Pherenike Episode 5
At that moment, Epikides looked at Pherenike with eyes that held not the slightest desire, as though merely checking an object once before breaking it.
Then he looked at his own son, gagged and struggling in a body left ragged by the whip, and laughed.
‘Killing you, the son of Pelagon, and drying up the seed of the House of Thasos—both are matters that require a long and arduous time.’
‘…….’
‘I will admit it. It has been difficult enough until now. But using your present crime as a pretext to depose your mother, and citing “the most appropriate status” to take Pherenike of Basilios as my wife—those are things I could do as soon as tomorrow. If I did not have to consider the troublesome aftermath.’
‘…….’
‘It would no longer be the rebellion of a successor, but merely the disposal of a wicked wife. Your mother is a vicious Klytaimnestra*. She deserves to die by her husband’s hand.’
* Klytaimnestra: In Greek mythology, the queen of Agamemnon, king of Mycenae. Together with her lover Aigisthos, she murdered her husband Agamemnon.
‘…….’
‘Then it is only right that your mother be treated not as the daughter of Duke Thasos, but as my worthless possession. Yes, your mother tried to murder her husband and drove her son into immorality. Before your maternal grandfather can even dare imagine it, Axiothea will disappear.’
Even if you are lucky enough to survive and one day butcher this father of yours and take this child back, do you think this child’s body will be the same as the one you knew?
‘Even after her life is ruined because of you, do you think the daughter of Basilios will look at you with the same sweet eyes she did today?’
‘…….’
‘Can you bring your dead mother back from beyond the River Styx?’
That day, Deucalion had been looking at his father as though he would tear him apart alive.
And the king faced that gaze as though looking at an exceedingly docile, well-trained dog.
As if he were satisfied to have stripped away the “shell of a son” from Deucalion.
‘Even if you grind your teeth and kill your father, that will be the end of it. The one you love, and your enemy as well—once they die, it is over. Nothing changes. Nothing you have lost will return. Everything you do for the rest of your life will be in vain.’
‘…….’
‘Do you know the pain of never being able to reach what you most hope for, desire, and long for? Thus life is suffering, and death is release.’
‘…….’
‘To live is an illness. Only by dying is one finally cured.’
‘…….’
‘Therefore, your father does not wish for your death. Deucalion.’
Live. Admit your diseased sin.
Ever since you were born into this world, you have always been a traitor. Your mother giving birth to you was treason. Your birth as my son was a sin.
All of this was solely your original sin. You are a person who has no cause to feel wronged by anything.
So admit it all, receive mercy, and live. Live a miserable, dishonorable life.
If you hate that, then offer up your mother and the woman you love to preserve the life of an “honorable” prince.
‘Which of those is truly miserable to you?’
Of course, the king wanted his son’s pain, death, dishonor, downfall—all of it.
Deucalion’s death was something he needed, but his suffering was something he desired.
If dying was the most painful thing, then he had to die. If living was the greater agony, then he had to live. At least until it would be better to die and vanish.
In his youth, the king had been forced to take as his second wife the daughter of a man he hated. That hated second wife bore a son.
That hated son shook, from the moment of his birth, every brilliant thing that rightfully ought to have belonged to his beloved eldest.
King Epikides’s world had always been tilted. What he loved and what he did not. What was precious and what was not.
Deucalion, who had never once been treated as a son by him, had to choose at last the weight of the scale that had been tilted from birth.
And he chose. In the end, he confessed that he had committed a sin he had not committed.
With that, he obtained unwanted “mercy.” He survived.
At that point, in principle, what remained for Deucalion was the life of a miserable sinner.
Like a slave, the brand of a beast rather than a human was seared onto the back of his neck, and for the rest of his life he could not set foot within Eudokia’s borders.
Under Eudokian law, only those called “complete sinners” received punishment. Since he had admitted it himself, it meant that from that moment on, he had become a sinner whom no one could deny.
That was the final step before the sentence was carried out.
And so the Eudokians, before carrying out a sentence, would obtain a sinner’s confession by any means necessary. For if there was no confession no matter what suffering was endured, it implied the possibility that the sinner was innocent.
