Crown of Thorns

The boy sat leaning against the wall, seemingly in a bad mood. There was no response when I tried to teach him, and he ignored even if I told him to go back home. The boy should not have stayed here too long, as it took him days to come. Knowing that he can live in the Witch’s Forest for so long, would earn him even more judging eyes. But he didn’t seem to have any intention of going back.

He can’t see under his nose because he has his face buried in his arm. The boy seemed particularly fond of that posture. To crouch down. To crouch down and bury his face in his arms. Or perch hi chin on it. Somehow I felt sorry for him and wanted to give him a hug.

I tried to concentrate on the book, but my eyes kept darting to the boy. Finally, I closed the book and put it down. I think he might be sitting there on purpose. I can’t ignore just ignore him.

“Boy.”

“My name is not a boy.”

Then what should I call him? I was rendered speechless with bewilderment. But the boy still only puts his chin on his arms with a sulky look on his face and stares into the dark.

Come to think of it, I didn’t know the boy’s name. Once, we had a conversation about him, but his only the answer was that they had no name. I have been called a witch for a long time, and the boy also had no one to call his name.

“If you don’t want to be called a boy, you should tell me what to call you.”

“Nothing. My name died with my brother when he died. Everybody calls me a monster.”

I couldn’t figure out what expression he was making in the dark. It was unbelievable that the two opposites of light and darkness could resemble each other. Maybe it’s because we’re in the same world. Yeah, maybe it’s because the world is the same that’s driving us so hard.

“Then should we make a new name?”

The boy finally looks at me. His eyes were wide open as if he didn’t expect this. I wondered as if I had seen the feeling of joy in those eyes. Is it a pleasure to get a new name?

I was about to say again that I had succeeded in making him look at me anyway. Realizing what expression he was wearing, the boy quickly turned his head and buried it again in his arm. I had no choice but to stop as it was.

I don’t think we can just let it go. After a small sigh at the end, he opened his mouth.

“What’s not good about it?”

The boy did not budge.

“I’m not going to die anyway. If you’ve heard rumors about me, you’d know.”

The boy has been like this ever since I tried to stab myself with my own sword. So that was the only reason he was upset. I didn’t know what to say, but for now I opened my mouth again, thinking that soothing the boy should come first.

“It was my fault…”

I chose my words carefully. The boy looked at me with a surprised look. But soon asked with a frown.

“What about?”

What kind of embarrassing question is this? I sighed at the direction of the conversation that seems to have changed to that of common lovers. But after barely focusing, I answered.

“For trying to kill myself.”

Only then did the boy turn toward me and start to get angry.

“How could you try to kill yourself? In front of me! But isn’t it too cruel to try to die in front of a child? And even using my sword.”

A witch scolded by a warrior, and she’s being scolded for trying to die. It was so absurd that I only closed my eyes and gave out excuses.

“No, I really don’t die. Then let me show yo…”

“How can you say that?!”

The boy clasped his sword, shouting. He would not let it be taken away again. The boy in my memory hated and worried that I was going to die, but not to this extent. What’s changed? Were the boy in my memory and the boy in front of me different, or did he changed because of the change in my behavior?

I could only keep my mouth shut with embarrassment, but the boy’s nagging continued.

“Is it that easy? You’ve been killing yourself like that all this time? Why? It hurts! It’s going to hurt anyway. No matter how much of a witch you are, you can’t not feel pain!”

The boy’s voice seemed to tremble and he eventually shed tears. The boy bites his lips as if he doesn’t want to cry, but the nasty tears fall down and wet the floor. I gazed at the scene, and he hurriedly bowed his head. My heart ached. I can’t think of anything because the pain has spread even though through my heart even though I didn’t stab it. The boy’s crying made even the witch want to cry.

It hurts. I also feel pain. But no one noticed. They didn’t care whether it hurt or not. Because I’m a witch.

Why do you acknowledge the pain of a witch?

I closed my eyes, calmed my sick chest for a moment, then approached the boy. The boy’s cheeks were drenched with tears. Sitting in front of him, he flinched unnoticeably as I stretched out my hand, but he did not avoid it and let me approach. I wiped away his tears. they were lukewarm. But the boy’s cheeks were very warm. The warmth climbs up my fingers and hugs my wounded witch’s chest. Covering it warmly as if it doesn’t want to be ugly.

The boy did. He always came to me first and defended me. He tried to look right at my wounds and even heal them. He looked into the woman who was shunned as a witch. He took out the girl trapped in scars.

I can’t push this boy away.

When I wiped away his tears with a clumsy touch, the boy burst into tears as if he was filled with sorrow. Tears streamed ceaselessly and wet his face. It was no use wiping them. I didn’t know how to soothe the crying boy. I didn’t know if I should just let him cry or comfort him. The reason why he cried was not just because of me, I think.

The boy, who cried and sneezed like a baby, continued to talk again.

“What if the witch dies, too? What if even the witch dies?”

I couldn’t hear it properly because of his squealing, but I could see what he was trying to say. I couldn’t figure out what to answer, so I just wiped away his tears.

“What if you die because of me?”

Only then did I notice why the boy cried sadly. Everyone the boy loves is dead. The villagers blamed the boy. He shouts, “No,” but they don’t listen. So he tried to pass it on, saying it was the witch’s fault, but that’s not easy. It’s hard to throw away the guilt of killing someone you love.

If the witch dies with his own sword in the meantime. If she dies in front of him…

I realized I was short-sighted. The boy was now spouting a story that no one would listen to. He was leaning on a witch who treated him as a warrior when he didn’t treat himself like a human being. Like I did.

“Don’t leave me alone. Don’t go and leave me behind.”

I also peeped at the boy’s wounds and fears, which he had been hiding from people. And I remembered the young man who remained in my memory. The face of a young man who cried, “I thought you were going to die because of me”. That’s why. That’s why he was so sad. He’s afraid I’m going to die by myself, and that I’m going to leave him alone. I apologized again.

“It was my fault. I won’t do that from now on.”

Can such a young warrior really kill a witch? Can he kill me?

Suddenly, fear grabbed me, but I tried hard to suppress it. The warrior was still so young and weak that he needed a little more time. He had to grow up to be on the side of the rest of the world, not on the witch’s side, until he could aim the sword. And I had to make it that way. That’s what has to happen.

The boy, who had been crying for a long time, managed to swallow his tears. Then he pushed my hand away and turned his head, as if he was ashamed to cry in front of me. But darkness does not cover the witch’s eyes. His red eyes, a sniffling nose, and a pouty lip, but unlike before, I can clearly see that his anger has been relieved.

“I’m still mad.”

The boy did not know that saying so was rather tantamount to revealing that he was not displeased anymore. Then he looked down at me with a face that still lingered in tears and frowned. He looks shy rather than angry. His face was so cute that I wanted to burst into laughter. But I didn’t want to raise his anger again, so I suppressed it.

“Give me a name.”

“What?”

“Give me a new name. Give me the name of the warrior who will light up the world, not the name of the cursed monster. Then I’ll forgive you.”

The boy, who came to learn from the witch, was giving her homework, and should she fail it, he was going to run far away from her. When I heard him ask me a new name, I saw it in the boy’s twinkling eyes. Forgiveness was no more than an excuse.

The boy’s voice was heard, though he was no longer seen because he stepped out of the room.

“I’ll give you I come back next time to come up with my name.”

And there was only the sound of him rushing down the stairs. I just looked at the place boy’s disappeared into with a blank look on my face.

The witch had to name the warrior who would save the world.

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