Chapter 10 — “Sasha of the House of Grenfell”
Wiiiiing, wiiiiing, wiiiiiiing—
A dreadful alarm blared.
Sasha slowly opened her eyes. The surroundings were dim, and she could see nothing.
It was just like that day.
The day the bombing began.
The sirens that echoed throughout the streets of Pors. The acrid smell of gunpowder, the pale haze of smoke, and the faint metallic scent of blood.
After the bombardment stopped, Sasha’s entire family joined the long line of refugees. Then another tremendous detonation rang out, accompanied by the screams of fleeing civilians.
Sasha had crouched down among her family members, curling into herself.
“Sasha! Sasha! Get a hold of yourself!”
Startled out of the shock and terror of that day, Sasha’s eyes flew open.
She was already in the Major’s arms, being carried somewhere.
Another large military truck.
“While we’re moving, don’t look at anything and don’t listen to anything. If you understand, just nod.”
“……”
“Do you understand?”
Holding back the tears that threatened to spill over, Sasha nodded several times.
The Major set the child down on a seat in the spacious rear of the vehicle.
“Depart.”
“Yes, sir.”
At his command, a man in military uniform and another in a suit moved in perfect coordination.
And then, mercilessly, the man turned his back on the child.
“U—uh! W-wait!”
The child cried out desperately, blocking the closing door of the vehicle.
The Major, who had been walking away, stopped and turned back to look at Sasha.
His expression was usually unreadable, but now a faint crease appeared between his brows—as if silently asking whether it had truly been she who made that sound.
Why did she feel so anxious?
“…Hic! Ugh! I— I—!”
Sasha felt unbearably frustrated and resentful toward herself for not being able to speak properly.
Just once.
Please—just once, she wanted to tell the Major something.
“You don’t have to force yourself to speak. It’s alright. I’ll return soon anyway. So you just grow up well.”
Afraid that he would leave, Sasha hurriedly grabbed his collar and opened her mouth as wide as she could, summoning every ounce of strength she had.
“Th—this!”
For a brief moment, the Major’s lips relaxed and parted slightly, and Sasha managed to speak a single phrase.
The child held out a cross necklace tied with a rubber cord—the one she always carried with her.
“…In Infern—In Infern a… people believe in God. Hea—Heaven is a good place… but I—I hope you don’t go there yet, M-Mister.”
With a trembling voice, Sasha spoke each word one by one, then placed the necklace into his large palm.
“…Then should I go to hell instead?”
Perhaps it was because the Major was smiling, or perhaps because of the absurdity of hearing such a joke in this moment—but strangely, Sasha felt a small sense of relief.
And so she could not stop him as he turned away again.
“M-Major Mister! You have to come back quickly! S-Sasha will wait for you!”
Sasha’s voice was drowned out by the continuing wail of the sirens.
Then the rear door of the vehicle closed.
Inside the truck, Sasha kept thinking about when the man would return.
Outside the window, the city gradually turned into a sea of flames.
The violently shaking interior eventually began to stabilize after some time. Sasha gazed out through the small window on the rear door.
The spire of Pors, which had been barely holding on, was collapsing.
A pale fog and the bluish air of dawn descended over the sky that had been dark like an abyss.
Then, finally—
With three jet fighters heading toward Pors, a massive explosion erupted.
Moisture seeped onto Sasha’s pale cheeks hidden in the darkness.
She looked up at the rigid man sitting beside her in uniform.
“T-there’s fire over there. I—I think we should help them…”
“That is not permitted.”
“But the Major is there! Major Mister! He’s the commander!”
The child burst into tears and clutched at the man’s clothes.
“That is not permitted.”
Hearing the same mechanical answer repeated, Sasha ran to the rear door and pulled on it.
Clunk! Clunk! Clunk!
No matter how hard she tugged, the door would not open.
“M-Mister… Major Mister!”
Finally giving up on opening the door, Sasha pressed her face against the window.
“Mister… hic… you promised you’d come back…”
The child finally cried out loudly.
Her sobbing filled the silent interior.
Perhaps because she cried so hard, the man sitting beside her began trying to calm her down. The child, who had been pounding on the closed door again and again, soon began trembling as if she might faint.
Sasha recalled the first time she had seen the Major’s face.
She had thought he was a very beautiful person.
A big and beautiful person.
The characters in storybooks were always small and beautiful—but he was the first person she had ever seen who was beautiful even though he was large.
