fic: New World (2/3)
Title: New World
AU: Beauty and the Beast
Wordcount: 18K
Part III
A rare sense of sentimentality washed over Kunimitsu as he looked at the bookcase in his bedroom in the attic. The lone, narrow bookcase was a sad contrast to the vast library he remembered at their old home before the accident happened. The library held everything from family history to novels to foreign books while this rickety bookcase that came free with the empty house only contained Kunimitsu’s favorites, the ones he simply couldn’t part with and some other books considered useless since no one would buy them. But among the books was a green leatherbound notebook where Kunimitsu fastidiously listed who bought each book. One day, he thought fervently, he would buy the books back and rebuild the library.
“Kunimitsu?”
He turned to the creaking door and saw Reika holding it open and poking her head in. “Supper is ready,” she informed him.
Kunimitsu couldn’t help but sigh as he walked out of the room. He quietly followed his sister down the narrow, creaky staircases leading to the kitchen that doubled as their dining room. They found the kitchen a mess. Vegetable peelings, knives and a chopping board lined the counter near the sink. The stove was filled with burnt pans piled on top of each other. A single pot was on top of a live fire, and it emitted an unappetizing gurgling noise.
As Reika joined Hana and their mother on the round wooden dining table, Kunimitsu went to get the pile of pans from the stove, dumped them into the sink and let a bit of water run over them. The women were huddled together, poring over something on Hana’s hand. When Kunimitsu took one fo the seats before the table, he asked, “Hana, did you burn your hand again?”
Hana pursed her lips. “Yes,” she said as Reika and Ayana both settled to their seats. “But we ran out of salve.”
“I’ll be going out to buy some at the apothecary after supper,” Ayana said thoughtfully.
His brows wrinkling, Kunimitsu threw a glance at the window above the sink and saw a starless sky. “It might snow. I’ll get the salve.”
Ayana shook her head. “No, dear. I also need to set things up for the shop’s opening. I still need to buy some cloth and yarn. I doubt you’ll be able to do that for me, Kunimitsu,” she said. She rose and took four bowls from the cupboard and began serving whatever it was that was in the pot (Hana said it was vegetable soup but Reika said it wasn’t any kind of soup she had ever eaten).
Though Kunimitsu didn’t like the idea of his mother going out at night at a still rather foreign place, he knew he couldn’t object to his mother, not when she was elated by the prospect of her shop’s opening. She deemed herself very fortunate indeed to be moving on again after the fire that ate the farm and to be starting her own business again. It was a small business, a shop for dresses and embroidery that Ayana and her daughters would sew but it would be a stable source of income, especially since, as Mrs. Kawashima, a portly old lady who lived nearby, said, the town hadn’t seen someone with such an excellent sewing hand before Ayana. For once, Kunimitsu was glad that his mother learned embroidery when she was a lady, and had passed the skill to his sisters. He used to think that embroidery was for vain ladies who would rather sew than read. But he was beginning to realize his mistake now.
He now was the one who was beginning to feel foolish. He knew nothing but reading and no one in town was willing to hire him. He had no expertise to speak of unless math, history and language counted. He couldn’t mold metal. He couldn’t carve wood. He couldn’t butcher pigs. He couldn’t even bake. Because of this, he had no idea how to help his mother earn some income. The only thing he could do was haul sacks of wheat to the bakery for a meager sum.
“Is something bothering you?”
He looked up and saw his mother watching him closely. She pushed a bowl of a brackish liquid with very dark hints of potatoes and carrots towards him, and took the seat to his right. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he lied although he knew his mother would recognize the lie immediately. He tried a mouthful of the soup and was relieved that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. It was a tad bit saltier than he would have liked but it didn’t taste as deadly the “chicken stew” Hana attempted the night before, which eventually had them eating bread and cheese and downing glasses of milk.
“I believe I’ve told you how I know when you’re lying?” Ayana said with an amused grin. “Your philtrum sweats and your brows wrinkle right here,” she said, pointing between her eyebrows. She tasted the soup and turned to Hana, “A bit less salt and soy, dear, and I think you’d perfect this.” She turned to her son again and said, “You’re worried about finding a job.”
Kunimitsu pressed his lips and nodded.
