I Swear I Won’t Bother You Again!

Marin's voice comes down, like a soft envelope. Slowly, I feel comfortable stroking my hands on my back, like when amplifying my child's sleeper. I guess that's all Violet herself finds warmth in Marin's body temperature, which would be lower than average. Even though outside temperatures are rather on the rise.

I pushed my forehead against Marin's shoulder, which was just a little higher than I was, and I put my thoughts around so that I could manage to linguize the incongruous thoughts. But every time I open my mouth, all I get out is carbon dioxide.

In words, I feel the facts get contoured.

"Ma'am, Marin...... I, I, am"

The tongue is stuck and the text doesn't connect well. Something exploded in my head, and I couldn't stand without clinging to it. I left it to my emotions to act on, but I don't know what to do ahead.

Should I cry? Explain it to me when it doesn't come together and ask for any advice? Can it be easier if you just smash it into your emotions and affirm yourself?

I'm sure Violet would have picked the third before. Because being a tragic heroine was the only consolation, it would be enough if you just snorted to be on your side. Sympathy, pity, whatever. I just wanted the ingredients to tell myself that Violet wasn't bad.

But now. What I'm looking for right now.

"Lady Violet, calm down. Slow down, it's okay."

"I'm not, I'm not..."

Marine tries to create a little gap and match her eyes in order to forgive Violet, who is completely disturbed. Still, Violet's eyeballs just wander around forgetting to blink.

He has heat like his brain has boiled, and even erodes behind his eyes. Only my hands and heart are getting colder and colder in boiling temperatures. Hot and cold, hot and cold. Emotions and reason diverge. Two things that should be genuinely connected are shouting in the opposite direction.

I wish one of them was lying. If it was just one lie, I could have thrown it away or cut it off. Both are sincere, which is why I can't hold them.

"I can't believe I like Yulan."

Impossible, if you lost your mind, you said it was all an illusion that your appetite for exclusivity had shown.

Please, someone, deny this thought.

"It's a mistake, it's all different"

Only begging for love, hunger and thirst should be love. Fact is, all the love stories piling up around Violet are coming to an end of the tragedy that way.

The thought of Claudia is different from love again. What Violet wanted was a staircase to happiness behind Claudia, not a desire for love on his part. Because it wasn't Claudia, it wasn't just one person, it wanted to be loved by numerous people. Anyone was good, in any way, distorted or dirty, I could swallow all of that if I had feelings for Violet there. Because if the opposite of love is indifferent, then all interest, should be able to be converted into love.

Violet's only love to know is like dark, deep, heavy lead everywhere. Just a desire to blossom the tears around me into nourishment so that my daughter can even spend her own life for one. The face of a woman who shines in greed, of a mother who condenses disappointment, despair, hatred and aversion, of a wife who lays on the floor and asks for her husband like a rumor. Bellrose's appearance is the symbol of love for Violet.

"No, I don't... oh, no, no"

The beginning is my mother's face immersed in joy. I wrapped Violet's cheek with both hands and accidentally called my father's name. Happy or unhappy that I didn't even have the self to claim that I was Violet, even the brains that just recognized the words. I just still remember that my eyes were horrible like glittering blood.

Education, which began shortly after, was sweet in a harsh way. It was terribly precise to go down the same path as my father, but as a courtier, I didn't care how down the line it was. Whether you run around outside, climb a tree, or even notice an injury or sunburn, my mother is always in a good mood. I wouldn't have ever felt uncomfortable with a daughter acting like a boy. Instead, he was uncomfortable with his daughter becoming a woman and threw this away as a fake.

For my mother, Violet is a sacrifice of love. No, I gave birth to sacrifice. Unfortunately, however, my father did not desire sacrifice, and cruelly, Violet was worth more than sacrifice. And what I could do was fake what I couldn't do, and what I created was a crazy woman, and all of that was just for love all the way.

So right now, the thoughts I have can't be love.

Even if it's love, it's trouble.

"Why are you so happy...?

Tell me that the emotion that makes me want to take care of it so much, to cry about my dignity, can't be love.