Coloring (7)

A week passed.

Time slipped by.

Some days dragged, others vanished in a blink.

Looking back, though, it all blended together—like a worn record circling its groove on a preordained track.

Every day after classes, I went to the church.

As the sun sank low, without fail.

Estelle was always there.

Impossible to tell whether she was praying, or sleeping, or simply passing time.

We ate supper together.

Sitting side by side on a long bench at the center of the church.

The food Estelle produced from somewhere—soft bread, fragrant fruit, wine that looked more than passably expensive.

I didn't know if the wine was meant for the Eucharist, but the bread was insistently, almost strangely flavorless.

She chattered the whole time.

Some noble had burst into tears during confession.

The monastery cat had given birth to five kittens.

Mostly trivial stories, the kind you forgot the moment you heard them.

I let most of it wash over me.

Tilting my wine glass, letting her voice drift past like background music.

"You heading out soon?"

Estelle asked.

She was dipping the last scrap of bread into her wine, slipping it into her mouth.

"I should ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sleep."

"Fair. Sleep is important. Stay up too late and you won't grow. Not that you've got much growing left to do, I guess."

A playful smile.

"By the way, they still haven't kicked you out of your room? That place is supposed to be for the clever idiots and the esteemed noble lords, isn't it?"

"Still there, somehow. If they throw me out, I'll sleep rough. Or find someplace off-campus."

I'd manage one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way or another.

Anything was better than dying.

"Mm. If you get kicked out, stay here. I can rustle up a bed at least."

"......."

I almost asked again why she was being so kind to me—the same question as before—but I swallowed the words.

She might not enjoy sharing close quarters with someone who'd seen her true face.

"Thank you."

I kept it short.

At that, Estelle's pale face flushed.

Even under the dim candlelight, the color stood out clearly.

A faint smile crossed her lips, and she murmured, almost too soft to hear:

"Ah. Yeah, this is nothing, really. If your big sister—no. Never mind. Bye. See you tomorrow."

She ended haltingly, turning her head away toward the altar.

I rose and walked to the church door.

I could feel her gaze on my back.

Not warm, not cold.

Just present.

I finished the evening with Estelle like any other night and set off back to my room.

Serepina was waiting for me.

In front of my door.

As though she had been standing there for a long time.

The corridor's dim lamplight smudged the edges of her silhouette.

"...What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk. You weren't inside, so I waited."

Her voice was low, quiet. It carried faintly through the empty hallway.

I noticed then that the door was slightly ajar. Light seeped through the gap.

A thief wouldn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠find anything worth taking, but the feeling it gave me was strange all the same. Having your ex-fiancée show up to break off an engagement and then let herself into your room whenever she pleased wasn't exactly pleasant.

"If this is about the dissolution, did you need to come in person? Wasn't it already decided?"

I leaned against the door as I spoke. No desire to step closer to her.

There had always been an invisible wall between us.

Now a literal door was standing in for it, that was all.

"I was told the usual process involves both parties, and people from both families, meeting to sort things out. Some things can't be avoided. The two of us can't just say 'it's over' and be done with it."

She averted her gaze as she spoke, staring down at the worn patterns on the corridor floor.

"That's the first I've heard of it."

"We're probably the only people who were betrothed since childhood and then broke it off."

A faint, bitter smile touched the corner of her mouth.

"I've arranged a carriage. I'll pick you up tomorrow, after lunch."

"Fine."

I nodded and moved to close the door that was already open.

My hand found the handle. I pulled inward.

Nothing more to say.

The conversation was just circling the same old ground.

That was the moment I tried to shut the door.

Crunch.

Reflexively, Serepina thrust her hand into the gap.

A dull, heavy sound.

Her slender fingers caught between the closing door and the frame.

White fingers bloomed red in an instant, bent at a wrong-looking angle.

I froze for a second.

The sensation of the door crushing something transmitted vividly through my fingertips.

Her face twisted faintly with pain.

She didn't even manage a groan—just bit down hard on her lip.

"You alright?"

The words came out on their own.

Instead of answering, she snatched her hand back and hid it behind her.

Like a scolded child.

"I'm fine."

The smallest voice. Trembling.

The kind that made it painfully obvious she was lying.

"...Alright."

I answered flatly and shut the door.

I didn't ask why she'd grabbed it.

Even if I had, no proper answer would have come.

Clack.

The door closed. The latch caught.

I stood there for a moment, leaning against it.

My heart was beating slowly.

No sound came from beyond the door.

I couldn't tell whether she'd left or was still standing there.

It didn't matter.

I crossed to the bed and let myself fall onto it. The mattress groaned, absorbing my weight.

I was tired.

Mentally, more than physically.

How long passed?

Thirty minutes. Maybe an hour.

