Bailonz Street 13

After loosely tying up my hair, I opened the trunk. Inside were light casual clothes. Four sets were enough to rotate through. Thankfully, I hadn’t packed too much. Even though I liked to dress informally, it wouldn’t be appropriate to just wear a blouse. In this era, shirts and blouses were considered similar to underwear. So, I wore a vest that matched the color of my skirt.

“Do my eyes look swollen? Am I okay?”

I asked.

“You look good no matter what.”

Came the slick reply, full of glossy words. I let out a short, hollow laugh, reminded of the teenage Liam Moore I had seen in Herschel’s memories. Once I seemed almost ready, Liam subtly offered his elbow. He was dressed lightly as well, wearing a blue shirt that paired well with a navy vest.

“Shall we go?”

“Let’s go.”

As I left the room, I heard the strange sound of waves again. Swoosh, splash. Swoosh, splash. It felt like my ears were filled with water. It was clear that I was the only one hearing the repetitive sound because Liam Moore’s face remained calm. I glanced at the slightly open window.

‘I’m sure I closed it before sleeping.’

From outside, I heard a faint song, calling me, like a dark sea’s lullaby.

“Jane?”

Liam turned back to me with a puzzled expression when I stopped walking.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just…”

I didn’t know what expression to make. I couldn’t say that I heard a song. Maybe I mistook the sound of the sea and wind for a song, even if I really heard it. You shouldn’t know. I slowly turned toward the window and spoke as normally as possible.

“I forgot to close the window…”

“I see. It’s better not to leave it open at night, it could get cold.”

“Yes.”

I quietly looked outside. There was nothing. No voice calling me from outside, no song. Clunk, thud. I closed the window and locked it. Then I returned to Liam Moore with a smile. As we stepped outside, the warm air and the smell of food surrounded us.

＊ ＊ ＊

After finishing our meal, we gathered for tea time. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Proving this, wreaths and stockings were hung above the fireplace. I wondered if Mary was doing well alone. I heard she would spend Christmas with Mrs. Mayer and George. Liam and I planned to stay here until Christmas before returning, but…

‘But…’

What was this spectacle?

The entire Moore family was gathered, knitting. Mrs. Moore, Sir Moore, and even the second son, Theodore Moore, were all together. Liam had left to get some mulled wine, but it seemed like there was some for him too. As I watched the large basket in the center filled with wool and the knitting needles moving busily, I asked hesitantly.

“Um, how do you knit socks?”

Mrs. Moore looked surprised for a moment, then her cheeks flushed slightly. She handed me needles and yarn, explaining how to knit and purl, how to reduce stitches, and so on… Honestly, I didn’t understand. As I awkwardly tangled the yarn, Liam returned with a tray full of mulled wine. Seeing me participating in the knitting circle, he looked wide-eyed and reluctantly sat down.

“No socks, no presents.”

Mrs. Moore said kindly. Liam asked back.

“Excuse me?”

“Presents.”

Liam gave me a desperate look as if asking for help, then stopped. He was speechless at the bizarre, hideous, and almost sacrilegious mass of yarn in my hands.

“…”

What. Why. How was it my fault that I lacked skill? I decided to give up knitting and just drink my mulled wine.

＊ ＊ ＊

I was awakened by a commotion. I fumbled for my pocket watch on the nightstand. What time was it?

“9 o’clock…”

Last night, what happened again? I drank mulled wine, chatted with Liam’s parents, heard more incredible stories about Liam’s childhood, and laughed a lot looking at his old photos. Drinking too much mulled wine could make you drunk. My head throbbed terribly. It was so painful that only crude words came to mind. Holding my throbbing head, I groaned. My hoarse voice escaped my mouth.

“Oh, damn, my head…”

I just realized that my body was terrible with alcohol. It was strange. I used to drink a lot during college parties and still wake up perfectly the next day to make ramen. I used to be strong enough to endure three rounds of drinking. I had been told I had a liver as healthy as a newborn’s.

‘Is it really me? The me who never loses to alcohol?’

Did I pass out drunk? It’s so frustrating. I remembered dozing off in a chair after about three glasses of mulled wine. Liam helped me back, and without any sleep talk, I was out the moment my head hit the pillow. That was around 11 o’clock. I slept until now.

It was noisy outside. I couldn’t see the front gate from my room window, but it seemed the commotion was coming from there. I threw on a shawl over my robe and stepped outside the room. There was a hall below the second-floor railing. In the middle, people were dragging in a large tree.

“A tree?”

It was a fir tree, quite large too. They were really decorating it for Christmas. I had always spent ordinary Christmases, so this sight felt new to me. As I stopped at the landing and watched the noisy scene, the young coachman from yesterday waved at me.

“Miss! Good morning! How do you like the tree? Isn’t it awesome?”

“Are you really going to decorate it?”

“Of course! We’ll put a star on top, hang socks and ribbons, and everything!”

On this huge tree? How? Just then, a hand was placed on my shoulder. Startled, I turned to find Liam yawning widely. He was in pajamas, looking scruffy and dragging his slippers like a typical neighborhood loafer.

I scolded him.

“Liam. Put on a robe.”

“Uh. I forgot.”

He replied shamelessly. This guy. I sighed deeply and wrapped the shawl around him. He bent down for me.

“Are you using the fir tree as a Christmas tree?”

I asked as I adjusted the shawl. Liam blinked and then smiled faintly.

“It’s a family tradition.”

Is that so? Liam Moore, looking shy, lightly stretched and leaned against the railing.

“Even though it’s late, how about breakfast? Our chef makes amazing scrambled eggs. You’ll love it for sure.”

Then he slid down the railing to the first floor. Despite his age, his playful nature was like that of a child. I wondered if he would still be the same at forty. Imagining Liam, as dignified as Arthur Moore, hopping around made me chuckle.

Suddenly, I called out.

“Liam?”

“Did you call?”

“I want to go to the beach.”

He looked at both of us. We were both in pajamas. I looked slightly more presentable. Liam asked again.

“Now?”

I beamed.

“Now.”

＊ ＊ ＊

The D-shaped mansion had a garden in the center, and further around was an annex. Liam said the annex housed Mrs. Moore’s painting studio. Painting was her hobby in her younger days, and Sir Moore had the annex built to give her a space to paint. He was utterly devoted to his wife and wanted to do everything he could for her, Liam explained.

There were also separate quarters for the servants, and further down were steps leading to the sea. Amidst the rocky terrain where heather bushes grew, there was a sandy beach below and a white cliff in the distance. Waves endlessly crashed against the high cliff.

“It’s really the sea.”

It felt like a dream. The sound of waves that I heard from yesterday probably caused it. The strange sense of longing was definitely because it reminded me of my hometown in the far east.

“It is the sea.”

As I watched the dark blue waves, Liam suddenly lifted me up. My view instantly changed. Was this some kind of sightseeing tour?

Then he started walking briskly towards the sea. Was he planning to go into the water like this? Taking off his slippers seemed wrong. I loved the winter sea, but going in was a bit much. I screamed.

“Ah! Liam! Liam Moore! Are you crazy?”