Night of Eden 86

 Chapter 86

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The Great Robbie was a 45-ton ship with four chimneys. For a ship of its size traveling along the coast of a continent, the rules and regulations on board were very strict.

This ensured that the ship, carrying over a thousand passengers, departed on time without any delays.

As Dana watched the harbor grow farther and farther away, it didn't feel very real.

For one thing, there were too many people. The corridors in third class were cramped, barely enough room for one person to pass, jammed with luggage and people. Noah had already befriended a few people and arranged to meet them for drinks.

It was also very noisy. The roar of the engines, the banging of the boat, the endless crashing of the waves, and the endless chatter of people was deafening.

Most distracting of all was Dorothy, who began to feel motion sick within a minute of setting sail.

As she held her hair back from vomiting and cleaned up the mess, Dorothy apologized the entire time.

"You'll make it up to me later. That’ll do."

Meanwhile, the lights came on and people began to trickle into the dining room, leaving Dana with no appetite at all, thanks to the smells.

After shoving the worried Noah off her back and forcing him into the dining car, Dana stepped out onto the deck alone.

A harsh wind whipped at her ears as the sun set over the endless horizon. Watching a flock of gulls fly by, their red bellies fringed with wings, the torrential downpour seemed to calm down.

They must have realized I was gone by now, right?

How freaked out are they going to be?

Bessie, Leah, and my fellow maids.

The head maid and the butler.

Master Edwin and Lady Liana.

And....

Dana sucked in a breath.

The man.

A chocolate-colored ripple ran down her spine. And the way he stared at her, his jewel-blue eyes intent, tinged with displeasure and contempt.

If only he'd kept looking at her like that.

Then she wouldn't have been so desperate to escape.

Just before she opened the door to the outbuilding, she remembered the last time she saw him.

His usually neat hair was disheveled. His arms were hanging loosely, and he looked very tired, and his tightly closed eyes were almost childlike.

“What can I do? Answer me, what can I do?”

“Kreutz is my castle, all mine, old and elegant, and I think you'll love it.”

"How about we go on a grand tour together?”

Suddenly, her heart began to beat uncontrollably. Strange memories and scenes flooded her mind.

The man screamed at his servants to get a doctor immediately.

The man who had appeared through the dark woods and gently embraced her frozen body.

A hand on her cheek to keep her from slipping, a loving hand folding up her big sleeves...

She felt dizzy. Her throat tightened with an unknown fear.

No, no, no.

Dana closed her eyes.

Thud, thud, seawater splashed in her face from the bow. Not shying away from the cold splinters, Dana thought about this strange pain that flared in her mind.

She didn't like it.

Didn't even want it.

Then why,

Tsk.

Water dripped onto the back of her hand. Dana looked up in surprise.

It wasn't rain. Not even salt water.

Tsk, another droplet splashed.

"Oh..."

Dana squeezed her eyes shut.

"I must be crazy. Why would I...."

She couldn't hold back the sobs. A steady stream of tears dripped down her chin, and her sobs echoed through the crashing waves.

"The heart is without sin.”

She heard her grandfather's voice in her heart.

"No, it isn't."

Dana shook her head.

Sometimes, some feelings were sinful in and of themselves.

That's why they must be nipped in the bud. You have to nip it in the bud, right down to the roots, shatter it, and blow it away like smoke.

Never to be seen again.

Not even a trace.

A gust of wind swept across the deck. Dana let the harsh wind beat her face without flinching.

Goodbye.

A series of unclear words, whether sobs or whispers, came out empty.

Goodbye, Master.

The waves swallowed the scattering words. The ship lurched forward, unwavering.

Goodbye, forever.

Staring down at the white, tooth-baring sea, Dana pushed every last bit of resignation from her heart.

And with it, the foam shattered into fragments.

***

Nothing special, just a person.

To you, I've always been that.

If life is a play, I've never been anything more than a passing character in yours, neither lead nor supporting.

Why did I dream such a foolish dream when I already knew it?

Theodore walked aimlessly. He didn't know where he was going or why he was heading. He couldn't see where he was going or why. All he could see were memories.

When was it?

Probably the following year, when he entered the Imperial Boarding School and began to get a taste for truancy.

A polo team had been formed in Belvida that day, and Edwin was invited to play his first practice match.

Naturally, they made a bet. In those days, wagers and pranks were almost life-and-death.

Theodore lost, and had to be punished.

The terms of the wager were crude.

Dress up as a servant and enter their quarters.

Find a duster, called a "duster," and bring it back.

Whoever brought the longest one would be exempt from the penalty.

"The duster, with its ostrich feathers, is the symbol of our Belvida servants."

Edwin said, and tightened the straps of his suspenders. The rough laces dug painfully into his shoulders.

"Ah!"

Theodore glared at Edwin.

"Oh, man, I'm so sorry."

"You want to die."

Edwin smirked and held up his arms.

Theodore gritted his teeth and looked down at his clothes.

