Chapter 66
“Darling!”
At the man’s shout as he entered the house, a small child came scampering from somewhere, leaping into his arms.
The child’s glossy black hair brushed against the man’s cheek.
“Darling, did you have fun playing today?”
Showering the small face with affectionate kisses, the child soon burrowed deeper into her father’s embrace, giggling.
“Goodness, you’re such a handful. The plates you’ve broken today are already up to three, you know.”
A beautiful woman with hair matching the child’s emerged from the kitchen. She was a true beauty at a glance.
The man laughed casually, tossing the child up and down in his arms. With each leap, the woman’s scolding and the child’s laughter intertwined.
“As a man, it’s only right to fulfill one’s duty. Don’t you think so, darling?”
The child, called “darling,” had no name. To be precise, the child could not be given a name.
Only the old woman, who occasionally acted as a midwife in the Burnt Sanctuary, knew that a child had been born in this house.
“Daddy, I was so bored. I want to go to the hut, but Mama says I can’t go during the day.”
At the mention of “can’t go during the day”, the man’s expression briefly hardened.
Stroking the child’s head with an awkward smile, a tinge of sorrow seeped into his gestures.
“There are dangerous people around during the day, so Mama doesn’t want our darling to get hurt.”
“But they’re nice people, aren’t they?”
The child tilted her tiny head, giving a cute retort.
Confined to the top-floor attic during the day, the child spent her entire day there. Her only daytime activity was peering out of the window at the people outside.
The same people were always visible outside.
The coachman constantly scratched his beard, and the occasional woman who came to share food – the child found interest in observing them all as if they were new sights.
Once, she had even whistled to startle her mother and the lady conversing outside. But oh, how severely she was punished that night.
Only after making a promise to never do it again was the child allowed to open the attic window.
“I wish night would come soon.”
The child’s house on the outskirts was deserted once the sunset. Only when the darkness deepened could the child cautiously step into the yard.
The child loved the darkness, unlike a typical child. Darkness was not a source of fear, but one of boundless freedom.
“Daddy brought toys for the hut on his way back! The fanciest ones from Wayne!”
“Wow!”
Playing in the small hut next to the house was the child’s sole source of entertainment.
When everyone was asleep, the child would take her parents’ hands and go to the hut, playing there until the hourglass ran out.
But that day, sleep eluded her unusually.
Despite playing in the hut for longer than usual, with her father home for the first time in a while, and flipping the hourglass twice, she was still not satisfied.
Blinking her eyes in the darkness, she eventually climbed up to the attic. Throwing open the window, the pitch-black sleeping village came into view.
“This is the Burnt.”
The child mulled over the words she had overheard from her parents’ conversations.
“The capital is Wayne. This is the Burnt. Mama’s name is Olivia. Daddy’s name is…”
The child’s lips protruded in a pout.
“I still don’t know Daddy’s name. Then, my name is… Darling.”
Sitting on the windowsill, the child swung her legs. If her mother saw her, she would surely panic, but the child was braver than one might expect from her doll-like appearance.
The howling of a wolf in the distance could be heard.
“Awoo. I want to see a wolf.”
They said the wolves were much bigger than stray dogs. Would they be very scary? But they sounded cute.
The child stared intently at the forest entrance, imagining the appearance of the wolves.
“Huh? A wolf.”
At that moment, a small wolf cub came darting quickly out of the forest path. The child’s eyes widened in excitement.
The grey-headed cub leapt across the ditch a few times, rapidly approaching the vicinity of the child’s house. The child’s lips parted wide.
“It’s a person!”
It was a person about her size. Not a wolf cub at all.
Curiosity danced in the eyes of the child, who was seeing a peer for the first time. The boy, mistaken for a wolf cub, hastily looked around. His fidgety movements suggested he was being chased.
“What do I do? What do I do?”
After a moment of deliberation, the child softly whistled. Betraying her mother’s trust pained her, but for some reason, that child did not seem like the “dangerous people” her father had mentioned.
The boy’s head snapped up. Their eyes met, and he quickly took a step back, ready to flee. Quickly, the child waved her hands.
“Don’t go! Don’t go! Can’t you not go?”
Murmuring “don’t go”, the child fully opened the window.
The boy looked up at the child perched on the windowsill like a cat. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he caught his breath.
“Just wait a moment.”
After briefly checking the closed door, the child stepped onto the windowsill. She then hopped and skipped, stepping on the protruding bricks of the outer wall to climb down to the ground.
The child looked at the boy’s wounded feet. Seemingly embarrassed by it, the boy hid his feet behind him.
“I’m barefoot too.”
The child grinned, proudly extending her dirt-covered feet. The boy’s expression remained unchanged. He simply stared at the child, who was about a hand’s breadth shorter than him.
“Shall we play?”
The child was so bored, unable to sleep, and lonely that she immediately asked.
“Daddy brought toys for the hut over there.”
The child pointed to the small hut attached to their house.
