DTLD 4

Chapter 4

 The Hawthorn Manor

“You’re not the Vinoc’h couple’s biological daughter?”

A few days later, beneath the hawthorn tree, the boy shot back with a wicked smile. When Sacha didn’t respond, he handed her a glass bottle small enough to hide in his palm and instructed her.

“I’m giving this to you out of pity. It’s expensive, so take it home and make sure to eat it alone in secret.”

What was inside the glass bottle was a viscous, transparent liquid. It was the greenish-gray that resembled the boy’s eyes—or perhaps it had a slightly more yellow tint.

If it’s that precious, I should eat it all before anyone notices. If I take it home for nothing, Enzo might snatch it away. Making a quick judgment, Sacha promptly pulled out the cork and emptied the contents in one go. The boy’s eyes, witnessing this, wavered aimlessly. And then Sacha, breaking into a cold sweat before him, fainted.

Sacha couldn’t even make it home and lay ill at the Hawthorn Manor for days. Only after three days had passed was she barely carried home on Enzo’s back. Only later did she learn that what she’d eaten that day was a powerful purgative the doctor had prescribed for the boy.

“I never knew the child would do such a thing. But he truly didn’t mean to torment Sacha. If you could see how much he blames himself even now, it’s pitiful. If anything, the child liked Sacha and wanted to get her attention.”

Mr. Bresson apologized, flustered, in front of the lemon-colored gate. It was simply that boys that age express themselves so clumsily, and that child in particular had developed a twisted personality from his long illness—so couldn’t Sacha find it in her generous heart to understand?

“Bullshit. You don’t need to hear it. I’d rather give up on studying abroad.”

Enzo, who had covered Sacha’s ears and led her away, was firmly angry. But Sacha knew well what it meant to torment someone because you liked them. Her mother had said that her father tormented her because he liked her. Her mother had also said she hit Sacha because she loved her. If there had been no interest, there would have been no dislike, and then there would have been no hitting.

When Sacha said that, Enzo flew into a rage. He said Sacha’s birth mother had been mentally ill. Mr. Vinoc’h had rescued his young niece, who had been abused by his insane younger sister, and brought her to Manoli. The mother who had given birth to Sacha was now hospitalized in a mental institution somewhere in Bèneuve. But even if she had been mentally ill, she was the only one who had ever loved Sacha.

Not many days later, the boy at the Hawthorn Manor returned to Laurant. After that, Laurant became, for Sacha, an unknown place full of dazzling but fickle and unknowable people—just like him. Sacha had forgotten that Laurant was also the street where her father had stripped her mother and her naked and driven them out the door for disobeying him.

Enzo’s study abroad, which had seemed on the verge of falling through, was fortunately resolved when a distant relative of Grandmother Elodie agreed to send the money. Everything went smoothly—except that Enzo decided to tutor Sacha before he left. Sacha couldn’t understand at all why he’d made such a decision.

‘Even if I’m a bit bad at arithmetic and literature, it won’t get in the way of making a living.’

What Sacha was interested in was always the precious things she’d collected in her room. That was all.

“What are you.”

The boy she met again in the forest asked bluntly. Sacha was delighted that her prediction—that he’d be in the same spot today—had been right, then tilted her head at his words. She’d told him her name just yesterday; had he forgotten already?

“I’m Sacha Vinoc’h.”

Yesterday he’d covered his face with his hat; today it seemed he’d covered it with a book. Sacha plopped her bottom down beside him as she pleased and stole a glance. There was a bookmark stuck near the back—perhaps it was a book he’d been reading. It was an unexpected discovery. He hadn’t looked like someone who liked books the way Enzo did. Having found yet another difference between them, Sacha’s spirits sank.

“I know. I’m asking why you came again.”

Come to think of it, he wasn’t in uniform today. His clothes looked far more comfortable than yesterday’s. Sacha held out the orange she’d brought and asked.

“Can’t I come?”

He was about to say no, then shut his mouth like someone who knew what Sacha would answer. Then, with a troubled look, he took the orange. Sacha watched as he peeled it with the same excellent skill as yesterday, then opened her mouth proudly.

“I know who you are.”

The man’s hand, which had been scoring the orange peel with a folding knife pulled from his pocket, stopped. The tart scent of orange filled the air. Sacha breathed in happily.

“You’re Count Lafayette’s guest, aren’t you?”

