#kyoto animation

❝ I’m curious!❞ - Chitanda Eru (Hyōka)

Chitanda Eru |Photos

❝ I find myself hard to understand sometimes. ❞ - Chitanda Eru (Hyōka)

Chitanda Eru |Photos

still haven’t found my answer

Violet Evergarden _sketch

this anime leaves me, every episode, more and more sad and melancholy T–T

*sob*

With all the love in my heart,

Thank you, KyoAni.

Happy to share the charm I made for @kyoanizine♡

The book is full of wonderful art pieces and all proceeds will go to helping terminally ill children. 

https://kyoanizine.bigcartel.com/

Dietfried Bougainvillea If

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. By all means, consider supporting the creators by purchasing the official releases. If anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi|PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

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At the limits of its loneliness, a certain wild beast had found hope. The most overwhelmingly strong yet fragile-looking hope that it had seen amongst living things so far.

The beast’s hope – Dietfried Bougainvillea – was that kind of person.

He used abusive language and had an arrogant attitude towards the stranger. His spirit was like the blade of a drawn sword. There were lovable elements to him, but he had an awkwardness that made him ruin everything on his own.

The beast had found this man. These two terribly inept souls did not get along, but had managed to grow close to each other.

As fighting was the only thing that the beast could do well, it had sunk many of the man’s enemies into the sea. The man then granted the beast the lifestyle of a person and became its guardian. Although the two had never made any deal, this was how they worked.

In that meantime, something that could be considered “feelings” began to sprout within the ruthless man. A dangerous thing that weakened those who had it.

This emotion was unnecessary. He had to discard it. It was best to stay away from the beast.

Or so the man thought, but the beast refused. Could he part ways with it or not?

The beast and the man clashed intensely at that one point, but ultimately, the man gave in. He became unable to let go of the beast, who implored him not to leave it alone. Resigning to the fact that he had not thrown her away when he should have, the man decided to make the beast into a human being.

What did it take for a person to become human?

The ship was in flames.

Sparks scattered about the ocean amidst the darkness. Angry roars of the Navy men who safeguarded the seas echoed on, drowned out by the waves. Unsuited for such a beautiful evening, their shouts were dispersed by reverberating sounds of explosions, melting away into the sea.

For battles on sea, unlike the ones on land, wreckage was hardly visible to the naked eye.

“READY TO FIRE!”

After all, the waves swept everything away. Panic, sadness, the people who were once there and even time itself were nothing but trivial matters to the great deep.

The sea erased everything. All to its own bottom.

That was how abysmal and cold the thing called ocean could be – it swallowed any and everything.

“DON’T FALTEEER! SHOOT BACK, SHOOT BACK!”

The Continental War was intensifying. Soldiers were forced to fight not only on land but also at sea.

“IT’S GONNA SHAKE THE HULL! BRACE YOURSELVES!”

“DON’T STAND AROUND SAYING NOTHING; IF YOU DON’T WANT TO DIE, MOVE!”

“BEGIN SHOOTING!!”

The warships of Leidenschaftlich – the pride of the military nation – were under heavy fire from warships of the enemy side.

“THE ENEMY’S FIRIIIIING!”

Going by mere assumption, Leidenschaftlich would eventually earn the bitter victory of this naval battle and the warship that was currently burning would arrive safely at the capital Leiden, but this was not the part of the story that should be told.

“PREPARE FOR THE SHOOOOOCK!”

What should be told in this story was that one man had not been able to call the name of one girl, who had been driven to a corner amidst such critical situation.

In the middle of the extremely turbulent sea battle, naval captain Dietfried Bougainvillea desperately searched with his eyes for his property, a girl soldier. At the edge of his field of vision, an attack from the enemy warship was imminent.

――Being as light as she is, she’ll fall off the deck from the impact of the bombings!

Sure enough, Dietfried spotted her body lightly floating in the air at the heart of the burning ship.

And so, an inaudible scream leaked from his throat. Of course it would. What he wanted to shout out – her “name” – was something that did not exist. After all, he had always called her “you”.

“I’ll give her a name someday. Should I pick one now? Nah, I can do it later.”

While thinking such things, he wound up arriving to this point without ever naming her.

――You’re my… My what? You’re my…

His tool? His monster?

――You’re my…

His thoughts did not guide the words properly and only the dread of losing her continued proliferating. In the end, the girl that was thrown to the sea caught sight of Dietfried’s emerald eyes. The two were not pros at communication, but Dietfried certainly felt like the girl had said something at that moment.

As in, “I do not mind if you forsake me”.

So Dietfried ran. “Don’t screw around,” he wanted to tell her. “Grab on!”

When she was about to fall, the girl reflexively grasped the hand stretched out towards her, Dietfried nearly dropping into the dark sea with her, but this time, one of his subordinates held him by the hips, thus he was somehow able to stand firm.

Although the soldier girl was usually able to slay several enemies like a demon, her body was too thin and lightweight. Embracing her, Dietfried was unable to move for a few dozen seconds from the excess of fear. “Hah, hah…”

The fear of losing this “tool” gave him tremors.

He had to rise. The war was not yet over. In order not to lose this girl or himself, Dietfried, the commander, had to take the lead. However, his body could not move soon enough.

“Captain.”

The two looked at one another once again. This time, her eyes were saying, “Don’t let me go”. Even though she had chosen death just earlier, plain and simple.

Her exceeding selfishness gave Dietfried an intense desire to kill her, but contrary to his thoughts, he embraced her tight. Their heartbeats merged.

This became a turning point for him and her.

Nevertheless, from this moment onward, it took Dietfried years to make use of this turning point. In that meantime, the Great War, also called the Continental War, had showed rapid development and was coming to an end.

The peculiar existence of this girl soldier became a blur after the war, but as always, Dietfried continued to give her assignments as his tool. Dietfried explained to those around him that this was due to his not having time to make a decision amidst the rush of post-war processing, but in reality, the choice of letting go of her had not even crossed his mind. It was already a given that the two of them acted together, no matter where they went or what they did.

Having gained leisure time by living away from the battlefield, the girl had cultivated language skills, learned general education and began studying military tactics, becoming a competent secretary in no time.

“Captain, the mansion that you had talked about was already sold. We have two or three more options, but the light of the afternoon sun that you are so concerned about is poor in them, thus I believe they are inadequate. The budget is abundant, so perhaps it might be best to just build one.”

“You, who put that idea in your head?”

As expected, she, who could no longer be regarded as a mere soldier girl, still lacked a name.

The two were currently having a conversation while seated on a bed in the Navy’s dormitory. It was morning, and as Dietfried was not ready, the girl was diligently combing his hair.

“Lord Gilbert said that he wants to provide you with land owned by the Bougainvillea. And Lord Hodgins said he can introduce you to a fine architect from Leiden.”

“You’re telling me to get a land that’s my little brother’s property?”

Her specialty was to tie the braids swiftly done by her smooth pale fingers with a ribbon as a finishing touch. Once the hairstyle was decided, finishing it was easy. Steadily, the girl prepared Dietfried for the day.

“According to Lord Gilbert, Captain, you have abandoned the entirety of your family heirloom at this point, so he wanted you to have at least this much.”

“Your ‘Lord Gilbert’?”

“Your Lord Gilbert.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“That it would most likely make you angry.”

Silence.

“However, Lord Gilbert insisted, hence why I am reporting to you.”

Dietfried glared at the girl. They had been around each other for a decent number of years already, so just her telling him that such proposal had been made was a mistake in itself. She knew that as well. Even so, she had brought it up. Dietfried’s eyes were asking her “why”.

“What’re you gonna do for me now that I’m angry just like you’d predicted?”

“Today, I have already secured a wine that will be in stock at a shop in the city. I will go pick it up later. It is the one that you said you ‘wanted to drink it but could not find’ during the war.”

Silence.

“Apparently, it has finally started circulating. Moreover, I found out who was the author of the painting you were looking at the other day. He has already passed away, but it seems that his bereaved family is keeping his works, so it will be possible to show them to you in our next day off.”

After putting on his jacket, Dietfried turned around and looked at the girl. He spoke not with a tone of irritation but of moodiness, “Hey, you, don’t go taking permission for a day off when I might say that I won’t go.”

“But Captain, you said you were devastated at the loss of so many artworks during the war. You have never acquired any works from the artist you liked, right? The bereaved family seems to be living in poverty. They said before that, rather than someone who would purchase the artworks with just a few sentences, it was best for someone with an unquestionable aesthetic sense to have them, for the sake of future generations…”

The girl had her mouth shut at that part. After all, Dietfried had pressed the ends of the braid against her lips without saying anything. He had long forgotten what had triggered this, but Dietfried did it whenever he told her to “be quiet”. It could also be considered as a little play of theirs.

The girl’s eyes, of a blue more vivid than that of the sea, blinked slowly while staring at Dietfried.

“Okay, that’s right. Quiet.”

Silence.

“I don’t need the land of the Bougainvillea. You’re gonna see Gil again anyway, aren’t you? Then tell him face-to-face not to say that ever again. If it’s possible, I’ll buy that wine every time it arrives at the shop, so go negotiate with the owner to make a regular purchase under the name of Dietfried Bougainvillea… As for our next day off…”

Silence.

“Where does that bereaved family live?”

Silence.

“Hey, tell me.”

The girl mutely pointed to the braid still pressed against her lips.

“In Lontano. It is within national territory, so we can go there and return in the same day. As for the transportation…”

“I’ll go with my new car. Also, don’t forget to ask the shopkeeper at Canaria Taylor if the jacket and pants I ordered are done. If they are, I’ll go there tomorrow to make the final adjustments. I’m gonna wear them on my next break. You’re obviously coming. Don’t make any plans with Gilbert.”

“Understood. I have memorized everything.”

Whenever this girl said so, it would turn out that she had truly memorized everything exactly how Dietfried had told her. The only thing that Dietfried did not argue with her was about what he did and did not say.

――Really, she’s so brilliant it’s creepy.

That was because he once had extremely unpleasant experiences with having his own statements parroted to him in a peculiar voice. He was vaguely aware of it, but this parrot – rather, this girl – that Dietfried had picked up possessed great intelligence. At first, she could not speak properly and was seemingly unable to learn how to read or write, but due to not wanting Dietfried to throw her away, she did not spare any efforts, thus her development had been visible and she was now an essential item for Dietfried.

“Tell me about their family tree later. You have no sense of beauty for gifts, so I’ll do that one.”

The fields in which Dietfried could beat this girl were of a limited number. When it came to fighting abilities, he, who was growing weaker with age, was at the very best on par with her, who could be said to be in her prime, but depending on the situation, he would be completely defeated.

“Yes, I have not nurtured knowledge in that area.” The girl promptly nodded, not at all bent on winning against Dietfried.

“‘Cause you’ve got zero artistic quality.”

“Exactly, Captain.”

Even though she was an essential to him, they had arrived to this point without him ever naming her. According to Dietfried’s assumption, the girl was soon going to turn fourteen.

Entrusting the girl with her miscellaneous tasks, he left the dormitory and offed to work at the Ministry of the Navy.

Dietfried headed to his office room, taking out a notebook from his desk drawer. Perhaps having been flipped over and over, the corners of the notebook were tattered. It was most likely an item that he used to carry with him not after the war, but during worktime. It had his date of service written on it.

Sensing from the quietude of the corridors that no one would come inside, Dietfried opened the notebook. In it, from the first to the next few dozen pages, there was a list of name options. From girl names to neutral ones.

One could tell that he had not kept calling her “you” simply out of fruitless obstinacy, but instead was properly thinking about it and had not made a decision yet.

――No idea which one she’d like.

Dietfried was a not-so-good type of perfectionist.

Some of the options were circled, and things such as the reasons why said names were good and even the folklore associated with them were written there. Perhaps the number of people who would do something so meticulous was scarce even amongst fathers awaiting the birth of a baby.

――Feels like none of them fits her.

The outcome of this repeated negation was their current situation. Unless he earned good results, he could not bring himself to let the other know about it. He was that kind of man, and so, once he left his family home, he disappeared without a trace as if his whereabouts had been long lost, but by the time he had become a fine naval officer, the gap between him and his family had widened to an irreversible extent and his father had passed away.

A problematic perfectionist. That was Dietfried Bougainvillea.

――Should I just let her choose?

Dietfried did have determination when it was about work.

――No, I can’t do that after putting so much thought into it. I’m the one who should give it to her.

However, he was a man who by no means could do things half-heartedly when there were feelings involved.

――I should do at least this much for her.

He had never properly done anything even for his younger brother, whom he cared for the most in the world. Not because he was shy or anything on that sort of perspective, but because he was twisted.

His familial environment had been a major factor as to why he had developed into this kind of person, but the reason he had still not given a name to the girl under his custody even now, years after their first meeting, was likely because of the poison he carried inside. Being the way she was, the girl had no questions or issues about being referred to as “you”, either.

People other than Dietfried called her “Undine”, as the infamy of “Leidenschaftlich’s Undine”, who was notorious for crushing down enemy ships, had spread among the military personnel. In fact, they thought it was her name.

Despite telling him to hurry and decide on a name for her every time they met, Dietfried’s younger brother, Gilbert, and his friend, Hodgins, had also established dialogue with her by calling her “Undine” and “Little Undine”.

She used to be regarded as a weapon with no registered name in the military, but halfway through, she became the “Fist of the Bougainvillea”.

She never even gave any name when interacting with outside parties. When contacting the shop to order wine or the artist’s unknown family, for example, she would introduce herself as “Dietfried Bougainvillea’s secretary”.

This was a lie that Dietfried had taught her to tell the people he did not want to interact with, as well as to make up an excuse and send them away. She had reached the limits of her skills mastering it.

While having a nonchalant conversation with her in her wind chime voice, by the moment that the other person found themselves thinking, “Come to think of it, what was her name again?”, the call would have already ended. The next one would also end with “it’s the secretary girl”. The girl had no friends or lover either, for Dietfried treated her as one of his essentials.

She did not feel inconvenienced by any of that. The only one who felt inconvenienced regarding her name was Dietfried.

That day, that time, on that burning ship, Dietfried had no name to call her. If she had died back then, what did intend to refer to her as when mourning?

“You”. “Shitty brat”. “Her”. “Monster”. Or perhaps “Nameless”.

None of these was appropriate for a life that he had taken under his wing after deciding that he would not let it go.

Dietfried prostrated himself on his desk and let out a rare sigh. It was about time he made up his mind.

Even if that turned out to be a bad ending for him.

About ten days later, he was finally able to earn himself a holiday in which he could go out at leisure. Dietfried and the girl woke up early in the morning and went by car to the Leidenschaftlich city named Lontano.

Lontano was a city of art. It had museums, theaters used for plays and orchestra performances, and old book markets. It was built in a way that people who enjoyed such things would have fun walking around anywhere.

