MOOD FOR LOVE (4)

From Bnuel’s house, the village landscape was clearly visible. We sat in chairs in the reception room, drinking fragrant tea and observing the outside. This bleak village was operating with its own regularity. For example, there was a man eating packaged food and throwing trash on the ground.

A guard who noticed the trash boldly rolling on the ground frowned and shouted at the male elf:

“Hey, if you throw trash…”

But before he could finish speaking, two coins flew toward the guard’s feet. The guard picked up the coins and spoke to the elf again:

“This is more than the fine?”

“Pick this up too.”

The man said that and threw another finished package from the table onto the ground. The guard frowned as he picked up both pieces of trash and put them in the bin, but there was no further argument between the two. This was because it was a normal situation for elves.

If you throw trash, you pay a fine. Therefore, if you pay a fine, you can throw trash on the ground. The guard thus collected the fine and cleaned up the trash, and the male elf, having paid the fine, earned the right to throw trash.

While it seemed to operate oddly, this society had its own logic.

“Since you came so suddenly, I don’t have much to offer you.”

Bnuel was showing unusual kindness for an elf. Saying that, she sat at the head of our table and began observing us again. After voyeuristically watching us for a long time with an intellectual gaze as if examining research subjects, she nodded and said to Mille:

“Mille. How is the hero’s party?”

“Everyone is kind and good! They all treat me well!”

We all smiled warmly at Mille’s statement. Lena was looking at Mille with an expression that said she was dying of cuteness, and Ashuria habitually reached out her hand but retracted it when she couldn’t reach Mille.

Bnuel nodded with a blunt expression and said:

“I see. I understand.”

There wasn’t a hint of pleasure in her tone. She looked at us again and asked:

“I’m glad they treat you well. It must have been difficult to accommodate traveling with an elf. Isn’t that so?”

“Not at all. Rather, Mille energizes us and plays the role of supporting us. Without Mille, I don’t think we could have formed such a harmonious group as we have now.”

Bnuel nodded at the hero’s words, then took a sip of tea and asked:

“Do you understand Mille?”

The hero’s face showed a hint of embarrassment. Blinking and briefly searching for words, the hero smiled again and said:

“Understand? I don’t know what you mean. We’re already a perfect team.”

Bnuel didn’t respond to the hero. She only asked Mille, who was sitting off to the side:

“Mille. Does the hero understand you?”

Mille’s answer didn’t come out as smoothly as usual. After blinking her eyes and thinking for a moment, she fixed her expression as if nothing had happened and said:

“…Yes!”

“That’s a lie.”

Bnuel declared, blinking her eyes. The warm and cozy atmosphere instantly froze. Both Ashuria and Lena were watching the situation. I lifted my teacup and looked at the hero. The hero was frowning and looking at Bnuel.

Bnuel said:

“I’ll go upstairs now. There seems to be no reason to continue this conversation. You may stay as long as you like, but please don’t make too much noise.”

The hero blinked, not understanding what had just happened. Mille couldn’t look into the hero’s eyes and was looking sideways, and Lena and Ashuria were touching their lips or stirring their teacups with spoons, exhaling.

And while we were floundering in silence, Bnuel’s door closed. The sound of the door closing hit us heavily, like a judge’s hammer in a courtroom.

Mille said:

“…Would you like to stay over tonight? Mom said you can stay as long as you want.”

We should have interrupted her words and asked questions. Why she answered that way, whether she really felt some wall between us. Why Bnuel brought up such a thing.

But there was no hint of a smile on her face as she opened her mouth, so no one could refuse.

---

Once, at an elf school, there was an incident where a girl shed tears.

In the kingdom or empire, it would have been nothing special, but in an elf school, the mere act of shedding tears was an issue worth noting. Elves don’t understand human emotions. They have neither blood nor tears, and don’t even empathize with others. They simply exist like wooden blocks, living leisurely through their lives, leaving one or two offspring behind, and returning to nothingness.

That’s what elves were.

An elf shedding tears was a shocking event that denied this very definition of an elf.

The beginning of the incident was a trivial story.

During a class studying human literature. They studied a tragic story of a beautiful princess and prince who couldn’t be together. The teacher pointed to each child one by one to read important parts, and had one girl read the climax of the tragedy.

“Th-then… the princess said… Don’t… Don’t leave me… Prince… I also… I also… Sob… Hic…”

The elf teacher, who had thought she was merely stumbling over words or pronouncing them incorrectly, was shocked to see tears flowing down the girl’s face. He shouted in un-elf-like panic, and the surrounding children felt a strange fear and wariness toward the crying girl.

Bnuel closed her eyes and opened them again.

She put the cigarette in her mouth and exhaled smoke. It was a day when she had to submit an important research assignment, but immersed in complex thoughts, she couldn’t concentrate. No matter how many times she breathed in and out, only stuffy and spicy smoke filled her chest.

They say the world is full of love, but it seemed like no such thing existed in her heart.

“Mille.”

Bnuel touched her daughter’s portrait on the desk and called her name. Then she put the cigarette back in her mouth and began to focus on the documents.

---

Night fell.

After Mille’s bombshell statement, the hero’s face was as blank as if a bomb had exploded. I tried to help the hero regain his spirits, but despite all my attempts, he didn’t recover. Lena, watching my persistent efforts, cautiously said:

“Leave him alone, sir. At times like this, you should leave him alone for a while. It’s better for regaining composure. Being alone helps.”

“It’s a complex situation.”

“That’s right. How terrifying is it to hear ‘you don’t understand me’?”

Lena said that with a smile. I found it somewhat impressive that she could smile even in this situation. Lena added:

“To be honest, that’s drawing a line. When you thought you were comrades, if someone draws a line, it’s too painful.”

“Indeed.”

I nodded and agreed with her words. The hero sat with his legs together, touching his head, and then curled up in a corner, tightly hugging the blanket Mille had given him to sleep with. Was the hero already trying to sleep? Bnuel, seemingly unbothered by us staying here, moved freely between the first and second floors as if we weren’t there.

And in this quiet atmosphere, unable to find more words, we each grabbed our blankets and carefully went to bed.

“Good night.”

“Sleep well.”

“Look at Ashuria. She’s already asleep.”

Lena pointed at Ashuria with a smile. She had gone to bed early, as if unwilling to get involved in this situation.

“She probably thought it would be better to sleep on it and think later. When things are complicated, offering an opinion often doesn’t resolve matters properly. Let’s go to sleep too. We’ll talk again tomorrow morning with clear minds.”

“You’re right, sir.”

Lena nodded and listened to all of my words, then winked at me and said:

“Good night.”

Then, before I could answer, she hid her face completely under the blanket, turned over, and fell asleep. Is a first-rate thief also first-rate at going to bed? I chuckled seeing her immediately produce stable breathing sounds, then turned over to fall asleep.

“…Porter. Are you asleep?”

And there was Mille, crouching. Mille, who had been poking my face while neatly gathering her knees in front of me, smiled broadly and said in a small voice when I looked up at her with round eyes:

“You’re not sleeping yet, right?”

“…What is it?”

“…Want to take a walk? I can’t sleep.”

Mille said that while grabbing my hand. She pulled my arm as if she would drag me out forcibly even if I refused, like a child throwing a tantrum wanting to go play. I carefully got up from my place and checked on the hero.

The hero had already truly fallen asleep, curled up in the corner, making gentle breathing sounds.