Her hands groped around, searching for him. They were thinner than iron skewers, and horribly cold.

“I have that filthy man’s seed in here. It’s the devil’s seed…….”

He could say nothing, only stare, confronted head-on by his transgression.

“You can do it…….You know.”

Each word rang brutally in his ears.

The truth was, he didn’t know why she had to live anymore. She was dying anyway.

He could only hold on to her life and cling to it in a futile attempt to keep her alive.

“Please…….”

“…….”

Her voice was filled with resentment and regret. Why did you come only now, why did you turn a blind eye to my pain?

This was a sin he had buried in the deepest recesses of his mind. He was being punished. So the sinner could say nothing.

“Then you might as well untie me.”

She whimpered as her wrists ached, and then she laughed. Her laughter reminded him of her past, so he loosened the cords around her wrists.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. It was like looking at his sister from the past who always assured him that she was fine. Ragnar smiled for the first time in a long time, a nostalgic smile.

“I’m thirsty.”

It had been a long time since he’d heard her say that, and with Yudina’s refusal to eat, he had to keep forcing food into her mouth. So he hurried to fetch water before she changed her mind.

It happened in a flash. The glass of water clattered to the floor. I rushed over to her, but it was too late.

Embedded in her chest was a shard of a plate she had broken perhaps the other day. She must have been hiding it under her sleeve the whole time. Shrewd as ever, Yudina didn’t hesitate. The first chance she got, she stuck it in.

He hurriedly summoned a physician, but he knew instinctively. He was a knight, and he knew what would kill a man. It wasn’t a good position.

But even in that moment, he couldn’t give up, and he tried his best to hold on to her life somehow.

But every sign, every faint breath, every smug smile on her face told him it was over. It was really over.

Yudina’s lips parted with the last of her strength, and though it didn’t come out as a voice, he could read it.

‘Kill me.’

Ragnar did not love himself; the most important person to him had always been his sister.

In truth, he had always wanted to die. But he used her as an excuse to live. She was his life, his reason for living.

The only reason he had for living wants to die. She wants him to kill her. A thin stab of pain shot through his heart, and with trembling hands he clutched at her thin hand.

“No, no, no…….”

She coughed blood. A sharp piece pierced her lung. It was a very painful spot, and she now seemed to struggle to even draw breath.

Ragnar had to make a choice, his choices were always right and had saved many lives, but now it was his sister’s life he had to choose and bargain for, and even he had little choice.

Bubbles boiled from the embedded piece. He realized that his sister was in terrible pain, and he had to relieve it. And so he strangled Yudina.

The struggle was weak. He felt fingers like dry twigs scratching the back of his hand. A short but seemingly eternal time passed, and he watched her gasp and draw her last breath.

They were each other’s lifeblood, and then they killed each other. He killed her, and she killed him.

The memory of that day was seared into his mind, and he would live in a nightmare he could never forget.

Uncle Tristan’s execution took place the day after his sister’s death. He was, needless to say, manic and rambling to the end.

It rained hard that day. Ragnar struck his neck without a word, and his blood was washed away in the rain. His head was hung high on the ramparts and did not come down until the crown prince, Elio, arrived in Wishus.

The same could not be said for the servants of House Markel.

His aunt Dorthe cursed him. But Ragnar could no longer respond: everyone, including his own men, demanded that he kill them and stamp out the sprouts of unrest. But he had already seen too much blood.

Perhaps Tristan’s cursed last words had caught up with him, and he had no choice but to leave them in Varus.

Yudina’s remains were buried according to protocol. A white flag of mourning was raised over the castle of Wishus, and everyone mourned.

Ragnar was strangely calm throughout the entire process. However, when it came to choosing where to bury the coffin, he chose a hilltop a short distance from the castle, rather than the underground ossuary where his ancestors were buried.

He didn’t want to bury Yudina in such a dark, musty place; she didn’t belong there. It had to be at least this sunny, where the sun, moon, and stars rose and set.

He didn’t shed a tear until the white, flat stone was placed over the coffin. Except it was raining like crazy that day. The raindrops that fell from the sky caught in the corners of his eyes and glistened like glass beads.

It was strangely comforting. It made him feel a little scared at times. He wondered if something had finally broken.

Everyone was resting, but Kenneth told him later that the child she was carrying was a boy.

He felt nauseous. He wanted to throw up, to drain all his life force, but it was a death he wasn’t allowed. He had to let himself suffer a little longer.

He tried to breathe slowly, but it wasn’t easy. He couldn’t breathe, as if something was stuck in his chest.

He wished he could just forget how to breathe. His delicate lungs were always craving oxygen. He exhaled sharply and groaned.

* * *

“I killed my sister, with these hands.”

Ragnar muttered that as he stared at his hand, his expression so forlorn. Christa hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say to him.

It was hard to think of anything to say when he looked so forlorn.

Had he really laid a hand on his sister, was he really a murderer without blood or tears?

“Yeah, he’s right…….”

But what if he really did. How could those eyes hold so much sadness?

“I am…….”