#violet evergarden if
Dietfried Bougainvillea If
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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.
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