When she asked as if confirming, his face turned subtle. No answer came. Instead, he handed Sacha the fully peeled orange segments. She’d given it to him as a gift, and now it was as if she’d asked him to peel it for her. Feeling sorry, Sacha split it in half and gave half back to him. The boy, taking the half orange, let out a deep sigh and ate it.

“You can stay beside me, so just be quiet instead.”

Permission was finally granted. From that moment, Sacha clamped her mouth shut. She’d felt it since yesterday, but this person seemed fine as long as she didn’t speak to him first.

Sacha took out the workbook Enzo had given her and spread it on the grass where violets, forget-me-nots, and marigolds bloomed. Each time the wind blew, a page or two flew away, but she didn’t pay it any mind. Some of the pages flew in his direction. Another sigh mingled with the wind.

‘This is hard…. Enzo must think I’m a genius, giving me something I haven’t even learned at school yet.’

Stuck on a problem, Sacha groaned. She chewed absentmindedly on the tip of her pencil, and it tasted like rubber. Eventually she even lay down flat, glaring at the problem as if she meant to dive into the paper. In doing so, she didn’t notice someone was watching her intently.

It was only after quite some time that Sacha noticed the shadow falling over her head and jerked her head up. The motion nearly made her head collide with his chin.

“How old are you.”

The boy, closing the book he’d been holding, asked. He must have finished it in the meantime—the bookmark was stuck in the very last page.

“I’m ten.”

He said nothing, but she could tell what he was thinking. That dubious expression pricked Sacha’s pride. She swore, Sacha Vinoc’h was not a student who fell behind at school. Even if she often drifted into daydreams during class, she wasn’t stupid. The man before her seemed to think otherwise, though.

“Let me see that.”

“This is mine, you know? Why? I didn’t even talk to you like you told me not to.”

“Isn’t it hard?”

He snatched Sacha’s pencil. And then he solved the problem she’d been groaning over all along. Beside the crooked marks of her long struggle, the correct answer was written in neat handwriting. Sacha stared blankly at his writing. When she turned to thank him, he was already asleep again with the book over his face.

As the sun hid behind the clouds, the boy stood, holding the book he’d finished. Sacha buried the orange peels under the tree and followed him.

About halfway out of the forest, an ominous sound clawed at her ears.

“Don’t move. Be quiet and stay behind me.”

The boy whispered. Seeing the black dog beyond his back, Sacha froze. The words Enzo had said that morning—that hunters were prowling around the village, so be careful—flashed through her mind. But—but weren’t trained hunting dogs supposed to not bite people?

A creepy, rough breathing made her spine prickle. The red eyes didn’t leave Sacha. The black dog seemed to have already chosen its prey.

“Why is something like that here.”

Frowning, the boy waited for the black dog to come closer, then pulled the trigger without hesitation. Birds fled up into the trees. The bullet went wide and grazed the dog’s leg. Unflustered, he calmly fired another shot.

One shot, one more. And the final shot hit the black dog’s vitals. Leaving Sacha behind, he approached and turned over the dead dog.

“It’s a hunting dog. Looks like it was injected with a stimulant.”

He murmured as he looked at the dog foaming at the mouth. The owner who’d lost the dog wouldn’t dare come looking, lest it be discovered they’d injected it with a stimulant. He holstered the emptied pistol and turned to Sacha.

“Don’t wander the forest alone. It’s dangerous for a kid like you to come here.”

In the bag Sacha had dropped, the workbook he’d solved for her earlier fluttered. Sacha stared blankly at it. Rustle, rustle. The sound of paper brushing against paper. The sound tickled her muffled ears.

The boy stepped on the papers to keep them from flying away, bent over, and picked up Sacha’s workbook. His hands, reddened from the firearm, roughly brushed off the dirt, but a faint shoe print remained on the workbook. Without a care, he put it in the bag and handed it to Sacha.

“Let’s go. I’ll walk you home.”

But then he realized he didn’t know where Sacha’s house was. In the end, Sacha took the lead. The corners of her eyes, fighting back tears, were red. The boy sighed and rummaged in his pocket.

“Do you hate chocolate?”

“I don’t hate it. I like it.”

Sacha, who had only stared at the gold wrapper pressed into her palm, shook her head. Even after answering, Sacha couldn’t eat it, but he didn’t ask any further.

And they parted at the entrance of the forest. The people of Manoli, having heard the sudden gunshot from the forest, came rushing in alarm, and among them was Mr. Vinoc’h, who had come looking for Sacha. The boy, seeing the crowd gathered in the distance, stopped in his tracks.