“I’m sure someone would be willing to take you in as an apprentice soon enough,” Ayana said reassuringly. “Our neighbors just don’t know how brilliant you are at whatever you do. Give them time,” she added with one of her motherly smiles.
Kunimitsu nodded quietly. As he ate, he wondered how to convince people to accept him at any job. He couldn’t apply for an apprenticeship saying he could recite the history of the kingdom, could he?
When they finished eating, Ayana stood up and said, “Well, I best be off now. If the snow doesn’t stop, I’ll just ask Madam Miyazaki for a room in her inn so you three shouldn’t worry about me.” She climbed upstairs to get her coat and went down at the living room to bid her children a good night. “Kunimitsu, you may sleep in my room if it snows. It’s bound to be cold in the attic. Now, Hana,” she called to the kitchen door, where she could see Hana piling the used bowls, “Let Reika wash the dishes. You might infect your burns if you do it yourself.” She clutched her coat to herself and held the door open. “I don’t want to see you three awake when I return, do you hear?”
“Yes, Mama,” Reika said meekly, stepping to the door to give Ayana a peck on the cheek. “Be safe.”
“Good night, dears.”
When Ayana had left and Reika had closed the door, Kunimitsu entered the kitchen where Hana was dumping things into the sink, and said, “I’ll wash the dishes, Hana.”
Reika yawned and took Hana’s arm, steering the latter away from the sink. “I wouldn’t mind sleeping now,” Reika said. “But you should sleep too, Kunimitsu. Don’t wait for Mama to arrive. She’ll be after our blood if she finds out that we let you wait for her.”
Kunimitsu didn’t see a need to object so he nodded, hoping to do some reading before sleeping.
After washing the dishes, Kunimitsu extinguished all the candles and carrying a lit lamp he crept quietly to the attic. He grabbed a book from the bookcase and climbed to bed. He placed the lamp on top of a small bedside table and adjusted himself closer to the wall so that the dim light from the lamp could illuminate the pages of his book. Reading was a habit he was not willing to give up for this new life, and he tried to do as much reading as he could even after days of hauling sacks. He tried to borrow from the bookshop and from the school teachers thus gaining him the rather disadvantaged - in this town, anyway - reputation of an intellectual. It was a pity, though, that the books he borrowed were not of the sort he wanted; they were mostly novels and instructions for some craft he didn’t understand. The only library in town was in the mansion of the Duke Alhandri, who according to the townspeople was not likely to let anyone inside the house let alone into the library. The word on the Duke’s increasing hostility puzzled Kunimitsu; he could never imagine an unsmiling, wry Syusuke. Then again, he had not known the Duke long enough to judge. Besides, the Duke wanted something from him that perhaps the Duke was being nice to get what he wanted. Once or twice, though, Kunimitsu had admittedly considered approaching the Duke for permission to use the library in exchange for being a subject in one painting. He dismissed the thought immediately, however; he wasn’t yet that desperate to trade his peace for books.
He read a couple more hours until sleep finally dawned on him, triggered by the cold brought by the falling snow. Seven hours later, shuffling feet and excited voices downstairs woke him up. He blindly searched for his glasses on the bedside table and he put them on, wondering what the commotion was all about. He rose from bed, headed to the bathroom downstairs for a quick wash, and finally went to the kitchen where the noise was coming from.
“An actual porridge,” he heard Reika exclaim in glee as he entered the kitchen where he saw his sisters huddled around their mother in front of the stove. His stomach grumbled a little when he smelled the rich, creamy scent of chocolate rice porridge. “No offense meant, Hana,” Reika added quickly.
Hana laughed. “I missed actual food too.”
“It’s just about ready,” Ayana said, wiping her sweaty forehead with the back of her arm. “Hana, set the bowls and the spoon. Reika, get the milk from my basket.”
Kunimitsu quietly took a seat on a chair before the dining table. He watched his sister rummage through the contents of the basket on the counter, and he vaguely pondered where his mother could have gotten all the food stock. From what he could see, there were also slices of ham, bread, several eggs and some pastries inside the basket, and he didn’t think his mother was all that impractical to spend whatever money they had left on lavish meals.
Hana was the one who voiced out Kunimitsu’s question as she set the utensils on the table. “How did you get these, Mama?”
