Please Kill Me Vol. 1 Chapter 2.2

No one knows why my mother, who was uniquely beautiful and pitiful, ended up in the remote outskirts of Stradfordshire, becoming the wife of a serf, without a trace of noble lineage. As a wet nurse, selling her milk to survive, my mother, Ines, possessed an exquisiteness that was excessively delicate and refined. Even when dressed in a servant’s attire, after discarding the coarse rags soaked with milk, it was a kind of allure that would make any man tear her clothes and make her moan.

“Just when the birth mother died and the baby had to be fed with boiled oatmeal instead of milk, making me worried about the  baby’s growth being slow. But to my surprise, someone came here wanting to become a wet nurse with her own feet. It turned out really well.”

Madelina, the head maid, said, staring at my mother’s breasts.

“Still, if you’re going to nurse the precious baby of the Count, you should properly cleanse yourself. Who knows what you might have touched.”

Then she opened the kitchen door and pointed to a wooden barrel placed haphazardly outside. Despite my mother having lost consciousness in the rather harsh weather and having regained consciousness only a short while ago, there was no time to hide things from the head maid’s piercing gaze.

The water contained within the large wooden barrel, resembling a small boat, had already turned chillingly cold. Feeling shame was a privilege allowed only to the nobles. As soon as the head maid’s command was given, my mother obediently removed her clothes without any resistance. The worn-out clothes, barely covering my mother’s body and having served their last purpose by providing milk and wearing out, fell off with a light thud.

However, between my mother’s legs, the stream of blood that had been flowing since giving birth to the baby had not subsided. As she barely immersed half of her body in the freezing cold water, my mother’s teeth trembled, and a shiver ran through her entire body. It seemed like even her facial muscles were contorting. If the head maid hadn’t grabbed her shoulders and pressed down, my mother, who was prepared to sacrifice everything, would not have been able to immerse her entire body in the water with her own senses and willpower.

As a young child, I trembled in fear while watching this tragic sight, but I couldn’t be of any help. Then, the head maid, Madelina, grabbed a large pine branch and mercilessly thrashed my mother’s fragile body, which was terrifying in itself. The shallow excitement that I had felt, thinking that I would be able to eat something, vanished in an instant.

“The price for receiving new clothes is to do as told. Despite your dirty and contorted body, it seems that your milk is about to burst out immediately. This baby will survive.”

I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I didn’t want to know. The baby Madelina was talking about might live, but I had a feeling that my mother and I might die.

 

* * *

 

That night, my mother immediately became the nanny of the nobleman’s baby. She wore a light and spacious poplin dress and was led straight into the room with the baby’s cradle.

As soon as she held the baby in her arms and began breastfeeding, my mother’s expression became incredibly gentle. The baby softly closed its eyes and squirmed slightly, but never cried. Is she mistaking it for the baby she had carried in her womb for nine months? I couldn’t fathom my mother’s inner thoughts at all.

The baby stubbornly suckled on my mother’s breast. Even after draining both breasts, it continued to suck vigorously. Watching the milk flow from one side while nursing on the other, I found myself unconsciously developing a desire for it as well. It was just an instinctual longing to suckle.

“For now, eat this.”

A young maid, around twelve or thirteen years old, who was taller than me but not yet an adult, approached carrying a long rectangular tray and placed it on the floor of the cradle room. There was no separate space with a table for adults to dine. As the baby unlatched from the breast, my mother also laid the baby in the cradle and sat on the floor. I anxiously stuck close to the tray as the maid set it down and left.

“Ah, it’s delicious. It’s truly so delicious, Mother. This must be heaven.”

The minestrone soup, generously filled with various vegetables and tomatoes, still retained its warmth. The chunks of rye bread were substantial, and the savory flavor from the yellow butter was exceptional. It was truly a rare opportunity for my mother and me to fill our stomachs with such a satisfying and proper meal.

“After the nanny finishes her meal, the head maid instructed us to make her drink this.”

As the tray was nearly emptied, the maid reappeared, holding a narrow bottle with a strong, unpleasant smell emanating from it. At a glance, it seemed greenish, as if it were water infused with some herbal or pungent scent.

