Episode 61
Jeffrey Grayson listened, his face expressionless, as George Butler continued his story.
He listened to the tale of Sasha Grayson—his cousin, who had beaten him black and blue not long ago—looking rather affectionate with Isaac Pinscher, that wretched bastard. George Butler, who had tailed the two of them from the cathedral to the theater, and then all the way to some shooting range in a secluded corner, told Jeffrey everything he had seen there. Openly, and in a tone full of resentment.
The cathedral and the theater were places Sasha went every Sunday. A fixed schedule of sorts. Having been forced to accompany her a few times, Jeffrey knew that much by heart.
The shooting range was unexpected. Sasha had never held a gun in her life. And no wonder, considering how disgustingly overprotective that old woman had been of her. Never mind guns; she had probably never even smoked or drunk alcohol.
A sudden additional destination. The reason was obvious. It was because of that soldier bastard stuck to her side.
“D-do you know what they looked like together……? They were, practically, practically embracing…….”
“…….”
“That bastard, all big and hulking…….”
George Butler now openly wore a gloomy expression, clasping his fingers together as he glared at Jeffrey as if blaming him. Whether he did or not, Jeffrey did not so much as glance his way. He simply stared into the air, quietly listening to George stammer on, then gave a faint snort of laughter.
“So that’s how it is. Turns out the two of them really did fall for each other after all.”
Jeffrey’s hand slowly kneaded the back of his own neck. It was the spot Sasha had so ostentatiously scratched last time.
That woman had slapped him across the face one after another, then openly raised her fists and beat him wherever her hands could reach. As if that weren’t enough, she had even raked her nails across him blindly.
The wound on his neck, which had even scabbed over, had long since shed its scab and healed completely. Jeffrey rubbed at the spot where new skin had grown, as if he found it terribly regrettable.
“So, George Butler. Are you just going to give up?”
At Jeffrey’s next words, spoken in a low voice, George Butler flinched and glanced at him with a pale face. Jeffrey beckoned to him.
“As I told you last time, Sasha is a girl with severe deficiencies. That soldier must have treated her rather well, and she went and fell for him completely. But are you just going to let her slip away?”
Jeffrey took a fresh cigarette from his breast and put it between his lips. After lighting it, he arrogantly crooked only a finger at George Butler, who was still watching him warily.
“I’ll tell you the proper way to do it. Don’t be like that, come here.”
George Butler hesitated for a few seconds, but in the end he took a step and approached Jeffrey. When he awkwardly bent at the waist in front of Jeffrey, who was sitting on the sofa, Jeffrey grabbed George’s shoulder and pressed him down. Left with no choice, George sank to his knees and brought his face close to Jeffrey’s ear to listen to him whisper.
The advice, which was no different from a conspiracy, was given in secret. Even the other men in the club, who had been quietly listening with curious faces, could not hear what Jeffrey said to George. George was all the more impressed by that.
After the conversation ended, Jeffrey lightly patted his shoulder as if in encouragement. George rose from the floor, bowed his head once to Jeffrey as if in gratitude, then turned around and left the smoke-filled club.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing much.”
Jeffrey answered as if it were of no consequence, and the curious man soon lost interest and went back to drinking. Then, as if something had suddenly occurred to him, he spoke to Jeffrey.
“More importantly, Jeffrey. There’s someone who wants to meet you. He’s a nobody, so I dealt with him myself, but are you interested?”
Jeffrey drew in a long breath of smoke and asked indifferently.
“Who is it?”
The man answered.
“A soldier named Robert Bloom. He said he has something to tell you.”
＊＊＊
“In two days?”
A few days later, while they were sitting across from each other drinking tea, Isaac told Sasha that he would have to return to Lance Field in two days.
“There are backlogged documents, and quite a few things I need to organize.”
“……Are you already preparing for retirement? Wouldn’t it be better after the wedding? So we can invite everyone.”
“It is not preparation for retirement. Not yet. I do not intend to do it immediately after we are married either.”
Sasha realized her slip of the tongue and quickly looked embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. If that sounded like I was pressuring you, I apologize.”
“No. In any case, even though I am under disciplinary confinement, there are things I have to handle, so I must go.”
