CH 1

Emmerville, the leading city of the province of Edelberg, was an artistic city with a meaningful history and beautiful scenery. As it was common for the wealthy classes to build villas in this kind of place, Rosebell House was also one of the villas of the prestigious Campbell family located here. The classic building was built on a hill overlooking a river stream. Not only did it have an impressive view, but the forest path leading to the villa after crossing the bridge was also very beautiful.

However, the Campbell family rarely came here because the villa’s owner, Lord Campbell, mostly went back and forth between the capital and the main house. The people who stayed at Rosebell House were mainly poor relatives or artist friends of the Campbell family.

A few months after the end of the Delmore Western War, a young woman entered the previously unoccupied Rosebell House. She lived with the minimum number of employees and did not appear outside. But people could sometimes see her take a walk on the forest path, on the bridge or alongside the wildflowers on the river bank. The people who were curious at first soon withdrew their interest at the sight of her old-looking clothes and bare face. They thought that it might be someone indebted to the Campbell family as per usual.

It was a sunny day in late spring. The harmony created between the dark green leaves and the blooming flowers was a sight to behold.

Ibella was walking on the forest path next to her doctor, Bern, who had come to visit her. Today was the day of her psychiatric counseling but as it was a nice day, they had decided to talk while going on a walk.

"It’s already been three months since you’ve come here. Aren’t you thinking of going back, my Lady?"

"I don’t want to go back yet. The capital is too suffocating."

Ibella answered in a bitter tone to Bern’s question. She was staying at Rosebell House without revealing her identity as the only daughter of the Campbell family, the villa’s owner.

She had served as a nurse officer in the Delmore Western War, that had lasted a year, and became a hero at her return. This was due to the fact that it was the first time that the daughter of an aristocratic family had participated in a war and because her achievements as the general manager of the field hospital were highly regarded. She left the capital because the public’s looks were burdensome, but that wasn’t the only reason.

"I’ve heard that you rejected His Highness’s marriage proposal again."

"There’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t marry someone I don’t have any feelings for."

When the story about the king emerged, a dry breath leaked out by itself. What was as burdensome as the people’s eyes were the feelings of King Philip’s towards her. Philip, who had been hovering around her at some point, proposed to her as soon as she came of age. It was only after she had rejected him three times that he held a wedding ceremony with another woman. She thought that everything was finally over, but the tenacious courtship resumed after the queen passed away from an illness. In consideration of the king’s dignity and the pressure from the people around her, she tried to accept him but her heart didn’t move in his direction at all.

"Don’t worry too much. Everything will be resolved eventually."

"That’s what I hope too."

"By the way, how are you feeling these days. You haven’t recovered any memories recently?"

Unlike a while ago, Bern’s tone became serious. This topic was the reason she had come to this place and also why Bern visited Rosebell House once a week.

"None. Aside from what I told you last time, nothing."

Ibella replied flatly. Although it wasn’t disclosed to the public, she had lost her memory towards the end of the war. Not all her memories had disappeared, only ten days as if pages had been torn out of a book.

While carrying out a mission, she was captured by enemies with five other soldiers and came back ten days later. After the others had died or went missing, she heard that their bodies had been found. What could have happened to Ibella, the only survivor, that her memories of that time had completely vanished.

"Don’t try to forcefully remember. Your condition might get worse if you’re not careful. Are you taking the medicine as instructed?"

"…Yes."

Actually, she did not take the medicine, but she answered obediently nonetheless. The medicine didn’t bring back her memories, it only made her body sluggish and her mind hazy.

"Why did my memories disappear?"

"It is presumed that the brain sometimes erases someone’s most intense memories. And it is very likely that most of those memories are harmful to the person."

"Then, it might be better not to remember."

"Maybe."

Bern, who roughly knew the situation, quietly answered. Ibella could guess what he was thinking. He probably assumed that something horrible had happened to her during the time she was held captive.

In fact, she had a similar thought. Because the desire to retrieve her memories and the desire to never remember somehow intersected. Everytime her peaceful life was disrupted by the frustration, she wished to remember something. But then, she was also afraid of being overwhelmed by the unbearable memories. One day, an unknown emotion tightened her breath. It felt like she had forgotten something that she absolutely had to remember, like she had let something slip away.

The two people, who were talking, soon came out of the forest and reached the riverbank which was filled with wild flowers. At the end of the long bridge going over the river stream, a carriage was waiting for Bern.

