Thank You For Being Trash

Chapter 61: Carwen de Distria (1)

His mother was the Emperor’s mistress.

‘His' mother was of low birth and was not suitable to be the Emperor's lover. Still, he fell in love with ‘his' mother's beauty and brought her, who had a lover, to the Imperial Palace. He stayed up all night trying to get rid of her lover's child, which she carried with her, and get a second child.

The Emperor feared that his mother would leave, maybe she'd die. He wouldn't even let her go outside until she had a child. In case she took her own life, he put away all sharp objects.

A little time passed, and ‘his' mother had the Emperor's child. The whole time she was carrying ‘him,’ his mother hated the fact that the child she had was the enemy's child. Each time she screamed at her stomach and cursed at the child inside.

However, she could not harm the Emperor's child. She was afraid of death. If she hurt the Emperor's child, she feared that discord would fall upon her, so she was forced to bear him. She thought of a name for ‘him' who had not yet been born. She didn't even think much about it.

“This child's name is Distria.”

“But, the meaning of the name…”

“Destroy me, break my heart… I want to kill that child, but I have no choice but to give birth. Can't I even name it with resentment? What can I do? Am I just a doll? This is the only name suitable for a child. If I can't even do that, I'll die.”

The piercing anger, the hatred she had during the ten months of carrying the child…

When she gave birth, she was swept away in pain and wasn’t able to see the child for a while. It was fine if she didn’t see the child. She never went to visit the child as it was already fed by the nurse. Like a doll, she cried in the Emperor’s arms every night.

The days continued like that.

It was by sheer chance that she saw the child.

As soon as she saw him, she thought he knew she was his mother. The way he smiled at her was so cute. He was still a child… Still, she felt hatred. Her lover's child was dead, but the Emperor's child, whom she would not be happy with even if he was torn to death, was alive.

He didn't feel like her child, rather, and it was just an object of resentment. Her child was already dead. She thought the child was innocent. She thought so, but since she was a human anyway, she couldn’t get attached to it.

However, after seeing the child once, she sometimes became curious about it. She was curious about the child who had taken and lived her own child's life.

So, she went to see the child once a week. Calling her mom was something hateful at first, but after hearing it, she didn’t hate it and came to like it. Then later, she visited the child to hear the sound of ‘mom.’

That became twice a week, and at some point, she stayed with the child.

Maternal love was a learned emotion, like the way the child walked towards her. She gazed at the child who was smiling at him. As she looked at the child, who sometimes burst into tears, she couldn't help but feel love.

…This was her child.

My child.

Seeing her pouring her love for him, the Emperor promised to make him the Prince. He was blinded by love, and he promised to give her all. Nonetheless, she didn't believe him and just nodded her head with a nonchalant look.

Thus, the Emperor's lover became the fourth concubine.

Of course, there was also a backlash though the Emperor ignored everything. He didn't even listen. No one knew that the Emperor, who was called an emotionless monster, would love someone so much. That was how much he was devoted to her. He wanted to give his all to the child whom she loved.

An honor everyone envied, wealth enough to buy everything in the world, fame, and the Emperor as his father… it was a pretty close family.

She laughed at the child, and the Emperor laughed at him. He thought he would be this happy all his life.

* * *

His mother called him Dia. He grumbled about the girlish name, but he didn't mind her calling him that. Sometimes when she called his name, he pursed his lips and urged her to call him ‘Dia.’

Belatedly, his mother felt sorry for not giving the child a proper name. Later, when the child grew up, he would find out that she hated him and gave him such a name. She feared that he would never smile brightly again. His mother was worried about that.

“I learned today that the name Distria means ruin.”

“Mom is sorry. I couldn't give you a proper name.”

“Mom. I like my name because you love me with all that hatred. It's nice to feel the size of mom’s love. I do.”

He then had a younger sister. He was overjoyed at it. And when he turned eight years old, the terrible method where he had to compete to become an Emperor was revealed.

Crash.

The bowl in the room was broken. She hit the desk, got angry, and did not even think about tidying up the messy hair.

His mother sat down and cried.

“You never said anything like that. I don't know. No. No."

Tears flowed from his mother's eyes. She couldn't believe the shocking way of competing.

“How could our Dia kill someone? How can a person do that? Why are you always lying?”

“I have a way. Send the child to the West Palace.”

