’s face twisted fiercely.

“Why are you giving this to me? What does that man have to do with me…!”

“That’s what I thought”, the man muttered in a dry tone.  “He hadn’t even started a family yet, and he didn’t have a fiancé. You are the only person who I could give the memento to. So, I looked for you as soon as I came here… I didn’t expect for this to happen.” The man shook his head in disbelief and added in a dull tone. “I’m sorry.”

After expressing his formal consolation, he walked away, leaving Riftan in stupor.

He shed a despondent laugh. When he realized why his mother had done such a thing, a feeling of betrayal and anger seethed in his stomach.