Chapter 258
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
The next morning, I found myself glancing anxiously at Killian’s still-despondent face as we ate breakfast in the inn’s first-floor dining room.
“Mary, I’m here!”
A young man strode into the dining room and, with a grin, wrapped his arms around the waitress clearing tables, planting a kiss on her cheek. Blushing, she pushed him away.
“Not here, please.”
“Not here, please.”
“…Huh?”
That was exactly what I’d said to Killian in the crypt that day, when I’d tried to push him away as he held me.
Fragments of our wedding day began returning to me. Despite the darkness, a vivid pink stood out in my memory, my lipstick had left a mark on Killian’s uniform as I held him.
‘He always hated getting his clothes dirty…’
That thought drifted through my mind as I pulled out my handkerchief and dabbed at his collar. That’s when I noticed the name tag on his chest.
‘Mans…field?’
Why was there a different last name on Killian’s badge? Wait… Mansfield. That name sounded familiar.
“What’s wrong? Did you bite into an eggshell?”
Killian thought I’d found a shell in my omelet and offered me a napkin, looking concerned.
“Why does your name tag say Mansfield?”
“……”
Ah, I shouldn’t have brought up memories, he hates talking about them. Killian’s expression darkened further. Without a word, he put his napkin down and ran a tired hand over his face.
“What do you mean?”
“I… remembered something else.”
“My name tag wouldn’t say Mansfield….”
“I suppose not. My broken brain must be making things up again.”
But I’d never confused dreams for reality before.
Maybe it was what I’d just said, but Killian, his eyes sad, reached across the table to gently smooth my brow.
“You’re not broken.”
After that, we finished breakfast in silence and went back up to our room.
‘I thought we’d be leaving right away…’
Instead, Killian spent a long time sitting by the window, staring blankly at the wall. Then he shut his eyes tight and clutched his forehead.
“Are you in pain? Should I get you some medicine?”
He shook his head, stood, and left the room. I assumed he’d gone for painkillers, but—
“Alcohol? And cigarettes?”
When Killian returned a little later, he was holding a bottle of spirits and a pack of cigarettes. He opened the bottle and poured a glass, offering it to me, still stunned.
“Want a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Drinking in the morning… Or was it even morning? I still felt groggy from sleep.
‘And cigarettes, too….’
He never showed any interest before… Maybe he’d only pretended not to smoke in Eisenthal, acting the part of a tuberculosis patient. Now, there was nothing stopping him, and yet I still didn’t like it.
“Killian, aren’t we going to leave?”
Now wasn’t the time to be drinking and smoking.
‘What is wrong with him?’
If he couldn’t shake off the loss of his brother and his mother’s betrayal, I’d understand. But just yesterday, he’d seemed to have found his footing again. Now, suddenly, he’d slipped right back into despair, and I couldn’t make sense of it.
Even when I asked what was wrong, Killian wouldn’t tell me. For two days now, he just drowned himself in drink and rambled nonsense.
This morning, when I woke up, Killian was asleep alone in the armchair. When I woke him, he stared at me quietly and said,
“You’re… still here.”
Had he dreamed I’d left him? He reached out and touched me for a moment, then squeezed his eyes shut and withdrew his hand. And then he started drinking again, all morning, never taking his troubled eyes off me.
Near noon, he staggered to the window, threw it open, and lit a cigarette, ignoring my glare from behind as he chain-smoked, lost in thought.
“Oh, is it already that late…?”
He only turned to me when the church bells struck noon.
“Dana, let’s go downstairs and eat.”
He was drunk, his eyes unfocused, but at least he hadn’t forgotten about my meals. If he hadn’t been drinking so much, I might’ve found that touching.
“What about you?”
“I’m not hungry.”
As he started to turn back to the window, I pressed him.
“Aren’t we leaving?”
“Sorry… I just need a little more time. I know I must seem crazy… I am crazy…”
There he was again, muttering drunken nonsense.
“We don’t have time! The military police are after us.”
“If it was just him chasing us, I’d have run already.”
‘Him?’
So he does know that military police officer. At this point, I didn’t have the patience to tiptoe around his moods anymore.
“So who is that officer? Someone we both know, right?”
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