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LOS 93
The year changed, and many things shifted. Unlike Beldam, the people of Arnatol, who basked in the glory of victory, continued to lead peaceful lives.
Of course, they too shuddered at the mention of war, but they were desperate to listen to the story of a woman who had survived another war.
For a while, I had to live under the gaze of many. For the people of Arnatol, there was the autobiography I had written, and since I had nothing more to say beyond that story, I lived quietly, like a shadow.
The magazine office complained—though it was a luxury of a complaint—that fan letters were pouring in endlessly. I would take those letters home in armfuls and open them one by one. For some time, that was the entirety of my daily routine.
As I opened the letters, I always made sure to check the sender's name.
It was because of a lingering hope. A hope that some miracle might occur, and he might send me a letter...
Of course, it never happened.
As a year passed, I became much more composed and indifferent. I rarely woke up crying after dreaming of Giles anymore.
Still, he appeared steadily in my dreams. Lying by my bedside, he would ask me various things.
How have you been lately? Are you eating well?
I'm afraid you might not be doing well.
Whenever I had such dreams, I would always visit his gravestone with a bouquet of flowers. I hadn't seen the body myself, but I remembered attending the funeral. It was a secret service, so I was nearly the only attendee.
Of course, there was no body buried beneath the earth. There was only a ceremonially prepared coffin and a headstone.
They said that by the time the rescue ship arrived, no one was left there. I hoped that even if his soul had sunk forever into the sea, it would find peaceful rest here.
That was why I visited the empty grave.
Even seeing his name carved into the stone, I could now manage not to cry. For a year now, I had been greeting him, sitting before the headstone for a while, leaving a bouquet, and returning home.
Occasionally, I would dream of Giles appearing while holding the daffodils I had left behind.
In those moments... I couldn't help but cry.
It was a life like a lake—peaceful and without ripples, yet lonely and silent.
While boiling soup for myself one day, a thought suddenly occurred to me.
Giles wouldn't like me living like this. He would want more from me than just visiting a gravestone to leave flowers.
Suddenly, I remembered that he loved my piano playing.
Come to think of it, our connection had begun because of the piano. Giles loved my playing as much as I did.
He probably still does.
Once my thoughts reached that point, I couldn't stay still.
I decided to put an end to this quiet life.
-
This was practically the first time I had officially appeared before the public. I held a piano recital under my own name. It was a concert performed with the Arnatol orchestra.
The official I spoke to about holding the recital seemed overjoyed for some reason. He told me various things about the orchestra and the schedule, and finally asked:
"By the way, I assume there is a specific piece you wish to perform?"
Of course, I had a piano concerto in mind.
I didn't say it aloud, but Giles loved that piece the most. There was no reason to hesitate. This recital was practically for him.
Many people gathered in the concert hall. Agent Gioda's words were true. I had truly become a great celebrity. Even though I had rented the largest hall, the seats were completely filled, to the point where standing room had to be allowed.
This time, I decided to perform in a suit instead of a dress. The official spoke with a hint of regret.
"A dress would have suited you so well."
But I didn't want to wear a flashy dress.
At least not this time.
"I've always wanted to step onto the stage in a suit someday."
"Well, Miss Kitting looks great in a suit as well," he said with a grin.
"I'll have someone send a bouquet."
I told him it wasn't necessary, but he insisted stubbornly.
"Anyway, I hope the recital is a success."
And now, at this moment. I am sitting before a large grand piano with the orchestra behind me. The pure white keys shone polished under the lights.
I nodded toward the conductor.
The horns blared powerfully. Bolstered by the majestic horns, the string section gradually ascended the scale, as if climbing stairs. Once the orchestra spoke the first phrase, it was the piano's turn to begin the story.
I looked down at the keys.
The voice of the piano, heard after so long, was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Miss Kitting, that was truly a magnificent performance!"
The agent applauded me. I barely managed to answer, buried under the numerous bouquets delivered by the venue staff.
"Thank you."
"No, I heard you were a pianist, but you didn't mention you were this good. If I'd known, I would have suggested the recital myself."