Ironically, for that very reason, there was not a single innocent sinner in Eudokia. Everyone admitted their crimes.
Because admitting to a crime one had not committed and living or dying was easier than dying with honor.
A complete sinner! Queen Axiothea clawed at her breast and wailed that she would rather be stoned to death in the streets, but her son had already become a complete sinner and left Eudokia.
‘I am only buying time, Pherenike.’
In truth, Deucalion had managed to exact a price from the king. Besides time. He had laughed with unprecedented lightness at the king’s retort that “Your leaving this land alive is precisely that price, is it not?”
Contrary to what was known, the most important price Deucalion actually obtained then was not his life.
He made the king swear before the goddess, staking Actor, whom the king loved most, upon the safety of Axiothea and Pherenike.
‘Because even if Kybelar’s curse were to fall on the spot, he would never swear upon my life.’
‘You damn bastard. How could you do something so absurd?’
‘You damn girl. This will truly be the last time you see me this year, and yet how is it that every time you open your mouth, it’s to curse?’
‘You son of a bitch, even if you live, I’m going to kill you myself.’
‘Ah. After I went to such trouble to survive. Cherish me, Pherenike.’
‘An exile decree only guarantees your life for the moment. If he says he exiled you in exchange for sparing you today, and that killing you tomorrow is a separate matter, what will you do then?’
‘I’ll live, won’t I?’
‘Why didn’t you ask him never to kill you, ever? You could have made it so he could never touch you, not now and not forever. You had already laid your head upon the goddess’s knees. Your royal father could not take anything back….’
Epikides had already agreed, before the statue of the goddess Kybelar, to grant one thing he desired.
Anything except overturning his crime and dismissal. And yet, after finally obtaining the king’s oath.
Even if it concerned the life or death of the second son he wanted to kill, the king would have had no choice but to swear. In any case, he intended to strike him down in the end with the eldest son’s blade, so what did his own oath matter?
But at the very least, for some time, he could have made the king lower his blade. With that, he might have had a few peaceful years. Actor was not as hasty as his royal father.
If he refused to swear, that would have been fine in its own way. To go back on one’s word was cowardly, and one of the things the goddess loathed most.
And yet he had wasted the king’s oath on such an unnecessary promise.
Axiothea would officially become a queen without a son. Killing her after Deucalion was exiled would be an act with little benefit and only great future trouble.
Later, even if Axiothea tried to kill herself, the king would be in a position where he had to keep her alive.
And Pherenike was someone who could not be killed even if one tried. No matter what anyone did to her, she would be alive.
Knowing all of that, how could he do something so foolish?
Deucalion listened to her and smiled a little.
‘Pherenike. Not dying is not everything. Just as living is not everything.’
‘Living is everything to me. Deucalion. You surviving forever is everything.’
She cried before him like a child.
‘I want you to live very well, Pherenike. Not merely to be alive because breath still clings to you.’
‘…….’
‘I want you to smile sometimes. I want you not to be unhappy. Even if I am not by your side.’
There was no way that could happen. Not when you were gone.
‘I am already unhappy because of you.’
‘And if, by any chance, you or Mother….’
‘You’re wagering everything you have left for something as trifling as “by any chance”?’
‘Yes. Because “by any chance” is a goddamn phrase. I can’t leave you or Mother in such a realm.’
‘To begin with, climbing into your father’s bed would have been no great matter to me. But you dared.’
‘Damn it, Pherenike Basilios. If you say that cursed thing one more time, I will—’
‘What will you do? If it had come to that, I would have seized the chance and made your father a cripple who could never again function as a man. In a way, it might even have been a good opportunity….’
‘How could you possibly do that?’
‘By grabbing and twisting it. From there, a person would slowly die like a withered weed. Your royal father is sick anyway.’
‘You sound insane. Pherenike. Whatever wicked purpose you have, the only man you ever lay a hand on must be me. Do you understand?’
‘As if that matters. It’s not as though I’ll rot away just because I touch him a little.’
‘It matters. Because you love me.’
That is not because I love you. Pherenike.
‘You love me. Not another man.’
I must always protect you from what you do not want. Promise me.
Just as I treat you, you must treat yourself the same way. Pherenike Basilios.