The city structure consisted of a castle in its center and houses gathered in its surroundings. The house of the artist that Dietfried was there for sat in the outskirts of the city. Just one main house in which, at most, only two or three people could live. The residence was unrelated to the artistic city – that was the impression it gave to those who entered it.

“We used to serve the castle in the center of the city. The owner of the castle is no longer here, so… ever since it became a tourist attraction, the city became weird, you see.”

The one who said this while welcoming them in was the artist’s mother. Dietfried wanted to say a little something to the woman’s words, who described the exuberant present-time state of the city as “weird”, but bit it down. The development of Lontano had begun in a modern era, so from the point of view of a family that had been taking residence in the city since forever, its current form must be heresy.

When the lady that had greeted them guided the two to the basement, they were finally able to see the artworks. The basement, which was mostly a storage room, had meager lighting and a strong odor. Apparently, the lady had put all of the deceased artist’s works away, as it became too hard for her to look at them.

Before Dietfried realized, he was saying, “I want to take with me as many of them as possible.”

He could not allow the paintings that had left such a deep impression on him to be lost in this basement, and just the thought of it made this feeling surge within him. It was the sensation of saving someone who was on the verge of death.

He picked the artworks that he wanted to rescue first and foremost for the time being, and while he was making the girl, whom he had brought over to use as luggage carrier, hold them, the lady spoke up in a feeble voice, “Captain Bougainvillea—”

Dietfried did his best to reply to the words said to him with a gentle voice, “No need to call me by my rank, Ma’am.”

He was not young, but neither was he old. The lady looked down, seeming a little embarrassed at being called “ma’am” by someone like Dietfried, who oozed the sex appeal of an adult man.

“Mr. Bougainvillea, I cannot understand what is so good… about my son’s art to you.”

Dietfried spoke the exact words that he would tell the artist if he were there, “Aside from his technique and color usage, his unique individuality is great.”

“Is he that good?”

“Superbly so.”

Silence.

The lady still did not seem convinced. After all, people decided on the quality of an artwork based ultimately on their own impressions, likes and dislikes, so those who stated that they did not understand it very well were by no means bad people.

She might show signs of understanding after quite a lot of explanation, but Dietfried did not feel like doing that much. What he wanted was time to marvel at the things he liked, not a moment of interaction with someone whose ideologies were different from his.

“I have an acquaintance in Leiden who owns a place where we can open a solo exhibition. I can introduce you to her, so let’s try to talk to her about it. I am going to take the ones I want with me, but I will properly lend them to her once the exhibition happens. If it goes well, your son’s works will last forever,” Dietfried said, at which the lady’s face distorted. “Do you not like the idea?” Dietfried asked, unsurprisingly unable to ignore her display of negative reaction, for he had been completely convinced that she would be pleased.

The lady repeatedly opened and closed her mouth, but perhaps not able to muster out the words properly, she stayed silent. Dietfried patiently stared at her as though urging her to say them, and so, she finally spoke out her next sentence, “Don’t you think it’s too late?”

The words that she muttered in intervals echoed through the basement with an empty tone quality.

They were making arrangements for a deceased’s belongings. It was bound to make her a little emotional, Dietfried thought, accepting it very easily.

“I do not. It’s never too late to do the right thing.” After saying this, Dietfried recalled the “right thing” that he himself had not yet done, but put it on hold and continued the conversation, “Leaving the works of your talented son to posterity is the right thing. It’s not late for that even now.”

“But I never even had any interest in the things that child made…”

That was a shocking thing for a mother to say.

“Is it really all right for someone like me to try to leave my son’s art to prosperity at this point…?”

Apparently, her son had not been what she aspired.

She had wished for a cheerful child who could play sports and work hard, but he instead was born an introverted scholar, fond of writing and painting. From her point of view as his mother, he was a slightly inferior child.

It seemed that, at first, she had hoped he would become what she wanted regardless, once he grew up. But the more she did so, the more introverted her child became, which created a distance between him and her. The lady did not understand her son’s thinking, and although the son enjoyed “expressing himself”, he never did so to his parents.

The lady had given up on her son halfway. “This wasn’t the son I wanted.” That was all there was to it.

Fortunately, she had other children, and so, she entrusted them with how she wanted them to be.

Most likely, these feelings had reached her son even without her saying anything. Once her son, who was a failure in her viewpoint, left the house, he rarely ever returned.

She had no idea what kind of job he had. He proudly declared that he was making art during his free time in-between work and had recently started selling it, but as having no interest in this, she ended up giving him a cold reply. Those were the contents of their last exchange, she said, and she remembered her son looking like he wanted her to praise him.

In that meantime, the Continental War intensified and the city where her son lived was bombed. She had searched for him in his destroyed house and waited for days, but he did not come back. Many such families had arisen in the Continental War. It was nothing uncommon.

The lady attempted to sort out her feelings somehow, telling herself that it was war, after all. Through tears, she brought home his remaining artworks as if they were keepsakes of him. They could at least serve as consolation. However, looking at them made her feel suffocated, as if her neck were being strangled. The paintings kept complaining at her to “look at them”.

“We have value.”

“We’re not worthless.”

“Why won’t you look at us?”

It felt as though her regretful past with her son was clearly being put on display. This scared her, the lady said. That was why she had tossed them into the basement without proper care, even though she herself had brought them with her.

Dietfried, who did not have prosperous relations with his family, did not find this story to be particularly sad.

“If only I had… tried harder to understand him…”

――Family issues are a thing everywhere, huh.

Only this sort of strong feeling came to him. If he were to overlay her with his father and imagine that it was his father saying this to him, he might have gotten angry and said, “What’re you talking about? Too late for that now”.

――What can I say to a woman who’s shackled to her home?

Dietfried had seen that his own mother was chained to their home and treated as an accessory much more than he had been. The lady in front of him was a little younger than his mother, but as expected, since she was nonetheless a “mother”, he could not bring himself to think of treating her coldly.

“Even in a family, it’s hard for people to understand each other when their lifestyles are different. Ma’am, you should be proud that you even managed to raise your children to the point of independence during wartime.”

This was something that Dietfried could say due to not having a bad relationship with his mother amongst his family members. Nevertheless, they had not been talking much ever since he had left home.

“But his art has value, right? He had talent, right?”

“Yes.”

“And yet, I… didn’t praise him when he was alive… It’s late… Too late. Getting money from you… and hearing someone else tell me that my son was great when I didn’t understand him at all… is just too…”

Her words stopped there. However, Dietfried guessed her next sentence, “‘Dishonest’?”

The lady was a little startled at the accuracy of his statement. Still, she had talked about it because part of her must have wanted Dietfried to say that.

“Yes, dishonest… Too dishonest to my son…” Sobs began to slip from her.

Dietfried showed a slightly hesitant attitude, but then whispered in a tone that was mild for him, “If I may talk about myself, I was estranged from my parents.”

“So it was like this in your home too?”

“Yes, my relatives were nothing but problematic.”

Silence.

“My family wasn’t necessary for me… rather, for my life, so I ran away from it. It’s my life, so I wanted to live the way I please. While I was doing that, my father passed away.” He was smiling. The smile was limited to his lips only. “He was the one that understood me the least in our house.”

However, those who were close to him would be able to tell.

“I still do not regret leaving home.”

That the face Dietfried was making now was a lonely one.

“But I’ve finally come to think that even after I left home… even after our paths separated, we maybe should have at least made concessions.”

The girl, who had all the while been standing in waiting at his side, was quietly staring at Dietfried as he spoke about the soft inner parts of himself to someone else, something he rarely ever did.

“If I could go back in time, I’d most likely make a few compromises. Even if we couldn’t have a complete reconciliation… And if this were no use, then there would be no helping it. Families, too, are just a jumbling of strangers anyway. It’s best for them to keep a bit of a distance from each other. But… both you and I have regrets, so…” Dietfried was the same as her in that he could not come up with the proper words. He brought a hand to his forehead and made a headache-bearing face before saying, “Even if it’s sentimental of you, it’s better to do it than not. Ten years in the future, you’ll probably once again have regrets for not doing it right now.”

Silence.

“The only thing we can do now is to keep endlessly making choices that may or may not give us regrets.”

“‘Keep making choices’?”

“Yes, it’s a matter of how meaningful a decision we can make until we get to see the ones who have passed. That’s it. It’s all we can do.”

Perhaps his last words struck a chord, as the lady curled her shoulders and let out another sob. The girl, who was still holding the many paintings, stood by and watched the lady, unable to even offer her a handkerchief. However, this was not an irresponsible or insensitive way of watching someone.

“You, go outside.”

She simply knew that her lord was one to take action at such times, thus she did not make any reckless moves.

“Yessir.”

The girl obediently complied and exited the basement as told, but before she left, Dietfried saw her rubbing the lady’s back, as if she were doing it to her own mother. A slight change had appeared in the girl’s perpetually expressionless face.

After closing her eyes as if something were obfuscating them, she climbed up the stairs and stepped forward, back into a world of light.

The artworks retrieved by Dietfried were put on permanent display in Leidenschaftlich’s art gallery, becoming popular exhibits that attracted many people.

The Continental War had given everyone sad memories. The artist had passed away in it. In addition, he was also one of Leidenschaftlich’s young writers, so there was something about him that resonated with the hearts of people in times of post-war reconstruction.

For the lady, this publicity was a complicated way of doing things, but she had apparently accepted it, as this was better than not letting the artworks be seen. After all, she said, there was a limit to what the ones left behind could do for the departed.

Dietfried had thought that his exchanges with the lady would end there, but surprisingly enough, it continued after that. Whenever they saw each other at meetings for the art exhibitions, the lady would ask him questions, insistently attempting to educate herself on the art field, and he would set aside some time to answer them – that was the level of their relationship, but this was rare for someone like him, who did not want to have bonds with anyone. Perhaps Dietfried had wanted to do something of the sort with his own mother.

Year by year, that fierce man who used to be so strict to other people was growing softer around the edges. As for who was influencing him, it was mostly the nameless girl.

“You got no plans for tomorrow, yeah?”

On a certain day, Dietfried asked the girl about her holiday schedule.

“From the moment you ask me that, Captain, they are dust before the wind even if I did have any.”

“Learned how to talk back, huh.”

She actually had always been prioritizing him over everything, so her answer was correct.

Once their day off arrived, Dietfried and the girl went to visit a certain plot of land in Leiden.

Looking at the mansion that sat at the end of a path lined by lushly green, Dietfried gave a satisfied-looking smile. “Nice house, ain’t it?”

Their final search for a home, which the not-very-homely man had started after the war, ended shortly after they went to take the paintings. During his frequent visits to the gallery in order to assist the exhibition, an art dealer whom he was acquainted with introduced him to a wealthy man they knew who happened to own a leftover villa, although it needed a thorough renovation.

It was a perfect fit for the conditions that Dietfried had set. Indeed, it was old, but one could still live in it once it were renewed. It also had a good outer appearance, as expected of a rich man’s villa. The location was excellent as well. It was not too far from the capital, its surroundings overgrown with greenery. It seemed to be the kind of home that he would long for whenever returning from a battlefield.

In the garden, where it was possible to make a kitchen garden and flowerbeds without any problems, there were wooden swings with no one to ride on them. There must have been children in the house.

Dietfried commanded the girl to sit. Assuming it was for checking the strength of the swing, she obediently sat down, but for some reason, so did Dietfried. The scenery he could see once seated was terribly calm and much too peaceful for two military officers who used to be in a cycle of either killing or being killed. However, this was also something necessary.

“A mansion, huh.” Dietfried spoke intermittently without looking at the girl, only staring at the landscape, “It’s made so that you, me and quite a few other people can live in it, though I have no intention of inviting anyone else aside from Gil. Choose whatever room you want later. If you have any decoration or furniture that suits your taste, tell me beforehand. Or I’ll pick them myself.”

“I do not.”

“Right. That’s what I thought, so I already arranged them.”

Silence.

“Maybe I should’ve at least asked what your favorite color is. Well, if you end up not liking them, then replace them however you prefer with your own salary.”

“Captain, are we going to be coming home to this place from now on?”

“Yeah. It’s our final residence.”

When he said this, the girl blinked, looking surprised. “‘Our’?”

Dietfried responded in an evasive manner, “I’ll make you into a respectable person one day.”

Each time Dietfried spilled a sentence out, a change became visible in the girl.

“After all, no matter how you look at it, I’ll die before you.”

Now the girl’s breath caught.

“I’d been thinking about what to leave for you.”

Now the girl’s eyes were pleading. “Don’t say that,” they said.

“Keep living in it after I die.”

And now, the girl had grabbed onto Dietfried’s sleeve and was squeezing it. “I do not want to.”

The girl most likely would have been able to enjoy visiting the mansion, if only he had not brought this up. He could never tell what this girl was thinking, but she did express her emotions in some ways.

Right now, she was shaking her head in negation, just as a little child would do. “Captain, I will not let you die,” she said as if spitting out painfully.

No one could tell when it would come. Having the not-so-far future predicted to her, even though it was still a few ways ahead, the girl in front of him fell into desperation. Although she had never said that she was “scared” in any of her missions, she was shaking with unease today – the day on which she was granted her last home by her Lord.

The property was worth quite a sum. It was a reward bestowed upon her after an era of conflict had passed.

She should be happy about it, but was not.

Goods and money. They were in far too low a position in her book. After all, they could not alleviate her loneliness. She could not use them as proof of her existence. They would not give her orders.

Therefore, she preferred him over them. She was that kind of wild beast.

In the end, she was incomplete in some aspects as a human being, and if one had to say it, she was more like a machine. And also a monster who did not know love.

“I shall eliminate all of your enemies.”

She did not understand that what Dietfried was attempting to give her now was love.

The beast’s Lord laughed. “We’re talking about lifespan here.”

His hand reached out. He patted the girl’s head in a natural manner. It was the same as soothing a frightened animal. In the past, it would not have even occurred to him. The thought of caressing this monstrosity.

“I shall fight your lifespan as well.”

“It really feels like you could pull it off when you say that and it’s terrifying.”

“I can.”

“Don’t say stupidities. Think about life expectancy. There are things that can’t be helped even if you put effort into them.” While making a fool out of her, Dietfried crinkled his eyes, looking vaguely happy. “But, well, when I think that you’re gonna take care of me, it seems pretty fun, so it’s something I’m looking forward to.”

“It will not be fun.” The girl’s voice had a ting of quiver in it.

He was making her sad. Despite knowing this, Dietfried continued speaking, “I’m delighted.”

The girl crumbled down at the words he proffered.

“‘Cause you were always getting the better of me.”

The number of people and instances that could disrupt her was limited.

“I wanna make you cry in my last moments and then die.”

In short, being able to do that was in itself a proof of being important to her.

Dietfried was a helplessly complicated and warped man, but his feelings ran deep.