Even in the rain, when she could barely see anything ahead of her, she could gaze endlessly at the Major.
Maybe that was why the Major had been the first to find her.
And now that large, beautiful man was inside the city engulfed in flames.
The child, who never once made a sound even when she cried, now released an immense despair.
“Do you know what Sasha means?”
“It means comrade. The moment you received that name, you became my comrade.”
For a moment, Sasha remembered the conversation she had once shared with the Major.
“Please…”
Please return safely.
The child, trembling uncontrollably, could no longer hold on to her fading consciousness.
Tears streamed endlessly from the corners of Sasha’s closed eyes.
The child arrived safely in Salvator, having finally begun to speak again.
From that day on, she became “Sasha of the House of Grenfell.”
When Sasha first arrived there, the summer of Salvator was just reaching its height.
Riding in a dark green automobile sent directly from the House of Grenfell, Sasha made her way toward the ducal estate.
Even from inside the car, the road seemed endless. Poplar trees—ones she had often seen in Inferna—lined the avenue, casting long shadows.
On her first day at the estate, Sasha gazed at the poplar trees and imagined the Major standing beneath them.
Then instead of crying, she simply swallowed.
That was the only way the child knew how to swallow her sorrow.
As the poplar-lined road neared its end, the Grenfell mansion finally appeared.
Its pure white exterior gleamed brilliantly. What could hardly be called a single roof was surrounded by square towers and sharp spires that encircled the mansion like a crown.
Holding the hand of a middle-aged woman wearing a white apron, Sasha stepped into the enormous mansion.
She had never even imagined such a place could exist.
Her head constantly turned left and right in wonder.
To take in even a single wall, the child had to turn her head from one end to the other. The towering columns and endlessly high ceilings made her slightly dizzy as she looked upward.
A dazzling chandelier hung high above, displaying its noble brilliance.
Sasha also saw the paintings that lined the lobby walls.
Each one depicted baby angels—bare and chubby—singing songs or blowing trumpets.
There were even paintings depicting the form of God.
They were the kinds of images she had only seen in the chapels of Inferna.
This place is like heaven.
Sasha could not help but think so.
Of course, she believed that—until she met the woman who was far too large and far too sharp-tongued to be called an angel.
When Gloria Herbert Grenfell first saw Sasha, she clicked her tongue in irritation.
Seeing the woman with her hair neatly pinned up and silver-rimmed magnifying glasses, Sasha could not help thinking that she looked like a frightening grandmother.
After all, the woman—who had been left alone to guard the House of Grenfell—did nothing but stare at Sasha as if scrutinizing her.
“Where on earth did he pick up a child like this…? Honestly, it seems Horace has finally been shot in the head.”
She repeatedly fanned herself with an ornate feathered fan, clicking her tongue as she struggled to contain her anger.
“N-no, he wasn’t shot. He promised Sasha he would come back alive…”
Though she was completely intimidated, Sasha mustered her courage and spoke.
At that moment, Gloria’s furious eyes narrowed slightly.
“Sasha?”
“Yes. I’m Sasha.”
“So Horace brought in Sasha’s pup.”
Click, click, click—Gloria kept clicking her tongue as she muttered.
Sasha did not understand what the woman meant. She simply blinked her large eyes, thinking to herself that the Major’s name must be Horace.
She only realized the meaning of Gloria Herbert Grenfell’s words after she saw a large dog lying on the floor, panting heavily.
Perhaps because it was very old, the dog could barely move from the large cushion it lay upon.
Gloria always called that dog “Sasha.”
Sometimes, when she heard the name “Sasha,” the human Sasha answered by mistake—and was scolded several times for it.
Horace Herbert Grenfell, Duke of Grenfell.
By coincidence, Sasha learned the Major’s full name for the first time on the day she arrived at the mansion.
“What should I do from now on? I’m confident I can work hard at anything! Especially—I’m very good at tending gardens.”
“Oh? You have a deep appreciation for flower arranging, do you?”
“Huh? That’s not what I meant… I was saying I could work as a gardener…”
“…Tsk, tsk. Perhaps because you’re a boy who’s been rolling around goodness knows where, even your thoughts are disgraceful. I must hire an etiquette teacher at once.”
Sasha hesitated for a long moment after hearing those words.
Then she shut her eyes tightly and spoke.
Since she would be staying here, she realized she could not keep hiding it any longer.