His mother should not have trusted the Emperor until the end. She sent the child to the West Palace with reluctance, almost grabbing onto his pants. And without knowing why, he was taken to the desolate west palace.

It was the beginning of a bitter and cold winter.

He hadn't spent much time with the Emperor. Taken into a stark environment, the child felt uneasy at first.

“It is against fairness to do this. I love you. I hope you don't die.”

As he said so, the Emperor embraced the child. In this way, the successor training began in secret. And so, misfortune began from a certain greed without anyone knowing. He believed in his father's love. And in the end, what was love…?

He stopped knowing what it was like.

Was this what love was? Nonsense. He couldn't believe it.

* * *

The child who came to the West Palace ate poison from the first day.

The amount gradually increased little by little. It was a way to prepare for poisoning, his father said. He ate what his father gave him without saying anything, even though his flesh burned, his throat burned, and indescribable pain plagued him every day.

While sick, he sought out his father.

“…It hurts. Dad, it hurts.”

The result was a miserable confinement.

“You can’t show any signs of being hurt or weak.”

As He forced himself to eat the poison, which he did not like, he became so sick. In a place where there was no light, he always suffered and ate poison, and when he developed tolerance to it, another poison.

He endured it, recalling happy memories from his childhood.

To him, who whined that he didn't want to do it because it hurt so much, his father told him that it was like that, too, when he was little. His father said that he grew up eating poison like this from birth, and they had to create organs that could survive poisoning from an early age. He said it was too late for him to start when seeing him in pain.

“I don't want to be Emperor.”

The words he couldn't bear were muttered in his mouth.

As much as the pain, his increasingly happy memories were also gradually disappearing. If he missed it and couldn’t go back then, it wouldn't be any comfort to him now. Rather, he just couldn't remember it. It was painful because he couldn't go back to that time.

His head wasn't that clear.

The child was interested in liberal arts, and his teacher also praised him for his talent.

“What are you doing?”

The Emperor found him painting in the backyard instead of taking political science classes.

It was quite excellent workmanship. He was so excellent that it was worth praise though the Emperor did not do so. Instead, he scolded the child and tore up the painstakingly drawn picture before burning it all

“If you want to become Emperor, don’t even dream about this again.”

The child thought to himself once more.

“I don't want to be Emperor.”

And painting disappeared from the liberal arts he was learning. His father killed the teacher who was teaching him right in front of the child.

At that time, he was ten years old.

“You should be able to feel insensitive to the death of others.”

“You can kill people for no reason. If it doesn't suit you, you can pull out a knife and kill them. you can do it. You are that kind of person.”

What kind of person was allowed to kill others?

“It is fine in your position because you are a great person. Empty your emotions, and don't create weaknesses as much as possible. If you see someone in front of you who can shake you enough to become a weakness, cut them down.”

Were those who had no weaknesses and no emotions human…?

The Emperor's cold eyes touched him. He hid his trembling hands behind his back.

…This was not the world he knew. It wasn't.

He had a dream that day. The resentful eyes were fixed on him.

You killed me.

I died because of you.

As the child suffered from nightmares for a while, he woke up crying every day. He couldn't even burst into tears. He lost his mind in a place where no one could see a single light.

This was not the world he knew… the world full of love and happiness was gone.

It took a very long time to admit this. Since that day, he has killed people with his own hands. Killed in several ways—he could strangle them, drown them, or burn them to death.

When he first strangled someone, he felt guilty and let go of his hands. On the contrary, he almost died, but his father still didn't help him. It was the start of a dogfight between an orphan wandering on the streets and someone who had been educated. It was obvious who would win.

“You did well. If you hadn't beaten that bastard, I'd have thought twice about the succession again. And this time, you can understand. That clumsy sympathy puts you in danger.”

The teacher who taught him was stern. He rebuked the child for his lack of clarity and used violence against the child. His father knew the violence inflicted on the child.

The child gradually changed.

He was naturally kind and appreciated little things, and loved everything. In an instant, his environment changed. Every time he killed someone, if they didn’t die, he would die. And he experienced violence.

People had to change. Terribly destructive, violent, and heartless.

You said that you love me.

You said that you love me.

You said that…

If his father loved him in the first place, if he wanted to love the child and make him Emperor, his father should have eliminated this heinous way of appointing him as Emperor.

His father was not his father… saying that he loved his child was all lies.

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