When I was young, during my elementary school days, something happened.
My parents, with their cheerful personality, didn’t impose too many restrictions on me, and since I had a character that got things done, I dutifully produced good grades in return.
Six years in elementary school meant I had to spend that dull time with my peers.
Among the very lively boys, conflict was something we could not avoid.
We often got into fights over trivial matters. There were times I fought until my nose bled, and times I ended up with bruises on my face from being knocked over while playing on the playground.
Most of the time, it was when I was the one confronted first, but that day was a bit different.
Perhaps I was arrogant. No matter who picked a fight with me, I easily secured victory, and the proof was the tears of my opponent.
As I made several kids cry after fighting with them, I might have been growing increasingly twisted myself.
Back then, I was very young, and whenever I wanted something, I would feel compelled to take it without question. Furthermore, my family was not particularly affluent.
When I saw a portable game console being enjoyed right in front of me, it was maddening.
Before I knew it, I had snatched the console from that kid’s hand and broken his glasses.
That day, a penetrating gaze approached my line of sight. It seemed as if someone was going to confront me about my wrongdoing, while at the same time, that cold stare was telling me that they would no longer indulge my childish behavior.
After constantly bowing my waist to apologize to the other child’s parents, upon returning home, I was met with my father’s stern gaze as he held a rod and looked at me with a strict expression.
As I faced that, my body froze, and my father reprimanded me in a severe voice.
– Why did you do that?
What on earth, why did you do that?
“Why on earth did you do that?”
Camilla swallowed hard. Something that had been welling up in her heart felt like it was being swallowed with her saliva.
“Head Priest Antoinneri.”
But still, it seemed inevitable that her voice trembled. Camilla unconsciously narrowed her brows and looked at Professor Antorelli.
“…….”
Professor Antorelli was gazing at the white snow covering the park. He was looking at something that seemed to be rising up like a haze above it with his lifeless eyes. His deep brown pupils slowly floated over the memories of the past.
She had no desire to argue. Yes, just a few days ago when they met in the Holy Empire, it had been the same.
At their first meeting, she had felt a strong desire to question him about everything. She confirmed that Professor Antorelli was directly connected to Professor Helena’s death, and moreover, wasn’t there a connection to Camillia as well?
According to the contents of the diary Camilla had read that day, Professor Antorelli had spoken harshly to Camillia, ultimately pushing her to make an impulsive choice, perhaps providing the motive for such actions. Yet, he didn’t even think to come and ask for forgiveness himself, instead choosing to run away.
Yes, he ran away. There was no way to explain his actions other than to say he fled.
He had fled, leaving only an old leather-bound notebook on the bedside table next to Camillia’s hospital bed.
That had allowed a quiet rage to settle deep within Camilla’s heart.
Professor Antorelli, who had only brushed past her while visiting Camillia, never having properly faced her, was just that kind of person. He was someone so insignificant.
How could he not feel shame? That was how Camilla felt.
She confronted him. Using her beloved teacher, Helena, as an excuse.
He got angry. It was something she had somewhat expected.
He grew angry. Perhaps a bit too much.
Although it was somewhat unexpected, it didn’t feel like a big change up to that point.
He cried. No, he howled.
As if sincerely grieving Helena’s death, he cried out vehemently not to dishonor her passing, and the intense red tint that filled his eyes radiated the light of deep despair.
That was something she hadn’t anticipated.
The one who pulled the trigger was, in fact, Camilla.
Up until then, Camilla had treated Professor Antorelli as a shameless person. She thought of him as someone who had no intention of apologizing, a person lacking in any sense of disgrace. The diary he penned, filled with sorrow over Helena’s death, appeared to her only as a facade covered in sadness.
However, after finally facing his despair and sadness, and the anger towards himself.
Furthermore, after encountering him face-to-face two, three, or even countless times…
‘…He wasn’t like that.’
Let’s acknowledge the truth. He wasn’t the person Camilla thought he was.
What should she say? She had expected him to be more brazen, unreasonable, weak-willed, and incapable of admitting his wrongdoings.
Professor Antorelli was not such a person. Instead, he was someone who strived to live in stark contrast to those negative qualities, completely opposite to Camilla’s assumptions.
She didn’t find his character unlikable. It was just that it frustrated and saddened her excessively, and because of that, she didn’t want to stay close to Professor Antorelli.
So, she gradually distanced herself. Even though she knew it was a choice that would turn her face away from the pent-up emotions deep within her heart, and that it would gradually push her closer to the edge.
Camilla couldn’t bring herself to confront Professor Antorelli about Camillia.
She feared what answer might come from him. He didn’t recognize Camilla’s face.
It was understandable, as it had been almost three years since Camillia’s incident. If Camilla couldn’t recognize Professor Antorelli’s face immediately, then it would be reasonable to think that he wouldn’t recognize Camilla’s face, which he had only briefly glimpsed while visiting.
