2-5 Years Later
2-5 Years Later
Five years passed.
No one spoke the name of the Stein family anymore. The voices that had cried out in injustice had drifted away somewhere, and the world simply moved on.
Overturned, forgotten, and on to the next. No one could stop it.
I was still here.
Sometimes that felt strange. Because five years ago, I hadn't planned on staying long.
I had intended to end it once the handcuffs were off. The chance came. Several times. But I didn't take it.
Why was hard to explain, and I didn't want to explain it either. I just let one day pass, then another, and at some point it became five years.
That was all.
The fifteen-year-old I had been became twenty. I'd grown more than a handspan taller, my shoulders broadened, and my voice changed.
Every time I looked in the mirror I saw my father's face, so I didn't look long. But when I had to, I looked.
Because there were things I couldn't run from.
The mansion was as it had been. Erwan had a few more white hairs, Serpine still folded her arms and scanned people up and down.
Chloe was still in a daze, and Luca still claimed fault for things that weren't his fault.
And Mae-hwa.
Nothing had changed. Her height was the same, the way she stammered was the same. The way she wanted to be together for no reason,
the way she came into my room as if it were nothing, the way she would hold something back and sometimes let it slip—
nothing was different from five years ago.
That was sometimes comfortable, sometimes uncomfortable. I didn't bother trying to tell which.
======
The door opened without even a knock.
It was before I'd opened my eyes. The light seeping through the curtains told me it was early morning, and footsteps drew near.
I didn't need to open my eyes to know who it was.
"You awake?"
"...You could knock before you come in."
"I-I did."
Right. Sure you didn't.
Even though you've never once done it properly in five years.
I opened my eyes to the ceiling. I'd memorized every stain on this room's ceiling by now. A water stain in the left corner, a faint crack near the window, a tiny lime mark in the center.
Things I saw every morning.
Mae-hwa walked over to the bedside without the slightest self-consciousness. Too naturally, too habitually.
Five years ago, that had been awkward. Now, it was the awkwardness that would have been strange. This person's morning entrance into this room had become an everyday scene.
I didn't know when it had become like that.
"What time is it."
"Morning."
"Don't be vague."
"Th-then you won't get up."
"I'll get up."
"You won't get up."
Her voice was full of certainty. And she wasn't wrong.
I sighed and pushed myself up. The blanket slid down to my knees, and Mae-hwa was already drawing the curtains. As sunlight spilled into the room, I shielded my eyes with the back of my hand.
"Come out with me today."
"...Where."
"To the market."
"You can just send Serpine to do it."
"I-I want to go with you."
No reason. It was the same answer as five years ago.
Just. Together. A demand without reason.
And the fact that it didn't even occur to me to refuse was also the same. Five years ago I think I would have at least tried to refuse, but now that option didn't easily surface in my mind.
"...I'll wash up and come out."
Mae-hwa nodded and started to leave, but paused with her hand on the doorknob.
"Victor."
"What."
"Y-you have to eat breakfast before you go."
I didn't answer and headed to the washstand. I washed my face with cold water and looked in the mirror.
I didn't look for long.
I dried my face with a towel and returned to my room. I was about to change clothes when the door opened again.
"What."
"Buttons."
"...I can do it myself."
"I-I know."
Mae-hwa stood behind me and silently fastened the buttons. With those small hands.
Hands that hadn't changed in five years. The careful touch was the same too. They hadn't grown any bigger—the same size as the hands that used to slip cloth between the cuffs and my wrists.
"Done."
I turned around, but my wrist was caught.
"...What."
"Stay still."
Mae-hwa gently rolled up my sleeve and examined the inside of my wrist. There was nothing there.
It had healed long ago. The scars had faded a long time.
"...It's fine."
"Of course. It's been years."
"Still."
Her hand didn't let go. For a moment, just for a moment, it stayed like that. Like she was checking something. Or like she couldn't stop checking.
I couldn't tell which.
"There's nothing. Really."
"..."
"Mae-hwa."
Mae-hwa was the one who let go first, without a word.
It was hard to read her expression. She'd always been hard to read, but in moments like this, especially so.
"Let's go."
I looked down at my wrist for a moment, but there was nothing.
Only a faint warmth lingering where Mae-hwa's hand had touched.
======
"Hhmm..."
There was nothing on Victor's wrist.
