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Stalemate – Part 04

After bidding farewell to the woman, they walked along the village road, with the boys bombarding them with questions.

“What are you going to make with these?”

“Does bread in London taste different?”

“Do you like potato dishes?”

The sun peeked through the clouds, quietly watching the two of them.

After traversing the bumpy village road and returning to the paved road, they reached the parked car that the girls had left behind.

Upon seeing the shiny black car, the boys squealed and rushed over. Avril climbed into the driver’s seat and took the boys for a ride around the area since they were so intrigued. Finally, she dropped the boys off, and Frannie, who had been waiting by the roadside with their supplies, got in. They loaded the food onto the back seat.

Frannie seemed utterly uninterested in driving the car. She adjusted her hat multiple times and meticulously reapplied her lipstick using the rearview mirror.

As the boys cheerfully waved them off, they set off toward London again. The engine roared, and the stark village landscape receded away.

While Avril was lost in her newly acquired driving skills, Frannie reached towards the back seat and rummaged around. Avril wondered what she was up to.

“Both the car and you need fuel,” Frannie said. “Here. Have some ham.”

Using a small knife, Frannie cut a slice from the large ham they had just received from the woman and pushed it into Avril’s mouth. She did the same for herself.

“Yay, ham!” Avril exclaimed, chewing slowly. “So good!”

“Right? First… animal protein… in a while…”

“Delicious!”

“All right, I get it. Want another piece?”

“Absolutely!”

The homemade ham was incredibly juicy.

“We’re alive, Frannie,” Avril said softly.

“That’s right. We’re still here, living,” Frannie agreed with her younger cousin, which was rare.

They continued driving while savoring the delicious ham. The engine roared powerfully. The black car carrying the cousins sped towards London.

---

Though snow had not yet fallen on London’s outskirts, a small village nestled in the depths of Sauville’s mountains, forgotten in time near the Alps bordering Switzerland, had already received a light dusting of snow on its village road.

While the echoes of war persisted, this remote mountain region remained untouched by conflict. The village lay in silence, as if frozen in time.

With no authority to oversee it, the main gate of Saint Marguerite Academy, usually left open until autumn, had been closed and securely locked. Nobody cared to approach it.

Footsteps crunched on the snow. A young man with smooth, chocolate-colored skin, appearing to be of mixed heritage, approached the main gate. His bright blond hair spilled from under a woolen hat down to his shoulders.

Puzzled, he peeked inside, occasionally touching the lock. Eventually, he gave up and returned back down the village road.

The expansive vineyard that flourished with grapes during the autumn season was gradually blanketed by snow.

The young man crossed the field and entered a small house with a blue triangular roof. A humble abode, plain and hardly adorned. Inside, a roaring fire burned in the fireplace, and there were two cozy chairs and a warm blue carpet.

Seated in one chair was a skinny, middle-aged woman with grayish hair, quietly reading a book. A half-empty glass of absinthe faintly gleamed on a simple table beside her.

“Welcome back,” she said without lifting her head up.

“I’m home, Mom.”

“How does it look outside?”

The young man, preparing tea, stole a glance at his mother. She sat with a slight curve to her back, engrossed in her reading.

“The fields are fine for now. The snow isn’t too deep yet.”

“I see.”

“And, um… The academy is closed. It looked deserted.”

His mother slowly raised her head. Tea was ready. They sat by the fireplace, exchanging glances as they sipped their drink.

“I see. If I remember correctly, before the snow started falling…”

“Yeah.” The young man nodded. “The small and pretty teacher with the round glasses remained until then. It seems she left.”

“You were worried about her, weren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah…” The young man cast his gaze downward. “I mean, a young woman was staying there all alone. Although, a red-haired woman did come occasionally. Her friend I think. The old gardener also talked to her sometimes.”

“With the war escalating, she probably returned home.”

“Yeah…”

“Do you perhaps miss that teacher?” the woman said after a brief silence.

“N-No way!” The young man shook his head, slightly irritated. “Ugh, you always poke fun at me. It’s just…”

The fire in the hearth flickered. Warm tea eased down their throats. Snow was falling outside, and although it was still dusk, it was already dark as night.

“Solitude is lonesome,” the young man said. “So I was just a bit worried. That’s all.”

“Really, now…”

“…Mom!”