If she went to someone who couldn’t even recognize someone’s face and asked, “Do you remember anything about Sister Camillia?” and his response was, “Who is that?” would she be able to face that future?
If he couldn’t even remember the trigger that caused Camillia to end up like this… that felt like losing the very reason she had clung to life so desperately. So, so…
“Priest Camilla.”
Camilla lifted her head. Professor Antorelli was looking at her with an indescribably deep gaze.
“The greatest guilt I have been struggling to forget until this day is the fact that I didn’t confront Priest Camillia properly that day.”
His voice was indeed deep, and if one were to drown in it, they would likely never return. Camilla stared intently at Professor Antorelli.
“If necessary, I will pay my penance. No, please allow me to do so.”
“Has it really been nearly two years… no, almost three years since then?”
“Yes. Because it has been three years, it is all the more so.”
Camilla finally realized.
This man had lived in despair and pain for those three years.
In dim, sticky despair. He had lived through a life filled with guilt, the pain of sin, feeling like he was trapped in a breathless, narrow space as if surrounded by iron bars, for almost three years.
Helena’s death was so, and the deaths of others would have been similarly so, and Camillia’s extreme choice was one of those.
Camilla met Professor Antorelli’s eyes again. His deep and dark pupils reflected a well of emotions that were gradually cleansing and purifying.
He clearly wanted closure.
And that choice was now beyond Professor Antorelli’s control. Camilla’s gaze slowly dropped, following down to her thin, delicate palm.
Hands with faint calluses. The marks of hardship from the battlefield were wearing away with the years. However, even if her memories faded, they remained deeply embedded in their place. Worn, scraped, and shrinking, they didn’t disappear.
Within that, Camilla saw an unknown light.
It was a “better future.”
Camilla’s eyes rolled. Her grayish eyes once again captured Professor Antorelli.
The words sent forth by his eyes were that it was time to move forward.
Such a composite of a shining future contrasted with the moist despair dwelling in Camilla’s eyes.
How tragic it was. Nevertheless.
“…Please, give me a little time to think.”
Nonetheless, the shining future was drawing near. The sensation of her heart beating painfully was indescribable.
Like the cold winter wind blowing.
I captured Camilla’s retreating figure in both eyes.
Her back looked so lonely and pitiful. It took quite some time as she gradually drifted away, eventually disappearing inside the church.
During that long interval, I blankly followed Camilla’s traces. On the white snow intermittently covering the park, Camilla’s footprints were engraved in the form of steps.
A form of bondage that I would never be able to forget. It was truly a prison.
Once I escaped that white prison, a larger prison enveloped it.
In a life that had been a continuous series of meaninglessness, I had just now sought to reclaim meaning.
But that was considerably— no, far more difficult than I had imagined.
“Let’s acknowledge the truth.”
Therefore, I could not retort to Cesar’s words.
“Those moments that were briefly off course, when sewn back together, might not fit perfectly in the end.”
“……”
“But once time has strayed even once… it ends up increasingly widening that gap. Ultimately, it drifts completely away from the present.”
As we slowly moved through the clouds, weren’t we wandering in search of stars? A smile spread across my face.
“How strange.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Truly strange. Since when, and how, have you come to adopt such a smile?”
“That indeed is a strange question. At what point was I not allowed to have such a smile?”
“At least, from the time of my death, weren’t you not supposed to wear such a smile? Didn’t you think so too?”
“Oh… not at all.”
Not at all. It might have been that way in the past, perhaps when Cesar took his own life. But it wasn’t like that now.
“Can’t you see the future?”
“……”
This time, Cesar fell silent. He stared at me vacantly, slowly nodding while his gaze remained fixated on me. Soon, his eyes began glaring at me.
“Are you leaving me behind like this?”
“Indeed.”
“I am the product of your guilt that has coagulated in your heart. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“But now, you’re saying you won’t care about me anymore? Do you think that’s possible?”
“If I didn’t think it was possible, I wouldn’t have tried it at all.”
“Then, what exactly did you see in Priest Camilla?”
“It seems there’s some misunderstanding, Cesar.”
Above all, my heart was aching indescribably. Yet, that was clearly a pleasant pain.
Something akin to growing pains necessary to take another step. I was growing alone, feeling a sense of freedom as if wings were sprouting from my back.
“If I have sinned, the judgment will be up to Priest Camillia.”
“……”
“It’s not for you, no… it’s not for you, woven together by some fabricated guilt in my mind, to dispute.”
“…That’s the truth.”
After a brief blink, the figure of Cesar, who had been sitting beside me, had vanished completely. I took a cigarette from my coat pocket and brought it to my lips.
“Don’t you see? Everything went wrong from the start.”
The rising smoke from the cigarette clearly alleviated that which I had been pondering.
The past becomes a more distant past, and the present becomes just moments ago. What remains before me is only the future, nothing else.
The wind begins to blow stronger.
I move forward.
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