I Am Disappearing
Leo sat blankly in his chair at the bookstore, staring into empty space after showing up for work for the first time in ages.
"…Are you okay?"
Sophia, who had been sorting books, asked with concern.
Leo turned to look at her.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"…Is something bad going on?"
Leo let out a long sigh before slowly opening his mouth.
"Just tired lately. I'm in my mid-thirties now, you know?"
"You need to get lots of sleep! The doctor said sleep is the best medicine."
"Yeah, I should."
Leo smiled with a weary face.
Ting-a-ling… The small bell announced a customer's arrival.
"Ah, Hilde sis!"
Sophia approached energetically, delighted.
Hildegard lightly patted her head.
"It's been a while, Sophia."
"Speak casually! It's been years since we last saw each other."
"I prefer polite speech."
"Still, you're about to become the boss's wife, aren't you?"
"…"
Hildegard's cheeks flushed faintly.
I told her…
"Come on in. What brings you here on a Wednesday?"
Hildegard visited the bookstore every Friday. Coming on a weekday was unusual.
"I wanted to come."
"Good timing. Sophia, you can head out first."
"Huh? It's not time yet…"
Sophia trailed off, glancing back and forth between me and Hildegard before flashing a sly grin.
"Got it. Have a good time!"
"Wait, before you go, here."
I handed her the pay envelope.
"It's payday today."
"Thank you… Uh, boss. I think you gave me too much."
Sophia opened the envelope, her eyes widening.
"It's not a mistake. You ran the place great while I was gone. Consider it a bonus."
"Still… five million harts is too much."
"Just take it."
"Thank you so much! I'll work even harder!"
"Yeah, looking forward to it."
Sophia bowed all the way out the door.
"You seem fond of that girl. Even giving her a bonus."
Hildegard said, watching Sophia leave.
"That's part of it, but her grandmother's been ill."
"…Ah."
"She even took out high-interest loans for hospital bills. Not many work that hard."
"I see."
I stood at the counter.
"So, what book are you buying today, Colonel?"
"…I'm not here to buy a book today."
She lowered her eyes briefly, then met mine.
"…When will you visit Her Highness?"
"Her Highness?"
"What I told you at the debutante ball."
"Oh… right."
Leo had genuinely forgotten. With one shocking event after another, the king's order had slipped his mind.
"You forgot?"
"Too much on my plate. Sorry, I'll go soon. But the king telling you about it is weird."
"…"
"Hilde?"
Hildegard stared straight at me, her face devoid of any smile.
"Could you tell me what's going on?"
"…What?"
"I'm no good at comforting people, but I can at least listen and empathize."
"…"
"I want to hear your troubles and share them. Bearing heavy burdens alone only makes it worse."
Her words held no pretense or hypocrisy. She knew. The weight of being the granddaughter of a butcher, the days she'd endured that burden alone. Even the responsibilities her family had cast off—she'd shouldered them herself. It was only because Leo had shared that load when she was on the verge of breaking that she was who she was now.
"I want to carry your burden too."
"Uh, I think you're misunderstanding. I'm really fine. Just, uh, had a little fight with Ellie at the debutante ball. Nothing big."
"Is it really nothing?"
"Yeah."
Hildegard sighed inwardly.
Do you even know what expression you're making right now?
How can I believe you when your face looks ready to crumble, yet you say you're 'fine'?
"Leo. I am the woman who will become your… wife."
Hildegard continued.
"So, tell me."
"…Sorry."
Leo avoided her sharp golden eyes. He could never say it. That Elizabeth had confessed she loved him 'rationally,' and it had soured things between them.
"…Sorry, Hilde. I can't say."
"I see."
Hildegard took his hand. Through the black glove, her faint warmth seeped through.
"You can tell me later. When you're ready."
"…Yeah, thanks."
I leaned against Hildegard.
Elizabeth, draped only in a robe over her bare skin, gazed out the window.
Seven in the evening. Opening the window let in the distant sound of a train passing.
Somewhere else in this world, someone loved another, while someone else was abandoned.
Elizabeth felt like a tiny boat adrift in the vast waves of emotion, alone.
No one would come looking for her.
Leo, out of consideration, never entered without permission. Unless she left the room, they wouldn't meet.
Staring emptily out the window, a lesson from her etiquette professor suddenly came to mind.
"Living is its own purpose. Questions like 'Why live?' are meaningless."
If that was true, life had no real reason.