General Thurston had drained him dry and thrown him into the 4th Infantry Regiment. Yet even after seizing the merits Isaac should have enjoyed, the hateful man had shoved onto Isaac the responsibilities he himself ought to have borne.
There were still matters left to handle regarding the families of those sacrificed in the Selwood operation. Thanks to the parties involved defending him, they were the only ones who believed in Isaac’s innocence. That was why Isaac had to step forward all the more, so they would not suffer any longer.
“There are a few compensation lawsuits remaining. They are suits my former colleagues have filed against the army, and they want me to appear as a witness. I have to draw up the relevant documents, and I must attend the hearings in person.”
“……It’s about that ‘Selwood’ operation, then.”
Sasha said calmly, as if she understood, while drinking her tea.
Isaac nodded.
“I don’t know exactly what circumstances lay behind it at the time.”
Sasha spoke. Even though she had not openly said, “Tell me,” Isaac avoided her gaze as if uncomfortable.
“At any rate, I hope it is resolved well.”
“Thank you.”
Isaac expressed his gratitude briefly, and a long silence flowed between them again. That he would try to make sure it did not affect her? It was a promise he could not keep from the start.
He had barely avoided dishonorable discharge, but Isaac had already been not merely stained with dishonor in his own world—he had been branded with it. People outside would simply see him as a scoundrel who caused trouble from time to time.
But if, before long, those outside people came to know about that incident as well.
……If that happened.
“There are a few reporters I know well, though not many.”
Sasha said, cutting off Isaac’s thoughts as they continued.
“Strictly speaking, they are acquaintances of my grandmother. They look upon me very warmly. They are also the ones who helped make sure that what happened at the last party was talked about as nothing more than a ridiculous little incident.”
“……You’re saying you’ll help me?”
It meant there would be no reason for him to worry about the things he feared.
To Isaac, it felt like a favor far too burdensome to accept.
“Strictly speaking, I’m not ‘helping’ you out of pure intentions, Captain. We are in the same boat now, so I’m merely saying I will take precautions in advance against any influence it may have on me.”
Sasha said with an exceedingly cool face.
This time, too, it was a calculating response that did not deviate from his expectations in the slightest.
……And this time, too, without fail, Isaac found it immensely reassuring.
“Understood.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
“I’m not sure. I will write.”
At Isaac’s words, Sasha soon furrowed her brows softly. It was because she realized that during the past few days, while preparing various things with Isaac, she had paid almost no attention to the letters that had arrived.
Not that Sasha had anyone she could call a friend. In other words, at most, they would all be from Lady Rosalind’s friends and acquaintances lightly asking after her, or from a few men who were still eyeing her covetously.
People for whom, whatever her standing in society might be, her money came first.
“Speaking of letters.”
Isaac said.
“Do letters and gifts usually come that often?”
“Gifts? What gifts?”
“That large bouquet that came last time.”
Isaac pointed it out specifically, as if to make sure she understood. Only then did Sasha raise her eyebrows as if she had remembered.
“Mm. That was fewer than usual.”
“……I see. Are there, perhaps, any people who follow you too excessively?”
“Pardon?”
Sasha stared blankly at him for a moment, unable to understand what he meant.
“I apologize if it sounded as though I were interrogating you. It is a habit left over from questioning people.”
“It’s all right. People who follow me? There’s nothing like that. Why do you ask?”
Isaac creased his brows at her answer.
Then did that mean the gazes he had intermittently felt when he was with her were simply something ordinary to her, part of everyday life?
Isaac, too, was the sort who drew people’s hostile stares, but what he had felt then was different in nature. With a dubious expression, Isaac looked at Sasha sitting across from him.
She was far smaller than he was, and absurdly delicate and slender. Isaac pondered for a moment. Trying his utmost not to sound overly paranoid, he murmured as if indifferent.
“About shooting.”
“Yes.”
“You seemed to like it quite a bit then.”
“Yes. It was fun.”
Sasha answered with an innocent smile.
Isaac nodded.
“I will try to procure a pistol soon that Miss Grayson can handle. Something easy for a beginner like you to use.”