Chapter 86
At her remark that she had bought yarn in the middle of summer, Isaac raised his eyebrows for a moment, looking puzzled.
But before Isaac could ask about it, Sasha changed the subject.
“What did you buy, Captain?”
It was “Captain” again. Isaac did not particularly mind the back-and-forth in how she addressed him. In truth, he had no attention to spare for such things right now.
“Ah, just a moment… It’s nothing, I just needed a few things… so I bought them.”
Isaac quickly hid the leather bag he was holding behind his back, then seemed to think that looked far too suspicious and brought it forward again. Then, unable to keep still, he pressed down firmly on the top of the bag with his other hand. As if he absolutely did not want her to see what was inside.
But Sasha did not seem especially interested in the bag Isaac was clutching so unnaturally. Like Isaac, she too was distracted for all sorts of reasons. She was utterly bewildered by the emotion she had just become aware of—“jealousy.”
“If you’re finished with your business, let’s go back to the inn together. I think it would be best to have lunch there and then set off.”
Sasha went on quietly, saying that the coachman had gone into the gunsmith’s to look for Isaac and had yet to come out. Isaac, who had been listening meekly to her, realized that she had not been meeting his eyes for some time now.
And that was not all. She had turned her back on him entirely and was standing there looking unnaturally into the distance. As though she did not even want to look at him.
Was he imagining it?
In any case, it bothered Isaac terribly. And so, wondering if perhaps that was the case, he subtly shifted his body in the direction she had been looking and stood as though blocking her view.
“Um…”
Isaac wondered what sort of expression she was wearing. He was afraid she might be angry because he had been acting so awkwardly since earlier.
He could not think of a suitable excuse. And so, for the time being, he simply planted his huge body in front of her as though cutting off her path.
“…Aren’t you hot? It certainly is the time of day when the sun is at its harshest…”
He looked down at her while blurting out whatever words came to mind, trying to sound as unsuspicious as possible. Only then did Sasha lift her head and look up at him.
Beneath the deep green chapeau she liked to wear was her flushed, bright-red face.
…And the distorted expression upon it.
“I’m all right.”
“…”
Isaac stared blankly down at her face.
At the face that could not quite meet his eyes, that unnaturally avoided his gaze, her brows furrowed as if she herself could not understand why she was doing it.
“If you’re trying to give me shade, then thank you.”
Sasha abruptly lowered her head and hid her reddened face beneath the chapeau.
“But I think you’re… a little too close.”
“…Ah.”
His reaction was slow. Belatedly, Isaac hurriedly stepped away from her.
“I’m sorry.”
＊＊＊
The inn was moderately crowded. Thanks to the tables being packed closely together, the space between them was rather narrow, and when Isaac took his seat, the man sitting behind him turned his head to check, feeling as though something was pressing against his back.
The man, who had been about to protest and tell him to pull his chair in, quickly faced forward again as if nothing had happened when the bear-like giant of a man glared at him with gloomy eyes.
Charles took care of ordering the food. While Charles asked the server this and that as he placed the order, Sasha and Isaac sat in silence, each looking elsewhere.
“I ordered the menu as you instructed. They say people here mostly eat pork served with boiled potatoes.”
Charles, having finished ordering, broke the silence and spoke. Then Charles began asking Isaac various questions about the self-defense firearm he had just purchased at the gunsmith’s.
When the subject turned to weapons, Isaac soon returned to his usual expression. And he acknowledged that the old-fashioned pistol Charles had bought was quite decent as a self-defense weapon.
“Its range is short, but it’s fine for a warning shot. Depending on the distance, you could even fire a threat shot at the saddle. But are there still ruffians these days who target carriages?”
Then came: it would be best to keep it well cleaned so it would not misfire. This was how to maintain the oil, and that was how it should be stored. Once he grew a little more accustomed to it, it would be better to switch to something capable of repeated fire if possible. As for what options there were in that regard…
While Charles and Isaac conversed in low voices, Sasha rested her chin on her hand and gazed into the distance as though she had no interest. Even as Isaac answered Charles sincerely, he kept turning only his eyes from time to time to glance at her.
Thinking that she might belatedly take interest in the conversation, when the subject of “guns even beginners can handle” came up, he spoke a little louder.
But Sasha did not so much as glance their way.
“I’ll bring out the soup before the meal. It has mushrooms from the Pokol region. Some guests come here just for this.”
Even while the server, who had returned at some point, placed bowls of soup in front of each of them, Isaac could not take his eyes off Sasha. No—now he was no longer merely stealing glances; he was openly looking at her.
Charles, unconcerned by the subtle atmosphere between the two, quickly sent away the tactless server who was about to boast about the soup even more.
Despite Charles having created an environment that was just right for starting a conversation, Isaac could not say a single word to her.
Even after that, Isaac could hardly focus on his meal. His chronic anxiety was beginning to flare up.
Isaac was so bothered by the expression he had seen on Sasha’s face just moments ago that he could scarcely endure it.
Not knowing Sasha’s circumstances, and being terribly lacking in perception to begin with, Isaac could not even guess why her mood had sunk so low.