The hand that had been patting her head was now moving toward the eyes that had begun to overflow with tears. He scooped the teardrops with his fingers, but did not make it in time. The production of the droplets was faster than him.

“If you don’t want me to get the better of you, then show me a smile at least when you look after me.”

He spent a moment wiping the girl’s tears away, but seeing that they were still not stopping, Dietfried deliberately took out his notebook from his suitcase. In order to show the old notebook to the girl, he opened it on top of both their knees.

“What would this be?”

“Options for your name.”

“My?”

“You forgot ‘cause you’re an idiot, huh? You don’t have a name.”

“I have ‘Undine’…”

“That’s nothing but an alias to praise you for your military deeds.”

Dietfried flipped the pages. There were lists of well-thought-out names written on many, many of them.

Seeing this made the girl’s tears stop completely. With a rare aspect of excitement to her, she ultimately began flipping the pages herself.

The last page had a single name with a large circle around it. That was the name of a flower.

“Captain.” The girl looked up at Dietfried.

When she did so, Dietfried pointed towards the garden, which at present time had morphed into untended flowerbeds. “Looks like that one’s it. Your flower.”

“My flower…”

“I’ll also plant bougainvilleas. ‘Cause it’s my flower. In the end, after much indecision, I picked this one. When I visited this house, I could picture you standing among those flowers. So I thought I could just go with that already. Sounds good even if you add our surname to it. Not bad, right?” Dietfried’s handsome face came close to the girl’s. And so, he whispered from a close distance, as if to poke fun at her, “Linaria Bougainvillea.”

The name pronounced with such a pretty ring to it rapidly melted away into the girl.

Linaria. A beautiful flower. Combined with the flower of the ancient and honorable Bougainvillea household, the name was like a bouquet.

A bond that would have been unthinkable before had certainly been born between the two. Her name seemed to embody that.

“‘Linaria’…”

“Horrible pronunciation; say it again.”

“‘Linaria’ – Linaria Bougainvillea is my name.”

Tears wound up heavily overflowing from the girl’s eyes again. Seeing this, Dietfried laughed, looking delighted once again.

“I do not know what to give you in return for granting me a home and a name.”

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m notifying you of lifetime employment without checking if you’re willing.”

“Yessir.”

“You won’t be allowed to quit on your own.”

“Yessir.”

“This is a warning for you to never that I’m your Lord. Got it? It ain’t out of kindness.”

“I am happy about that warning.”

“That’s how you are. A hassle of a woman.”

“I take after my Lord.”

“You really learned how to talk back, huh.”

“Lord Dietfried, you made me like this. I am a wild beast. I change according to how my Lord acts.”

“You mean I have a strong influence?”

“A tremendous influence. Therefore, please live a long life and continue being my Lord,” the beast cried.

“I’ll make an effort.”

Watching the girl stroke the name written on the notebook, Dietfried found himself thinking. For how many years would he be able to look at her, he wondered. He had to make an effort to find people whom he could entrust her to after he died. Her shackles would elapse unless he provided her with a friend or two. Perhaps he should make her quit the military, but what else could she do? All sorts of thoughts crossed his mind and then disappeared.

――Not yet.

He was unable to sort out his thoughts. For now, he wanted to stay like this, comforting the weeping beast. To savor the moments when he was needed.

Dietfried Bougainvillea’s way of expressing love was awfully inept.

“Linaria, even if you die lonely by any chance, with this, we’ll be together in the grave.”

This is the story of a love that perhaps could have happened.

Violet Evergarden: Booklet 10

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And so, they would love the passage of their time for all eternity.

Gilbert Bougainvillea and the Transient Dream

The boy woke up alone in a room filled with the sound of rain.

It was raining gently outside. The boy with hair the color of dusk and emerald-green eyes looked out the window, seeming a little happy.

Today was a rainy day. Meaning there would be no sword training or running laps outside. They would probably have class inside the house. The boy was curious about the continuation of a children’s book that he had not been able to read due to the training.

——Yay.

He was forbidden from reading books before going to sleep and they would be confiscated if his grades at homeschooling went down. Of course, he was also not allowed to have continuous defeats at sword training either.

Raised in a harsh household, the boy had whip marks on his hands. He had been hit the previous day and they were throbbing the whole time until now. His older brother had run away from the training and the boy was hit due to not looking for him. Upon hearing about this, his brother had flared up at their father for hitting him, yet he was punched and that was the end of it.

At this very moment, in another room, his brother was surely also pleased to welcome this morning.

“Gilbert.”

There was a knock on the door, the boy poking his head out of the room still in his sleepwear.

“Hehe, we got a day off.” With a swollen cheek and a bruise on his eye, his brother smiled brightly at him. When the boy asked if his wound was all right, he replied with an “it’s nothing”. When he held Gilbert’s hands, he rubbed them as if to warm them up. “I’m sorry for running away.”

“Hm-hm.” Gilbert shook his head.

“But I think I’ll do it again.”

“Why, Brother?” Gilbert asked.

“‘Cause it pisses me off. Not just Old Man but everything else.”

Gilbert lowered his shoulders. He could somewhat understand what his brother was saying. His brother despised the fate and obligations imposed on them.

“You too, don’t be their slave. Hey, can I sleep in your room? They took my mattress away as punishment. It’s so cold that I can’t handle it, and also, about the novel you were reading, can I read it first?”

“Yep, sure, Brother,” Gilbert answered.

——One day, when I grow up, I wanna try doing things I like, Gilbert thought.

The man woke up in a room filled with the sound of rain.

It was a listless awakening. The humidity was probably high. When he attempted to sit up, he took notice of a weight on his body.

There was a beautiful woman in his arms.

With golden hair, golden eyelashes and porcelain skin, said woman was fast asleep. She had long and fine-looking limbs, as well as a slender body. She was almost a doll.

At first, Gilbert was startled at the fact someone was sleeping with him.

——Violet.

And then, he was startled at the fact that this was his beloved.

He observed her attentively. She slept so quietly that he became worried as to whether she was breathing or not. He was able to confirm the sound of her breathing by bringing his ear close to her, stroking his chest in relief. Violet was almost like a manufactured doll when sleeping.

——Her skin is so pretty.

She was too young for someone like him, who had recently found a white hair on his head. The lovers were far apart in age, but be that as it may, Violet still looked child-like.

——She already had a mature face even when she was a child.

When people like her grew up, some of them would end up looking childish instead. Perhaps he should say that her age had caught up to her facial features, and then surpassed them.

Wanting to give her some sort of display of affection, Gilbert took a strand of her golden hair and planted a kiss on it, doing his best not to wake her. A shy smile naturally formed on his lips.

“Major,” Violet called, her eyes still shut. This title was no longer fitting of him, but it was the first word she spoke, as well as Gilbert’s former rank. Therefore, Gilbert allowed her to call him such without correcting her.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was already slightly awake…” She rubbed her eyes like a cat and then opened them to look at him.

Each one of her actions were fascinating to him.

“Major, you are here,” perhaps due to having just awoken, Violet uttered a strange sentence.

“I am, of course.”

“That surprised me.”

“I get you. So was I… It’s still just our first day living together. It’s natural for both of us to be surprised.” Giggling lightly, Gilbert gently pulled Violet, who was already in his arms, into an embrace. Their noses connected and they coiled around each other like animals would do.

“To me, Major, you are at times so passionate that I feel as if I will stop functioning.”

“Why are you talking in pauses, Violet?”

“Most likely, it is out of embarrassment.”

“I see, so you’re nervous. Let me see that.”

“No, I cannot.”

“Let me.”

“I cannot.”

As Violet twisted her body and attempted to hide her face with her pale hands, Gilbert laughed, coiling himself around her again. As if to object, with her face slightly flushed red, Violet grabbed a pillow and placed it between his face and her own.

“What’s this?”

“It is a barrier.”

“I can’t give you a good morning kiss like this.”

“It is a barrier.”

“Violet, have you come to hate me?”

“That is not the case.”

“Then what’s this barrier for?”

“My face looks strange right now.” Violet’s face peeked out of the pillow barrier just a little. “It would be a problem if I show it to you and you find it weird, and end up disliking me for it.”

Gilbert threw the pillow away and stole Violet’s lips, no more questions asked. While it rained, it took some time for the lovers to get out of bed, and as this battle went on, it was close to noon before they realized.

At noon, Gilbert fixed them a meal and the two ate together. As the rain did not cease by any means and since both of them had earned a vacation for now, they spent their time sitting on the couch and reading books.

They spent their time doing things they liked.

From a carriage, the boy was observing the view out the window.

He had never attempted to act freely for a single day. For Gilbert, who had the blood of the Bougainvillea – a family renowned for producing a great number of excellent army soldiers –, everything was already decided. The kind of shoes he wore, the fabric of his jacket, what time he had to wake up in the morning, what sort of martial arts he was going to learn, whom he should not be friends with – all of it was predetermined. The fact that he was going to attend a military academy in spring had also been predetermined since his birth.

He had arranged a carriage to go see his room at the dormitory, yet his only accompanier was a butler, as his parents had not come along. To begin with, his father had to work and his mother was taking care of his newly born younger sister.

His brother had already fled from home and his whereabouts were unknown. He had sent a letter to Gilbert alone, informing that he had enrolled into the navy’s military academy, but had been out of contact ever since. He had said that he would come back to celebrate Gilbert’s enrollment, but there was no telling if this was true.

The scenery moved steadily outside the vehicle’s window. He saw a few young men about as old as himself walking cheerfully in a group. Those were average people. Instead of going to the military academy, they were bound to take over a merchant household or land themselves some kind of ordinary job. They were merely on a stroll, yet seemed to be having so much fun.

Gilbert, who was doing nothing but ride on a carriage, found no enjoyment in anything.

When the cab asked Gilbert if he wanted to stop by anywhere, nothing came to his mind. He was especially good at geography, thus he was well-acquainted with location names. But he was unable to say any of them aloud.

He knew that he could not run away.

If, for instance, he were to complain here about the conflicts and suffering unfolding in his heart, he would be labeled a weakling and cut off from his family, and his responsibilities as family head would be pushed onto the future bridegrooms of his younger sisters, who were still small. In that case, if his sisters ever fell in love with someone, they would not be able to act upon their feelings, and instead would have to marry someone that they did not love.

The best option was for Gilbert to put up with it. This was the best way for the world to spin. After all, Gilbert did not value himself much, either. He believed that if someone was supposed to die away, it should be himself.

He spotted an elderly couple taking a walk amongst the trees, and feeling jealous of them for whatever reason, he shed tears.

From a carriage, the man was observing the view out the window.

Today was a free day. The greenery outside was beautiful. When he looked to his side, he found someone even more beautiful right next to him. That was his lover.

As the carriage stopped by an extensive forest, the two walked out holding a bulky picnic basket.

They were not able to come here the other day due to rain, but choosing to come today might have been for the best. They had heard from a neighbor that there would be balloons on sight today.

“I have flown on fighter aircraft before, but not on a balloon. Major, what about you?”

Violet and Gilbert had laid a large blanket over the grass, the two of them lying on it and looking up at the sky. They had already finished the homemade sandwiches and tea that were once in the picnic basket. Both were light eaters, but had the feeling that they were able to eat much more than usual. Was it because they were spending a carefree time with each other outdoors?

“Never. I like how fast fighters are, but they’re not fit for appreciating the scenery. That person over there seems to be having fun. How about we ride on one together someday?”

A small red balloon was visible in the far-off sky.

“I worry about the lack of security.”

“Indeed. They haven’t thought about making it bulletproof.”

With a natural disposition for the military, the couple started having a bizarre conversation. They were having a slightly hard time believing that people could ride on such things. As he shared his opinion that they would die immediately if they were shot while on it, Violet replied with an “I was thinking the same thing”.

“It doesn’t seem like we could enjoy it if we’re going to be concerned about snipers. Should we go for horseback riding, then?”

“It is easy to flee on a horse. We can also eat them as a last resort. Sound decision.”

Silence.

“When we had to eat one of our military horses, Major, you seemed sad. My apologies. That was rude of me to say.”

“No, that’s the kind of times it was back then. We had no choice.”

“Yes, that kind of times.”

Because it was that kind of times, many things had been forgiven. Their relationship, for example.

“Violet.” Gilbert attempted to ask for forgiveness, but stopped halfway. “Well… aren’t you cold?”

After all, this was already a time from after he had been forgiven.

The young man was watching as water drops trickled down the petals of a rose.

He had been doing this for about a few minutes. The vase on top of the table was not going to say anything to him.

His companion, a fiancée chosen for him by his parents – and on top of that, who had been passed down to him from his older brother due to inheritance matters –, looked bored. It was clear that they were not seeing each other because they wanted to. Rather than using his precious day off from the military academy to meet her at a café, spending time with his first-ever best friend, whom he had met in the military academy, in the latter’s room at the dormitory would be several times more fun.

——I wonder what Hodgins is doing.

He did not quite like the card games and nighttime hangouts that Hodgins had told him about, but Gilbert enjoyed being in his presence and having meals with him. His relationship with Hodgins was sometimes ostracized by the instructors, but he had no intention to cut ties.

——Well, he has friends other than me, so he’ll be fine even if I’m not there.

“Something interesting” had popped up in Gilbert’s life at long last. That was Claudia Hodgins.

With no thoughts in his head except for his friend, there was no way that Gilbert could hold an enjoyable conversation with a teenage girl.

“Hum, I’ll be taking my leave.”

These words came from his fiancée after a while, and that was when his consciousness returned to reality. “I’m sorry; I was a bit lost in thought… even though I’m with you.”

“No, I was glad to be able to see you. The tea here is delicious, too.”

“True. The food was also good.”

When he escorted her outside, a servant of her household was waiting for her from a short distance.

“Mr. Gilbert, do you think you can convince them?”

“If I get a bit more time. I’m a student, so I have no say on the matter.”

“I see. Me too.”

“It’s our parents’ decision. It will probably take some time, but let’s make some effort to convince them into revoking it.”

“Yes… Hum, I’m really glad… that you became my fiancé instead, Mr. Gilbert.”

Gilbert laughed a little despite not being very happy. Because he could tell that he was nothing more to her than a board piece that she could move as desired.

“As for me, I think my brother… always did everything better than myself.”

His fiancée titled her head and laughed, looking troubled.

The man was watching as water drops trickled down the petals of a rose.

A fresh and fragrant scent wafted from the bouquet he had just bought. He was oddly embarrassed of himself as he waited at a square not too far from their residence, his gaze cast down the whole time.

This was his first time buying a bouquet of red roses in his whole life.

Nothing was more awkward than the moment he made the purchase. He had given his sisters and mother flower bouquets before, but he had never chosen red roses.

——I guess that’s because…

He felt that he was supposed to give away said flowers when he found himself a significant other. He was so concerned about what she would think when receiving them out of nowhere that he could barely handle it.

——Would purple flowers have been better?

