Cale stares at the image for what felt like an eternity as he forces back the prickling feeling in his eyes and took a deep breath as he tried to calm down.
But the image of his mother's smiling face in his memories was easily overlapped with the drawing of his mother before him.
He couldn't afford to cry... He wasn't as vulnerable as before, he is stronger than this-
Cale quickly turned the page, to refocus his attention on something else, anything would suffice as long as his mind would stray away from his mother.
He would really like to just forget everything about it.
They can see an image of a small black creature, locked in a dark cell, his body was covered with scars and injuries overlapping one another.
A person that appears to be half dead with a dead mermaid on the other side. Whirlpools were drawn around them.
A man that seems to have fallen from his wheelchair with a red snake crest on it, is surrounded by a group of assassins.
Taylor's grip tightened in his wheelchair and quickly loosening his hold, it goes almost unnoticed, if not by Cage, who stood behind him.
She cast him a look in silence, her expression mirroring his, before shifting it back in front of them.
But Cale wasn't able to pay attention to the strange sketches in the few pages as the image of his late mother kept appearing in front of him, invading, occupying every corner of his mind.
He felt himself drifting away at the same time tethered in one place, unable to break free from the shackles that were binding him.
The solitude, the torment that accumulated from the past, and remnants of the despair that he had felt earlier began to surface once again.
A huge part of him screamed, refusing to accept it, while a small part of him, telling him, that it was the truth, the reality he needed to face, no matter how cruel and horrible it was.
Because there's nothing he can do to change it.
His mind races back to the drawings of himself, the ugly, grown version of him. The kind of person that parents advise their children not to become.
Does mother see him in that state too? Is mother ashamed of me? Is that why she tried to-no, no... He couldn't finish such thoughts.
Cale panted heavily as he shook his head repeatedly, forcing the thoughts down.
If you knew only death will welcome you, why did you still choose to go to that place? Why did you have to leave me behind... All alone?
These thoughts, questions that will never be answered anymore, filled his head, shooking him down to his core.
A heavy pressure appeared in Cale's chest, like poisonous vines, it wrapped around his heart, stabbing him with its sharp thorns.
his other hand desperately came up to cling the fabric over his chest, hoping to ease the pain in his heart.
He could feel his focus, his control slipping away from him and as if something inside him had finally snapped.
They saw him suddenly tear the pages from the book, throwing it harshly to the side.
Cale's vision begins to blur, he can hear something rushing past his ears like violent rapids as he abruptly stood up, letting the book along with the torn pages, fall to the ground.
Reaching the closest thing that his hands could grab, he didn't waste any second and threw it against the opposite wall. Creating a loud sound of a thud as the lamp hits the wall.
But the one who looked completely wrecked was Cale.
They can hear his unstable breathing as he threw everything his hands could reach. His wounds seemed to have opened as the white bandage that wrapped his body has now dyed red.
Suddenly, Cale let out an agonizing scream as he staggered a few steps back. The pain from his wounds and exhaustion forced him to settle to the ground.
"You-" Cale cut himself off, he struggled to form the words with his mouth.
Cale's gaze wandered around the messed room, everything was in disarray, it was either upside down or broken into pieces, the ripped pages were scattered across the floor.
Cale found himself in the middle of it all.
The room that once comforted him, suddenly felt too stuffy, the air pressing tight against his chest.
The anger in his eyes disappeared without leaving a trace. Only despair, uncertainty, and lace of desolation were left.
Tears began to fall one by one from Cale's eyes, dripping unto the floor, like the flowing river, it seemed endless.
"Y-You..." Cale repeated, dragging a hand up to his face, as he breathed deeply against his palm. "You fool... W-Why? Why didn't you take me with you?"
"You should have taken me with you." He imagined his mother stepping inside that carriage, alone, knowing her painful death awaits her.
While he is inside his room, wrapped inside his quilt, probably still sleeping, unaware of what his mother has gone through.
"I should have gone with you... It's all my fault... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry mom!" Cale cried out.
Cale wept loudly, but only the four walls of his mother's chamber bore witness to his misery.
As they watched him continue to blame himself, tears begin to well up in their eyes.
Because what else can they do, but cry.
Deruth subconsciously walked toward his son, he wanted to reach out to him, console him, hold him between his arms and tell him none of it was his fault.
But just like when Rosalyn previously tried to touch one of the servants, Deruth's extended hand only moved past Cale, as he turned transparent.
Deruth mindlessly retracted his hand and tried to reach for him again. Repeating the same action over and over again.
They all watched his desperate attempts, no one has the heart to come forward and stop him, except maybe for one person.
A hand on his shoulder made Deruth stop his actions. He glanced over his shoulder, before looking up.
He saw Violan's dreaded red-rimmed eyes looking back at him, the slightest squeeze told him enough of the unsaid words.
Deruth pressed his lips together, staring at his wife.
He made an effort not to look away from her and back to his son. Fully aware that he would collapse the next second he looked at his son's wretched appearance.
