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LOS 31
“I told you. I don’t like eating alone.”
“I thought you’d be uncomfortable with me.”
“Surely I won’t get indigestion just from your presence?”
I let out a small laugh, finding his words somehow amusing. Looking at him now, it seemed Giles was equally uncomfortable in this setting. It felt strange to see him so concerned about my mood.
“Anna.”
Giles spoke up. He looked slightly tense.
“If I ever made you feel even a little bit afraid... if you felt that I tried to sacrifice you for my own safety, I am sorry. I didn’t have the luxury to consider how you might have perceived those situations. It was all my fault.”
“...You kept appearing in my dreams. I was scared. I was afraid that perhaps you wanted revenge against me.”
“That will not happen. As I mentioned before, the reason I tracked you was out of concern that you might be pursued by the authorities. It wasn't due to personal feelings.”
“Was I... that important to you?”
Giles nodded. I still couldn't easily accept his words. The things he confessed to me felt as surreal as something out of a science fiction novel.
“I’ve never been an important person to anyone, so it doesn’t quite sink in. The idea that someone would view me that way. I... I don’t know how to take you.”
Giles gazed at me silently and carefully took my hand, which was resting on the table. I flinched in surprise, but I didn't pull my hand away. His hand was warm. That fact, too, felt incredibly awkward to me.
“You don’t have to do anything. Just remember that you no longer need to have nightmares. I will never harm you. And I will not let such a thing happen in the future.”
I fidgeted with my hand touching his and nodded. I didn't feel like he was telling a lavish lie. He must be sincere. He was confessing the truth to me.
Believing him would be more beneficial for me as well. Just as he said, I needed to get some peaceful sleep.
And... from the moment this train stops, we will never meet again.
If Giles is dragged away by the people, will he die?
He boarded this train to hell solely because of me. Does Giles know that this train is for him? If he finds out at the last moment—if he realizes that I was the bait used to lure him.
Would he feel a sense of revenge toward me then?
Lost in thought, I reflexively turned my head toward where I felt a gaze.
Albert was staring at me, whispering something to someone.
As night fell, the train slowed down. The dark scenery passed by me even more slowly. Though most of it was invisible, obscured by the lights inside the cabin. Giles drew the curtains. This added a layer of stability to the room.
And in the end, I suffered from indigestion. I thought I was sufficiently prepared, but apparently not. I would have preferred to just throw up, but even that didn't go well.
Giles approached me as I groaned, lying on the bed. He was wearing a white shirt. With the buttons fastened all the way to the top, his impeccable appearance was truly that of a soldier.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“I don’t think I can sleep like this.”
“It seems it is because of me.”
“You’re right. This is all your fault,” I snapped weakly.
He didn't argue. He simply looked at me with an expression that suggested he had a lot to say. The warm light of the lamp flickered over his face.
For a moment, forgetting the pain, I fixed my gaze on his face. I didn't know I would end up saying this, but for some reason, I wanted to touch his face. I wanted to confirm that his skin was soft like mine, and that a human with warm blood like mine flowed through him.
“At one point, I thought your blood might be blue.”
“What?”
“Nothing, forget it. Don’t mind me.”
Giles pulled something out of his coat pocket. It was a small, opaque brown glass bottle. He sat beside me and poured out about two pills from the bottle.
“Here, take these. You’ll feel better.”
“What is this?”
“Digestive medicine.”
“...Why do you carry something like this? You’re not a doctor.”
“Because I needed it.”
I struggled to sit up. Then, I stared blankly at the pills he offered before popping them into my mouth. Giles handed me a water bottle.
Surely there isn't any poison in here. He wouldn't kill someone using such a petty method. He probably knows several more effective and certain ways.
But even without such logical reasoning, I truly didn't think he would give me poison. It hadn't even been two days since I met him... yet the distance between us had narrowed significantly.
Giles sighed and rolled up his sleeves.
“Where does it hurt? Let me see.”
“Why? It’s just indigestion.”
“I can’t make it go away instantly, but I can alleviate it a bit.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“Point to where it hurts.”
He said this as he sat on the edge of the bed. An ominous feeling flashed through me. I could now roughly guess what he was planning to do.
“I asked what you’re trying to do!”