Elizabeth had agreed. She'd thought so.
Just alive, so just living.
But for the first time that day, she had to withdraw her agreement.
The purpose of her life was Leo.
Leo Valentine. He was too vast to call 'Dad.'
Biological father felt superficial, dry.
When Leo smiled, she smiled. When he cried, she cried. What he liked, she liked.
First, his voice. The casual tone, low timbre, steady breathing. No special reason, but it calmed her.
Then his tousled black hair. Untamed daily, naturally disheveled—it looked comforting. She didn't want to touch it. Just seeing it that way was good.
Then the wrinkles at his eyes. Watching them crinkle when he smiled strangely tightened her chest. Probably the sense of long-shared time.
And his eyes. Quiet, wordless.
His nose. Sharp but familiar.
His mouth. Never smoked, yet it left a smoky impression.
His ears. They twitched slightly when he spoke.
His neck. The line visible between shirt buttons.
His scent. Familiar paper and old ink, with a hint of alcohol.
His aura. Indescribable, but wherever he was, a strange stillness reigned.
Gradually, she loved everything about him. No need for explanations.
He existed, and that was enough.
At some point, she loved his very existence.
No reason needed. It just was.
Through Leo, Elizabeth saw the world. She liked what he liked, ignored what he disliked. Judged by his words, stopped where he stopped.
In her eighteen years, his absence would leave only void.
Meaningless waiting. Endless silence. Empty scenes.
She'd staked her life on winning his love. Built day by day. Tuned emotions, chose words, minded actions. Inched closer, sometimes retreated. Explored endlessly, adjusted to fit him.
The result: failure.
Clear conclusion. Irreversible rejection.
Not completely over, of course. Leo wanted to return to 'father-daughter.' If she willed it, they could manage some okay relationship.
Some stability. Predictable routine. Appropriate emotional distance.
Leo would marry Hildegard. He'd said as much, and she knew.
She would become their daughter. Adult, yet fixed as 'daughter.'
An ambiguous position. Not protagonist, but background.
Time passes, they have children, her place vanishes.
Formal status remains, real ties fade.
A name without role.
Aging Leo allocates time to growing family. Breakfasts, evening walks, weekend outings. All to others.
Too many people for him to care for her.
This wasn't the 'life' she wanted.
Born, so live? She didn't want that.
Too abstract. Too vague.
She wanted to monopolize him. Not halved or thirds—complete possession.
A world with only her and Leo. Nothing else needed.
That failed life now lost meaning.
Continuing was pointless. Just repetition. Purposeless.
She returned the old grimoire. Skipped school. Stared out the window during class hours, letting time pass.
Through the grimoire, she'd dreamed briefly. A hazy illusion, like life through frosted glass.
Form but ungraspable routine. Eating together, sleeping together, reorganizing closets with seasons.
Daily life synced to weather. Unremarkable days. Laugh sometimes, fight sometimes, reconcile.
Time flowing without incident. Nights of passionate love, sleeping in warmth. His breathing in sleep, dark room, cozy blankets.
Just an ordinary couple's life. Common, unrecorded.
Yet the dream always shattered at the final scene.
A boundary: no further. It stopped there.
Subconscious forbade more.
A dream never reached.
Emotions going nowhere. Impossible kind.
One she shouldn't hope for, shouldn't have started.
That dream made 'Why live?' resonate more. Question childish, but no answer left.
She stopped eating. Slept less than five hours. Barely spoke all day.
Body alive, mind gone. Forgot what thoughts were for.
She fetched the rope. Found it years ago cleaning the storeroom.
She smiled faintly. Never imagined this use.
Really, never.
She wrapped it slowly around her fingers. Fibers touched her palm. Neither warm nor cold. Just texture.
Neither hard nor soft. Just matter there.
Dragged over the chair. Sound crossed the room. Short, firm scrape. Meaningless, but memorable.
She glanced out the window again. Train still ran. People bustled, laughed, chattered.
Irrelevant to her life.
Gazing beyond the glass, a sudden thought escaped her lips.
"I am disappearing now."
No tears. No sadness. Just the feeling of being alone here too long.
Others gone somewhere; she left behind.
No—only Leo remained. He'd offered his hand; she'd refused.
Her choice.
Now she understood a little. Irreversible things exist, quietly killing people.
She looped the rope over the ceiling beam. Hands steady. Mind clear.
Everything starkly vivid, surprisingly.
Elizabeth quietly stepped onto the chair.