His lover would probably not refuse them, but there was a high chance that she would make a puzzled face at them. She was that kind of person.

——But I wanted to give her these. Can’t help it.

If the desire to give her flowers and please her was 30% of him, then the desire to try giving his beloved these special flowers was 70%. Even now, strong as the wish to give them to her was, he was equal parts worried about what to do if receiving them ended up troubling her.

Regardless, he had already bought them. He had asked the shopkeeper of the flower shop for a “bouquet of roses”, meticulously chose even the color of the ribbon, and then purchased them. There was no going back.

“Major.”

Violet came to the meeting spot at the square. The two had left home together, but parted halfway as both had separate things that they wanted to put in order, and then headed off to meet each other.

“A bouquet… Will you be going somewhere after this? I can take your belongings with me.”

Apparently, his endearing lover thought the bouquet was meant for a gravestone visit. Gilbert blanked out for a second, then found himself laughing. “No, that’s not it… I bought these…” While taking Violet’s things, Gilbert handed her the bouquet. “…so that I could give them to the person I love.”

On the other side of the rose bouquet, he could see Violet’s cheeks dyeing red and her eyes shining.

“Major, your eyes are here.”

He stared at the soldier girl who had said this. She was pointing at something.

In front of her white finger, which was stretched straight forward, was an emerald brooch. It was similar to the gemstones that Gilbert Bougainvillea, who now belonged to Leidenschaftlich’s army, had possessed since birth.

The soldier girl cast him a gaze that seemed to pierce through his beautiful eyes, which were suffused with his sorrow. “I wonder what this is called.”

Ever since she was an orphan who had barely learned how to speak, she sometimes had this kind of facet. Whenever she could not find an appropriate term, she would talk as if she were having trouble.

At first, he thought she was asking about “emerald”, the type of gemstone, but he was wrong.

“When I looked at this… I wondered what would be a suitable way to describe it…”

In that moment, Gilbert’s breath caught in realization.

“‘Beautiful’…”

Gilbert had been the one who educated her on how to talk. He taught her many words. So that she would be able to follow her orders.

This soldier girl had a beautiful appearance, but in fact, she was a beast.

——I never taught her.

The kind of beast who, for some reason, could only understand the word “kill”.

——I never taught her.

Therefore, their exchanges naturally were limited ones.

“Kill.”

“Yes.”

“Kill.”

“Yes.”

“Kill.”

“Yes.”

“Kill.”

“Yes.”

“Kill.”

“Yes.”

Of course, he had also taught her about lifestyle habits, so that she would be able to live on after he died. It could be said that Gilbert had done his utmost for her. But now his negligence was being thrust at him.

——I never taught her.

He could give her orders to murder, yet he had never taught her a word as simple as “beautiful”.

——I never taught her.

Even though she was a girl so fitting of it.

——I never told her.

Even though there had been so, so many moments where he thought she was beautiful.

——I never told her.

If only she did not have to live this kind of life with him in the battlefield, she would have been complimented with this word as many times as could be.

——She doesn’t know.

She had just found out about it.

——She doesn’t know, and yet…

On top of that, she called the gemstone that resembled Gilbert Bougainvillea’s eyes “beautiful”.

——I’m taking you to war, you know?

Why had she said that? She was not one for flattery. Praises never came out of her mouth. That was not her character. She only ever spoke the truth. She could not lie. She lived almost like a machine.

Which was why the fact that this was true and she was saying it from the bottom of her heart was too painful.

——It hurts.

To think that she would learn the word that she was supposed to be complimented with by looking at the eyes of her Lord, the one who issued her orders to assassinate people.

He bought the brooch and gave it to her, then passed through the nightly crowds as if to cut something off. He wanted to go to a quiet place. He was so ashamed of himself that he could not stand it.

Educating and guiding a child during wartimes was something demanding. Besides, this was not a normal child. It was her. The girl bestowed with the name of a flower, the war maiden, Violet. Gilbert could be considered a great mentor from a third party’s point of view, but he himself was stabbed too painfully in the chest by what had just happened.

“Major, what should I do with this now that I have it?” She showed him the brooch that she was holding.

“Clasp it wherever you’d like.”

“I will end up losing it.

“That would be the case when you are in battle. You just have to wear it only in times of peace… It might actually have been better to choose one of the same blue color as your eyes, though…”

The soldier girl Violet shook her head at these words. “No, this one was the most ‘beautiful’.”

His breathing halted at her clear assertion.

“I have thought since long ago that they are ‘beautiful’… I did not know the word, so I had never said it.”

It came to a halt from the pain and agony.

“Your eyes have been ‘beautiful’ ever since we first met.”

It felt like the affection cease his breathing and kill him.

“Major, your eye is here.”

He stared at his lover as she said this.

They had gone to a jewelry store to buy rings. A wonderful pair of rings, fitting of a happy couple.

——Yes, that’s what we’re supposed to be doing.

Somehow, it did not feel very real. The jewelry store was bustling with other lovers whom had sworn their futures to each other and the shopkeeper was waiting for their decision with a gentle smile. This place most certainly existed and he himself was in this space as well, yet it did not feel real.

“Aah, hum—” Halfway through the sentence, he was unable to muster out the words.

She was right there. Despite her happy-looking smile, there was a voice saying, “This is wrong” in his head. He forced himself to crack a smile, yet his heart was making disturbing sounds.

——Something’s strange.

Yes, something was off. He did not know what. But there was a need to look carefully.

——What is it that’s out of place?

Golden hair, blue eyes, cherry-colored lips. White skin and long limbs.

——No.

Long limbs.

——No.

She had hands.

——She’s not supposed to.

His lover in front of him boasted a beauty that lacked nothing. She had no physical defects and was so beautiful that she seemed to shine.

——Aah, I get it.

Upon a closer look, the source of his discomfort was something simple.

“Violet, what happened to your arms?”

——You’re supposed to have lost them in the war.

The instant he said this, the smile that Violet had until just now disappeared abruptly. She deadpanned as if she were devoid of emotions. “Why did you have to say that?”

“No, I mean, this is weird.”

“It is not. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Gilbert was confused. He started sweating and his throat went dry all of a sudden. A drop of sweat trickled down into his eye.

He rubbed his eye and opened it again while evening his breathing, but in the next moment, the jewelry store had vanished.

“Violet?”

It was gone.

“Violet.”

It was gone. It all had turned into a completely white space.

“Violet, Violet.”

She had disappeared as well.

“Where are you, Violet?”

His loved one was gone.

“Violet!”

The person who mattered the most to him was gone.

“Violet!”

She was dearer to him than anyone else and he wanted to protect her, and for that, he could sacrifice anything.

The woman he loved most was gone. He had lost everything.

He did not understand how this had happened. Rather, where did the truth end and where did the falsehood begin, in the first place?

——Have I ever spent those happy days with her?

Gilbert started thinking. He started thinking in this pure-white space that had nothing, just like himself. About what had been real.

——We never had those happy days.

She was unfortunate from the moment they had first met and most likely had never been allowed to have a happy personal experience. It was only once that he had taken her to the city and let her make memories like the teenage girl she was. Only when he bought her the emerald brooch.

——Then what were those days?

What were those happy days that he could remember as if they had actually happened? That were kindly created almost as if to be an inverse proportion to his past?

The answer was simple.

That had been just a wish, or perhaps a dream. Something transient that would soon disappear.

It was not the “truth”.

There was no way that Gilbert Bougainvillea would have had such days. No way that he could be forgiven.

He had disappeared after the war ended. After all, he had concluded that it was best for her if he were not around. He felt that their relationship was too co-dependent and not good for her.

——That was exactly it.

The two who were far apart in age looked like parent and daughter, but the one who had a grip over the other’s life was actually Violet, and yet, Gilbert was the one she was depending on, so everything was a mess.

They were not like siblings, either. No older brother would make his younger sister kill people.

They were a superior and his subordinate. That one felt just right, but something about them went beyond that line.

——Our relationship is… Our relationship is… Our relationship is…

It was as if two people who were all alone had met by fate in a corner of the world. One’s loneliness had resonated the other’s.

Gilbert found himself bordering affection for the beautiful beast who always followed him from behind. After all, she was the only one who looked at him. In a life where no one else had ever done so, she was the first person to look at him. And just as she begged for it, Gilbert would return her gaze as well.

Violet adored her Lord, who always accepted her existence and gently guided her. This was something close to religious faith, and she would not mind dying over and over as long as he could live. His orders were proof of her reason to exist, but above that and above all else, being embraced by him when they first met had made her happy.

Having her existence be accepted made her happy. Being used by someone who treated her so kindly made her happy. She wanted to be his beast, she thought. If she could not be beside him, she did not even want to breathe.

Gilbert was… Violet was…

…in love.

Gilbert shed a tear in the pure-white world.

He had no idea why he was crying. Was he ashamed? Sad? Frustrated? Suffering? Pained? Did he want to die? Did he want to live? Did he want to be forgiven? Did he want to forgive? Did he want to complain? Did he want to apologize?

——No, I…

He wanted to be forgiven.

As the answer came close to the truth, his field of vision began to blur. He could tell that, yes, this world was going to end.

His vision swayed from the overflowing tears. His consciousness also began to fade just like that.

Dawn was soon to break.

The real Gilbert Bougainvillea was about to wake up. He surely would not remember this dream after opening his eyes.

This shameless dream. The wish for it have been real. The lack of repentance for what he did.

He was going to hide all of this and continue living. Without being loved by anyone. Without loving anyone.

——And then die in loneliness.

The man woke up in a room filled with the sound of rain.

It was a listless awakening. The humidity was probably high. When he attempted to sit up, he took notice that his body hurt. He could not pinpoint the cause of it, so could it be that he was losing to the advancement of his age?

The room was empty and there was no one else around. He had a huge bed all for himself.

With a somewhat dumbfounded aspect, he started preparing for morning regardless.

For some reason, tears kept on flowing from his eye, but he did not pay much mind to them. His own feelings did not pique his interest that much.

He changed from his sleepwear into a shirt and pants, then exited his bedroom and headed to the kitchen. He warmed up water and made tea.

There were fruits on the table but no bread. Come to think of it, he had the feeling that he was out of bread. He had to buy some.

Human beings sure were time-consuming creatures, Gilbert thought. They needed money to live, and even after passing away, they needed money for building a grave. Their bodies yearned for nourishment even if they did not want to eat, and when they did want to, they had to march to a grocer’s with currency in hand. If some part of their bodies felt weary, they had to go to the hospital. If their clothes tore, they had to sew it back. However, there would most certainly be days in which they would not be able to carry out these many everyday life tasks, no matter what. For example, in the morning after they had a terrible dream.

——So I haven’t forgotten.

It had been a dream, but a vivid one at that. It truly felt like reality. Frankly, he felt like he could lose sight of whether the reality was this side or that one.

He was probably still half-awake. His consciousness should clear up eventually. He should accept reality and live the exemplary life that someone else wished for him, as usual. He was made that way. Surely, he should be able to do it. After all, he had always been doing so. In order not to fail, in order to take the shape people wanted him to, he had put a choker on himself and submitted to his fate.

Even if he were unable to, he had to do it. Until the time of his death.

“…jor.”

In that moment, he heard someone’s voice. Gilbert nearly dropped the teacup he was holding.

“Major, are you awake?”

It was a voice that he was used to hearing. The voice tone that rang in his ears like the singing of a skylark called him by a title that was no longer fitting of him.

Gilbert walked unsteadily to the direction of the voice.

The front door’s knob was making rattling sounds. Someone was attempting to open it, but perhaps was not succeeding, as it was not rotating fully.

Gilbert opened the door with much vigor.

“Aah, Major… I’m glad. Your face does not look too pale.”

And there she was.

“I went to do shopping for breakfast. President Hodgins and the others are still at the market.”

Gilbert’s “greatest love” was there.

“They took a day off for the first time in a while to come visit us, and yet, our food supplies ran out because it was so sudden. But please rest easy. With this, the problem is solved.”

Golden hair, blue eyes, cherry-colored lips.

“Major, I hid the liquor that President Hodgins persistently forced you to drink yesterday. Benedict also said he felt sick when waking up, so please limit yourself to at least fruit wine tonight. I am worried about your condition…”

The silver prosthetic arms hidden under her dress squeaked as she put the bags on the floor.

“Major?”

Gilbert opened his mouth and took the air into his body. And this time, in order to awaken for good from the nightmare, he called the name of his significant other.

“Violet.”

Just calling this name was enough to dye the world in slightly gentler colors.

“Yes?”

As she tilted her head, Gilbert embraced her by the front door. He did not take any form of permission for it. Until now, he had been requesting consent for kissing and holding her, but this time, he did not ask for anything. He wanted her to forgive him for that. Violet did not refuse it either, which had him taken aback.

“Major, what—is the—matter…?”

“I had a bad time waking up…”

“Yes, Benedict said the same thing…”

“I woke up feeling like my dream and reality were mixed up… It was as if a reality blended with lies had merged with the truth… and boiled down into something ugly…”

“What a terrible dream.”

As his lover, who was always so aloof, replied to him so plainly, he felt like he could laugh away a little at what had happened to him.

“Yeah, it was. That’s why I wanted to put myself at ease by hugging you…”

Upon hearing this, Violet timidly wrapped her arms around Gilbert’s back to embrace him as well.

“Thanks.”

“No, I also dream sometimes, so I understand.”

“You too?”

“Yes. I do not dream too often, but… there are times when I have one particular dream. A dream where I do nothing but look for you.”

“As your childhood self?”

“Both, I believe. But no matter what form I take, in the end, I never find you. And so, I find myself thinking about something. That if things were going to come to this, it would have been better if we had died together that time.”

Silence.

“But when I wake up, Major, you are right there. Sleeping next to me. ‘Aah, that’s right. We’re living together now. I don’t need to look for anything,’ I think, relieved…”

While Violet went on as if whispering, Gilbert looked at her face.

“And so, I nestle close to you again and go back to sleep. It is all right now.”

“Yeah.”

At the end of the day, the two of them were alike, Gilbert thought.

“Be it morning or night, be it when I am losing consciousness or awakening, I can confirm it. That you are there.”

“Yeah, that’s really how it is, Violet… We’re all right now.”

When they nuzzled up to one another, the pieces that were missing from each of them formed a perfect circle. It granted them the strength to live in this unexceptional and cruel world.

After all, the two of them had to continue living from this point on too.

“What should we make for breakfast…?”

As Gilbert asked with a gentle smile, the corners of Violet’s lips raised as well. “They have come all the way here. I want to provide some hospitality.”

“Yeah, but really, I hope they’ll limit the unannounced visits to just this time.”

“I was pleasantly surprised.”

“It gives me less alone time with you. And we have our own plans.”

“President Hodgins is fond of you, Major.”

“Well, we’re best friends.”

“And it seems Benedict was worried about how our daily lives are going.”

