I feel like dying. Ah, I probably will soon. I’m allowed to go to Hell. My first round of repentance was over. I expressed my penitence for being unable to fulfill my noble duty to my citizens.
I tried to think of the second reason why I’d go to Hell. It’s probably the trust that my predecessors had built for the Polidoro fief over many years. I’d lost it all. No one in the Polidoro fief was willing to give me the time of day. I’d taught my son swordplay and made him endure harsh training—everyone knew my notorious nickname, Marianne the Mad. I wouldn’t have minded if my infamy had been contained within my fief. I governed my land well and properly fulfilled my yearly conscription duties. No one had any right to complain.
Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for other nobles. No matter how biased someone was in my favor, my actions were nothing short of insanity. Who would want to spend time with me? What noble would want to form ties with my household? Every time I traveled across the kingdom for my military service and showed other feudal lords the pass that I’d received from the royal family, people would grimace and frown. They saw me as Marianne the Mad.
Nobles would never insult me outright to my face, but their gazes of disdain said it all. I knew that people pointed and laughed at me behind my back. I didn’t care. They were free to insult me all they wished, and I thought it was normal of them to do so. However, it was painful to receive insults about my ancestors as well. Furthermore, my relationship with the nobles wouldn’t end upon my death; Faust would have to carry on with all the unfortunate ties that I’d made. The sins of a parent carried onto their child, and it wouldn’t be easy for Faust to scrub away all the negativity that I’d built.
Only a select few things could be forgiven with the change of lords in a household. Faust would inevitably be mocked and despised as the child of a woman who’d gone mad. Blood… I felt a blood clot or a clump of some sort rise up in my throat, but I didn’t spit it out and made every effort to swallow it back down. This suffering was a punishment for what I’d done. I ended my second repentance. I’d lost the trust and reputation that my ancestors had built for our noble household. I expressed remorse for leaving Faust with such a difficult situation.
“Lord Marianne, I simply cannot sit back,” my former chief squire said. Her voice trembled as she struggled to speak. “I’ll call for Lord Faust right away. Please, please hold on until then.”
She exited the room. I tried to order her to stop, but I could no longer muster my voice. Coward that I was, I still had lingering regrets. I realized that deep down, somewhere in my heart, I wished to see Faust once more before I crossed into the afterlife. I was fully aware that I had no right to do so. I don’t have much time left. I must repent.
My mind raced in search of my third reason why I’d go to Hell. It was everything that I’d done to Faust.
“Mother,” my son said.
He was my child. Unlike the other men of Anhalt, he trimmed his dark hair very short. His red eyes might have seemed sharp at a glance, but kindness filled his gaze. His face resembled my own instead of my husband’s, and I was happy to see that. However, his physique didn’t take after my husband’s or my own—he was far too large. He was over two meters tall and nearly three hundred pounds. I wasn’t completely to blame; he’d been born with innate talents and a physique to match his extraordinary abilities. However, I was the one who’d given birth to him, without a doubt, and I was the one who’d raised him to become burly and brawny. That was my fault. I’d forced him to endure strict training with hopes that he wouldn’t lose to anyone—that he’d become Anhalt’s strongest. I trained him in the sword and the spear.
I knew that my fief was lacking in all sorts of ways, but I gathered all the books that I could and persistently begged a trustworthy sect of the church to educate my son. I did whatever I could to fill any shortcomings of my land and provide a well-rounded education. Faust was like a sponge. He absorbed knowledge quickly, capable of thinking multiple steps ahead even if he was only taught the beginnings of a concept. He was my masterpiece. I knew that well.
He became so strong that no one could reach the heights of his power, and I gave him my all. My son wouldn’t lose to anyone. But so what?! So what if he doesn’t lose, you idiot? How could that possibly bring any sort of happiness to Faust? I had no idea what I’d been thinking when I chose to educate my son. I could confidently assert that there wasn’t a boy in the world who could surpass mine. But in Anhalt, everyone would treat him as an ugly man, a person with a hideous appearance.
He might have commanded a small plot of land with only three hundred citizens, but he was still a lord; perhaps he could have married the third daughter of a noble family. But I’d completely destroyed any amicable ties with nobles, and Faust was powerful. There weren’t many women who preferred men stronger than they were. Only when I finished Faust’s training had such an obvious issue popped into my head.
Faust stood beside my bed. When I gazed at his body, I saw the faint scar that I’d given him when I landed a blow on him with a training sword many years ago. I… I’m a hopeless fool. I should’ve acted differently for his sake. I should’ve given birth to a daughter and strengthened my ties with nobles as much as I could. I should’ve raised Faust to become a more proper man. That was the duty of a noble. Yet I’d forced him to take up the spear and the sword. I shouldn’t have left scars on my precious son’s body. I ended my third repentance.
When I took all three factors into consideration, it was only natural that I should go to Hell. If I’d had more time, I surely could’ve found more sins that I’d committed, but I wasn’t afforded the luxury of time.
“Faust,” I called.
I was overwhelmed with the urge to call out to my son. In response, Faust gently stroked my face. His rugged hand, covered with blisters from wielding his weapons, was gentle and large.
“Faust, your hand,” I whispered.
He placed his hand near my chest, and I quietly enveloped his with both of mine. The trembling didn’t stop, but it wasn’t just my own; Faust was trembling too. I tried my best to suppress my quivering as I opened my mouth. I wanted to say something—anything. His hand was rough to the touch, all because of me, and it could hardly be called the hand of a man. I was devastated to see it.
“I’m sorry, Faust,” I murmured.
Finally, I was able to apologize to my son. It was long overdue; until now, I’d been unable to admit my mistakes. A brighter future ought to have awaited my beloved child, but I’d ruined it all for him. I knew that now. All I could do was voice my apology; I deserved any insults or complaints he hurled at me.
There was a soft gasp. It was a strained voice that sounded like a baby’s. Oh, I’ve heard this voice before, just once. When Faust was born, he cried just like this. I felt a droplet fall upon my dried-out husks of hands. I could no longer see, but I understood what was happening; Faust was crying. He cried like the day he was born as tears fell upon my hands. Ah. Will you shed tears for a wretched woman like me, my dear? I’ve treated you so horribly, and yet… A single apology isn’t enough. I must say it again.
I opened my mouth, but no voice escaped my lips. I… I… I don’t mind going to Hell for this child. The fact that he shed a tear onto my hand as I breathed my last will allow me to go to Hell with a smile on my face. I’m not even worthy of his tears.
Please! Please let my dear Faust live a happy life! I swear that Faust von Polidoro, my beloved son, will never go against justice or the path of chivalry. I can attest to that. I may be a demonic woman, a person only capable of failure, but he’s truly a good child. I swear it!
God, please… Please provide my child with…
My consciousness gradually grew farther and farther away before darkness swept upon me forever.