Chapter 20 -- That Dad, Claude (3)

After that, Claude suffered from severe insomnia. If he closed his eyes for even a brief moment, the person he did not want to think about would appear in his mind. That face looked as though it might cry when it saw him waking for the first time. The image replayed itself over and over as he tossed and turned every night.

Hence, when he encountered the girl from the portrait in the garden, Claude was firmly convinced that it was time to kill that preposterous wench. He should have killed her the moment he laid eyes on her. That was the right thing to do, whether the girl was his daughter or. It didn't matter. Looking at her made him nauseous.

As determined as he was to be rid of her once and for all, he could never follow through. He was consciously avoiding thinking about the girl who went about calling herself his daughter. Now that she had revealed herself in the garden, he knew it was time. If he missed his chance, he would continue his unconscious attempts to avoid it.

"Dad…"

"Dad?"

Whenever the girl called him that, Claude could not stand the pang that it brought to his chest.

"Shut up. If you call me that one more time, I will rip out your tongue."

But why was it? Once again, he couldn't kill the person before him.

"Shredding you to pieces would not be enough of a punishment, but your imprudence intrigued me for a brief moment. So, I shall allow you to hang on to your life."

Crazy bastard. What the hell are you saying right now? That evil wench should be killed immediately, but allowing her to live? Taking that defenseless girl's life is so easy. All you need to do is extend your hand...

"From this time onwards, this wench is to be confined to the Emerald Palace."

But he couldn't do it.

"If you treasure your life, you better not show even a strand of your hair outside of the palace."

Ignoring the stunned girl, Claude began to leave.

"If you appear before me once more, I really will kill you."

As though his expression earlier had been a mask, Claude's icy facade crumbled when he walked away. The emperor could not understand the pain he felt. Why did his insides ache? Why did his heart feel like it was being crushed? Why was it as if cold hands were squeezing his throat?

When he returned to his bedroom, Claude slammed his fist into the wall. But the pain in his chest throbbed more than his wounded hand.

The nightmares began that day.