Hoping for No More Pity
Without the slightest grasp of my rather complicated feelings, Evan pressed on about his current company rather than his former one.
"Moreover, I want to shine a light on books by relatively lesser-known authors as well, but that simply wasn't possible at the company. The promotional slots are fixed, and above all, a company has to pursue profit."
"Authors would be so happy if their books got mentioned even one more time. Hmm… But putting what you just said out in the video exactly like that would be a problem."
Evan gave a short snort of laughter.
"Exactly. This is just us talking freely among ourselves. For the interview, it would be better to focus solely on the part about starting the bookstore because I wanted to curate however I liked according to my own tastes. Well, it's the same thing in the end…"
If that was how the man himself felt about it, I was in no position to refuse.
Apparently speaking this candidly wasn't enough to land him a disciplinary action or anything of the sort.
"But listening to everything you've said so far, it almost sounds like Bibliophile, with its emphasis on book curation, doesn't have much competitiveness as an online bookstore. Is it really all right to start out like this?"
"Yes. Honestly, if profit were the priority, running a blog would make far more sense than leasing a space and operating a bookstore. But the reason I started anyway is…"
Evan looked for a moment at the Angelus brothers playing contentedly together. He seemed to be carefully choosing his next words.
"I felt the urge to try something that went beyond a simple hobby. As you already know, Jun, I took quite a hard fall not long ago."
"……"
What Evan was saying now clearly couldn't go into the interview, so I quietly set down my fountain pen.
I was not the sort of person who made videos by chasing sensational material, and right now I felt I needed to listen as a friend rather than as an interviewer.
"It felt as if I'd been struck square in the solar plexus out of nowhere and couldn't breathe, and shame seeped into me the way rain soaks you when you're standing under a downpour. Even standing on solid ground, I felt a precarious sensation as though everything were shaking."
Evan held the slightly cooled mug in his hand and gazed quietly at the dark, rippling liquid as he continued.
"People are strange that way—when your mood hits rock bottom, you end up sitting on the floor instead of a perfectly good chair, don't you? And that was when I saw it."
The night he still lived on the second floor of our villa.
While he was suffering alone in his study, a book he had read in his youth caught his eye from the very bottom shelf of the bookcase—a single volume that had been gradually pushed downward among the countless books he had read as he grew up, until it ended up tucked away down there.
"As if possessed, I pulled the book out and read it cover to cover right there on the spot. It was a book I had definitely read before, yet it felt as though I were seeing it for the first time. And somehow, from that moment, I decided to start over."
Just as taking one step allows you to take the next, he said that was how he was able to move forward again.
"Everyone has something that helps them endure their hard times and get back on their feet. For some it's travel; for others it's painting or listening to music… In my case, it was books."
Starting a bookstore that embodied his own ideas seemed less about making money and more about erecting a prop that would support him as he lived his life.
So Evan was the kind of person who built his own supports.
Honestly, I was a little moved. Without realizing it I found myself smiling, cheering him on in my heart.
But…
While my emotions were rooting for him, the notepad still full of awkward content left me no choice but to ask a question that would shatter the moment.
"But you're still an editor at Brown House Publishing. Didn't they say anything about you taking on a side business like this?"
"Well, as long as it's a non-competing business, dual employment is fine."
"Hmm…"
I didn't know for certain, but weren't publishing houses and bookstores both part of the same publishing industry…?
It felt a little too ambiguous to call it non-competing without reservation.
"Even so, if you simply gather and curate books from other publishers, will they really let it pass without a word?"
In fact, a good half of the books in Love and War had come from other houses.
"Yes, that part was actually the issue. So I was even prepared to quit my editor position if the publisher refused permission."
Good heavens—was this really the workaholic Evan I knew?
I had always had the feeling that getting fired would hit him harder than divorce, yet here he was ready to walk away over a business that hadn't even properly started, let alone found its footing.
But as he recalled that time, the next words from Evan—who was smiling with one corner of his mouth lifted—made me roughly understand.
"As I said earlier, the biggest reason they allowed it is probably because it doesn't look very promising as a business. They asked back with a hint of mockery whether I'd be all right. They must have figured that even if they left me to do as I pleased, I'd wash my hands of it before long."
"Ah…"
It seemed Brown House Publishing had judged that while Evan might be fine as an editor, he had no talent whatsoever as a businessman.
They must have decided the benefit of keeping him as an editor outweighed any losses his side venture might cause.
Evan added one more point to my speculation. His voice was rather chilly, and it did not carry particularly warm feelings.
"On top of that, if I left the publisher and this business succeeded, that would be troublesome as well."
"Ah, that makes perfect sense. They wouldn't want to come around later begging me to push their books."
"Yes. Anyway, so I am deeply moved by the company's 'generous treatment' and intend to work with all my heart and soul both here and at Brown House Publishing."