The fire in the hearth blazed higher. The snowfall had turned into a blizzard, the wind howling as it rose.

The young man’s golden hair and chocolate skin gleamed in the fire’s glow.

---

“Achoo!”

Meanwhile…

In a small attic above the fourth floor of the village inn, accessed by extremely steep stairs, a woman in a simple cotton nightwear sneezed.

A pair of thin blankets lay atop two straw mattresses. Fluffy brown hair cascaded from under a round hat to her shoulders. It was Cecile Lafitte.

“Is someone gossiping about me?”

“No one is, so just sleep!” A disgruntled voice came from the adjacent mattress.

Fiery red hair peeked out from under the blanket draped over her head. Her face wasn’t visible, but it was definitely Sophie.

“I wonder who it could be? It’d be nice if it was a gorgeous man.”

“It’s probably the old gardener, the annoying chairman, or the principal. Or maybe the maids downstairs. Just get some sleep!”

“Speaking of which, I wish we could sleep downstairs. It’s freezing up here in the attic.”

Sophie sat up. She was wearing an Asian-style nightgown she had borrowed from Kazuya, using a red belt around her waist instead of an obi.

“There are no other rooms available, so let’s be thankful,” she said admonishingly. “Evacuating nobles and wealthy folks have booked everything up, and everyone’s busy as bees. No one wants to return to Saubreme, not with the threat of bombings. We’re lucky to have this attic thanks to my friend pulling some strings. You get that, Cecile?”

“Hmm?”

“You can make yourself useful with dishes and laundry.”

“Ugh…” Cecile sighed, her shoulders slumping.

Just days ago, the Royal Knights inspected Saint Marguerite Academy, locked it up and kicked Cecile out. As she walked along the village road in distress, she ran into Sophie, who had come on a motorcycle out of concern for her.

Sophie was also facing difficulties after losing her job at the academy. She had a lot of siblings, so she had nowhere to sleep in at her home, and she needed a job. In the end, she managed to secure this attic through her childhood friend who worked as a maid at the inn.

For the past few days, Sophie had been helping the maids with their work, while Cecile was giving lessons to the young nobles who had evacuated from the city for a modest income.

However…

The attic was extremely cold.

Cecile surveyed her surroundings. Apart from the bedding, there was little else. The suitcase she had brought from the academy now rested in a corner, serving as a makeshift desk. Atop it lay an unfinished letter intended for the British international student Avril Bradley: It read: “Left the academy, staying at the village inn.”

Cecile huddled from the chill. “He’s probably a charming man.”

“Unfounded confidence can be terrifying. Just sleep!”

“It’s cold, Sophie.”

“…Want me to hold your hand till you fall asleep?”

Cecile’s face lit up. “Yeah!”

“Here.”

A warm, slightly damp hand emerged from the blankets and held Cecile’s tight.

“Sophie,” Cecile said, slipping back into her blanket.

“What is it this time?”

“War’s happening again. Everything’s changed, it’s scary. I hope it ends soon… sniff, sniff…”

“Just go to sleep!”

For all the sniffling, Cecile seemed to find comfort in her friend’s hand, as she soon drifted into a peaceful slumber.

The attic was quiet and cold. Snow fell outside the small square window. Not a single noise could be heard. It felt as if it was just Miss Lafitte and herself in the world.

With only her nose and above peeking out of the blankets, Sophie, who should have matured into an adult, still seemed like a young girl in her mid-teens.

A room much like this, if not even humbler and colder, served as lodging for the academy’s working maids. From dawn till dusk, Sophie toiled, stealing glances at children of nobility the same age as her. Late at night, fatigued, she would crawl into her bed and sleep alone.

Back then, there was a lovely girl she wished to be friends with. She had a hunch that they would get along, but it felt presumptuous, so she kept it a secret. She dreamed of holding hands with her, strolling through the garden, sharing secrets.

That girl did, however, steal the cookies her grandmother made.

That distant girl now lay beside her, sleeping peacefully.

“You’re right, Cecile,” Sophie whispered softly. Anxiety flickered across her gray eyes. “This whole thing is terrifying. I hope the war ends soon… sniff, sniff…” She shut her eyes tight. “I’m going to sleep too! I’ll let tomorrow’s me worry about tomorrow.” She crawled into the covers.

Snow fell silently outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed across the sky, then slowly faded.