"I will take my leave now. Should I take you back to the mansion?"

"No need. I will walk a bit more and, huh?"

Ibella cut off her words and opened her eyes wide. A man was crossing the bridge and slowly coming towards them. His impressive height wasn’t the only thing that stood out. His trousers and boots looked old and muddy, and he was wearing a ragged brown coat over a tattered shirt. Looking closely, his gait didn’t look stable either.

With his eyes fixed on them, he approached with unsteady steps. Eventually, he halted at a distance where the outline of his face was visible.

Unlike his large and sturdy body, the man’s face sporting a messy beard looked as hopeless as a person who had been suffering from a long-term illness. His left eye covered by a bandage was hidden under his scattered bangs. Had he become out of breath after walking for a long time? His chest rose and fell erratically. The man’s eyes, which were blurred as if he was about to collapse at any moment, became stiff when they fell on Ibella’s face. Her vision was held tightly in his unshakable eyes.

"It looks like he’s hurt."

Ibella tilted her head and tried to step forward, but Bern stopped her from going farther.

"Go back, my Lady. He must be a drunk vagrant, it wouldn’t be wise to approach him recklessly."

"But…"

"I will take a look."

"…Ok."

She believed that a person who was injured, whether they were a vagrant or not, should be looked after. However, this time, she decided to retreat. The man’s strange gaze weighed down on her mind, and Bern, who was a doctor, would be able to help him more than her anyway.

After greeting Bern with a nod, Ibella went back the way she came. However, after only taking a few steps, an unknown force led her to turn around. Although Bern was talking to the man, he was only staring at her. Only one eye was visible but his gaze was so intense that it scared her.

Did he take some weird medicine?

Suddenly, goosebumps rose all over her body, and she turned around hurriedly. It was at the moment when she entered the shady forest path again with quick steps.

Bang. White flames flashed in front of her eyes along with the sound of a gunshot. It was not something that she had actually seen or heard but an illusion. A part of her memory had arisen without warning.

The sound of gunfire and the unidentified white flames.

She felt a sudden sharp pain somewhere in her head as she was overcome with a severe headache.

*****

"…Hey. Can you hear me?"

It was not until long after Ibella had disappeared from his sight that the man noticed the voice of a person holding onto him. He lowered his face and saw a middle-aged man frowning at him.

"Aren’t you hurt anywhere? I am a psychiatrist but I have basic knowledge in internal medicine, so tell me."

"Psychiatrist?"

The man repeated Bern’s words with a blank face.

"Haa. You don’t look good, are you okay?"

"I am fine."

He answered in an exasperated tone as if he didn’t want to be bothered anymore, and turned his head.

"Okay, then. If you’re hurt somewhere, go see a doctor right away."

Bern, who was secretly offended, gave up without asking any further questions. It was because he was busy, but also because the man’s odd appearance and gaze made him so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to deal with him any longer.

"Psychiatrist…Argh."

The man who was left alone let out a short cry of pain while grabbing his side. From his back to his chest, his stomach, his thighs and even his toes, there was no place that didn’t hurt. He shut his eyes tight as he tried to bear the pain, then reopened them slowly when the pain had dissipated to some extent.

A strange vision unfolded in front of the man’s eyes, who had lost all strength and fell. Dozens of butterflies fluttered over the wildflowers as if dancing. White, yellow, purple, blue. Some butterflies had only one color while others had beautiful patterns painted on their bodies in different colors.

Some landed on the flowers, some hid between the stalks and others flew into the light and disappeared from sight. At that moment, a lilac butterfly fluttered towards the man. He instinctively reached out and quickly grabbed it in his hand.

"Aargh."

Unable to overcome the pain caused by the sudden movement, the man collapsed on the floor.

In the middle of his fading consciousness, he heard footsteps hastily approaching.

"Hey. Are you all right? Wake up!"

Bern, the doctor, had returned and was trying to wake him up.

The man, who barely managed to open his eyes, unclenched his fist and looked inside it. Inside his hand, a crushed butterfly was trembling faintly and relishing the final moments of its life. The remains of the butterfly were scattered gruesomely all over his palm like powder.

"Can you walk?"

Turning his attention away from the dwindling voice, the man looked at the pitiful creature in his hand. Then, some time after, he raised the corners of his mouth into a peculiar smile. Light slowly entered his heart that had been dark until just a while ago.

The butterfly in my hand.

Whether dead or alive, it’s mine.