I nodded along appropriately at his bold resolution, then suddenly remembered something I had forgotten.
"…But Brown House Publishing is a family company, isn't it?"
Evan smiled faintly at my question.
"Oh dear, Jun. A family company of this scale is no longer a family company."
"But can they really fire someone who bears the Brown name from Brown Publishing?"
"Of course. And that situation is actually worse than when an ordinary employee is let go. It means you've fallen out of favor with important people you can't ignore."
"Then shouldn't you be even more careful?"
When I asked in confusion, Evan merely shrugged.
"From divorcing Grace and not rushing into remarriage, I've already done things to fall out of favor…"
Ah, damn. I shouldn't have asked.
This man was fighting a harder battle than I had imagined.
I could easily picture how much pressure he must be under.
Yet surprisingly, Evan did not seem particularly stressed.
Whether it was because around the age of thirty-five one develops the capacity to take responsibility for one's own life, or because various storms—including the incident I knew about—had battered what once looked like a smooth path and forged him into a solid person, I couldn't say…
Evan continued calmly.
"I've decided to change my mind from climbing faster and higher to living life more broadly and deeply. In that process, a continual looking back at oneself will always be necessary."
He lifted his head to glance once at the mountain of books piled high, then turned to look at a few of the volumes he had curated and said,
"So from now on, rather than reading indiscriminately large quantities of books, I want to pursue reading that digs a little longer and deeper into a single subject. Sharing that experience will be the reason Bibliophile exists."
What Evan said sounded like the words of a man setting out to find a new path.
When I mentioned this, he nodded lightly in agreement.
"That's right. Only after tumbling down the path I'd been racing along without a shred of doubt did I decide I needed to find my own road."
Evan said his goal going forward was to fill his study, which still looked empty for the time being.
"To borrow your words, Jun, the start of this bookstore is a journey I am embarking on for the first time by my own will—leaving behind a great deal of opposition and worry from those around me."
"Ah, as expected. There was a lot of opposition."
"Yes. Well, yes. I understand it fully, but… even to your ears there must be parts of what I'm saying that sound absurd, so what more is there to say about the people around me."
"I…"
I fell into thought for a moment at his words.
Rationally, on the basis of logic and money, I could have told him to think again. But people cannot live on reason alone.
"I want to support you until you go beyond a personal library and build the greatest library of all."
What Evan needed now was not worry but encouragement.
Above all, the Evan of this moment looked more alive than any Evan I had seen on any previous day.
What use was worry grounded in logic in front of someone who was finally trying to truly live and breathe?
"…Thank you so much. That really gives me strength."
Evan smiled at my sincere support.
I smiled too, recalling the nun who had tossed me a donation bag on a cold winter day and walked away.
Right—if you're not going to give money, what's the point of handing over worries?
Using the pre-interview as a foundation, we filmed the interview video.
Perhaps exhausted from playing with their new toys to their hearts' content, there were even two little audience members leaning against the soft body pillows and watching us, so the atmosphere throughout the interview stayed pleasant.
Once the interview was completely finished, instead of packing up the camera I set up for filming again beside the wide desk.
Then I pulled another box out from under the stroller.
"That stroller is practically a peddler's bag."
Evan remarked with open curiosity, and I nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, there's really a lot of storage space. You can tell how much thought the stroller company put into parents raising kids."
What I took out of the box was high-quality paper, ink, a dip pen, and an acrylic frame.
Evan looked at my calligraphy tools with interested eyes.
"May I ask what you're doing now?"
"I'm going to write the bookstore's name and put it in an acrylic frame for you. An opening gift."
"I'm grateful for the thought, but… you already gave me a gift earlier. Is it all right to accept another?"
"Of course. If I put the calligraphy at the end of the interview video, I think the bookstore's name will linger a little longer in people's memories. If you have any requests, please tell me."
"I'm truly grateful. No requests. Better to trust your sense than mine, since I don't know much about this."
Evan's luxurious mahogany desk possessed cinematic beauty simply by being framed in the shot.
After a brief moment of thought, I wrote the bookstore's name in a classic typeface that seemed to suit him, then filled the space around the first letter B with beautiful patterns.
Evan let out a pure voice of admiration.
"It's truly beautiful. And the way you write it in a single stroke makes me feel respect for how much practice you must have put in all this time."
"Ah… I do practice without skipping a single day."
I felt a little guilty inside, but it was true that I was practicing.
If I kept at it like this, one day I would really be able to write like this with my own genuine skill.
Anyway.
It didn't take long for the ink to dry.
I carefully fitted the fully dried paper into the acrylic frame.
Thanking the Manito App that had once again made a gift like this possible, I handed the frame to Evan.
"Congratulations on the opening. I'll keep supporting you going forward."