Why did the servants use such uncomfortable suspenders? You would think they were chains to bind prisoners, not suspenders.

"Here you go! The longest duster. Remember, Teddy."

Theodore headed straight for the servants’ quarters. Emil and Andrea had followed. Marcus was part of the team, but he dropped back, saying he'd rather take the penalty than go to the servants' quarters.

"If you get caught, you're out, don't forget!"

Theodore was forced to wear one of those dirty hats the stable hands wore. His whole body seemed to reek of horse manure.

He wondered why, of all the servants, he was the stable hand.

He was walking briskly, trying not to curse, when something suddenly caught on his leg.

"Ah!"

It was a person. A small girl.

Theodore stumbled, and his opponent fell on her buttocks.

The girl, who was screaming 'I'm a maid' from head to toe, blinked at him a few times.

"Are you okay?"

The girl asked.

The lack of honorifics suggested that she considered him a real servant.

An indescribable feeling of unpleasantness rose to the top of his head. There was nothing he could say, so he tried to ignore her.

The girl quickly squatted down and began to pick up the dropped items. With each movement of her tiny hands, the distinctive waxy scent of the maids' vicinity assaulted his nose.

It was strange.

Theodore frowned, but remained where he was, staring down at her.

The lace around her cuffs was too loose.

How old could she be?

About the same age as him, he thought.

He had never seen a maid so young before, not on the Shore, not at Heredon, not at Kreutz Castle, not anywhere.

She didn't have the seasoned air of a maid.

Her tiny hands moved so furiously. His bright eyes followed the hands busily. She was so busy doing her job that she didn't seem to realize that someone was watching her.

Theodore stared at the prominent bridge of her nose and suddenly realized that he was being watched.

The longest duster.

The punishment would be worse than this, and he didn't want to make a fool of himself.

He turned and started for the stairs.

"Hey."

A small voice came from behind him.

In that moment, Theodore realized.

He had been waiting for her to call out to him.

He slowly turned around, and she had gathered her things and stood up.

"You can't just wander around like that. You'll get in trouble."

Her grip on her apron tightened and loosened, her eyes glued to the boots Theodore was wearing.

He hadn't gotten around to changing. He'd come right after the match, and his boots were caked with dirt, grass, and sand. His shoeprints traced the path he'd taken.

The girl found that troubling.

"...Unlike us, you get beaten. By the chief trainer......."

The way she said it, it sounded like she really thought he was a stable hand.

He kind of expected that.

He hoped she realized that this outfit didn’t suit him at all.

He thought she would realize that a master was just dressed as a servant.

Damn you, Edwin.

Theodore's pride was too much for him to bear. The sparks naturally jumped to the girl.

Why are Belvida's servants so stupid?

How could they be so clueless?

Shouldn't they be able to recognize him at a glance?

Theodore clenched his jaw and barely held back the urge to scream at her, "You don't know who I am?” But he couldn't be so childish with a maid.

He  swallowed hard and started for the stairs again.

"Wait."

She called after him again.

Theodore's irritation rose to a fever pitch.

Her small, puppy-like body trotted over and squatted down in front of him.

"Just ten seconds."

The girl who had made the strange remark suddenly started wiping his shoes with a clean cloth.

It was ridiculous. It was ugly.

He didn't like anything about the girl: her curved back, her tiny hands, her unyielding attitude.

And yet, he couldn't take his eyes off her as she worked diligently to clean the dirt.

"...Eight, seven..."

She suddenly started counting. He frowned, wondering if she had lost her mind, but then realized she was actually counting to ten.

"...Five, four..."

A gust of wind came out of nowhere.

It was a cool, crisp breeze that instantly drove away his irritation and discomfort.

"..."

She stopped talking abruptly.

It was only four.

Theodore's stomach lurched, and he glanced down at the tiny head in his lap.

A single lock of hair fell to one side and brushed against the side of her tiny earlobe, and it smelled good. Soft, sweet, and mild enough to make him forget the waxy scent that stung his nose....

Is she really a maid?

Perhaps a friend of Liana's, and suffering the same ridiculous punishment as him?

Theodore lost himself in his own ridiculous fantasies.

Unlike her mouth, which had stopped moving, her hands kept moving. When she finished one and moved to the other, her counting began again.

"One....two...."

It was much slower than before, and then something strange formed on Theodore's chest.

A fluttering bird's wing. It tickled so much that it felt rather unpleasant.

"...Finish."

She finished in time anyway. The reason she couldn't get her hands off it, though, was that she'd only wiped the rim of his boots and hadn't touched the floor.

Theodore was quite aware of that fact.

All he had to do was lift his foot slightly. And yet, he felt his leg stuck like a nail.

Why did he do that?

He thought it was strange, but he didn't take his foot off the floor, and then her hand moved away.

"...."

She blushed a little, rubbed the back of her neck, and stepped aside to let him pass.