“The only one he’s worried about is you, right? He gave me several warnings even at our wedding.”

“President Hodgins proposed that we do something fun today.”

“I have fun even when it’s just the two of us, though.”

“Major, perhaps it is about time to loosen this embrace… and, hum, start preparing breakfast?”

“I want to keep hugging you, just for a bit more.”

Gilbert was able to believe that he feared nothing now. Neither living nor dying.

——Now that I’ve got you, my “greatest love”, I’m not afraid of anything anymore.

Violet Evergarden: Booklet 8

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Back when we first met, she was a doll that didn’t talk.

It made me want to kick her and ask if she was alive. The way she was at that time, she probably wouldn’t have reacted even if she did get kicked.

The world after the war was vividly colored. And yet, it was as if she were living by herself in a grey realm. As if she were trapped in a room where taste and scent didn’t exist. She acted like she were intently enduring unstoppable pain.

——Being with her is boring.

But I couldn’t get my eyes off her.

——Why’s she doing this?

She should’ve used her head. If she thought about it just a little bit, she could’ve figured things out.

——Such a pain in the ass.

She shouldn’t live life wearing her heart on her sleeve. She should be fake, put up a front.

——Protect yourself a little.

All Violet could say about life was that it was hard.

She could do more than twice as many things as an ordinary person could. Yet she was insufferably incapable of doing anything that she was bad at. She also wasn’t good at getting by, couldn’t tell lies and never ran away when she was supposed to.

Most likely, she’d never fought back. As to whom, it was probably against destiny. And probably against the guy called God. She just tamely obeyed them.

It different from person to person, but sure enough, there were people who shouldered mostly hurtful fates. Even when they thought it was over, they’d get involved in painful conflicts again. There was no salvation for people born under that kind of star. Even if they themselves didn’t wish for it, that was what would happen to them. The circumstances would bring it to them. Bring misfortune.

God must’ve been beating her up over and over.

Maybe Violet didn’t like that at first. It might’ve made her cry. But, well, once you got used to it, even violence could become a part of everyday life.

——Isn’t that right, Violet?

God definitely hated you.

Benedict Blue’s Violet

——There’s a doll making noises in this dark room.

The thing in the shape of a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl was earnestly playing a melody. The way her mechanical arms operated the machine made her look almost like a piano accompanist. The ticking typewriter sounds flowed endlessly, practically like music. Slow at first, gradually growing faster. Strong, strong, strong, gentle.

The conversation between machines finished quietly in the room. There was no praise or applause.

The way she simply typed the letters down as if offering a prayer made her look like a pilgrim. Of course, the doll was neither a musician nor a pilgrim. She was a lonely artist.

The doll’s occupation was of Auto-Memories Doll. A profession that had existed since before the war, but the nice old-fashioned job had become active exactly because the war was over. Those who didn’t know the gist of it very well would say that it was a temporary job for women before getting married to rich men. But that actually wasn’t the case.

Since this profession combined physical and brain labor, there were some people who stood out for making a name for themselves in the industry. If anything, the most demanded girls traveled around a lot. The fact that she had been left behind while the others had gone out and was writing down documents spoke volumes about her lack of popularity.

I knew why she was alone in this room right now.

She had gone on a ghostwriting business trip, but was rejected and came back. Apparently, the client had told her that he didn’t want a woman with prosthetic arms, who had marks of the war engraved into her body, ghostwriting for him.

The commissioner of the letter had lost his wife in the war. For the sake of the infant children that had been left to him, he had been searching for a new wife and finally managed to remarry. And so, he was looking for someone to write the wedding invitations. He probably wanted everyone to celebrate it. Like, “Congratulations; hope you’ll be happy together”. People from all over the world.

Of course he’d be disheartened if a girl like that turned up and showed her prosthetics during such a time. It must’ve felt like she was throwing cold water on his happiness. Something might have happened that reminded him of his late wife.

——Like I care, stupid. That ain’t something you can take out on her.

Cattleya went in her stead and got angry, saying he was a nasty man.

People who were hated by God had it hard, I thought.

——There’s a doll standing in front of the entrance, gentle wind blowing by her.

Having come back from a delivery, I found her on stand-by with a tight posture. When this woman was silent, she really was just like a doll.

Had she gone to a client’s house and been turned away again? Or had they told her that they wanted a different girl next time?

Auto-Memories Dolls were something else. I liked just sending deliveries better. I refused to bow subserviently to people who acted conceited. If it were me, I’d have long quit.

But Violet came to work every day.

——She’s got more guts than some.

I was lost as to whether or not I should talk to her. I couldn’t tell someone from a different line of work what they should do. “Cheer up; don’t let it get to you” – I didn’t know if this kind of line would have any effect on her. I had the feeling that she had no need for other people in the first place.

Still, in times like these, the guy that had taken us in would talk to her. “Little Violet, there’s always a next time. You can take it slow,” he’d say.

Before I went to talk to her, she spotted me and nodded in greeting.

“Violet.”

The name that sounded so pretty when it rolled out of my mouth was the one of a flower.

“Did you get turned away again? Hodgins won’t be mad at you. Let’s go in.”

Violet’s eyes blinked repeatedly. “No, I was not turned away today.”

A violet was a flower that bloomed with purple petals.

“Therefore, President Hodgins said we should have a meal as a celebration…”

No matter how many times it was stepped on, this flower never stopped living.

“I see; isn’t that great?”

For some reason, I was relieved, as if I had just confirmed that the chick I had been protecting was okay.

“Yes.”

“Make a happier face, would you… no, forget that. Don’t try to do it physically. Stop using your hands to make yourself smile.”

What a weirdo. She made me feel strange.

——There’s a doll walking around town dyed in the colors of sunset.

A Prussian-blue jacket. A snow-white ribbon-tie dress. An emerald brooch on the chest. A pair of cocoa-brown high-laced boots that made clicking sounds resound from the brick-paved road.

I was used to seeing that doll. To be more precise, she was a girl with the appearance of a doll.

Someone was bound to stand out if they were loitering on a bridge and staring at a map while everyone else was going home. She was in the way of traffic and just her get-up was already conspicuous enough.

The reason why I happened to easily spot her in an unfamiliar town at sunset – a time of the day when one’s vision would begin to worsen – wasn’t that I naturally paid conscious attention to her or anything of the sort. I was just in the middle of a delivery to somewhere a bit far on that day. It was two hours away from the capital Leiden going by motorcycle.

“We deliver to wherever our clients desire.”

That was my job. So it was generally similar to the work of that blond-haired, blue-eyed girl in front of my eyes. In her case, it was “we rush to wherever our clients desire”.

We used to meet in the office building often when work had just started, but lately, we didn’t see each other at all. Her number of commissions had likely increased. Things seemed to be going well for her. It looked like she was having some sort of problem, but she’d probably be okay even if I left her there.

——She gonna be fine, right?

Dressed in an outfit that seemed to pop straight out of a fairy tale, the girl continued glaring at the map.

——Hey, you gonna be fine, ain’t you, Violet?

She was a mysterious Auto-Memories Doll – so beautiful it was uncanny, yet with a somewhat wild aspect.

Some time had passed ever since our boss introduced her to us out of nowhere. We were told that she was an ex-soldier, but we didn’t know the details of her circumstances.

Several of the CH Postal Company’s staff members were unique fellows. A former girl soldier was quite a rare thing, but in any case, our president, Claudia Hodgins, was a former high-ranking soldier himself. Many of us were the kind to dash away without leaning on anyone, despite each having their own burden.

Probably because the president was also like that.

Therefore, well, even if she was younger than me, we were both independent people, so my personal opinion was that I should keep enough distance to watch over her growth rather than meddle in her business.

——She’s dicey…

I stayed like that and watched her walk for a while. Violet Evergarden never spoke up about being in trouble when she was in trouble, so the people around her just passed her by. As she avoided the flow of people while staring intently at the map all by herself, her figure was that of a lonely traveler.

——If you don’t know where to go, ask someone.

I wasn’t nice enough to call out to someone I wasn’t close to. But it wasn’t like we were strangers, either.

I suddenly heard a habitual voice, “Haah? So you ignored Little Violet when she was in a pinch? How insensitive can you be? You’re gonna leave a girl on her own even though it’s about to get dark? You’re a disgrace as a gentleman. Why won’t you talk to her? Are you being shy? Self-conscious? Is that it, Benedict?”

A scene that couldn’t be described as anything but “noisy” surfaced in my head. Tediously lectured by the man inside my brain, I started getting the feeling that I indeed should help her out.

Without any other choice, I concentrated my strength on my stomach and called her name as if yelling in anger, “VIOLET!”

She who was loved by the president like a princess reacted by perking up like a rabbit and then looked my way. When I waved at her to come over, she rushed towards me in a sprint. “Benedict, is something the matter?” That was the first thing she said, dealing me an under-shoulder swing-down.

“Don’t ask me if something’s the matter. What’s up with you…?”

“I have finished my ghostwriting business trip here, so I am about to go back to the company. I was informed by the townspeople that it should take about six hours on foot, so I was attempting to confirm the direction.”

“‘Walking’, you say…? How’d you get here?”

“By train up to a nearby area. I took an omnibus from there… however, as the ghostwriting took more time than the expected, I wound up missing the last ride.”

“You could just spend the night at an inn, y’know?”

“This is a distance that I can conquest by marching, so that would be a waste of time and funds.”

When I heard the word “marching”, I almost let out a sigh. As expected, it seemed she still couldn’t get over her soldier spirit.

“I’ll let you ride behind me… so let’s go back together.”

“Is that all right?”

“Obviously, since we’re going in the same direction. But even if you were going a different way, well, I’d still give you a lift.”

“I am heavy; will you be able to handle it…?”

I looked at her slender waist and neck, wondering what she meant by that, but then concluded she was talking about her prosthetics. Once she hopped on the motorcycle, its running speed undeniably slowed down. We had issues going through unpaved roads, as the tires mired in.

“Perhaps I should run behind you?”

About this girl’s stupid side, she always decided to sacrifice herself.

“No, there’s no meaning in that.”

Whenever I was with her, I understood why Hodgins had told me to take care of her.

“We can arrive together.”

“You dumb or what? This thing normally carries baggage much heavier than you, so it’s gonna be fine.”

“An excellent soldier it is.”

“You mean ‘an excellent motorcycle’.”

Inwardly, I was thinking, “I’m screwed.”

“Benedict.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you very much, Benedict.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“I shall pay you back somehow.”

“I get it already.”

“I cannot give you a fixed date for it at the moment, but… I will give you some sort of monetary compensation.”

“No need.”

“But…”

“I said I don’t need it.”

“Then can I count on you again another time?”

“You’re so cheeky all of a sudden.”

“Taking work efficiency into consideration, being given a ride by one of our company’s postmen is extremely helpful.”

“Aah, so that’s what this is about.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll do it if I feel like it.”

“Shoot,” I thought.

I was weak to stray dogs and cats that didn’t get too attached to people.

——There was a doll walking in the rain.

Leiden was on a shortage of rain lately, so this shower was literally a blessing. But for a postman carrying materials and letters that shouldn’t get wet by any means, it was nothing but a visitation of misfortune.

I decided it’d be best to have the lunch that I had missed rather than force myself to carry out the deliveries and fall off the motorcycle. When I walked into a café that I was well-acquainted with, I found a number of people that had taken shelter just like me.

——Good job at work, I whispered in my head to all the workers present.

I ordered a warm beverage and meal set first-thing and then went to take a seat. It wasn’t by my own request that I got a seat by the window. The waiter was the one who took the hint.

——All I have left to do is go back to the company after three more deliveries and then list the remaining ones.

Coffee was a delicious thing to drink while listening to the sound of gently falling rain.

——Speaking of which, I also gotta order the equipment that broke.

Thinking about work even when on break wasn’t a very good thing to do, but it couldn’t be helped considering the line of work of postmen. We were always pressed for time and even if we had a lot to do in one day, the amount of stuff we could handle was limited. I felt that even more keenly because I could sense from experience that my position was gradually rising within the company.

——I’ve got a lot to do. And after that… after that…

While thinking about this, I found something odd in the cityscape.

The view of Leiden was picturesque under rain. I myself liked the rain when I didn’t have to work. But no, that wasn’t it – I had spotted Violet running amidst the rain. She was holding a bag, which probably had letters in it, tight against her chest so that it wouldn’t get soaked.

I stood up from the chair without thinking. Albeit through glass, when Violet passed in front of my eyes, she also took notice of me and stopped.

Ever since I’d started giving her rides on my motorcycle, we came to a mutual understanding. That being said, she didn’t talk much, so I often called to her one-sidedly. I found out that she’d properly speak once spoken to.

“How ‘bout you take a break too?” I gesticulated.

“No, I will return to the company,” Violet replied by gesticulating too.

“That so? Thanks for the hard work.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

When I waved, Violet waved back a little. With no facial expression, she waved her hand.

Violet’s figure then quickly disappeared from sight, and I felt that the coffee I drank after this had kind of changed in flavor. I had the feeling that it gained a strange aftertaste.

——So she can wave her hand and stuff like that.

She probably wouldn’t have done that at first. I didn’t do it either. ‘Cause, like, it was the Violet Evergarden. The girl who tried to physically lift her cheeks when Hodgins told her to “stop the deadpan in front of the customers”, and then reported that it didn’t work. The girl who described walking a distance for hours as “marching”. The girl who took action as if she’d forgotten her emotions somewhere. The girl who was always looking only at her emerald brooch, as if she had nothing else that was close to her.

A girl who didn’t seem to have a single friend.

——And yet, she waved at me.

Maybe that moment just now was a crystallization of the time Violet and I had spent together until we got to this point? That fact tickled my heart in a sort-of mushy spot. For whatever reason, I felt that this I flavor, which I had never tasted before, was coming from the coffee. The feeling wasn’t as easy to understand as what I felt for other women… Rather, it was embarrassing to say it aloud, but this was the innocent kind of deep affection that you’d feel for a fellow human being.

——Guess it’s really the kind of happiness that you feel when a stray dog starts getting attached to you.

If a woman that I was having a crush on were drenched in rain, it would’ve probably sprouted ulterior motives in me. No, if I had to pick, she was more like an underling to me, wasn’t she?

Not understanding anything about this feeling, all I could do was worry about her catching a cold.

——I’m getting soft.

Aah, as I had thought, I was screwed. Pretty screwed.

——A doll brought a little kid over and is asking for the impossible.

“I would like to go looking for Lady Isabella York.”

I was wondering if she’d started to take notice of her own charm lately. How should I put it? No, she probably hadn’t noticed it. Rather, I was the one who had taken notice of it, hence why I’d find myself thinking that.

“Please…”

Hearing her ask for a favor felt quite ticklish.

I want you to consider this. Suppose there’s a stray dog or cat that you weren’t too close to and just started getting along with, what would you think if it started crying “meow, meow” at you?

