Chapter 119
“What kind of wife stays away from home night after night?”
Fueled by alcohol, Wakako finally voiced the grievances she had buried for so long.
Alcohol tolerance, perhaps like physical strength, was innate – no amount of practice could change it.
Wakako knew her limit, yet she’d unhesitatingly downed half a jar at once.
Cowardly? Perhaps. Reckless? Definitely. But without it, she wouldn’t have found the courage to speak her heart so plainly.
“You say the Queen summoned you for discussions… but how can they last all day? Even the Queen needs to rest!”
Wakako listed Miki’s “crimes” one by one, even forgetting her place as a subject who shouldn’t question the Queen’s affairs.
“You’re not working right now, so why don’t you come see me? Why don’t you ever come home at night?” Her voice trembled with all the frustration she’d been holding back. “Do you just not want to see me?”
Miki approached her step by step.
She was no longer the saint that walked barefoot, each step of her shoes made a crips sound.
Miki asked softly, “Drinking during the day… who allowed you to do that?”
She studied Wakako, her gaze scanning from top to bottom—from her teary eyes to the faint blush creeping up her neck, barely hidden by her collar, and the unmistakable scent of wine lingering in the air.
The slight curve of Wakako’s lips as she spoke, paired with the two dimples that appeared—round and inviting—made Miki want to trace them with her fingertips.
…Did she not realize how defenseless she looked right now?
Slightly tipsy, Wakako’s temper was a bit sharper than usual, tinged with defiance. She blurted out, “I’ll drink if I want to. It’s not like you care.”
She knew about the temple’s collapse, and a quick glance told her the scattered gold pieces came from the divine statue.
Seeing this made Wakako even more hurt.
“You used to hate God so much, yet now you’d rather spend all day here than come home.”
“The only time I can see you is when I use being in heat as an excuse… and even then, you’re like a different person. You don’t even kiss me.”
Her nose stung as she spoke loudly, though her final words grew soft, “Are you avoiding me? Did I… do something wrong? I’ve thought about it for so long but still don’t understand.”
The falling tears were like poison, corroding all her restraint.
“Why are you sad?” Miki murmured with a hint of confusion, “Don’t you prefer a virtuous and generous wife?”
She suddenly raised her hand, the ribbon on her sleeve brushing Wakako’s cheek. Though the fabric was soft, it stung like being struck by a thorny branch.
“Is this what you prefer me to do?”
Wakako touched her left cheek, feeling the faint mark left behind.
“Weren’t we…” she continued touching her face, speaking softly, “always like this?”
Whether with flower branches, ribbons, or sometimes just her hands, hadn’t Miki always treated her in various ways?
The fingertips brushing her cheek shouldn’t have any force behind them, yet because they were Miki’s touch, the pain was especially pronounced.
If she didn’t hurt because of Miki, she wouldn’t be Wakako.
If she didn’t make Wakako hurt so much, she wouldn’t be Miki.
Miki stared at the figure before her, feeling as if in a dream that would vanish in the next moment.
She asked: “Then, what about my jealousy? Do you like that too?”
Her overwhelming jealousy arose whenever she saw Wakako with anyone else, uncontrollable and with nowhere to go—what should she do about it?
“Even just now when you burst in, thinking that others might have seen you drunk made me furious. I even had the urge to gouge out everyone else’s eyes, so I’d be the only one who could see you.”
A noble lady’s composure should be perfect even when smiling, without the slightest impropriety, yet her words were anything but.
“Of course, I wouldn’t do that. But every word is my true thought, Wakako.”
“I want to make you kneel right now, bind your hands and make you beg forgiveness.”
“Who gave you permission to drink during the day? To appear in public in this state? Every strand of your hair, every inch of your skin belongs to me… How dare you act without your master’s permission?”
“A disobedient servant should be punished.”
“I want to pluck a rose and put it inside you, make you hold it tight until every petal is wet. I want to take your sash and stuff it in your mouth so you can’t make a sound, only beg me with your eyes.”
Miki’s face remained impassive as she uttered these words that should never have left her lips.
“I know I’m not normal… Wakako.” She tugged at the corner of her lips. “No one else is like this, but I am. I’ll carry these thoughts my whole life. I can’t forget them, and I can’t change.”
Miki felt she could barely see the face before her anymore, repeating softly, “But who would want a wife like this?
“Who would want a venomous snake that wraps around them constantly and occasionally wants to bite?”
“I’ve been trying so hard to be the perfect Lady Kitagawa…” Her chest felt heavy, as if weighted by a stone. “But the moment I see you, it all falls apart. Only by locking myself here can I find a moment’s relief.”
“I…”
Before she could finish, Wakako suddenly untied her sash.
The black clothes were meant to be worn tight for training, but without the sash, the loose robes hung around her, obscuring her figure.
But her collar fell open, revealing the pale lining of her undergarments.
Wakako seemed at a loss, looking down at the sash in her hands, biting her lip as she tried to put it in her mouth.
Though clean, the cloth tasted slightly bitter, unpleasant.
“Like this?” She clumsily spat it out. “I’ve never… bitten anything like this before…”
She didn’t know if she was doing it right, or why Miki wanted her to bite her sash. It wasn’t food…
The alcohol had flushed Wakako’s cheeks red, but the earnestness in her eyes couldn’t be ignored: “If this is what you want, I… can learn.”
Her body trembled slightly as she spoke the next words, a flicker of fear, quickly masked by resolve, “I’ve… never put anything inside before, but I’m not afraid of pain. It’s just that the roses aren’t in bloom now. Can we use another kind of flower?”
“Can we remove the thorns?” Wakako asked quietly, “Since it’s going there, I worry wounds might be hard to treat.”
She was seriously considering each word Miki had said, already thinking about how to comply.
Miki felt the figure before her becoming clearer. She said slowly: “That’s not… what I meant.”
I didn’t actually want to use a rose on you… It’s just that my mind is constantly filled with these thoughts, and I’m afraid of scaring you away.
But Wakako had misunderstood.
She thought thorned roses were essential.
Wakako pressed her lips together troubled, then nodded dizzily, not considering how unreasonable this was: “Well… alright. I’ll… I’ll do it when the roses bloom. I promise…”
Still, she was a bit scared. She might cry when the time comes.
Miki suddenly felt the air growing thin. She heard herself ask: “Why are you so stupid?”
The scattered gold pieces again reflected her face.
What expression was she making? Miki couldn’t tell.
“I…”
Why was she being called stupid again?
Still dwelling on the fear of rose thorns being inserted, Wakako felt even Wakako, still reeling from the imagined pain of rose thorns, felt even more wronged.
After a moment, she mumbled: “I am stupid, but I… I’ll try my best to do everything you want.”
“…Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of course I’m afraid. But… Miki, you must be even more afraid than I am. That’s why you’re hiding in the temple, the place you hate the most.”
The sash was woven from three strands. Wakako seemed to make up her mind as she unraveled it. One strand she bit between her teeth, tying it behind her head; another she used to blindfold herself.
The remaining strand she placed in Miki’s hand.
“You were wrong about one thing.”
“I love… having a wife who wraps around me like a snake.”
“Shall we do it now?”
