Chapter 111
He swore he had not meant to wake Lizan.
It was just that, when he looked at her, he felt as though he might be able to overcome it by his own strength. He had memories of overcoming it with Lizan, and he wanted to lean on those memories.
But before long, Ezekail regretted not having moved elsewhere sooner.
“Ugh……”
A stifled groan slipped through his clenched teeth. He glanced sideways to check on Lizan. When she grew tired, she often fell asleep even during the day, but there were very few days when she slept deeply. Afraid that his groans might reach Lizan’s ears and disturb her rest, Ezekail put all his strength into locking his jaw.
He must not make a sound.
He had to exist in this room as though he were not there at all.
His breathing began to grow hot.
This… damn it……
Ezekail cursed inwardly.
When he did not drink at the time he should have, the drug’s effects that had lain dormant in his bloodstream awoke as a ferocious beast. Its claws tore through his stomach, rummaging and gouging it to pieces.
He had grown fairly dulled to it. To the pain brought on by withdrawal.
He had been somewhat optimistic as well. Compared to the past, when he had lived with liquor and opium from morning till night, he was not addicted to nearly as great an amount this time, so it ought to be better.
But with the speed of his circulating blood, the afterimages of the past came back to life moment by moment.
Yes, this was exactly how it felt.
The feeling that there was something else inside him.
The feeling that his body was his, and yet not his.
Ezekail roughly wiped down his face, where cold sweat was dripping.
Whom could he resent? After all that suffering, the one who had summoned this disaster again was none other than himself.
His muscles slipped out of his control. The thought came to him that he should leave the room even now, but it was already too late. If he dragged his body out, it would become noisy. If the servants rushed over in alarm, there was a high chance an even greater commotion would break out. In that case, it was better to endure as quietly as possible in this room.
He could not put any strength into his legs. Ezekail knelt beside Lizan’s pillow.
The unbridled beast tore at his throat. The area around his heart began to ache with heat. Ezekail leaned his left shoulder against the wall. Since he could not let out a groan, he had no choice but to settle it somehow within himself. He shoved hard against the wall with his shoulder. He intended to meet it with force and suppress the beast.
He had to hold out.
He would hold out.
As he strained against the wall until his shoulder blade ached, Ezekail remembered Lizan, who had desperately held him through the night while he writhed in withdrawal.
Only now did it strike him how remarkable she had been. That Lizan, with that delicate body, had endured while bearing such force. And yet Lizan had always soothed him, saying she was fine. Sometimes with a faint smell of blood about her, in a voice so tight from holding back pain that she could barely breathe, forcing herself to act as though nothing were wrong.
There probably had not been a single sound place on that body.
Lizan, I hurt you so very much.
It was the moment he looked at Lizan without thinking, his heart reeling. He found Lizan blinking her heavy eyelids.
“……Lizan?”
He called her name in a suppressed voice.
“When did you wake up? I didn’t mean to wake you……”
She must have been startled. Ezekail knew well the intimidation and fear his unusual build imposed on others. It would have been bad enough if he had been standing still, but he had been crouched and writhing like a beast; how frightened must she have been, waking from sleep?
Ezekail examined Lizan’s pale complexion.
“It’s nothing.”
He quickly added.
“I’ll be fine soon. Don’t mind me…… I’m sorry I woke you.”
He wanted to tell her to go back to sleep and at least straighten the edge of her blanket for her, but he could not be sure his arms would move properly.
Lizan silently lowered her eyes. From where Ezekail sat, all he could see now were her long, downcast lashes.
It would be so good if she would just close her eyes like that and fall asleep.
But there was no way Lizan did not know what was happening to him. In some ways, she probably knew more than Ezekail himself. Unlike Ezekail, who had to grasp the changes occurring in his body only through subjective sensation, Lizan had seen and experienced them vividly with her own eyes.
Her neat eyelashes trembled faintly. It seemed she simply could not fall asleep.
Ezekail swallowed the curses he wanted to hurl at himself.
You fucking idiot. Because you made a pointless scene beside someone sleeping peacefully, you caused useless trouble.
“……Lizan.”
Because he was careful not to let his rough breathing mix in, his voice became even lower and slower.
“Close your eyes, cover your ears, and turn your back.”