Carrying the pot to the table, Ayana smiled pleasantly. She did not answer the question until she had finished ladling generous servings of porridge into four bowls. “I was on the forest last night when it started snowing,” she said as her children begun eating. “I met one of the servants of the mansion, and he insisted that I spend the night there -“
Reika’s eyes widened. “The mansion? Mama, have you met the Duke then?” she asked excitedly. Beside her, Kunimitsu pressed his lips. “I heard he’s quite dreamy,” she said with a sigh.
“But I heard he’s quite hostile,” Hana reminded.
“I haven’t seen the Duke I’m afraid. The butler told me that I would be better off walking outside in the snow than to have the Duke learn that I was in the mansion,” their mother said thoughtfully. “Nonetheless, they welcomed me in the servants’ wing and let me sleep there. They tried to have me eat breakfast with them, but I told them that you might worry so instead they filled my basket. They say they have plenty of stocks because there are very few of them in the mansion and the supplies come as they used to when the rest of the family was still alive. It would be a waste to throw them.”
“Lucky that it snowed last night then,” Reika said gleefully. “Otherwise, we’ll be eating Hana’s inventions.”
Hana feigned a hurt expression. But then she laughed and continued eating heartily.
Kunimitsu was halfway through his first real meal in weeks when Ayana said, “Kunimitsu, are you planning to go to town today?”
Putting his spoon down, Kunimitsu nodded. The baker offered him a job of delivering the bread to the larger, richer houses. He had considered taking it. “Why? Is there anything you need?”
“No, dear,” Ayana said quietly. “Are you still going to look for a job?”
“Yes, mama,” Kunimitsu replied.
Ayana smiled happily at him. “I might have found you work. It might be a bit hostile at first but I think you’ll find the people very generous.”
Kunimitsu raised a brow. His mother sounded all too conniving. All the same, he let her continue.
“The Duke Alhandri is in need of a bookkeeper. A trustworthy one,” Ayana said enthusiastically. “Mr. Toyama said that nobody’s really willing to apply for the position because it only lasts two months so it’s open for you if you want it.”
“But, Mama,” Hana said, quickly wiping her lips with a napkin, “it won’t be a good position at all if Kunimitsu can only work for two months.”
Still smiling, Ayana shook her head. “They all think that no one’s really going to apply for the job in a while - unless their master changes. So he said that if indeed Kunimitsu proves excellent and trustworthy, he might be hired permanently. And the Duke need never know.”
Kunimitsu frowned at his bowl of porridge, thinking.
Ayana must have noticed this because she asked, “Do you want to accept the offer? If you don’t want to, it is fine.” She smiled one of her motherly smiles. “I just thought that you really wouldn’t mind spending time in the library to supplement the education that you’re missing.”
Shaking his head, Kunimitsu said, “I do want to work there. I merely wondered why they have such strange arrangements with employees.”
Tilting her head, obviously mulling this over, Ayana shrugged. “It seems as if they have an irrational fear of their master. It might be baseless,” she said quietly. “But, dear, if you think that the Duke is not treating you well, you should come home. Any sum is too meager for any kind of ill-treatment.”
Furrowing his head in thought, Kunimitsu nodded. Although somehow he doubted that the Duke would hurt him, he did want to know whatever happened to the Syusuke he thought he knew.
*-*-*-*
Arrangements for Kunimitsu’s move into the mansion were settled in without much ado. Mr. Toyama instantly approved of him that although Kunimitsu vowed he did not have experience in bookkeeping until after the time of the accident, the butler ignored the remark welcomed him and told him he could move in any time he was ready. (Well, either Mr. Toyama trusted him or he was desperate enough to hire anybody who applied.) Thus, in a couple of days, Kunimitsu was back with his trunk of clothes, books, paper and quill and was ushered by the wide-eyed stable boy named Shiro into one of the rooms in the servants’ wing.
The room was smaller than his old room in the city but it was far warmer and bigger than his attic room. It was modestly furnished; a writing desk and a chair stood beside the window; an armchair stood cozily by the fire; the four-poster bed was lined with fleece sheets; an old wardrobe stood against the far wall. Kunimitsu knew he could make himself feel comfortable enough. Most importantly, though, it felt like a quiet place where he could get some reading done.