“She is my friend.”

What would you think? It’d thug the strings of your heart, wouldn’t it?

“Benedict, can I count on you?”

Our president, who had caught this disease first, immediately threw this proposal at me.

——His rationality’s faltering.Deal with it a bit more like an adult.

Hodgins was head-over-heels for Violet. No, not in a weird sense. He really looked after her as if she were his own family. Age-wise, she was too big to be a child, but since she was so childish on the inside, he wound up treating her like a daughter.

When Violet said “please” with her blue eyes staring at him, he generally couldn’t refuse. Plus, whenever she asked for a favor, it was often in situations that had quite some urgency to them, which she really couldn’t do anything about on her own and she needed help for, so denying it would be inhumane. She normally didn’t rely on anyone, which made turning her down even nastier.

——Stop; don’t look at me. Don’t turn those wet eyes towards me.

“Benedict…”

——That ain’t fair. Taylor, don’t give me that same look either.

In the end, I accepted the job, but it was a pretty daunting one.

——There’s a doll knocking on the door at three in the afternoon.

The apartment I’d been renting ever since I started living in Leidenschaftlich was sordid. One could see to some extent what kind of life a person was living if they visited said person’s room, but everything in my room made it look like a temporary home. It didn’t feel like a bedroom.

Probably because I didn’t think I’d keep on working as a postman.

All the furnishings were stuff I’d picked up, so their colors were fading away and some part of them was always dusty even if I cleaned it up. The scarce sunlight was also a bad thing. There was only one window and the curtains were always shut, so it was easy to accumulate dust.

I used to keep them properly open before, but after coming across a suspicious person in the middle of the night, I began shutting them. Not for my sake. It was for the perpetrator who might target my window again one day.

Not only did I push him off the window, I also gave chase, held him down, got on all fours to beat him to a pulp and then took him to the military police, where he had to immediately be sent to a doctor and they told me that what I had done was “overuse of self-defense”. Why was I the one who had to be told off? Honestly, this city was peaceful only in people’s heads. That wouldn’t bother my past self, but I kindly led him to the military police because I was a postman now.

To top it off, annoyingly enough, the perpetrator that I had put in critical condition apparently thought I was a woman. I certainly didn’t have bad looks, but that was a stretch, yeah? He should’ve taken a look at my shoulder width.

“Benedict.”

Anyway, well, this apartment wasn’t very good. I had nothing to worry about if I were attacked, but the memory that I kinda got scared and stayed in Hodgins’s apartment for a while remained with me.

“Benedict, it is past the arranged time.”

So there was no helping that I had no idea what time it was now. I kept my curtains shut, after all. I couldn’t tell if it was sunny or dark outside.

“It is past midday. Already three o’clock.”

The day after I got wasted was a holiday, so there was no helping that I couldn’t wake up. Right?

“Benedict, may I break the door in order to check for your life signals?”

Being asked for drastic measures, I jumped from my bed and headed to the front door. When I opened it, what I saw was a woman with golden hair that shone more than mine, like the Full Moon, and blue eyes of a shade deeper than my own.

“Violet…”

Violet Evergarden. She was an Auto-Memories Doll from the same company as myself.

We sometimes interacted at work, but her visiting my home was a first. It was pretty sunny outside and Violet looked like she could be turned into a beautiful painting with such a stunning afternoon scenery behind her.

She didn’t have bad looks either, just like me.

“What’re you doing?” I asked with my face flushed from drinking and my voice a bit hoarse, causing the slightest bit of chance to Violet’s lack of facial expression. She frowned a little.

“We had an arrangement.”

“What kind?”

“Choosing a gift for President Hodgins.”

“Is it his birthday?”

“No. Had we not decided to give him a gift during the banquet that will be held on the anniversary of the CH Postal Company?”

We might have. When she said that, I had the feeling we did.

I fell silent for a moment and dug up my memories. Violet patiently waited for me while I stayed quiet.

“Wait, I really can’t remember. What kind of promise did I make about this?”

Violet’s eyebrows curved downward this time. Having spent some time with her, I could tell that this was Violet’s “sad”. Moreover, she definitely would never say that she was sad, so the feeling would just be absorbed inside of her without her ever speaking up about it. Crying like a pipe wasn’t her character. She wouldn’t whine, either. That was exactly why she stimulated my sense of guilt.

After a short interval, Violet opened her mouth, “Yesterday, we spent dinnertime together.”

“Now that you mentioned it, we were. We rarely do that. I have the feeling I was the one who invited you.”

“Yes. It was just dinnertime, after all… We went to a place that served alcoholic beverages, but I accompanied you because one can both drink and eat there.”

“I feel that we… ordered a spicy seafood soup together.”

“It was fiery.”

“While we were eating… that’s right, I was drinking.”

“You were. According to the owner of the establishment, the amount that you drank was too large for an adult to consume in one day.”

“You didn’t have to add that.”

With her long, golden eyelashes bending down, Violet said, “Albeit with slurred speech, Benedict, you were talking about how grateful you were for every single day.”

My brows furrowed at the statement of the woman in front of me.

“You were grateful to President Hodgins for taking you in as a postman. I am grateful to him in a similar way. Most likely… what people call ‘companionship’… happened between us for a moment… and we discussed about the two of us giving him a present on the upcoming anniversary.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It is true.”

“You and me? Gratitude? Companionship?”

If anyone else were telling me this, I’d be sure that it was made up.

“Gratitude and companionship towards President Hodgins.”

But this woman was the one saying it with her skylark voice, so I could do nothing but believe it. Because there weren’t many people in my life – and most likely in all of Leidenschaftlich – who were as diligent and straight-laced as her.

——They say there are people who can’t live if not like this.

There were bound to be easier ways to live, but she couldn’t manage them. Therefore, she also couldn’t lie.

I urged her to continue with a “go on”.

“I asked you what would be good as a gift for President Hodgins. You receive a salary, thus something compatible with it would be in order. But Benedict, you said you were running out of money.”

“Sounds like something I’d say.”

“I then suggested a compromise plan, in which both of us would give money and buy something together. We also settled on a time to meet. Three o’clock on the next day… literally this very moment. Benedict, you drank quite a lot, so I brought you over to this residence once we left the bar.”

“You brought me here?!” my voice came out alarmed.

Violet was making a face that seemed to ask if there was a problem with that. I was an adult man.

“I did. Compared to heavy weaponry, you are as light as a feather.”

This former girl soldier’s prosthetic arms and tough body were terrifying.

“However, leaving aside the fact that I carried you, Benedict, when I saw you languidly stretched out like a snake, I expressed concern that you might not manage to get up the next day. You confirmed my concerns and said that you wanted me to come fetch you. I acknowledged this, put it to action, and now here we are.”

In that moment, I had a sudden thought.

“Haha.” When I realized it, I found myself laughing.

“Benedict, this is not the time to laugh.”

“No, I gotta.”

“This is not the time to laugh.”

——No, I gotta laugh, Violet. We’ve gotten really close.

We spent time together day after day. Each of those times, my emotions would gush forth.

“Violet, you’ve been coming back home through some weird road again, haven’t you?”

“Violet, don’t report my fails to Hodgins.”

“Violet, you know why Cattleya’s pissed?”

“Violet, look, it’s my new motorcycle.”

“Violet, put on a coat when if you get cold.”

“Violet, why do you make decisions without asking anyone’s opinion?”

“Violet, help me clean the desk.”

“Violet, that’s inefficient. Take the routes I taught you.”

“Violet, that’s unfair.”

“Violet, I had a weird dream yesterday. Do you dream?”

“Violet, I’m gonna take a nap, so wake me up when Cattleya arrives.”

“Violet, I found an umbrella repair shop. I’ll take you there so hop on.”

“Violet, did you hear? Looks like that bakery’s gone out of business.”

“Violet, you didn’t get a souvenir for me?”

“Violet, if you got anything that’s troubling you, just say it. Count on me.”

“Violet, Violet, Violet.”

“Violet.”

——There’s a dool looking at herself in the entrance hall’s gigantic mirror.

Leidenschaftlich’s national flower was the bougainvillea. White, pink, colorful bougainvilleas bloomed under the clear sky, tinting the city in a myriad of hues. She was repeatedly putting on and taking off a hat that had said flowers as patterns.

“You ready?”

When I spoke to her, Violet turned around. “Yes.”

Having grown up considerably from the time we had first met, she couldn’t be called a girl anymore. Still, the Violet who used to be helplessly lonely would stay in my heart forever and ever. The Violet who kept on living despite being at loss. The Violet who hopelessly chased after just one person, like an idiot. I was watching her the whole time. Watching from the side.

“Isn’t it fine that way?”

When I said this, Violet nodded in agreement and put the hat back on.

We were about to go to a wedding ceremony now. A very happy one at that – a marriage between our co-workers from the CH Postal Company.

The romance between one of the receptionists and my junior postman was something that took quite some time and had its detours. They kept failing to see each other, so the people around them had given up, thinking it wouldn’t be possible…

But the guy found his resolve and held up the woman.

I’d also been watching over the progress of their love for pretty long, so I was sincerely glad that it had bloomed. The one who thought so most keenly was probably Hodgins. As proof of that, all posts had ceased service at three o’clock today. We all headed to one of Leiden’s luxury hotels to hold a feast.

Hodgins seemed moved by the fact that a couple had been born at the company he had built and by today’s event, in which they were even going to get married. Therefore, everyone was to participate. Adjusting the schedules was a hassle.

We were the only ones left in the office till the last minute. After closing the front doors and hanging a “closed for today” sign, we had to get ready to go.

No riding the motorcycle today. There was a carriage waiting for us outside.

Dressing up to attend a wedding with her and stuff like that…

——Now it feels just right.

I no longer had that hesitation from the beginning and taking care of her completely fulfilled my reason for living. As for Violet, her way of dealing with me became cruder with each year.

“How do you escort someone again?”

“Bend your arm. I will place my arm around it.”

“Can’t we just hold hands?”

“We should not incite misunderstandings.”

“That wouldn’t happen with you and me. C’mon, let’s hold hands just to test it out.”

“Why?”

“‘S fine, ‘s fine.”

The two of us stood tentatively in front of the enormous mirror. And then we held hands. The pair of blue-eyed blondes were side by side harmoniously.

“Whoa.”

“What do you mean by ‘whoa’?”

“We really do look like siblings when we’re next to each other, huh.”

Golden hair and blue irises. Different shades, but still similar.

At first, it was someone who mentioned it, and after they had said it, I thought it could be true.

“You probably think so because our hair and eye colors are alike. Is this enough? I am letting go,” Violet said, but I squeezed her hand even tighter.

Don’t know why but I wanted to do so.

“Benedict.”

“This doesn’t mean anything weird.”

There was something I was thinking about today. A statement I wanted to make.

“Violet.”

——You remember how many times we rode on my motorcycle? I don’t remember anymore. First times keep piling up little by little, to the point where they stop being special and turn into an everyday thing. When these things are part of daily life, they’re so in our face that we don’t realize it, but in a corner of my head, I’m at least aware that they’re not gonna last forever. We’re just co-workers at a company. I’m a man and you’re a woman. But it’s not like we’re in love. It’s not like we can be a family, either.

“Hey, if you ever get married, make sure to give me a proper heads-up.”

——But don’t simply start acting like I never existed.

“Why…?”

“It’s fine, ain’t it? Got nothing to lose by that.”

——Even if that time comes for you and you disappear from my sight one day, don’t act like I was never there.

“I merely do not think this would ever happen…”

“You can’t know for sure, yeah?”

——I’m actually not the kind of guy who concerns himself so much with someone else. I’m a guy who doesn’t warm up. I ain’t bad at looking after people, but to tell the truth, I’m not sympathetic. I’m not Hodgins. Basically, my top priority is myself. You changed me. I used to have no interest in you. You didn’t matter to me. For me, you were no more than one of the characters who turned up in my life. But you make a difference. A lot of difference. That’s probably why I changed, but it’s so stupid. Nowadays, if fate ever happens to beat you up or if there’s ever a time when God knocks you out, I don’t mind stepping forward and getting hit by either of them in your place. Violet. It wasn’t fun seeing you looking miserable and hanging your head low. It wasn’t fun hearing the details about your past. It wasn’t fun watching you get jerked around by the ghost of just one person. It wasn’t fun when you tried to be an adult while staying an unhappy child. There might be people like you around the world. Yet you were especially boring. God hated you. But now you’re the most amusing fellow ever, who managed to change herself. Your actions definitely changed people, one by one. I saw it all. I was proper witness to it, Violet Evergarden.

“You did your best. So when there’s an important event in your life, I’m gonna see it through no matter what.”

I thought Violet was going to be quiet like usual, but she was staring intently at me. Her silence wasn’t painful anymore.

I could feel her hand, which I was grabbing one-sidedly, grasping mine back. The pain of it was a proof of trust.

——Your prosthetics are strong.

“All right…” Violet whispered nothing but that.

But just that was enough.

“It is… about time we take our leave.”

“True.”

In the end, we forgot about the escorting and walked off still holding hands. After we locked the door, everything was closed.

The carriage’s cab was waiting reverently. Hodgins’s thoughtfulness could be go too far at times, but this was just perfect.

“Hum, I have been thinking.”

“About what?”

“We cannot know… what the future has in store…”

“Yeah.”

“So, Benedict, will you also report to me when you marry?”

“Nah, it’d be too much work, so maybe I wouldn’t tell you anything.”

“Why…? Did you not say that there was nothing to lose from it?”

“Oh, you got complaints?”

“I do not. I merely pointed out a contradiction in the conversation.”

“Lies. You do. It’s written on your face.”

“I am merely pointing out a contradiction in the conversation.”

“Like me lots, don’t ya?”

“I am merely pointing out a contradiction in the conversation.”

“You being shy?”

“I am not.”

“Are too. Don’t hide it.”

——God, even if You hate her, she’s so dear to me that I can’t help myself. Leave her alone.

Violet Evergarden: Booklet 7

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Writers were like shadows.

Be it on rainy or sunny days, they would be in their tiny little rooms, writing words. That was all. Their job was extremely bland, and one might dare say that it was lonesome work.

Nobody ever imagined who was behind the stories that they were reading. If they did, they would definitely be disappointed. Because they would. No one wanted to find out that, beyond the stories they were reading, there was somebody coughing copiously while nevertheless holding the pen.

I didn’t want to let them find out, either. That was why I passed off as a shadow.

There were those of us who went out into the sunlight, but that didn’t suit me. Therefore, well, I was always very happy when I occasionally met, by sheer coincidence, people who liked my works. Basically, since I never went up on stage, I never received compliments. Therefore, this kind of thing had me overjoyed, like, “I see, so there was someone paying attention to my works. I used to feel like I was all alone in the world, but I actually managed to reach other people. Thank you. I like you for enjoying my works. Let’s do our bests in this weird world.”