My mother nodded silently and gulped it down without a word. As soon as she presented the empty bottle, the maid made sure to empty it completely, tilting and shaking it to confirm that not a drop remained, before taking it away. I later learned that it was an herbal infusion used to promote lactation. Behind the Count’s mansion, there was a profusion of various herbs and scented candles in the lush Secretia Woods.

The effectiveness of the herbs was truly remarkable. Within an hour of my mother drinking the entire bottle, her breasts became painfully engorged, making it difficult for her to breathe. The baby, who had finally fallen asleep after consuming a substantial amount of breast milk, slept soundly for a few more hours. Exhausted from the long and unfamiliar journey to get there, I woke up to the sound of my mother’s moans.

“Mother, mother? Are you okay?”

My mother was moaning more intensely than she had during the night when she struggled with labor pains. Just a day ago, I wondered if she would die or safely deliver the baby in her womb. But now the baby had died. Seeing the indifferent expression on my mother who casually brushed it off, I wanted to cry in her place, but I held back. My mother, walking with bloodshed and seeming already out of her right mind, did not appear to be herself. It was simply a determination to survive, both for my mother and for myself, that compelled me to grit my teeth and follow along.

Seeing her feverishly holding her chest and moaning, I became suddenly terrified. I can’t die like this. I hope I can continue living here. The desperate hope and the intersection of despair. I sucked greedily on my mother’s engorged breasts, swollen like burning embers. It was after I had eaten a substantial amount of food, filling my stomach for the first time in a while, in an effort to save my mother. But now, with all my strength, I suckled and suckled.

I hoped that by sucking with all my might, the swelling of the massive volume of engorged breasts would decrease somewhat. However, every time I tried to detach my mouth, the milk would frighteningly rise again, and my mother would suffer from high fever. I couldn’t bear the speed at which the milk was filling up with my own strength alone.

I wanted to ask someone for help. I couldn’t let my mother continue to suffer like this. But I hadn’t even fully grasped where we were. Perhaps my mother had to endure the constant pain of the milk filling up, as she waited in that room throughout the night to feed the baby.

Despite the intense fear, I ventured out of the room. I opened the door for my moaning mother, but in the corridor, there was only darkness and chilling silence.

“Is anyone there? Please, help me.”

I mustered up the courage to speak, but it seemed that I was the only one who could hear my own voice. However, at the end of the corridor, I saw the pale face of a young boy holding a candlelit dish, illuminating my direction. Coming closer from that side where I couldn’t see clearly, I could distinctly see his face holding the candle.

The most chillingly handsome boy I had ever seen up to that point stood before me. His eyes were clear and blue, almost piercing, and he had light honey-colored blond hair. Possessing a beauty that surpassed my mother’s, his flawless face was a fresh shock to me, someone who had never seen such perfection before. Even in the midst of being captivated by the thought of relieving my mother’s pain, his beauty left an impression on me. Since that day, I have never seen a more beautiful being than him.

“My mother is in so much pain, as if she’s going to die.” 

I managed to say as the boy approached me.

It was only after I blurted out those words that I realized he might not know who I am.

“I’m Dahlia. My mother is Ines. She was hired as a wet nurse tonight.”

He seemed indifferent to the information coming from my mouth, but he carefully looked at my milk-stained lips and my eyes filled with tears and desperation.

“Please help us.”

Once again, it was me who became desperate first. The boy didn’t respond. However, holding the candlelit dish, he walked with me toward the room where my mother was writhing on the floor.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw my mother writhing on the floor, unable to bear the pain, with streams of milk spilling out. Her pitiful state tore at my flesh, causing me intense pain. Without even realizing how he was looking at me, I rushed to my mother and began sucking the milk again.

My mother, who was like a beast writhing in unbearable agony from the excessive return of milk even after losing her offspring, and me, who couldn’t just leave her like that. For as long as I could, I sucked as hard and as much as I could on my mother’s beckoning milk. When I raised my head, he was suddenly kneeling beside me, right there, guarding my side.

“I’ll help.”

Without hesitation, I had him help me suck my mother’s milk. My mother, delirious with a high fever and even losing consciousness, was not given any choice this time either. Throughout that night, Lambert and I sucked my mother’s milk with all our might.

That was our beginning.