The only things he could roughly think of were the disgraceful scene he had shown in the bathroom that morning, and the way she had, uncharacteristically, appeared flustered. And then there was his own pathetic behavior, unable to give a proper reply and answering in curt fragments whenever she spoke to him.
Perhaps the woman before him had surely taken great offense at that.
Then how on earth was he supposed to fix this? They had already exchanged awkward apologies earlier, so bringing it up again seemed likely to have the opposite effect.
If it had been anyone else, Isaac would not have cared in the first place whether the other person was offended by him or not. But the other party was that woman.
…Yes. Because it was that woman.
Because she was the woman who would marry him, even if it was only in form.
“…The mushrooms are truly delicious. I can see why they would be a local specialty.”
While Isaac was inwardly groaning and Sasha seemed absentminded somewhere else, only Charles, sitting between them, ate with satisfaction and spoke.
Charles looked back and forth between the two of them, then, as if he had not expected an answer anyway, focused on his meal again.
＊＊＊
On the way back after finishing their meal, Isaac suddenly said he had forgotten something and, without even saying where he was going, turned away and disappeared into an alley.
Charles looked at Sasha as if to ask what they should do, and Sasha replied as though it were nothing, “Let’s wait in the carriage.”
Sasha climbed into the carriage first, took her seat, and sighed with a troubled expression.
“When I was talking to that man, I felt strange.”
The conversation she had once had with Mr. Turner, the lawyer, tickled at the back of her mind.
“I was envious.”
Sasha knew very well that the “jealousy” she had felt toward Isaac back then was far too different from the “jealousy” she was feeling now.
That was the problem.
“No matter how much you try to keep your distance, feelings are bound to grow in the end. And you like him.”
“No. When I say I like him, I don’t mean it in that way.”
In the end, he had been right.
So what was she going to do?
Sasha swallowed a groan and repeatedly rubbed her face with dry hands. Then she glared into empty space with the feeling that she might truly cry.
‘What am I supposed to do now, after all this time?’
For someone who had realized an attraction toward the opposite sex, she continued glaring into the air with a rather gloomy face.
It was truly absurd. Given the situation, she could not bear how ridiculous and pathetic she was for being seized by an emotion like jealousy. Jealousy. Jealousy, of all things. Really.
…The aversion and displeasure that had risen within her against her will still remained. It was an unfamiliar sensation. An unwelcome emotion that had simply surged up from within, leaving her unable to prepare for it in the slightest. It was, quite literally, an unknown thing beyond her control.
Yes. Unknown.
And that was why it was all the more disconcerting.
‘I really hate this sort of thing.’
Sasha tried to recall, one by one, the loves she had encountered through books, plays, or even other people’s unsolicited stories.
In the play Portrait of Mr. Lewis, the heroine Elizabeth, upon first realizing she was in love, had said she simply felt breathless and overwhelmed. In the classic bestseller The Mermaid’s Song, the female protagonist, realizing she loved the prince, ran to him in one breath, kissed him, and boldly confessed her love.
Good. Then what about Miss Bernard, whom she had met not long ago?
Miss Bernard had said that she had not fallen in love at first sight, but had simply realized, little by little, that she had come to love him. She had said that whenever she saw him, her heart tickled and she could not hide the laughter that leaked out, and so she thought, Ah, this must be love.
Knock, knock.
Sasha’s thoughts, which had been digging endlessly inward, stopped. Sasha turned her head toward the sound.
The carriage door opened. Isaac was standing there.
“I’m sorry I keep delaying us.”
Isaac abruptly apologized to her as he spoke. Sasha looked at him with an expressionless face, then stared blankly at the small packet he held out to her.
When Sasha only looked at him without taking it, Isaac rustled as he opened the packet himself and showed Sasha what was inside.
It was a comb.
A carefully carved wooden comb.
“Earlier, I thought you said you were going to buy a comb, but then you said you bought yarn. …I wondered if maybe it was because of me that you were too distracted earlier… so I bought one.”
“…”
Books, plays, other people’s love stories—none of them were things she could truly feel until they happened to her.
It was not “love.”
There were parts that seemed somewhat similar, but it was not yet something grand enough to be given such an imposing name.
Sasha was certain of that. She forced herself to be certain, as if brainwashing herself.
“I would be grateful if you simply accepted it. Of course, if you don’t need it, you may refuse.”
In any case, she did not feel the ticklish fluttering excitement she had seen in plays, or anything of the sort. Nor was there any overwhelming feeling that the world had suddenly begun to look beautiful.
Rather, her head cooled. As an added bonus, there was also a laugh of scorn directed at herself.
…However.
“Are you asking me to accept it, or saying I can refuse?”
What on earth was that supposed to mean? In the end, Sasha could not hold back and laughed as she asked.
Isaac, whose eyes had been darting about as though troubled, found himself unable to take his eyes off Sasha’s bright smile and stared at her as if bewitched.
With a strained sound, he opened his mouth.
“…Please just accept it.”
How could she possibly dislike someone like you?
How could she possibly not like someone like you?
…And at that thought, she ended up admitting at least that much.