Just like this, I went around hugging and shaking hands with them, and both of us would go back to our own lives.

“Mr. Oscar… can I be your daughter?”

However, some people weren’t like that.

This was a story about a prayer that felt like rain in a summer afternoon – the kind that was a little mild, yet you’d find yourself wishing for something to happen once the weather cleared.

I met the girl who had asked that impudent question when I visited an orphanage built through investments from two kingdoms, Drossel and Fluegel.

I my real name as my penname and published countless works as just “Oscar”. From plays to novels, I had released several stories into the world. Amongst them, a story that I had created by way of borrowing the help of a certain Auto-Memories Doll was popular with people from a wide range of age groups. There was a copy of this book in the orphanage, which apparently was so favored during playtime that the children had disputes over it. This made me happy.

Anyway, the invitation to read aloud was a very meaningful request for me and the details made me want to do it. The orphanage was able to offer basic schooling, but it seemed to be short-staffed, so few were the kids who could actually read and write. When I heard that a story-telling session had been planned out in order to have those children, who had found their way to that place due to all sorts of reasons, develop an interest for literature – however small it might be –so they would become able to choose their own futures, I felt that it was an incredibly brilliant thing. (Apparently, the one who had started this was Queen Charlotte Abelfreya Fluegel, who had married from Drossel into Fluegel. She was someone passionate about education.)

That was how I, albeit a bit embarrassed, visited the orphanage with my own book in hand and took part in the story-telling session, but…

“Mr. Oscar… can I be your daughter?”

In an afternoon where the sunlight was shining brightly, the orphanage’s the stained glass, which had been installed when its church was remodeled, filled the room with colorful light, teeming with a coziness that made you want to heave a sigh. However, contrary to the warmth of the room, I was feeling chills and the air of the place was frozen.

“Huum…” My cowardly self sought the help of the orphanage’s nuns. It was a request for “declining”.

“Angela, that’s a no-no. Don’t bother Mr! Oscar!”

“What’s a bother about it? I just asked a question.”

The nuns looked my way as if to say, “Sorry about that…”

I could only reply with an expression that read, “No need; I’m also kinda sorry too…”

By the looks of it, the girl in front of me had mistaken me for an adult who had come over with the intention of adopting an orphan.

It happened during goodbye time after the story-telling session had ended.

Other than the works that I was going to donate to the orphanage, I had bought and brought over several books. I had looked through all of them, as they were either things I had enjoyed in my childhood or series that were extremely popular at the moment.

I was truly glad to have brought them. There was nothing more adorable than the happy-looking faces of the children when receiving them. I thought it was a suitable closure for the end of a blissful time.

The children had listened quietly with their eyes shining, so one could tell that both sides were able to have a great time. Everyone had lined up in a row and taken the books one by one.

The last girl of the line was the child in question.

She had platinum-blond hair and red eyes. The melanin was much too thin in her. The various elements of her appearance might be genetic. She was a girl who had a slightly strange air to her. Perhaps seven to eight years old.

If she just stood there, it felt like just that spot could be turned into a painting… This bizarreness was familiar to me.

——The air around her is a little bit similar to Violet Evergarden’s.

I shivered. If Violet were a younger girl, she would probably be like that.

There was an Auto-Memories Doll that I was really fond of. It was Violet, who worked at the CH Postal Company, which had its main office in Leidenschaftlich, a far-away southern country.

Our relationship was that I had hired her just once, but this was registered in my memory as a wonderful time. She was the woman who had reached out to me when I was standing at the crossroad of my life – a mage who had showed me a marvelous sight. The girl who had given me a precious gift.

Having an orphan girl who somewhat resembled her showing up before my eyes frankly made my heart waver.

——But I can’t say, “Well, let’s make that happen.”

I was an adult full of problems.

“Erm, it might be amazing if that could happen…” I cleared my throat, choosing my words as carefully as possible. “But I’m sorry; it’s impossible. I already have a family.”

How was that? I had made an effort to try not to hurt her as much as possible.

Perhaps because of that, the nuns nodded deeply as if to say, “Superb response” and soothed her, “You shouldn’t ask for something so selfish.”

Is that so? Then…”

But the girl was strong.

“…if you get permission from your family, can I be your daughter?”

Rather than strong, she was innocent to a cruel extent. Cruel out of innocence.

There was a lack of pretense in her longing, exactly because she didn’t have it. This was enveloping her words – no, the entirety of her.

“Angela!”

The nuns embraced her from behind and attempted to leave, but I stopped them.

Her questions weren’t weird at all. Not rude, either.

——I’m the one at fault for giving her a reply so vague that she had this kind of thought.

Therefore, I answered her with the truth this time, “That’s also impossible. My family has already passed away.”

This topic was well-known amongst the people who knew me, so the nuns should be aware of it.

I had a wife and daughter in the past. Both were deceased.

First I lost my wife, and then my daughter expired. Both had died due to sickness, living strenuously until the end. They were so wonderful that it was almost a waste for them to be myfamily.

It was because they were so great that I suffered from their loss for a long time, living a helpless life as I was unable to recover. For a while, I was the writer who was treated as a hermit by society. My heart was plagued by a disease, to the point that I pleaded to God over and over, “I beg you. I want to die, so please kill me.”

The book that I had read out to the children was what I had these feelings into. It was the story that I created with the help of Violet Evergarden.

“Your family is gone?”

Doing the best I could in order not to let my face twitch, I told her the truth, “Yep, they are. They passed quite some time ago from an illness.” The tone of my voice might have gotten lower. I didn’t want to frighten her, but it happened naturally.

“I see… I also don’t have a family. We’re the same, huh.”

I had a hard time keeping my hands from shaking.

“Then, why can’t I be your daughter?”

Pain ran through my chest and I found myself stroking it with a wrinkly hand, even though there was nothing I could do about it. “My family is gone, but I have one.”

How sad it was to put this into words. While holding it in so that a film of tears wouldn’t form on my eyes, I felt embarrassed at myself. However, as an adult, I wanted to give a proper explanation to this girl, whose circumstances were so unfortunate.

“They’ll always be with me, so I don’t need a new family.”

——I want to be able to do something for you, but I can’t. Because I’ve got my hands full fighting off my own loneliness. So I don’t have any room to save someone.

So that I wouldn’t upset her and so that she wouldn’t think I was saying this because I disliked her, I knelt down and spoke, “You know, a family isn’t something you can replace. It’s different from watering a flower. It’s because it’s that person, and it hasto be them… that’s what family is.”

“But what I want is to be your family, Mr. Oscar.”

“That’s not possible… Miss…”

“‘Ms. Angela’.”

“That’s not possible, Ms. Angela.”

“How come?”

“Just because; I’m sorry.”

She didn’t seem convinced.

If I were a less complicated and more kind-hearted person, I might have been able to dodge the question successfully. But the impossible was impossible. I didn’t want a new family. Even if a rose of loneliness bloomed in the depths of my chest and its petals suffocated me, I didn’t want one.

——Because that’d be nothing but betrayal towards those two.

Angela and I stared at each other with troubled faces.

“But, y’know, Mr. Oscar. I do think you need me.”

“You’re insistent, huh.”

“Then, can I at least write you letters?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause you’ll need some when you’re lonely.”

——Aren’tyou the lonely one?

Getting swept up by a moment’s feelings was a foolish action for an adult, but was there an adult anywhere who would reject an orphan child after being told, “I want to write you letters”? There might be, but that was inhumane.

With a troubled face, I consented only to the letter exchange.

Since then, letters from Angela arrived to me several times a month.

She delivered so many letters that it made me wonder if she intended to have a telegram interchange instead. She was apparently told by the nuns to decrease the amount as it could be a bother to me, but showed no signs of obeying them.

The contents of her writings were silly. Her life in the orphanage, what she had eaten in a day, the hand-me-down dresses she had received. She wrote about such things.

The letters always came in envelopes with beautiful landscape artworks, so it was easy to tell they were from Angela. They were probably the ones used in the orphanage.

Mr. Oscar, your new book arrived at the orphanage. I was the first to read it. I can understand it even without someone to read it for me. Your words open up my heart as if I’ve experienced them myself. Mr. Oscar, as I thought, you do need me.

Ms. Angela, thank you for reading the new book. I’m happy that you seem to have liked it. You express yourself in a wonderful way. You might be fit to be a writer. You should try to write a story someday. Well, see you next time.

My replies were curt as well, but she continued writing to me persistently.

Mr. Oscar, there’s a passage that I like in your new book. The part where it says that loneliness blooms in your chest, turns into a flower and makes you unable to breathe – I like it very, very much. I totally get it. I wonder why it is that when we’re lonely, our hearts grow painful and heavy and we feel suffocated.

Ms. Angela, you’ve been reading it over and over again, huh. Thank you. As to why we feel suffocated, let’s see. I suppose that’s probably because the heart is located in our chests. It might not be, though.

Although we were far apart in age, we could become something like friends in our letters.

Mr. Oscar, did you see the pressed flower that I put in the previous letter? The nice scent is already gone, but I picked up the prettiest one that I found. I chose it because I thought it suited you. Did you like it?

Ms. Angela, you have an extremely fine taste. You picked a violet, right? It’s my favorite flower. I only started liking this flower when I was already an adult, but don’t you think it’s a pure and earnest yet distinguished one?

Mr. Oscar, if you were to compare me to a flower, what kind of flower do you think I’d be? The kids here at the orphanage are scared of me, so they don’t talk to me much. Both my skin and hair are paper-white. Also, I like drawing, and they say it’s scary that I keep drawing all the time and don’t listen if someone talks to me. But people are like that when they’re engrossed in something, right? Aren’t you too, Mr. Oscar?

Ms. Angela, when I’m engrossed in something, I even forget to eat. Many of my friends have left me because of this. You and I a bit alike, huh. If I were to compare you to a flower… let me see. A lotus flower, I guess? Have you ever seen one? They’re really beautiful when they float on the water.

Be it when I was traveling or at home, it became a habit for me to open her letters and write a reply.

Mr. Oscar, I looked up the lotus flower.There was a flower illustrated reference guide in the book that you gave me a sneak-peek of. It’s a beautiful flower. Thank you. I think you’re a sunflower, Mr. Oscar. It’s lanky, tall and I feel like it could look at me forever. Am I wrong?

Ms. Angela, I’m not that nice. But, well, you’re a valuable reader and my pen pal, so I’m okay with doing this kind of thing for a little bit. But make sure not to expect too much. By the way, I’m going to donate the book you wanted to read through the CH Postal Company. Please read it.

I was a lonely one myself, thus I incidentally found myself concerned about this child who sent me letters so often.

Mr. Oscar, buyers came for me today. However, when they heard that I had been returned by other buyers three times, they gave up on me. The Sisters are such meanies. They shouldn’t have told them about that. The orphanage would have gained profits if I’d gone with them.

Ms. Angela, you shouldn’t refer to your future parents as “buyers”. I don’t think the Sisters are meanies. If you behave like a good kid, I’m sure good parents will come to you.

Mr. Oscar, you’re a kindhearted person, aren’t you? I do believe that I need someone like you, but if that’s not the case, does it mean that someone else somewhere needs me? I’ll be counting the days on my fingers until I meet this person.

Ms. Angela, I said that you were a valuable reader to me, didn’t I? And a superb pen pal. In no way are you not necessary. I’ll make some time to show up over there again, but until then, do properly study and listen to what the Sisters say.

Mr. Oscar, is that true? I’ll count the days for that on my fingers, then. I wonder how many it will take. Will it not fall on my day to clean up the garden? I’ll give you a drawing. What kind of drawing do you prefer? My drawings are well-known for being good.

Mr. Oscar, what colors do you like?

Ms. Angela, I like the colors of autumn leaves.

Mr. Oscar, what kind of foods do you like?

Ms. Angela, I like anything that is homemade.

Mr. Oscar, what kind of bad things would you like to do if God allowed it?

Ms. Angela, let me see. Something like painting graffiti on the walls of a high-ranking critic’s mansion.

Mr. Oscar, which of the four seasons do you like most?

Ms. Angela, I like fall. It’s a maddening season.

Mr. Oscar, do you have a type for women? I like dark-haired people.

Ms. Angela, what a pity, I’m not dark-haired. Let’s see; maybe healthy people are my thing.

Mr. Oscar, how do you divert from your sadness when you’re feeling blue?

Ms. Angela, I just stay put and wait for it to pass. Sad, isn’t it?

Mr. Oscar, when you’re happy, do you have anyone to talk to about it? I don’t.

Ms. Angela, you should make friends. If you don’t succeed, you can talk to me about these things.

Mr. Oscar, will you reply to my letters even after I become an adult?

Ms. Angela, you might lose interest in me once you grow up.

Mr. Oscar, I’ll keep sending you letters even after I grow up; it’s a promise.

To be honest, by the time we had exchanged about ten-odd letters, I was ignorant. As to what I was ignorant towards, it was at the charisma of the girl named Angela.

She was extremely intelligent, studied literature and had an understanding of poetic expression, but in the end, she was still a child, so if she were the daughter of an acquaintance, I might have told them, “She has some sort of talent, so if you’re ever inconvenienced in the future, please leave her under my care.”

We were nothing more than pen pals with no connection whatsoever to each other so far, but I even began thinking that leaving such a wonderful little girl alone would be a worldwide loss (I was also a doting pen pal in general). If, for instance, I entrusted her with someone else and only had to provide her with financial support or something – this much I felt that I could do, even if we didn’t live together. I had no idea if we could become a family, but keeping such a clever child in an orphanage felt like a waste to me. I believed that she certainly had some sort of literary talent…

I began thinking of Angela all the time, be it while I was working, eating or bathing.

She wrote that she had been returned by her adoptive parents three times, which made me wonder what on earth could have happened. Had they not liked her slight arrogance? But kids were like that, so this must’ve been within the range of what to expect.

Why did she have to be hurt three times over? Was there something in her that didn’t match what they wanted? Perhaps her skin and hair color?

Sadly enough, many were the people who discriminated others for these kinds of things, despite them fellow human beings… but she wasn’t some pet animal. She was a person. This kind of perspective wasn’t something necessary for raising a child.

I liked her poetic thinking, but… supposing she had none of that. Even if without it… she was a wonderful little girl. She was truly a kindhearted and smart kid.

If I said this to myself from before I met this child, he’d flat-out brush me off with a “don’t spout nonsense”, but as of now, my little pen-pal was the only person in the world who cared for me at all times. She was truly a gentle girl. No doubt about that.

I halted abruptly right there, as within me surged the feeling that, if this was the case, perhaps I should invite my pen-pal into my house as soon as possible. Yes, I did think it was impossible for us to be a family if I had to see her as my own daughter, but at the moment, the two of us were friends. If so, wasn’t it normal for friends to help each other? That was what friends were about, after all. I didn’t need a reason to beat around the bush.