She knew. She didn't see it every day. But every few days, her hand moved first.
It was an act too embarrassing to even call checking. She was looking even though she knew there was nothing.
At first, it was different. At first, she really hadn't known. So she looked... but after that, she looked even knowing there was nothing... and after that.
After that, she tried not to think about the reason.
While she fastened the buttons, she saw his back. Shoulders broader than five years ago. A firmer back.
'...Hehe, he's grown this much in the place I brought him to.'
It was a warm and terrible thought. That this person was trapped here because of her—and that she was glad about it—were both in the same sentence.
She didn't know how to separate the two... but maybe she didn't actually want to separate them.
'I'm sorry... but I'm satisfied, I love you... and I'm sorry. I don't even know which comes first.'
Because she was the one who had brought him here five years ago. There had been a reason.
She had thought it was right then. And she still thought that decision had been the best... which made it even worse.
'How easy it would be if I could flat out call it wrong.'
'I could just kneel down, admit I was wrong, and open the door for him to leave comfortably. Like in the past life.'
'But that... no. I can't.'
'Without you, I'm nothing.'
'Please.'
Her fingertips fastened the final button. He said "Done" and started to turn.
Grabbing his wrist was pure reflex. It felt like she couldn't let go. Like he might go somewhere.
'Wait. Just a little longer.'
'There's nothing. Nothing. Thank goodness. It's a relief... so why can't I let go...'
"Ah...!"
She let go first. Because if she didn't, she felt like she wouldn't be able to let go.
Victor said her name.
'I have to leave before he notices.'
Before this flushed face gets caught.
======
The market was noisy.
There were crowds of people, and the smells of raw fish, baking bread, spices, and straw all mingled. The seasons were changing, so the air was ambiguous.
Neither cold nor warm.
Mae-hwa walked ahead as if she knew exactly where she was going, and I followed behind.
Naturally.
I couldn't remember when it had become natural. It just became that way.
"What did Serpine ask you to buy?"
"Mm. But let's do something else, else first."
"Something else."
"Something you want to eat."
"I don't have anything like that."
"Yes you do."
"I said I don't."
"..."
Mae-hwa looked at me for a moment. It was the look of someone choosing something.
"Victor."
"What."
"You haven't been eating well lately."
"I'm eating."
"I heard from Serpine. You've been only eating half, just half lately."
"That's all I can eat."
"You didn't used to be like that."
Used to. Which "used to" was that. It had been five years since I came here. Within those five years, "used to" covered too wide a range.
"When are you talking about."
"Three years ago, you ate more."
"That was then."
"Why did it decrease."
"..."
This was strange. Hearing from Serpine how much I eat, comparing it to three years ago, and asking why it had decreased.
If it was worrying, it was worrying, but calling it just worrying made me uncomfortable somehow.
"Just because."
"'Just because' is your reason?"
The exact words I'd said at the dinner table came back at me. "Just because" is a reason? Those were the words I had said to Mae-hwa earlier.
"..."
"You know you've been a little, a little strange lately?"
"What's strange."
"You hardly talk. You try to be alone. Talking to Erwan about the mansion. You-you never used to do that."
"People can change."
"It doesn't feel like ch-changing."
"Then what is it."
"Don't worry about it."
"That's what's hard to do."
"You're worrying for no reason."
"Nngh... there is a reason."
"What is it."
Silence again. The silence of not saying the reason.
And then, just as naturally,
we stopped in front of a fruit stand. Mae-hwa picked one up.
"How about this?"
As if nothing had happened. As if the conversation just now had never existed.
"...Not that one, the one next to it. That one's riper."
Mae-hwa silently picked up the one next to it. Without even haggling, she paid. The vendor put it in a bag, handed it over, and smiled.
"You two are so close. You make such a lovely pair~"
I didn't answer.
I glanced to the side. Mae-hwa took the bag without a word. She didn't deny it, nor did she agree.
She was just quietly smiling. As if she were genuinely happy.
I looked away. I thought about saying something but left it.
Not because I had nothing to say, but because I didn't know what it would change.
Passing by a draper's shop, Mae-hwa stopped.
"Hold on."
She examined a fabric. It was a thick material. She checked the feel with her hand.
"How about this. Your room curtains, th-they're old."
"It doesn't matter."
"When it's cold, thin ones are cold."