"Please don't overpraise me. I'm not that great of a pianist."
"How could that be! Just look at the number of bouquets you're holding. It's not easy to be this loved by people you don't even know."
There were even more bouquets and gifts piled on the waiting room sofa—twice as many as I was holding. I sighed like someone in a predicament. How am I supposed to carry all of this...
"It's a pity that they'll eventually wither."
"The withering doesn't matter. Isn't it their role to welcome this moment in their most brilliant form? Think of it as a precious instant."
He winked.
"And it would be disappointing if I were left out."
"What more are you adding to this?"
"Miss Kitting! It's already been a year since we've known each other! It would be unthinkable for me to visit without a single bouquet! At the very least, in our Arnatol, that would be a breach of etiquette."
"I politely decline."
"I told you last time that I would definitely give you one. I've already ordered the flowers! Are you really not going to accept them? I bought the most expensive ones from the flower shop."
It couldn't be helped. I set the bouquets down for a moment and prepared to receive his.
But there was no new bouquet anywhere.
"So, where is it?"
"It should be on its way. Let's see... it'll be here soon. I heard it's a bit late due to some circumstances."
I'll go check if it's actually coming. Leaving behind words that sounded like an excuse, he stepped out of the waiting room. Left alone in confusion, I called out the agent's name, but he did not return.
One minute passed, then five, and it was the same.
Just as I felt I had waited long enough, I could no longer endure it and left the waiting room. There was no one in the hallway.
An unnervingly quiet silence hung in the air. What is this? Did everyone leave for the day already? As I was walking with such thoughts...
I saw someone's back.
It was a man. A man wearing clothes similar to mine. He had black hair... and he was tall. He was hesitating, holding a bouquet.
I couldn't bring myself to speak; I could only stare at him. After fiddling with the bouquet for a long time, the man finally turned around.
Our eyes met.
The man with the familiar face seemed momentarily flustered and hurriedly looked around. But there was only him and me here.
Blushing, he spoke cautiously.
"Hello, Anna."
I knew that voice. A year had passed, but I could never forget his voice. Because it was the voice I had been hearing continuously in my dreams.
"So... I hope you like it. As you can see, I picked out the prettiest ones..."
Giles couldn't finish his sentence because I had already leaped into his arms.
Perhaps this was another dream. A dream slightly more vivid than usual. I wanted to see his face closer before this dream broke.
He looked down at me, holding the bouquet in one hand. His unchangingly sincere and kind face wore a smile. It was a smile that seemed to offer a silent apology.
I didn't ask any useless questions.
I didn't want to waste the dream on such things. Instead, I attempted something I had never once achieved in my dreams.
There was only one way to distinguish whether this was a dream or reality.
Without a word, I grabbed his face and kissed him.
But for some reason... this time, I didn't wake up. The sensation of his lips was conveyed fully. Warm, soft... and sweet.
This was not a dream.
The real Giles, not a dream, was before my eyes. I could no longer control the emotions surging through me.
"You were dead. People said you were dead. I always visited your gravestone..."
As I choked up, Giles wiped away my tears and silently pulled me into his embrace. I, too, fell silent and leaned quietly into his arms.
"I'm sorry I'm so late."
No. You aren't late at all. Don't apologize. Don't apologize to me, Giles. Crying and laughing, I pulled his face toward me once more and kissed him. No matter how many times I did it, it wasn't enough. As if trying to fill the one-year void all at once, I held onto him and wouldn't let go.
Eventually, the bouquet dropped from his hand. Amidst the thick scent of flowers, we reveled in the joy of reunion. The lover I thought was dead had returned to life, and now, no one could threaten us anymore.
This moment belonged entirely to us.
There was a time when I thought happiness was an abstract and illusory emotion. That it only served to blind one's eyes and deafen one's ears.
But now I knew.
I was no longer the child who lived in a narrow attic.
If this is what happiness is, I wouldn't mind becoming a fool for as long as it takes.
That would be the greatest difference between the young Eloise and me.
<End>
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