Just as Kunimitsu was neatly stuffing his clothes into the wardrobe, Shiro said he had to go back to tending the horses that were already feeling quite neglected, and so he left. Kunimitsu had been alone for a few minutes and had hung most of his shirts inside the wardrobe when a knock came from the door. He turned and saw the door swing open. Mrs. Inoue stepped inside wearing a cheery smile, and she invited him to dine with them.
Supper had been a long, cheerful affair - to most of the servants anyway. Kunimitsu merely spent the night observing them and listening to their conversation. Once or twice, he gave a comment but only when asked.
“Master hasn’t been down in four days,” Mrs. Inoue said worriedly amidst the slight squabble over what was pronounced her ‘most excellent’ blueberry pie. “Has he been eating?”
“But, Mama,” her son Ryoma piped in, he looked about eight, and he had whipped cream on his face, “the monster eats kids.”
From the other side of the table, Shiro coughed and snortled, but Mrs. Inoue shook her head fervently as she wiped the cream off her son’s face. “He’s not a monster, dear. He’s just very sad, that’s all.”
“But he doesn’t let me play around anymore,” Ryoma mumbled.
Mrs. Inoue just smiled briefly at her son and turned to Mr. Toyama. “Has he been eating?”
Mr. Toyama nodded over his helping of blueberry pie. “Yes but he hardly finishes them.”
“It’s a pity,” said Eiji the errand boy. Kunimitsu had so far only seen this boy once but he could see why he was the errand boy. He seemed lively and spirited, and he had quick, nimble hands and alert, wide eyes. “And an insult to Mrs. Inoue’s cooking.”
Shaking her head, Mrs. Inoue said sadly, “This should end soon. One of these days he will get sick of depression.”
Eiji nodded enthusiastically. “Wallowing in depression is never a good thing.”
Kunimitsu realized that Syusuke was more a subject of pity than fear to them. It was ironic and puzzling. A few months ago, he would never have believed that Syusuke could actually feel sad let alone depressed. But now, looking at the other servants’ brooding faces, he knew they were speaking about a depressed, unstable master. The idea seemed to bother them too.
As if just remembering that they were with a newcomer, Mrs. Inoue smiled affably at Kunimitsu. “Sorry, dear. We don’t mean to scare you away. Master is just facing a rough time. I’m sure that time will pass and he will be back to his old self. He is a much more pleasant person really.”
“Kunimitsu,” Eiji interrupted, “Aren’t you an Earl? I heard you’re an Earl. Are we supposed to call you ‘My Lord’?”
Kunimitsu blinked. He had never given his rank a thought ever since the fire. “No. I’m only noble by name.”
“But nobility is all in the name!” Eiji exclaimed.
Shaking his head, Kunimitsu replied, “Just call me Kunimitsu.”
“Is it true then that you used to study in Alcian?” Mr. Toyama inquired gravely.
Kunimitsu pressed his lips. “Yes.”
Mr. Toyama breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, good,” he remarked. “You’re competent enough. We don’t want to find any other bookkeeper - “
“It’s not like anyone else is willing to work for the master now,” Mrs. Inoue said miserably. “It’s a shame, really. Everybody used to love him. He was the light of this mansion,” she said fondly, her eyes gleaming with the memory.
“But now,” Eiji said in a purposely low and ominous voice, “he is the cloud of fear.”
“Eiji,” scolded Mr. Toyama. “Stop making fun of the master.”
Pouting his lips, Eiji looked down to his pie. “It’s true, though,” he grumbled.
“Try losing your family all at once…you’ll see,” Mrs. Inoue snapped.
Eiji’s eyes widened with terror. “All right, all right,” he resigned and he occupied himself with the task of assaulting his pie.
The meal ended later with cups of hot chocolate as he had been told was customary during winter. He exchanged goodnights with the small group and left Mrs. Inoue trying to carry the sleeping Ryoma, Mr. Toyama fixing the table and Shiro whisking the dishes away. He walked with Eiji to their adjacent bedrooms, said a quick goodnight and went straight to bed. Thoughts of his new master were pushed back by a full, happy slumber.