Looking at it, it seemed to be merely a place to store firewood for the winter or a storage shed – the boy could not fathom what kind of play could be had there.
When the boy did not immediately respond, the anxious child pointed to the forest instead.
“A wolf might come to catch us. I’ll hide you.”
The child carefully took the boy’s hand. Despite his wary expression, the boy did not pull his hand away. Emboldened, the child tugged the boy more firmly towards the hut.
In contrast to the child’s excited steps, the boy was dragged along reluctantly.
The boy locked the hut door repeatedly, verifying that it could not be opened from the outside, before stepping inside.
“What’s your name?”
The child held toys in her hands, but her attention was entirely focused on the boy in front of her.
The taciturn boy sat huddled in the corner, not lifting his head.
The child knelt before him, eager to closely examine his face, but the darkness made it difficult to see clearly. For once, the darkness she so adored was frustrating.
“My name is Darling. What’s your name?”
Her voice chirped like a bird.
The boy looked up. Darling? His ash-grey eyes were filled with questions.
“Won’t you tell me your name? My mama’s name is Olivia. Daddy’s name is… I still don’t know, but I’ll ask tomorrow and tell you.”
The child began babbling about irrelevant things, from the plates she had broken that day to the sparrows that came to the attic window each morning. Such useless chatter that strained the ears.
Eventually, the boy shifted his bottom to lean against the wall under the moonlight. His small fingers moved in the dust-covered floor.
[Debert]
“Debert? Your name is Debert?”
The child’s eyes widened, as if Debert was an extraordinary name.
“That name is so cool. It’s so pretty. It’s the best one I’ve heard!”
Despite knowing only a few names, the child nodded continuously, praising the boy’s name.
Unused to such compliments, the boy’s ear turned scarlet.
“Debert, I wish we could meet like this every day. It’s so fun, isn’t it?”
The child was rather oblivious.
“But, you know.”
The boy’s neck, bent down, was covered in red scars. The child’s hand, unconsciously reaching towards the wound, was harshly swatted away.
The boy’s eyes flashed angrily, and he stood up to walk towards the door.
“No! Debert, I’m sorry! I won’t touch it! I won’t!”
The child quickly blocked the door, babbling.
The prospect of the new friend she had just met disappearing was more frightening than the boy’s anger.
“Debert, let’s just play.”
Grasping the hem of the boy’s shirt, the child carefully pulled her friend back into the hut.
And so their first encounter began.
Every night, the child would climb to the attic to watch for the boy’s arrival.
Sometimes he came daily, other times once every ten days. His shirt was always stained with red marks, but the child pretended not to see, afraid he might never come again.
“Have you learned all the letters?”
It was the first time the boy had spoken.
The child had already mastered the letters, but she simply listened intently, delighted to hear the boy’s voice for the first time.
“Don’t you know letters? You learned my name, didn’t you?”
“What happens if you don’t know letters?”
At the innocent question, the boy’s brow furrowed slightly.
“You can’t write letters.”
“Letters?”
“If you write letters, you can meet even when you can’t see each other.”
After studying the child’s face for a while, the boy traced something on the wooden floor with his finger. But unlike when he had first written his name, the hut was spotless, as the child’s parents had thoroughly cleaned it.
“I can’t see it, Debert.”
The boy sighed, then held out his palm. As he pressed his nails into the skin, leaving white marks, faint letters became visible.
“I see it!”
“Look closely, Darling.”
The name Darling was a bit strange, but the boy had now accepted it as a name.
Whenever he came, the boy diligently wrote letters on his palm, teaching the child. The child, in her mischievousness, would pretend not to understand, nodding her head.
She didn’t even realize how cold it was without lighting the fireplace.
The boy’s lessons continued, through the long winter until spring arrived.
One day, the red marks that had previously been visible only under his shirt now showed on his face as well.
The child chewed on her nails, her face twisted in distress. She wanted to ask if he was alright, or at least pretend not to notice, but she feared the boy would get angry again.
“Darling. I can’t come anymore.”
“Why?”
The child’s face contorted, as if about to cry.
The boy gently patted the child’s cheek.
“There’s a war, so I have to go to Wayne with my father.”
“What’s a war?”
“Fighting.”
“Why are they fighting?”
The child was nearly in tears at the boy’s announcement that he could no longer visit.
“I don’t know that either.”
“Are you going to fight too?”
“No, I’ll go fight later.”
“Don’t go! Don’t get hurt!”
The child finally broke down in tears.
The boy, having never comforted anyone before, fidgeted with his hands, then spread them wide. The child eagerly grasped those hands.
“You’ve learned all the letters now. I’ll write you letters, Darling.”
Stroking the child’s head, the boy was already a finger taller than when they first met.
The child shouted after the retreating boy.
“Don’t forget me!”
The corner of the boy’s lips turned upward.
His face, unusually vivid in the moonlight, was etched into the child’s heart.
The boy showed the child his first smile on the day of their parting.