“A massage.”
Does that mean he's going to rub my stomach? I was appalled. Before I could even process the thought, the words leaped out of my mouth.
“No!”
“You’ll feel much better. Trust me.”
“How can I possibly trust you...”
I was going to ask how I could trust him. But I couldn't finish the sentence. I had already swallowed the medicine he gave me without hesitation. No, that wasn't the point. It wasn't that I refused because I thought he would harm me. I felt like I would have a visceral reaction if he rubbed my body.
No one had ever touched my stomach. And I was to allow someone else to touch such a place? If I had been even slightly less in pain, I would have maintained my firm stance.
However, the pain was only intensifying as time passed.
I had no choice but to find a compromise.
“...Here. It hurts here.”
“I see.”
“You have to do it gently!”
He nodded and placed his hand below my sternum. I squeezed my eyes shut. Again, I was someone with absolutely zero experience with such things.
“Relax, Anna.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you're this tense, it'll be far less effective. Try to relax your body and be comfortable.”
It couldn't be helped. It was true that I was stiff with tension. I tried to do as he said. But it seemed to Giles that I wasn't doing it well enough.
“Exhale. Like you're taking a deep breath.”
As I followed his instructions, my body certainly loosened and became languid. Giles spoke as he carefully pressed the spot I had pointed out.
“That’s it.”
With my eyes closed, I felt the sensation of him skillfully massaging the congested area. I tried my best to imagine someone else, but what touched my skin was the large, firm hand of a man.
The fact that Giles was doing something usually done by nannies was one thing, but what was more surprising was that it actually worked.
“Did someone ever do this for you?” I asked, still keeping my eyes closed.
“I tended to have frequent stomachaches when I was young.”
“You said you were the son of a wealthy family.”
There was no answer. I continued speaking.
“Tell me who did what for you when you were sick.”
“...Why that?”
“I’ve had almost no experience with that. Someone caring for me when I'm sick, worrying by my side... those kinds of things. You must have experienced those things a lot. I'm just curious.”
Giles was silent for a moment. He might have been reminiscing about those times. I understood that it would take time. I didn't know his exact age, but it would be a matter from well over ten years ago.
However, his answer disappointed me.
“It was so long ago that my memories are hazy.”
“How can that be? You didn't forget how to give a massage.”
“Everything disappeared from my mind except for the things I absolutely needed. I intentionally tried to forget. I felt like I would go mad if I held onto those memories while performing the duties assigned to me.”
“...Then you've forgotten almost everything from your childhood?”
“At least, I have no memories from before the age of thirteen.”
Then was that the most affluent and happy time of his life? That must be why he forgot. The things Giles had done were essentially denying and overturning his own identity. He had slashed the landscape he once belonged to with the sword in his own hand.
I wondered what would have happened if I had become a revolutionary instead of Giles. No matter how I thought about it, I felt I would have been much better at it. I had no memories I needed to strive to forget. And I never loved them in the first place.
While thinking this, a question suddenly popped out of my mouth.
“Then what did you look at to endure?”
“What?”
“No, usually you need something like that to get through hard times. A desperate wish or a satisfying memory that keeps you going. For example, there was a bastard who tried to touch me, and I once made him terrified; whenever I think of that, I somehow find the strength to live. Just recalling that expression made me feel like I could do anything. That guy was a Duke, of all things.”
Thinking that Giles might know, I opened my eyes. I looked him in the eye and asked.
“Do you happen to know him? Johann Meier.”
“I knew of him long before I became a soldier.”
“No, I mean... did you arrest him too?”
“He wasn't my responsibility. But I know that he is dead.”
“He probably trembled in fear. He was the kind of guy who couldn't even move because he was so startled by a threat that wasn't even a threat. Anyway, you must have had something like that too? Something that made it bearable to endure.”
Giles, who had been looking down at his own hand, shifted his gaze to me. He stared at me for a moment. After a time that felt both long and short, his gaze dropped again.
“I could do anything as long as I could survive. That was all.”
“Well, that's a lucky thing for you. You survived in the end.”
“Yes. I survived alone.”
His tone was quite self-deprecating. I felt there was something wrong with his words.
“You weren't the only one who survived. I survived too.”
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