[TVL] 17 – Death of Her Heart

There were two people in this world whom Alana wanted to be happy. One of them was Callisto. He was her subject. From the moment his heart started beating, his whole being was Alana’s vassal. Even at the expense of his life, he would do his best to protect her. Callisto’s arms and abdomen were heavily scarred. During the time Alana had been abused by her late- and half-brother, he had defended her.

To the Callisto who continued to protect her in life and death, Alana was immensely grateful. He was an important person to her, who should be happy. The bed squeaked and moved. It shook underneath the weight of those bedders above it. Alana was also shaken as he moved on top of her. The sensation was painful and uncomfortable, even though it was not the first. She knew this act was indecent, but she could not refuse; she could not refuse when Callisto would say “I’m happy”, with love melted onto his face. She told herself, this was the right thing to do. For Alana, this act was to make Callisto happy. But, in truth, she kept a secret she was ashamed to face. She was a coward. During their fellowship, the past was awakened – every time. It was excruciating to remember like her body was being mangled to pieces. But through this pain, she could keep her heart dead. Mating was an act that led to the death of her heart. In the end, Callisto’s lips came down. His soft kiss landed on her forehead. Her cheeks. Her lips.

At first, it was just once at night. Then, a second time, a third time, Callisto visited again and again. And finally, it became natural to concede to his wishes. After every act, Callisto wished to stay with Alana, but he could never bring himself to express it. He regretfully dressed Alana in her nightwear, then left her alone in her room. It was the same today. Alana, alone, by herself. She went to her window and paused, raising her head to absorb the sky. It was a new moon tonight, and the rain made the windows seem like a river of black paint. The stars would be obscured, hiding within the clouds, embracing their invisibility to the world.

The expressionless Alana was reflected on the glass. She looked down at the vial she squeezed. Within it, the yellow liquid it contained securely swayed. She stared at it, and a while later, she shook it and tipped it over. The smooth liquid left a slightly sweet and bitter aftertaste in her throat.

“Your Majesty, it isn’t poison, is it? You’re not trying to suicide, are you?” Benito appeared from the shadows, greeting her with his unsettling words.

It had been about a month since his disappearance. The last time they had met was when he had touched Alana’s body. Partly due to that, he shifted awkwardly. “It’s been a long time,” he said, “Why are you so much like a recluse? You’re supposed to be alive and joyful at sixteen. Well, then the Queen is getting more and more mouldy.”

He took the empty vial from Alana’s hand, threw it in the air and caught it. “Did you notice that I was here anyway? I was watching you from being undressed by Callisto. Why didn’t you resist? You didn’t want it. Am I wrong?” he said to Alana.

She didn’t answer him, didn’t change her face. “He’s a man, you know. Once a man understands you are his woman, he’ll become accustomed to it. You’ll be embracing him as a matter of due course. You can’t refuse, right? It’s almost every day this month, isn’t it?”

Alana remained silent. Benito raked his hand through his chestnut hair, “taciturn as ever,” he muttered. “Your silence, it’s abnormal. * Why are you mute even when you’re doing it? People usually moan things like ‘Ahn.’ Well, it’s understandable. Callisto does have the tendency of being a lady killer but poor in bed. The man has to gain experience. You can’t give pleasure to a woman if you’re alone in it.” He picked up her vial that he had stolen from Alana and held it up in front of her. The bottle reflected brightly, catching the chandelier glow.

*Benito implying a result of some kind of psychological disorder (PTSD, depression-)

“Ahh, this medicine. I know what this is. Before I received your request, the Lord was drinking it. You’re supposed to drink this medicine prior to sexual intercourse. It’s a hefty sum, but of course, the Queen can afford it. However, the guy who made this, he’s problematic. The poison master Luteli. It’s all right if you drink it, but make sure you don’t get involved with him. The guy’s a monster even I don’t dare to mess with. Those who see his real face should try their best to stay alive. He’ll surely kill you. I can’t protect you then because I’d die in an instant if he attacked.”

Alana nodded, “I see.” Her green eyes peeked from their hiding beneath her lashes.

“The fact that you have this bottle makes me shudder in horror. No way. I don’t want anything to do with the poison master Luteli. Don’t try to find him. Even if you need something from him, let people go in your stead. Never get involved... I’ll give you advice on the main issue at hand I should address.” Benito said after placing the vial in the shabby pocket of his clothes.

//Niko illustrates what depression looks like and does it beautifully, which I think is a rarely seen trait in most novels I have read. The emotional line adds so much depth to the plot, the development, and the growth of characters. This novel is actually the most difficult for me to translate because of this: every few lines, there is a metaphor, poetic prose, or a cultural/historical phrase that I have to think about when I word it in English. Whilst The Kind Older Sister Is No More is slow burn & fluffy, Terminally Ill Princess is a heavy in-between. The emotional maturity, mixed vulgarity & noble vernacular, and psychological prose of The Villain’s Love lives up to its heart-wrenching tragedy tag.