He forced a smile into his voice. Hoping desperately that his tone sounded calm, so that she would not worry.
“It’s because I don’t want you to see me looking so pathetic and disgraceful.”
Only a little after his suggestion did Lizan turn over with her back to him. But judging by the occasional irregular rise and fall of her back, she did not seem able to sleep at all.
He pretended he was not in pain though he was, and Lizan pretended she was asleep though she could not sleep.
It was a cruel time for both of them.
❖ ❖ ❖
Still, it was a phenomenon he had experienced before, so it was quite fortunate that he knew in advance what pain would come and could brace himself for it. It was also fortunate that the withdrawal was not as strong as last time. Since he had to watch Lizan’s every move, even if he was going through withdrawal, he was in no position to be comfortably isolated as he had been before.
When Ezekail held out stubbornly, the beast would curl its tail and retreat for a while, but it would suddenly strike when he was tired or weakened. Then Ezekail simply clenched his teeth and endured. After finding a place where he could be alone or sending the people around him outside, he fought the beast by biting his lips until they bled and striking his limbs when they refused to obey.
On days when the itching was severe, he thought of Lizan’s hands carefully wiping down his entire body and washed himself several times over. Even so, he could not help the scratches that covered his arms and legs. Ezekail always dressed without leaving a gap and took care that Lizan would not notice his wounds.
As her strength improved, Lizan began spending more time in the armchair than in bed. The enormous armchair, which wrapped her from head to legs, was something he had brought in so Lizan could sink back into it and rest comfortably.
In the afternoons, when the sunlight lay languidly across the room, she sat in the armchair by the window and read books, learned knitting from Anna, or exchanged written conversations with Polina. Though they were written conversations, there were no talks in which she opened her heart; all of them were nothing more than light everyday chatter.
I ate well.
I’m sleeping well. I’m all right.
Thank you for worrying about me.
Ezekail sometimes found notes scattered across the table. He knew he should not, but his gaze was instinctively caught by Lizan’s handwriting. Without touching them with his hands, he quickly checked them out of the corner of his eye, and the written exchanges contained only things it would not matter for him to read. Even if he had openly picked up the papers, Lizan probably would not have shown much displeasure.
Could she have left these here on purpose for me to see?
Ezekail even thought that.
As if to say she was eating well and sleeping well, so he should not worry. Or, more precisely, with the intention of blocking the other person’s involvement at the source.
“Miss Lizan seems to want to speak only of refined matters. It may be because she realized I delivered her first written exchange to you, Major, or on the other hand, since she has so much time to be lost in thought, she may have worried over it alone and reached her own decision.”
Polina’s impression was similar.
By now, there was no way Lizan could fail to know that even the most trivial parts of her daily life were flowing to Ezekail through Polina or Anna. Though the women who had stayed with her at the mansion instead of returning to their hometown were friendly people she was grateful for, she could not trust that they would keep the secrets they whispered together.
“In other words, she only speaks of matters she has already concluded in her mind, matters no one could possibly find fault with. Even when I want to give her an opportunity to pour out her grievances, she leaves no opening for it. There is no way for me to intervene.”
Ezekail felt the same.
To him, who regretted that he had not been generous to her, Lizan had delivered her message with a resolute and calm attitude.
Don’t say you’re sorry.
That there was no need to apologize.
In the situation I was given, I made the best choice I could. Regardless of whether it was right or wrong, wise or foolish. So I don’t regret it. You shouldn’t regret it either. Because at every moment, you must have made the choice you believed was best.
It was a statement so rational it bordered on cold.
It was a conversation that had not remained in writing, but the memory of that day was so striking that Ezekail could not forget a single sentence she had formed.
The more he looked back on it, the more puzzling it became.
How had Lizan been able to express such an opinion?
Was that truly something someone who had been rescued in the middle of being hanged, and who had fallen ill and lost her speech from the shock of that moment, could say so detachedly?
Was that really Lizan’s true feeling?
Was it not the experience of being pointed at all at once by countless citizens of Cleris, enough to fill the square and overflow it, and nearly paying a horrifying price with her death, that was controlling Lizan’s thoughts and language?
If so, what was he supposed to do to learn her true innermost feelings?
It was utterly dizzying.
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