He spent breakfast next morning with the rest of the staff. This time there was less chatter. Everybody seemed eager to start the day or, if Kunimitsu’s hunch were correct, nobody seemed to like the idea of being caught idling about. Eiji offered to tour him around the house, saying there was time before he could be shown to his office. Mr. Toyama, Eiji said, would be the one to show him there but he had to wait before the master finished eating breakfast.
Eiji showed him the large rooms first - the grand hall, the ballroom, the main parlor, the main dining room, the family dining room. All were remarkably empty and dusty, like they haven’t been used in at least a month now. What truly bothered Kunimitsu though were the patches on the walls in the middle of rows of portraits and paintings. The patches were lighter than the rest of the wall, as if paintings had just been removed from there.
“The master used to paint,” said Eiji, probably noticing his wonder. “But when his family died, he made us take down all the things he drew and painted. He actually wanted us to throw them. Imagine that, throw paintings!” He grinned and dropped his voice, “Of course we didn’t throw them. We keep them inside his parents’ bedroom. He never goes there, you see.”
Indeed, portraits and paintings were precious and expensive, Kunimitsu thought. And Syusuke’s sketches were even more so. They were strangely realistic. They held the emotions his subjects felt. Even his scenic portraits could be associated with humanly moods. No wonder in the short time that Syusuke spent at Alcian, he was recognized as one of the best in Classical Arts.
“We can’t go to the North Wing, I’m afraid,” Eiji said as they continued to walk down the carpeted hallways, after passing what might have been fifty rooms. “It’s the master’s wing. He doesn’t really let anybody there, except Mr. Toyama.”
“Why not?” Kunimitsu inquired.
Eiji shrugged. “He doesn’t trust anyone anymore, which is why there’s very few of us left here. Thank goodness we can deal with all the housework.”
The last, and to Kunimitsu the most important, place they went to was the library. People weren’t exaggerating when they said it was enormous. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books sorted into different genres and categories. Some were in the old language, some were in foreign words. Others were novels, some were records and documents. Others were history books while the vast majority was on information. Next to the Central Alcian Library, this was the biggest collection of books Kunimitsu has ever seen. Thus, when Eiji said his office was the small writing room behind the door that had a plaque saying “Family Records” Kunimitsu felt himself overwhelmed with excitement - though none of it was betrayed by his calm face.
After making sure that Kunimitsu was well settled in the library, Eiji grinned and said he needed to be off to town to get some ingredients for the lunch Mrs. Inoue was planning. Once left in the library, Kunimitsu started to walk around occasionally climbing the tall ladder to check the books. He hadn’t even seen the entire collection of history books when the giant oak door opened and showed Mr. Toyama in.
“Have you been waiting long?” Mr. Toyama asked, watching as Kunimitsu descended the ladder.
“No,” Kunimitsu answered curtly as he landed back on the floor, and he let himself be ushered into the room of Family Records. The room smelled of old, humid paper that, Kunimitsu suspected, dated several centuries back. The room was cold as there was no fireplace so as to avoid fires that could burn the records and the library down. In the middle of the room was a desk on top of which were several quills, bottles of different ink colors, wooden stamps and a huge disarray of paper.
“This is a month’s worth of records,” Mr. Toyama said almost apologetically. “But,” he said as he fumbled through the mountain of paper and retrieved a green leather-bound notebook that he handed to Kunimitsu, “the last bookkeeper made a very efficient way of sorting. You may adapt his method. Perhaps you’ll find it easier.”
Kunimitsu nodded quietly, accepting the notebook.
“You may, of course, bring some of the papers to your room since it’s bound to be cold here.”
In a moment, Mr. Toyama left the room, allowing him to consult the contents of the notebook.
*-*-*-*
Taking note of the backlog of accounts took Kunimitsu an entire week of work. He would have taken shorter if he hadn’t been too finicky but he kept cross-checking the records and he kept recalculating his figures. He had always been fastidious by nature, but more than that he wanted to stay in this job and the only to attain that was to provide a flawless piece of work.
After he had finished his work for the last month and before actually starting on the past week’s account, Kunimitsu picked out a history book from the main library room and treated himself to a light reading in the patio that led to the white, frozen garden. He still wasn’t used to the winter cold in the north but he didn’t mind it this afternoon especially since Mrs. Inoue offered him tea and biscuits to accompany his light reading. Besides, he needed fresh air after spending long hours in the record room.
