The butler with bulging eyes gritted his teeth threateningly at Mrs. Denver, who was stamping her feet, and asked:
"What did you say? What on earth does that an? Why would the count be in that forest...! You said he went out today!"
"He said he was lonely with no one ho, so he went from the morning! I only just heard about it too. What should we do?"
Vibrations that seed to make feet ache. A sky that opened its pitch-black maw. Whirling winds of magic power and building fragnts exploding in all directions, riding those winds. Coleman staggered and sat down. Mrs. Denver forcibly helped him up.
"What are you doing! We need to find the count quickly!"
Charles Millen, who was the count's attendant at the ti, led the servants and ran into the forest. Carrying torches in broad daylight, they searched the forest calling for the count.
"They said they saw a person wearing rags that even a beggar wouldn't wear and a beast-like mountain creature, but Mr. Millen himself said he wasn't sure he saw it properly. He was almost out of his mind then too. And the previous count..."
The count was alive. However, his injuries were severe, and the critical factor was that he was discovered late.
"He told us never to speak of it. Never to say it was because of the count's machine."
Millen, who had been entering through the door, stopped in surprise at the heavy atmosphere.
"I didn't know."
Having guessed the situation from just the latter part, he quickly said:
"That would be right. Mr. Millen held the previous count's hand and swore. That he wouldn't tell anyone. Not even his son. The reason he resigned after the count's death was also to keep that promise. As you know, he's not very suited for keeping secrets. Coleman complained a lot, but he eventually swore too. Fortunately, the count returned before my turn ca."
Cider, who had arrived after receiving urgent news, only knew that his father had been seriously injured in an accident. Until those wounds worsened and led to death. And even until now.
Despite his pale, rigid face, his sharp mind easily guessed why his father had to tell such lies.
Sharp laughter burst out. Esperanza looked at him with startled, widened eyes.
"So you're saying I killed my father."
No one could say anything.
Cider gripped the armrest tightly with his eyes tightly closed. His knuckles with protruding tendons were trembling. But that was all. That made it even more unsettling. Thinking about how all that storm must be raging inside him.
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Esperanza stood in front of the door, holding the doorknob and remaining still. She just needed to push and enter, but she couldn't muster the courage. Cider probably wouldn't have wanted Esperanza to hear such words. He might hope she wouldn't acknowledge it.
If it were before, that is, before trust had crumbled, she could have opened the door without hesitation. Cider had been alone for a long ti. For him, sorrow was sothing to endure, not to share. It would have been nice if she could brazenly co out and say, "Wouldn't it be good to share it at least once?"
Even now she stood in front of the door with such feelings, but...
Would he really want comfort? No, would Cider want Esperanza's presence?
Trust was broken and affection was deceived. He might not want to spend a day like today with Esperanza. She could guess and understand those feelings, but she didn't want to hear them directly.
Her toes drew together. Sothing seed to squeeze her heart. The hand holding the doorknob beca damp. Her vision blurred with a mixture of tension and fear. Still. Still...
Even if she was pushed away, it would be better to at least try to speak. The pain of rejection was sothing Esperanza could bear, but if she said nothing, Cider would spend this night without even a single word of comfort.
But she was still afraid. Esperanza squeezed her eyes shut and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Didn't he hear? She opened the door slightly.
Acrid smoke that stung the eyes filled the room. The only light ca from a desk lamp and the fireplace. Unlike usual, Cider sat deep in his armchair, staring at an empty wall. Holding only a single cigarette dangling from his fingertips.
The elegant bronze-frad ashtray was full of half-burned cigarettes. She didn't count them, but judging by the amount, he must have been smoking continuously since returning to his room.
Words she wanted to say bubbled up in her throat like foam. Esperanza tried to suppress them.
"Do you have sothing to say?"
The cold voice felt murky, mixed with smoke. Esperanza let out a weak breath.
"I ca to check if you were okay."
"As you can see."
There was arsenic at the end of his words. Did he an "as you can see" he was fine? Or "as you can see" he was a ss? She couldn't tell what he ant. Either way, it was certain he wasn't welcoming Esperanza. At least she hadn't been clearly rejected yet.
Esperanza's hand on the doorknob tensioned. She forced her lips, which seed glued together, to move.
"...Can I still comfort you?"
Cider carelessly threw his last cigarette into the ashtray. The ember flickered and burned out. Even though the sharp paoran scent felt suffocating, it was just the heat of a single cigarette. When he covered it, it quickly died down. However, the heat in his heart didn't die down even when covered and ignored. Though it would have an end just the sa.