In that moment, Theodore was swept up in an indescribable feeling.

The fledgling bird's wings kept flapping. It was becoming increasingly unpleasant.

So he brushed past her. He trudged up the stairs, spraying dirt in his wake. When he was about four or five steps up, he spun around.

Their eyes met.

He expected the girl to glare at him with an annoyed expression on her face. But there was no emotion in her blue-gray eyes.

No displeasure, no annoyance, no questioning, no emotion of any kind.

The heartlessness, the coldness of it, set his heart on fire. It set the bird's wings on fire.

Theodore turned and stomped up the stairs. He flung open any door he could find and easily spotted the ridiculous thing called a duster.

As he turned to go back down, he was suddenly seized with the urge to tell her the truth.

The heir to the Macmillan family should not act so petty. As a superior, he had a ‘duty’.

She had done him a special favor.

The Macmilans were like a knife to the incompetent, but generous to those who were not.

Wasn't she a diligent maid who worked hard?

She deserved praise.

Theodore was driven by a sense of duty.

He couldn't help but wonder how she would react when he revealed that he was not a servant, but a nobleman. His pace quickened as he grew more impatient.

But when he rounded the corner of the stairs and found her again.

He stopped dead in his tracks, feeling something crumble inside of him.

"Uh... Thank you."

"Yes, if it weren't for you, I would have been whipped."

It was Andrea and Emil, dressed in servant's clothes like him and acting awkwardly, and it was she who was kneeling beneath them, diligently polishing their boots.

"What did you all do today? Did you clean up horse shit?"

Andrea and Emil looked at each other and stifled a laugh.

Theodore’s hand on the duster drooped downward, his hardened eyes darting around in space.

He had never felt so unpleasant in his life.

He walked past them, not understanding in the slightest why he was upset, or why his chest felt like it was burning.

"Huh?"

Andrea and Emil turned their heads, and the girl turned hers in quick succession. Theodore didn't even look up, just quickened his pace.

I can't believe I gave that thing a glance.

The bird on fire twisted.

Muddy footprints stamped all around her.

Bang, the door slammed shut.

He saw her often afterward.

On an old tree overlooking the ocean, in a washing room with fluttering sheets, in a washhouse, on a sidewalk...

Each time, a flaming bird's wings fluttered from his chest, but never once did he make eye contact or ask her name.

For he was but a broom in the world.

She didn’t do him a special favor, just a common, cheap kindness.

To her, he wasn't special.

So she shouldn't be special either.

He had to forget. He had to erase it.

Yes, she was always like that.

From the beginning, there was no him.

But she was different.

Her presence always followed him around in his head like a shadow.

Theodore stopped walking.

"...Master."

Tilly, who had been frantically following, stopped as well.

He focused his blurry vision. The scene that came into view was familiar. The tall branches swaying in the wind, the boxwood hedge, the damp mud crunching underfoot.

His shoes and pants were mangled at the hems from stepping off the path.

After crossing the garden, he climbed the stone steps. He gripped the cold iron railing with both hands and leaned forward as if he might collapse.

Perhaps he could have shaken her out of his consciousness completely, the intensity of his feelings diluted by the passage of time.

But she prevented him from doing so.

It was her fault in the first place.

The reason he was able to turn a blind eye to her for so many years was because she wasn’t special to anyone else.

He was the only one who knew she existed.

He was amused by that fact, and relieved.

So he worked hard to draw a parallel. There was no contact between them anyway.

But then she changed.

She was the first to stir up the perfectly balanced relationship.

That day, the day she caught the polo ball and blushed in front of Edwin Hastings.

She broke the sense of fairness, of being special to no one, and she crossed the line.

So he had to do the same, he couldn't help it.

"Master, now... how...... ......?"

Tilly Bryson's voice sounded once more.

Theodore blinked once, slowly.

His consciousness didn't return, but only drifted further apart.

What should I do?

What should I do?

A bile rose in his throat.

“I was lying.”

"I have no one to turn to but you.”

"I swear.”

Was it all a lie?

From the beginning to the end?

"Master, first of all... I think they have gone to Dorset... If you tell me what to do, I'll ..."

How?

Theodore opened his mouth.

"Find her."

His voice was low and quiet. It was eerily calm.

She swept past him like the wind.

Like a white flower in winter.

With a lovely face, kind eyes, and a sweet smile she'd never shown him before.

She opened herself to him willingly.

She didn't resist once.

If she had said no, shrunk away, or pushed him away.

He wouldn't have felt so betrayed.

If she made it obvious that she hated him, it wouldn't be so painful.

Why did she make him feel like he was going to be the hero?

Why did she give him dream and hope?

All other sensations faded away, leaving only the searing pain. A tearing, gouging, digging, all-encompassing pain.

"Catch her. Somehow."

Flames rose once more from the charred ashes.

The burning bird's wings flapped.

With each flick, it burned uncontrollably, until it became a giant inferno that engulfed his entire body.

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