Regardless, a while after I had made this decision, her letters stopped coming altogether and one of the orphanage’s nuns told me that she had been adopted by someone.

I stood stunned at the entrance of the orphanage, holding tons of gifts. “Is that so? What a pity. We won’t get to see each other anymore.”

——She said she’d keep sending me letters forever, and yet…

“Oh, it’s just that her letters stopped coming, so I got worried.”

——Did you go to a place where you can be happy for good?

“It’s okay. Please give this to the orphan kids.”

——Is it a place where the people care more about you than I do?

“Did she say anything about me?”

——Can the people over there can understand that your kindness and greatness was built from your loneliness?

“Is that so…?”

——People who are ready to protect you if anything happens?

“I see…”

——Angela, will the people of that place cherish you?

On that summer day, the sun was shining brightly and it was scorching hot. There was a sound of something burning inside my head.

I had a severe headache on my way back from the orphanage. However, there was actually nothing missing in my body, so the intense pain passed after I took a short rest.

There were days when I couldn’t drink or eat anything, just stared at the mailbox looking for the mail that never came, but I became able to eat again with time.

And so—And so, changes began to happen little by little.

The number of times that I picked up children’s books at bookstores gradually decreased. I started looking away whenever I saw a lotus flower. I stopped buying cute letter stationery. I began to get more frustrated whenever I saw parents walking around with their children. The days went by as I secluded myself in my home, not seeing anyone. I decided to put her many letters in a tin can and lock them up in a cupboard.

Although letters from Angela – who was such a brilliant little girl in my eyes – wouldn’t come anymore, time passed without me being able to even protest to God about it, and eventually, this became a daily routine. Time was truly a merciless thing.

When I lost my wife and daughter, I knew. Nothing as precious would ever appear again in my life. So when she was gone, I lost something big once more. But in Angela’s case, my mistake was not realizing that until it was too late. Just because I was late to realize it didn’t mean that the scars would be superficial.

My everyday was harsh exactly because I would watch the world spin without a care.

If I was sad, the world should be sad too, right? If I was crying, the world should feel for me. I wanted to say that and grieve, but while I had my head wrapped on this, all that would happen was that the world would leave me behind and nothing would fill me up. Therefore, I had no choice but put myself to motion and keep going with my everyday life as if to bury something away.

And so, I gradually got better.

For whatever reason, my process of creation cleared up whenever I experienced something sad. It might be that writers became more clear-headed the more we got hurt and the sadder we were. The lonelier we felt, the brighter we would be.

The second time I had the opportunity to do storytelling at the orphanage happened about a year after the letters from Angela had stopped coming. I felt reluctant about it but decided to comply, as my conscience was making racket about how happy Angela would probably be if I did something for the orphanage’s children.

Some of the kids were still here since the previous year. Some weren’t here a year ago. During the period in which I was slowly tasting loss, the world indeed was spinning without a care and the orphanage had undergone a small change.

The storytelling didn’t go the way it had last time. My book received criticism from the children, as it was more logic-driven than before. Since emotional changes would end up affecting my creations, I explained honestly, “I was feeling down because something kinda sad happened to me. I wrote this book in that meantime.”

The children kindly said, “Can’t be helped, then.”

It was a work highly evaluated worldwide, but it seemed unpopular among children. I was hurt on the inside about the fact that the kids were happier with the last children’s book I gave them – one that was a hit lately – rather than my own. But that was a trivial matter.

I asked the nuns something that I hadn’t been able to ask for a long time, no matter what.

“Where did Ms. Angela go?”

The truth was that I had always wanted to ask this. But if I did, it might have turned out as an unjust suspicion towards Angela’s future. No matter how superb a family she had, I felt that would end up being jealous and wouldn’t be able to wish blessings upon her happiness. Therefore, on that day when my head got sunburned, I left without asking about it.

“The way that Angela was adopted… was a bit complicated…”

The nuns’ words had my face darkening a little. More than anything, Angela had a talent for arts and seemingly became famous for it, since an artwork made by her that was put on display at a bazaar held in the orphanage had sold well. A wealthy household that owned a gallery had heard about this and offered to adopt her under the pretext of raising an artist-hopeful.

When I heard that it was more like they were hiring her as their employee rather than welcoming her as family, what I felt was… if I were to express it in one word, it would probably be “despair”.

The well-off household had adopted Angela half-forcefully, so the nuns had also been worried and paid a visit to the address that they had been informed, but apparently, they were told by an apron-clad, paint-covered Angela, “Father will scold me, so go home” and it had ended there.

“Hasn’t she written any letters to you or something like that? They haven’t been coming to me, but…”

“About that, according to the rumors, it seems the head of that rich family was a young man with a promising future, so he was was raised in seclusion in their estate… We suspect he must be forbidding her of any means of contact with the outside… Angela was terribly scared of angering him, so he might be giving her physical punishment. We told her that she could come back here if she was suffering… but when they took her in, that man talked very loudly about the financial support, so maybe she can’t bring herself to care about it… Angela was an oddball and stood out from the rest, but…”

——I can hear my head burning.

“…she was a very gentle child, so…”

——My head’s burning… It’s burning and it hurts.

In other words, that wonderful little girl had offered herself and gone to that apprenticeship. This might be the same reason as to why she could no longer send replies to me, her pen-pal, and why she couldn’t come back to the nuns.

“…we want to do something for her – that’s what we think, but Angela has already left… so we can’t… do anything…”

——That’s so irresponsible.It’s your fault that a girl might be suffering right now.

I shelved myself, anger towards all sorts of things surging inside me.

However, I didn’t vent out any of it. Even if I had those thoughts, I shouldn’t throw them at the nuns who were doing their utmost working in this place. They were doing strenuous effort despite the difficulties with funding.

“Could you tell me where she lives?”

If I were to do anything, that would be…

“Angela is my friend. I’d like to see her one more time.”

…what a slightly older friend should do.

As soon as I was given her address, I headed to the mansion where Angela was trapped. Fortunately, said mansion sat within the grounds of the gallery that the influential family owned.

The gallery was open to anybody who was willing to buy a painting, and while thinking this was a dirty thing to do, I gave the name of the work and artist, which attracted the attention of the gallery clerk. There was a need to make him believe that I had money, since I looked like nothing more than just a tired, middle-aged man that you could find anywhere.

“This work is from a series made by an artist who is related to us.” The clerk came to talk to me with an attitude that was clearly different from when I had entered the establishment.

I was estimating an opportunity to cut to the chase about Angela.

For starters, I had come here after receiving the nuns’ instructions, but was she really being kept in this gallery? She should be about eight years old. What kind of talent were they expecting from someone like her…?

While I was thinking, my eyes wandered off to one particular artwork. This work had its frame decorated with letter envelopes depicting beautiful sceneries.

When I stopped in front of the frame, the clerk’s face brightened with an “aah”. “‘Why are there envelopes on this?’ is what you thought, right? But please take a look at the art on the envelopes. These are not printings; the artist painted them on the envelopes herself in minute detail. Of course, there is also the landscape portrayed on the canvas. Still, I think this decoration looks extremely charming as well. If this one piqued your interest, I can show you other works by this artist. They were made by a young person who is being funded by the owner…”

I wasn’t listening to most of what the clerk said. Because I could hear the sound of my head burning and began having a terrible headache. After all, I had already received countless of those envelopes. Every single time, I thought about how pretty they were. But I didn’t think they had been painted on blank envelopes by an orphan girl. She had sent them without ever telling me anything. What’s more, the title of the work was written reverently on a golden plate, causing tears to blurry my field of vision.

The title was “Because I Like You”.

Surely, this must have taken one hell of a long time to make. Even so, Angela always put the letters in beautiful envelopes. The orphanage was supposed to save as much as possible for their expenses, so those must have been plain envelopes. She must have thought that they were lacking, so she was showed me her talent through them.

But I didn’t notice that. After all, I was too engrossed in our letter exchange.

“I’d like to purchase an artwork… but would it be possible to call a higher-up for that?”

When I said this, the clerk beamed.

“I have many connections and can offer assistance in all sorts of matters. If possible, I’d like to have an open talk with this place’s owner. For now, I’ll buy this work as proof of my good faith. I’d also like to meet the artist.” I smiled back at him. But the nature of my feelings was different from that of the clerk in front of me. “To tell you the truth, the artist is a friend of mine. I’ve been looking for her for a long time now.”

This might turn into a long-term fight. However, I thought, I would definitely go through with it.

The headache eventually went away.

Clad in an old cloak, a middle-aged man stood in front of a school in a certain town.

He was a normal, average man. Had unkempt hair and wore eyeglasses. There was no particularly outstanding trait in him.

With a sleepy-looking face, the man took his glasses out to rub his eyes several times. He was truly just an ordinary man.

After a while, a bell rang from within the school and children bustled out all of a sudden. Boys and girls dressed in matching uniforms passed the middle-aged man from the sides and left the school behind, looking like they were having fun while chatting with each other.

Eventually, a girl came outside alone.

She had pure-white skin and hair, as well as red eyes. Upon spotting the man, this girl, whose appearance could be described as fantasy-like even, ran straight towards him like a bullet, hugging him as soon as she reached his feet.

“Welcome back, Ms. Angela.”

“I have arrived, Mr. Oscar.”

The man so-called Oscar picked up the girl whose name meant “angel”. The two embraced each other as if to make sure that there was no space whatsoever separating them. As if finishing recharging their batteries, they nodded to one another once they had enough and the girl was let down on the ground.

“Are we going like this, Mr. Oscar?” Angela offered her hand.

Oscar squeezed it unconditionally.

There was nothing special in those actions. One could tell that they had done this countless times already.

“Yeah, we can go by foot, or do you want to grab a carriage?”

“I’ll walk!”

“Then, you must be hungry. You’ve got some sort of request, don’t you?”

“I do, but it’s not that, Mr. Oscar.”

“Hm?”

“Mr. Oscar, you’re a lonely guy, right?”

“Well, kind of.”

“I thought it’d do you good to go on a walk with me and eat something on the way.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“Besides, you’re usually always sitting, so it’s best if you walk. I’m worried about your back.”

“Having a young kid worry about my back sure is awkward.”

Oscar swallowed back the words “How come you know me so well?”. He knew that whatever he said to her would be turned over into his own defeat.

The two of them differed completely in looks, but were in total “harmony” when they were together.

“Mr. Oscar, look, a pretty pigeon.”

“Indeed, it’s got prettier feathers than the other pigeons.”

From the perspective of an onlooker, they seemed like parent and child.

The destination they headed to was a small rentable theater, which was holding some kind of exhibition. It seemed to be used for various purposes such as plays and lectures. Apparently, it was now hosting a painting exhibition.

After the reception, the two took their time to walk and look around.

“I like this color. Don’t you think it’s wonderful?”

“It’s nice. I like it too.”

From young artists with promising futures to award-winning famous ones. The wide range of the exhibits was extremely entertaining for the two art lovers.

Ultimately, they reached a series of works arranged together in one room. That was apparently the only place where the works of a certain creator were gathered. It was probably a small exhibition for an artist who had received some sort of prestigious award a while ago.

Oscar and Angela looked at each other’s faces and laughed.

The room’s interior was decorated with many artworks, such as paintings and frames adorned with beautiful envelopes. One that remarkably caught the eye was an abstract painting on an enormous canvas, likely twice as tall as an adult man. When the duo came upon this artwork, they stood before it and stared in silence.

The title of the artwork was “Us”.

Gazing at it was a special moment for the two of them. A lot had happened until they arrived at this point.

Oscar lowered his eyebrows, looking as if he were about to cry. “It’s marvelous.”

The town was full of people, thus there were many people entering and exiting this exhibition as well. All sorts of things had happened in the life of Oscar, who seemed like nothing but a commonplace man, no matter how one looked at him. A person could never see another person’s life story just by looking at them. There was nothing extraordinary about the world and living was painful more often than not. Therefore, special moments like this one would gently illuminate a person’s path, even if just for an instant.

“If you hadn’t saved me, Mr. Oscar, I wouldn’t have the chance to paint this,” Angela whispered intermittently, which further stimulated the Oscar’s tear glands. He attempted to let go of her hand to wipe his tears, but Angela did not allow it. As she opened her arms and gestured with a “come on”, Oscar picked her up. “You’re such a crybaby, Mr. Oscar. I rarely cry at all.” Although Angela was the child out of the two of them, yet she wiped Oscar’s tears with  the sleeve of her uniform, almost in the same way one would do with an infant. “Hey, can we discuss about us for a bit?”

——This kid doesn’t resemble my daughter in the slightest.

“When we first met, you looked pretty lonely.”

——But the weight I feel when I carry this girl is just like hers.

“The way you talked also felt lonely in some way, but you were nice. You looked like a particularly wonderful person to me. I don’t get attached to grown-ups so easily, but… Mr. Oscar, I thought I could get along really well with you.”

——My affection for her just grows.

“We’re both… on the artistic side, right?”

“Yes, that was really it.”

——This might be a sin.

Oscar feared this more than anything. Therefore, he was scared of accepting her fully by changing her title into something other than “friend” or “pen-pal”. After all, many things had happened until this point.

The time he spent with his newest friend was sublime, almost as if they were a family. Nevertheless, perhaps this was…

——…a crime?

Might it not be anything other than betrayal against his late wife and daughter? He had claimed no intentions on having a new family, and yet he found several reasons so that the two of them would be together. If he told his wife and child about it, would they not feel bad? He could not bring himself to think that they were unable to hear him since they were gone. They could be right beside him. Maybe he would meet them after he died. If so, then this was nothing but betrayal, but he could not stop himself. He could no longer let go of the weight of this life.

——Because…

“Mr. Oscar. Make sure to count on me when you feel lonely. I owe you for the many things you’ve done for me. No, even aside from those things… I like you…”

Unable to keep looking at Angela’s face, Oscar rested his head on her shoulder and let out a sob.

Almost like a mother, Angela whispered softly, “I want us to stay close together. ‘Cause this world is too lonely.”

——Because you’ve become someone important to me.

While being patted on the head by the girl of angelic name, Oscar evened his breathing. He wanted to put the things he had been avoiding until now into words.

This could be betrayal. He might face disapproval for it one day. However, he could no longer live alone. He wound up meeting someone whom he wanted by his side. The time to put a name to this relationship and to her was approaching.

“Ms. Angela…”

Perhaps fate had been granted to them when they first met.

“Can I… be your family?”

Angela’s face lit up.

“You’re… someone…”

And then tears trickled down. Just a little more until Oscar earned himself an angel of his own.

“You’re someone very precious to me… so please, could you spare me a reason to stay by your side?”

This was a story about a prayer that felt like rain in a summer afternoon – the kind that was a little mild, yet one would find themselves wishing for something to happen once the weather cleared.

Oscar’s Little Angel

“I wish for this pain to disappear. Close your eyes just for now, because I want to erase our loneliness.”