He had been reading for an hour when the sky became too dark for reading so he decided to go back into the kitchen and offer help in preparing supper. He didn’t know how to cook but over the past week he had learn how to peel and chop because Mrs. Inoue had the habit of putting everyone in the kitchen to work as she bustled over her cooking pots. Tonight, Mrs. Inoue announced, they were to have onion soup, chicken pie and apple tarts. The Duke, she said when her son asked, was to have pork steak, mashed potatoes, vegetables and cakes.
“Why can’t we have cakes too, Mama?” Ryoma asked, watching in boredom as Kunimitsu chopped carrots on the countertop.
“Why can’t we have steak too?” asked Eiji who was just wiping tears off his eyes as he was the one assigned to slice the onions.
Before Mrs. Inoue could give Eiji a friendly scolding, the door to kitchen opened and slammed. Shiro ran toward their small group at the counter, flushed and panting. “He knows! He knows!” he proclaimed. His eyes were wide with anxiety.
“He knows what?” Mrs. Inoue asked, handing Shiro a glass of water.
Shiro drank the water in one long gulp and said, “He knows about the Earl, and Mr. Toyama said we should prepare the dining table for the master and the Earl. The master wants to have dinner with the Earl.”
Mrs. Inoue frowned. “Are you sure, dear?” she asked thoughtfully. “The master doesn’t really care much about who we hire.”
“But that’s what Mr. Toyama said,” Shiro replied in earnest. “I’m just passing the message.”
“Then we shall do what the master wants,” Mrs. Inoue said submissively though the wrinkles on her forehead told Kunimitsu that she was mulling this over. Kunimitsu couldn’t blame her. Why Syusuke wanted to dine with him was beyond him especially after he learned that the Duke no longer painted. “Shiro, pull up a stool and take the knife from Kunimitsu,” she told the stable boy. Then she turned to Kunimitsu. “You dear, you should prepare for dinner. Do you have formal clothes with you? Or would you like to borrow a set from Mr. Toyama? I can easily mend it to make it fit.”
Kunimitsu politely shook his head, grateful that his mother ingrained to his head that one should always be ready to be dressed for any occasion.
“All right,” Mrs. Inoue said, convinced. “Better go to your room then and prepare.”
After being shooed like that by Mrs. Inoue, Kunimitsu had no choice but to obey. As he walked past several unoccupied servants’ rooms, his head was deep in thought, digging for Syusuke’s reason for wanting to dine with him. When he reached his room and his brain still drew a blank, he gave up thinking and decided that whatever Syusuke’s reason was didn’t matter that much. He simply just had to play his part.
Dinner time, to Mrs. Inoue’s mind, came too soon. She practically dragged Kunimitsu to the family dining room, brushing invisible lint off his shirt and mumbling things like, “If he asks how you found out about this, tell him you heard it from the townspeople” and “Remember that you’re supposed to be here only for two months.” When they reached the door, Eiji held it open for them saying, “Why can’t I dine with him too?”
Mrs. Inoue rolled her eyes. “Do you honestly want to have a meal with him? Now?”
Eiji shook his head. And then he grinned. “But I honestly want steak.”
Mrs. Inoue pretended not to hear this and instead urged Kunimitsu to walk into the still empty family dining room. On top of a rectangular mahogany table were covered silver platters of what Kunimitsu assumed were the food. He sat on one end of the table and waited, not really sharing the anxiety Mrs. Inoue showed but instead feeling quite indifferent.
In a few minutes, the door opened but Mrs. Inoue and Eiji were gone. Instead, the Duke himself entered with Mr. Toyama trailing behind him. Kunimitsu instantly saw that Syusuke had changed. He was not wearing the smile that Kunimitsu was used to seeing since they first met. His eyes were devoid of the usual amused and mischievous glimmer; instead, they were pale and glassy. His skin was so white Kunimitsu was sure it hadn’t been touched by sunlight for months. But more than that, Syusuke no longer carried himself in the elegantly carefree way; instead, he moved about in a cold, withdrawn manner.