"..."
"I'll get this."
A structure where she asked for my opinion but my opinion wasn't reflected. It was something I'd experienced countless times over five years.
"The color?"
"You pick."
I looked at the fabrics spread out. Dark blue. Deep green. Ivory. A near-black dark brown.
"...That dark brown."
"This one?"
"Yeah."
Mae-hwa called the shopkeeper and asked the price. She took the curtain fabric and started walking, but it looked heavy, so I wordlessly took it from her.
Mae-hwa looked up for a moment and said nothing. She didn't try to snatch it back, just walked alongside me.
There was silence for a while.
Only the sounds of the market.
That wasn't strange. She was someone I could be silent with without discomfort. Because it had been that way since five years ago.
======
It was on the way back.
At the alley that turned toward the mansion, Mae-hwa slowed her steps. I matched her pace, walking slowly.
"Where did you go yesterday."
"...For a walk."
"Alone?"
"Yeah."
Mae-hwa fell silent for a moment. Her steps slowed just a little.
"...Tell me before you go, next time."
"Why."
"Just."
There it was again.
But this time, the words didn't end there.
"...It's hard to find you."
"Find what."
Very short. Just for a moment.
"...You."
After saying that, Mae-hwa kept walking as if nothing had happened, adjusting her bag. Her voice was flat, but there was something in it.
Something that seemed to hold emotion, and also seemed not to.
I followed a beat later.
I saw her back. A small back. An unchanged back. It was a back I had seen for five years, but at this moment, it felt strangely unfamiliar.
Like the back of someone I knew very well but felt like I didn't know at all.
Strangely, my heart gave a single thump.
It was an unwelcome sensation. A sensation I didn't want to name. Because naming it would make something change.
======
Evening.
We sat facing each other at the dining table. What Serpine brought out was a pepper-based stew.
Serpine always announced the changing seasons with the table. Over five years, I had gauged the seasons by it a few times.
"How was today."
As always, the same question.
"...Not bad."
The same answer came out. It had become words that came out without even thinking before they left my mouth.
Mae-hwa scooped a spoonful of soup and pushed it toward me.
"It's hot, so eat slowly."
"I know."
"You know, but you al-always eat fast."
"..."
"I-if you burn the roof of your mouth, it's uncomfortable for days."
I ate the soup slowly. But it was still hot.
Serpine always served it hot. Saying it tastes different if it cools, yet telling me to eat slowly.
There was no contradiction in that.
"Today at the market, wh-what did you say to Erwan?"
"What are you talking about."
"I heard from Pete. He said you pulled Erwan as-aside and talked a long time."
"About repairing the path around the mansion. There's a section that turns to mud when it rains."
"You talked about that?"
"Yeah. It seems like it's hard for Luca when he takes the carriage out."
Mae-hwa looked at me for a moment.
"...You should tell Luca."
"Luca would say it's his own fault."
"True."
Mae-hwa smiled faintly. A smile with almost no sound.
Over five years, I'd become able to see when this person smiled. At first, I couldn't even tell if she was smiling.
The candle flame flickered. Even though there was no breeze. Same as always.
"Mae-hwa."
"Hm?"
I didn't know what I had meant to say. I just said her name. Since this morning, I'd said it many times, more than usual.
"...That thing you said at the market today."
Mae-hwa didn't set down her spoon. She just listened while eating.
"That it's hard to find me."
"Yeah."
"Why."
"..."
"Why is it hard to find me."
Mae-hwa paused eating for a moment. She looked somewhere on the table, not at me.
"Just."
"What's 'just'."
"...If you're not here."
She cut herself off. Not stammering—she was choosing her words.
"Then it won't do."
I couldn't think of anything to say in return. The words "it won't do." No reason, no explanation, no conditions.
Just that it won't do. It was the same way as five years ago.
The candle flame flickered again.
"...Alright."
That was all I could manage. Mae-hwa said nothing, so I went back to eating.
That was the end of it, but as if that alone was enough.
Mae-hwa rose from her seat first.
"Victor, sleep well."
"Yeah."
"You were at the pond during the day, weren't you."
"...You saw?"
"Pete."
Pete saw everything. In this mansion, there was nothing you could do without Pete knowing.
"Yeah."
"Were you c-cold?"
"It's not that bad yet."