The sobs that came out from Cale's mouth alone, were already gut-wrenching.
He felt weak, pathetic, and useless. He couldn't even comfort his son.
Then again, what kind of comfort could he give him? Does he even deserve to comfort him?
Even if he does, or even if he wanted to, it's far too late now. Not even a hundred or thousand apologies would do.
The thought of having once- many chances to be a father for his son and losing all of it, made him sick.
The scene disappeared for a while before appearing again. Deruth almost reaches out his hands again.
Cale was still on the ground, inside his mother's room. But hours seem to have gone by already.
The door was now tightly shut. He too must have opened the curtains as they can see the moon shining brightly from the window, illumined Cale's features.
But they have to close their eyes a couple of times to adjust to the darkness, to see the surrounding that wasn't irradiated by the moonlight.
Cale looked paler, calmer even, with no trace of his prior outburst. Except for the wet streak in his cheeks and slight trembling of his body.
His hands were quivering as he carefully collect the torn and creased pages from the floor, straightening them out, pilling them in his hand.
But just as they thought it couldn't get even worse.
They saw Cale's expression sinking in an instant. A concoction of emotions swirling in his eyes.
Cale felt a scream wanting to tear through his throat, but all he could do was grip the page.
"Basen." he breathed.
Basen, along with the others, glances over the paper in his brother's hands.
It was a drawing of Basen where he lay unconscious in a bed and looked heavenly injured.
They watched Cale as he scrambled on his way to the door, almost tripping.
He dashed outside the room and run through the hallway. There are urgency and alarm in every movement.
Basen parted his lips, It inexplicably stung him as he witnessed how his brother's cold facade was morphed into fear, panic, distraught by him.
I'm alive, I'm alright... Basen wanted to say frantically to him, just so he can erase that kind of expression on his brother's face.
He didn't like it, not one bit, he prefer the arrogant and carefree that he used to see on his brother's face.
He has to see him, he has to- Cale's thoughts were interrupted as he almost collided with someone. It was a maid holding a basket of clean clothes.
Her eyes widened in fright as he recognized him. "Young master you're awak-"
"Where is he?" he asked immediately, cutting her off.
Noticing the confusion in her eyes, he clarified. "Basen... Where is Basen?"
"Y-Young master Basen has gone to the event, hosted by the crown." she answered.
Ah, right... He remembered, he always turn down every event, celebration that comes into his way, even when his father sometimes personally asked him to. Resulting in Basen going, in his place.
"When?" he asked.
"A few days ago, young master."
Cale silently cursed inside his head, a grimace twisting his features.
It's too late now...
He thought back at how he always wondered why he keeps losing everyone dear to him.
It turns out it was because of him... Always because of him.
From his mother, then his father, Ron, and now...
"Young master, is there something wrong?" she asked, as she noticed his poor complexion.
Everything... he wanted to say.
The maid pursed his lips at his lack of response and she asked again, out of courtesy. "Is there something I can do, young master?"
Something I can do... Right, there must be something he can do.
Instead of answering her, he turned on his heel and left in a daze, leaving the dumbfounded maid behind.
Cale went back to his mother's room and kneeled before the ripped pages.
Hesitation and disquietude were evident on his face.
Cale didn't know if he was ready for more, it was already too much for him, but the thought of his brother being hurt, and the possibility of him dying, frightened him more.
He stilled his heart as he made his resolve.
Cale spread the pages out, placing each one side by side. Sucrinizing it carefully, his gaze hovered around it, before stopping at the one that was placed right at the center.
This must be it, he thought as he reached for it, quietly devising his plans in his head.
It was an image of a man standing on top of the Bell Tower with black attire and a mask, a couple more men wearing the same attire can be seen, a mass of people below it, but the word that was written underneath caught his attention.
Bombs.
After a while, they all heard Alberu inhale sharply as he came to a conclusion.
He did once suspected that it might be someone from a family of noble.
But he never once thought it would be him. He wasn't even on the long list of possibilities.
"Impossible." Choi han spoke under his breath as he tried to prevent his mind from concocting the possibility, but it didn't deter his heart from squeezing.
Rosalyn followed by others showed a sudden expression of enlightenment.
While Cale made a silent oath, a vow to himself, something he will do anything to keep.
One that he will never break.
He remembered something his mother used to say; Nothing can remain forever... No matter how much we hold unto it, even if we prayed with utmost sincerity.
Every moment, every life, even feelings, as long you're mortal, everything is only temporary.
We can only prolong the inevitable.
Before, Cale paid his mother no heed. It was not something he needed to be taught of. It is only natural, it is the cycle of life.
Only with his mother's death and his father's abandonment, did he find out the unfairness of it, how hard it was for it to accept or to even understand.
But over time, perhaps he grew tired of it, Cale had given up on trying and just imagined how, when will it come to an end and prepare himself for the worst.
But it always comes so unpredictably, so soon and it never seems to hurt less, only more.
Leaving Cale to wonder how much longer will it take for the pain to finally leave him, it's been years and yet it never left him.