“Duke Alhandri, Syusuke Fuji,” announced Mr. Toyama, and Kunimitsu rose from his seat, bowing curtly. “Earl of Kestral, Kunimitsu Tezuka.” Syusuke simply nodded coolly.
Without a word, Syusuke occupied the seat at the other end of the table and allowed Mr. Toyama to serve the meal. On the first few minutes of dinner, Kunimitsu thought that Syusuke was just observing him but would eventually ask him how he came to be at the mansion. He was wrong. During the entire meal, Syusuke did not breathe a word. When he wasn’t eating, his blank eyes kept staring at dancing flames of the candles at the center of the table. Throughout the meal, Kunimitsu couldn’t help thinking that Syusuke looked and acted like a ghost.
Only when Mr. Toyama finally put the plates away and started pouring black coffee into ceramic cups did Syusuke speak, “Mr. Toyama, you may leave.”
Looking a little taken aback, Mr. Toyama shot a concerned look at Kunimitsu’s way, but Kunimitsu nodded curtly, so the butler left, shutting the door behind him.
The dining room was so quiet since Mr. Toyama left that Kunimitsu couldn’t help but feel a little bemused. Months before, Syusuke spoke to him about so many things, things that he never really wanted to know. But now, he didn’t think Syusuke wanted to tell him anything. So why did Syusuke choose to come down here and have dinner with him?
“Why are you here?” Syusuke asked so suddenly and so coldly that Kunimitsu looked up and blinked before replying, “I’m here as a bookkeeper.”
“You don’t need this job.”
Kunimitsu frowned. “Don’t I?” he said in a toneless manner.
Syusuke gave Kunimitsu a long, penetrating look. “You are an Earl. Your mother is rich. You don’t need this job. Why are you here?”
“I am an Earl,” Kunimitsu said, his tone beginning to match Syusuke’s cold one due to impatience, “But my mother is no longer rich, and I need this job.”
Staring at the candlelight, Syusuke stared blankly at Kunimitsu who stared steadily back. Kunimitsu tore his eyes away quickly though and frowned in though. When he looked into Syusuke’s eyes, he felt like he was looking into an empty shell. “Why are you here?” pressed Syusuke.
“I wanted a job,” Kunimitsu said simply.
Syusuke pushed his coffee cup aside and stood up. Kunimitsu thought that was the end of their aimless conversation. But Syusuke walked to the flaming hearth, looked up at the white patch on the wall and said, “Fortune doesn’t just evaporate.”
“If accidents can take away lives, it can take away fortune,” Kunimitsu said, meaning for the words to sink in. Impatience was starting to mount, and he was beginning to realize why the other servants didn’t like being in the same room as Syusuke: he could feel and hear and see the change in Syusuke, the change that made the Duke so terribly empty.
A long silence lingered in the room. For the longest moment, the only thing Kunimitsu could hear was the crackling fire. And then, without turning his face away from the white patch on the wall, Syusuke said, “You may leave the room.”
Syusuke’s words were so cool and cutting that Kunimitsu’s eyes widened when he heard them. But stubborn as he was, he didn’t say a word and left. In his room, he changed into night clothes and tried to replay in his head the scenes of the conversation he had with Syusuke. But there was nothing to replay. They didn’t talk to each other really. Kunimitsu couldn’t even feel Syusuke’s presence.
To shake the events of that evening off his head, Kunimitsu grabbed his favorite book from the desk. He flipped it open to the chapter he liked most, but two pieces of paper folded in half fluttered from in between the pages of the book down to the floor. He bent down to get it, and forgetting what he used to insert into the pages of his book and thinking they might be important, he unfolded the two pieces of paper. On one paper was a caricature of himself drawn for humor. The other one was a real sketch of himself, the likeness of which he was yet to see. These were Syusuke’s own works. Syusuke who was then still Marquis left these at the door of Kunimitsu’s rented room at the inn on the day of the assembly with a note saying: “I’ll see you in Alcian. I believe I’ll be seeing you every day… in my studio, perhaps? - Syusuke”
He had been annoyed the first time he saw the sketches, but he kept them still because the sketches made him aware of the possible value of Syusuke’s art. But now, that Syusuke who wrote the note and drew the sketches was gone.
*-*-*-*