By the time my eyes had adjusted to the dark of the room, my sense of time had dulled.

It occurred to me that I should let Estelle know I wouldn't be able to join her for dinner tomorrow. A promise was a promise.

I pushed myself up and headed back toward the door.

Without thinking, I gripped the handle and turned it.

Thump.

The instant I opened the door, something collided with it—the sound of a body catching itself mid-fall.

Serepina.

She had been leaning against the door.

Now she was slumped on the floor, staring up at me with startled eyes.

Through the disheveled strands of her hair, her flustered expression was unmistakable.

"You've been standing here the whole time?"

She scrambled to get up, but her legs seemed to have given out—she swayed and collapsed back down.

In the process, the hand she'd been hiding came into view.

Her fingers caught my eye.

Not just the ones crushed in the door.

All ten. The skin around every nail was red and swollen.

Looking closer, I could make out faint teeth marks.

An old habit of hers—biting her nails when anxious. And from the scabs crusting her lips in patches, the habit of gnawing on her lower lip hadn't gone anywhere either.

The tips of her nails were ragged and uneven from chewing.

"No. I mean, I just— it felt like the door shouldn't close, so I..."

She was rambling.

Her eyes darted around like someone who didn't know where to look.

The floor. A stain on the wall.

Never settling anywhere.

"N-no, never mind. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Where are you going, anyway?"

She pivoted the subject desperately.

"The church."

She stumbled after me.

Along the corridor, down the staircase to the first floor.

Her gait looked unsteady, precarious.

"What church at this hour? You're just—you're just avoiding me."

Faint resentment crept into her voice. She sounded convinced I was lying.

"Ravin, hold on. Really, just a moment. Please, stop."

I halted and looked back.

We stood facing each other in the deserted ground-floor lobby of the dormitory.

In the stillness of night, the only sound was our breathing.

"You stopped. So what did you want to talk about?"

"...Anything."

"Shall we revisit that Forbidden Archive story? The one about how you didn't want my letters, how even bringing you gifts was disgusting? Or maybe we can go over again how you swore you'd never associated with those thugs in the first place."

"How could I possibly—how could I trust..."

Serepina's lips moved slightly, on the verge of spitting out the rest—how could I trust you—but she swallowed the words. Her eyes trembled.

Silence settled over us again.

The words that wounded each other had scattered into the air, but their afterimages lingered, pressing down on us both.

She seemed to want to hold on.

But she knew that whatever she said would never reach me.

And I—I didn't want to keep giving up and letting everything wash over me, either. I was done having everything I'd done so far discarded like garbage.

"If you're going to hold on this hard, can't we just call off the dissolution?"

My voice shook. I didn't mean for it to.

"We could get married someday, whenever the time was right, and just live somewhere out of the way, just the two of us. Honestly, even that much would be enough. We don't have to go back..."

Had I meant those words?

Or had they just been a test for her?

I didn't know myself.

All I knew was that right now, I had to say them.

Maybe this was the last chance.

Serepina said nothing.

Her lips parted and closed again, unable to produce a single sound.

Her family, her father, Levina's face—they would all be flashing through her mind. All of them, nooses tightening around her throat.

We stood there like that for an impossibly long time.

In the empty lobby, beneath the strangely murky lamplight.

Facing each other, unable to speak.

The silence answered for everything.

I turned to go. Serepina's lips parted slightly, and her hand reached out—but in the end, she didn't seize hold of me. Her hand dropped limply through empty air.

I left her there and went to the church.

The night air was cold.

The chill seeping deep into my lungs sharpened my mind instead.

I pushed open the church door. The familiar scent of wine and candle wax greeted me.

Estelle sat before the altar. When she spotted me, she beamed, as if she'd known all along I would come back.

"Back again? Forget something?"

"I won't be able to eat dinner with you tomorrow."

I kept it concise.

"I have an errand."

"Hmm."

Estelle studied me closely.

Her red eyes seemed to pierce straight through everything, even in the dark.

"Is that so? Alright. The day after tomorrow, then."

She said it casually.

But she rose and walked over to me.

"Hey."

She stood in front of me, inspecting my face.

Eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips.

Slowly, meticulously.

"You seem off."

And then, without any warning, she wrapped her arms around me.

A soft, warm sensation. A faint scent of fruit enveloped me.

No time to be startled.

She didn't ask a single thing.

Just stilled her hand against my back, patting slowly, gently.

The kind of touch you'd use to soothe a child.

"I don't know what happened, but it'll be alright."

The whisper brushed my ear.

Warm breath. The scent of wine somehow turned heady.

"And even if it all goes wrong, so what? I'll be right here to comfort you."

I didn't answer. I just buried my face against her shoulder and closed my eyes.