With his gaze fixed on the ashtray lid, he suddenly laughed briefly. To think he was producing pessimistic taphors with a head lost in sentintality. He must definitely not be in his right mind.
"What could you do? When there's no trust."
A long shadow fell over Esperanza as if swallowing her. Large hands cupped her cheeks. Unlike his sowhat softened voice, his words had an edge to them. As if seeking sothing to wound. Even knowing this, Esperanza entrusted her body to where those hands led.
"But right now, I need even soone like you."
Her mind beca distant. From the coldness of the hands cupping her cheeks and the heat of colliding lips, the gazes that didn't et and the tongue tips that intertwined as if lting, she could tell that emotions still remained to be burned within him. Deceived, betrayed, nothing more than ashes left from burning, but pitifully seeking comfort in just such things.
Esperanza's hand caressed Cider's cheek. Indelible compassion seeped out.
When he was arrogant, brilliant, and lofty, she had confidence she could leave. But when he was lonely, miserable, and sorrowful, she wanted to stay by his side.
As if sensing that emotion, their lips parted. However, at a distance where breath could touch, he gazed at her trembling eyes as if observing them. With emotionless eyes as if looking at a taxidermy.
"Do you pity ?"
"...No. I'm just sorry."
Cider laughed briefly. It seed like mockery.
"Do you think you'll be a comfort?"
"If it doesn't seem like I will be, just tell
to leave."
Then Esperanza would quietly close the door and leave. Without a single word of protest. So easily.
So easily scraping away emotions. Cider said irritably:
"Fine. Let's see you try."
With those words, Cider demonstratively let his arms drop.
"Um..."
Now that he had set the stage, words wouldn't co out. The things she should say were spinning around in her head, but there was no sign they would beco sound.
As she hesitated for a while, Cider clicked his tongue.
"Ah. You had no plan at all?"
"I did have one! I did, but. Um. When I actually try to do it, it's awkward."
It was quite difficult to offer comfort, of all things, in front of eyes watching as if telling her to try. Moreover, he wasn't even cooperating. Isn't comfort sothing the other person has to want in the first place? What kind of comfort is this? It's a presentation.
"What kind of plan was it?"
"Like drinking and listening to you talk...? Or would you like to hit a punching bag? There's sothing similar."
And painted mockery ca back.
"It's a plan where you can't find an ounce of creativity even if you wash your eyes and look."
But did he need to be that sarcastic? Then what kind of amazing plan should she have brought?
'Is it that bad?'
Suppressed emotions surged up. This is how comfort is normally done. What does he know about comfort!
"Why does comfort need creativity in the first place?"
Esperanza, unable to hide her irritation, impulsively hugged Cider's back.
Cider's back, felt through her arms, was rigidly stiff. Just like that day when Esperanza first hugged him. Her hesitating hand slowly stroked down his spine. The tensely strained muscles gradually relaxed under the careful touch, like soothing a young animal.
It was purely an impulsive action. She thought he would dislike it. But after pulling him close enough for cheeks to touch and holding him, her mood beca strangely elated.
How long had it been since skin touched skin? Counting by days, it hadn't been that long, but the skin touching through his shirt was hot enough to feel unfamiliar. Her mouth went completely dry.
The sound of embers burning in the fireplace filled the quiet room. Esperanza, with her chin resting on Cider's shoulder, couldn't relax her tension thinking he might push her away at any mont, but Cider only let out a light sigh near her ear and didn't push Esperanza away.
Shining hair brushed her cheek.
"When I first hugged you without permission."
"Yes."
A low answer ca back. It felt like her whole body resonated along with it. Esperanza swallowed dry saliva and continued speaking.
"When I hugged you then, it was to share joy with you. So, this ti, I think it would be okay for you to share your sadness with ."
"...That's sophistry."
Only after a long while did an even lower answer co back. Was it that bad? But what she just said was sincere. In this place, Esperanza had nothing else to be sad about. So it would be okay to take a little of Cider's sadness.
The words being bad... well, that couldn't be helped.
Thinking that, she raised her hand again to stroke Cider's back, when she suddenly felt one shoulder becoming hot.
While Esperanza, frozen like a statue, didn't know what to do with her floating hand, her shoulder quietly beca wet.
There was no sobbing. Still, the only sounds in the room were the crackling of firewood, the ticking of clock hands, and Esperanza's ceaselessly racing heartbeat. However, it seed as if all senses had suddenly beco distant. Only the weight felt on her right shoulder and the temperature of hot tears were vivid.
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