Mae-hwa nodded, then paused for a moment.
"...I'll change the curtains later."
"Now?"
"Before I go to sleep."
"You can just tell Erwan to do it."
"I'll do it."
No reason. Again.
I didn't say anything more.
======
When I entered my room, Mae-hwa was already by the window. She was taking down the curtains, and the new fabric sat beside her.
The dark brown fabric we'd bought at the market today. The one I'd chosen.
"I'll help."
"I-it's fine."
"It's faster with two."
I just stood beside her and took hold of the curtain rod. It didn't take long. With the new curtains, the atmosphere of the room changed.
It was a little darker. It had a little more weight.
"How is it?"
"...Good."
Mae-hwa nodded, looking satisfied.
"I'll sleep now."
"Yeah."
Mae-hwa walked toward the door and stopped with her hand on the knob. She didn't turn around.
"Victor."
"What."
"...Nothing. Sleep well."
That was it. The door closed. Footsteps went down the hallway. Fading away.
I stared at the closed door for a long time.
She'd said "sleep well." Somehow those words lingered strangely long.
======
After changing Victor's curtains, I
didn't return to my room.
I walked to the end of the hallway, then stopped. I turned around and came back to stand in front of that door.
'Again.'
I couldn't help but be dumbfounded at myself. Every night I come all the way here, and every night I think, "Again."
But still, my feet came first. My feet knew me better than my head.
I stood there.
Because I didn't know how this person would be at night. A person who would leave the moment he got the chance. So every night I stood in front of his door.
But then, the days when he didn't take the chance even when it came continued. A month passed. A year passed.
The reason disappeared.
'Just. Just because you're inside there. That alone is enough for me.'
I knew what I'd done. This person's five years. From fifteen to twenty, inside this mansion. What that time was.
'I'm sorry.
But see, Victor, the problem is, after the words "I'm sorry,"
you always leave. That's the order of things.
So now those words won't come out of my mouth.'
Every time I tried to say it, the words "You can go" caught somewhere in my throat. Those four syllables.
I was selfish. Because I was glad he was here. Because I was glad we walked side by side at the market today.
The profile that had turned serious for a moment when choosing the dark brown curtains. The hand that silently took the heavy fabric. All of it, I was glad for.
'I love you. Love you, love you, love you. That's all I have. For me, there's only you.'
I'd heard him say today wasn't bad. I wanted that to be the truth.
'You have to be okay. You have to be okay. But you can't go. Both. I want both. I know I'm selfish. Knowing that, I still don't want to let either go.'
A long time passed before I left the hallway.
'Tomorrow, I'll come again. And the day after. And the day after that.'
I knew it was shameful.
But still, I wouldn't be able to stop. Because I didn't want to stop.
======
It was night.
I lay in bed. The new curtains blocked the light better. The room was dark and quiet.
Just as I was closing my eyes.
There was a presence.
In the hallway. Very faint, as if holding one's breath.
It was a presence I'd heard for five years. By now, I felt I knew who it was without even looking. Though I'd never once confirmed it.
I stayed still with my eyes closed.
The door didn't open. Nothing happened. She was just there. Then disappeared.
It was a long time before the presence faded away.
I quietly opened my eyes.
The water stain in the left corner, the faint crack near the window, the tiny lime mark in the center.
A familiar ceiling.
That person had stood here every night for five years.
I'd never once asked why... and it wasn't that I didn't want to ask.
It was that the moment I asked, I felt like I would realize the meaning of everything that had built up until now. That was frightening.
======
The next morning.
Mae-hwa was the same as usual. She came in without knocking, paused for a moment when she went to draw the curtains, but drew them anyway.
"Vi-Victor, eat quickly."
"...Alright."
I picked up my spoon.
Sunlight streamed in through the window. I could hear Serpine grumbling in the kitchen, the sound of Pete's feet running down the hallway.
The sound of Chloe beating something out, the distant sound of Luca opening the stable door.
All familiar sounds. Sounds that had built up over five years.
I was inside them.
I couldn't remember when "Just one more day" had simply become "Tomorrow." I couldn't tell exactly when it had changed.
But,
The fact that this person stood in front of my door every night, and the fact that I didn't know what she was hiding—
strangely, they surfaced together this morning.
There was no reason, but.
Just. I felt like I could still pretend not to know for now. Because—