Crown of Thorns

CHAPTER 3

Translator & editor : Cuties

The boy did not come often. So I could notice the little changes in his growth every time he came. I felt stuffy because he seemed to be informing me of the time. “The world is going as well as ever except for you,” he seemed to say, “you will suffer in a time that will never move forward.”

The boy brought something with him every time he came. Things like books that could kill time. But the time they made me forget was so insignificant that they were of little use. I just kept them all in one place and tried to ignore them.

As I sat still leaning against the wall, the boy also sat beside me and looked at the darkness.

“Is this fun? Don’t you get sick of it?”

Whatever I did, it was the same in the end. There was no way to spend infinite time. There couldn’t be a way to kill eternal time. I just wanted to forget it all. How long it’s been and how much more I have to spend.

But I couldn’t forget time because of the boy. I saw traces of it in the boy’s appearance, and I could feel each passing day as I fell into a routine when I was with him, and when he didn’t come, time seemed to go slower.

The boy hugged his knees close and reclined his head on his arms, looking at me fixedly. I don’t know what he wants from me. Perhaps he was my new tormentor. Because nothing is more painful than feeling the passage of time for me.

“You’re a witch. Don’t you think escaping a tower like this one would be a piece of cake for you?”

I didn’t get away. There was no point leaving if I were going to be alone anyway. It was better to wait alone for my time in here.

But the boy was ruining it.

I stared into the darkness without answering. This young warrior can’t understand a witch.

“What’s your name?”

“Witch.”

I was a witch. My name has long since been forgotten. The person who called it was not around. The world called me a witch and I also thought I was a witch. The witch did not need a name.

The boy said in reply to my answer.

“I don’t have a name, either.”

Burying his face between his knees, he continued.

“Is it still a name if nobody calls it? No. The day my brother died, my name died with him.”

It was a funny thing. A witch and a warrior without names. I said, ducking my head away from the shiny white hair on the side.

“He must’ve died because of me.”

At my words the boy raised his head.

The first day he came, he pointed a sword at me and said that people are dying because of me. They don’t want to die. It’s not time for them die yet, but they’re dying anyway. Because of me.

The boy had come to kill me after losing someone who was close to him. Because I killed that someone. Because I’m a witch.

It’s only a matter of time before the weak young warrior points his sword to me gain.

*

Time dragged on.

I was in the process of trying to kill my mind because I couldn’t kill my body, but after meeting the boy, my efforts were ruined. The passage of time felt slower as emotions revived. Until when do I have live like this?

I would rather spend time sleeping forever, but there was a limit to that. I took out the boy’s sword. I knew far too well that I could not be killed no matter what method I used.

It was time to give it up because it was tiring, but my body was lifting the sword.

I wanted to end it now.

This sword will also rust over time and I will have no more tools to attempt with again. An eternity has passed and everything except me was ending. Eventually, I’m the only one left.

I stretched out my arms with the sword clutched firmly in my hand. This time, I wanted to succeed with one go. Unlike other things, I could never get used to pain no matter how much I suffered through it. So I closed my eyes tightly and stabbed as hard as I could. But right away someone caught me. When I opened my eyes, I saw something white and got confused.

“You, are you crazy?”

The red eyes were shaking violently. Snapping back to my senses, I hastily retreated. I didn’t like it. The feeling of being trapped in the burning flames. Of the bright sun shining down on me.

“Just kill me right now.”

“What?”

I handed the sword to the boy.

“Kill me with this.”

“You, now. What are you talking about when I just saved your life?”

The boy asked back angrily, glaring at me sharply. I didn’t raise my head because I didn’t want to face that gaze. So I just opened my mouth again and answered.

“Why save me? I’m a witch who has to die.”

“Witch, is that right?”

I couldn’t breathe when asked by the boy, who came closer and whispered. His gaze was burning all over me. My eyes must have been shaking. My heart was falling apart.

Am I a witch? Are you asking whether I’m really a witch?

I was always branded as a witch first without anyone listening to my story. “It was because you cursed the world, and only when you die will it return to its original state,” they said. I screamed at the terrible pain, and cried, “Don’t do that,” but they only laughed at my reaction.

A witch? Actually, it didn’t matter to them whether I was a witch or not. They just needed someone to vent their anger on. They needed someone to ease their fear of the unknown and their frustration with unresolved mystery.

At first, I was angry at such people, but not anymore. Because I am a witch.

“That’s right, I am.”

I managed to get my feelings together and then answered. The darkness that covered the world was my mother’s fault. I was also guilty of carrying her blood. Maybe the reason why the monster still didn’t disappear is because I’m alive.

Perhaps the reason why cannot be killed is because I am given the lives of those who died because of me. Because I’m a witch.

Only when I die will the darkness be lifted.

The boy sighed faintly at my words and replied, playing with the sword he was holding.

“You killed yourself every day like this?”

The boy’s eyes darted to the soggy puddle on the floor. The boy cleaned up but still couldn’t get rid of it all. It was rotting black and smelly. It wasn’t just the floor. My whole body was covered with rotten blood as well as my clothes. There couldn’t be a place to wash here.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

The boy asked, reaching out his hand to my neck. I backed out hurriedly but he patted my neck without me realizing, touching my horrifying wounds. Some of these were inflicted by me and others by people.

It’s funny. This situation. The boy has to kill me, but why is he looking at me with compassion?

“You have to kill me to…”

“I know, I know. Stop talking.”

While saying so, the boy took the sword I was holding. He seemed to have no intention of leaving it behind this time. I had to bite down on my lips hard because of the emotions I had thrown away long ago have resurfaced. Why the hell does this boy shake me up?

“You know very well that I’m killing people.”

“Everyone dies.”

This sentence has a weird comforting effect on me, is it because no one has ever told me that before?

“Remember when you angrily shouted that there were people who didn’t want to die, or wanted to live longer but were killed because of me.”

“They can’t live forever anyway so just think that it was time for them to die.”

“But because of me…”

“Stop it.”

He cut me off sharply and I bit down on my tongue.

“It’s okay, you can stop now.”

My heart lightened a little at the boy’s words which were like balm to my wounds. But knowing that human life is fleetingly short and that mine is endless, I forced myself to dismiss the ray of light that sprawled into my mind.

If you want to save me, then stab that sword into my heart.