TOMY 04

“What.”

“You know.”

“So what.”

“Are you really just going to keep watching? This thing’s about to collapse.”

The clothesline pole, stacked with several sheets, was swaying precariously under the weight. But instead of coming over right away, Alvin responded with yet another question.

“Why should I?”

“Haven’t you heard? The one who makes eye contact is supposed to help.”

In the end, he let out a sigh and climbed over the window. The bandage on his right hand had long since been removed, but his side still seemed to hurt—he paused for a moment, frowning.

Dragging his feet, Alvin walked over and looked down at Chloe.

“Now you’re making a patient do manual labor? Don’t you think this treatment is a bit harsh?”

“…You’re basically healed already.”

Feeling a bit guilty seeing him holding his side, Chloe muttered. He shrugged in response.

“So this is actually a labor camp, huh? And we’re prisoners.”

“……”

To Chloe, his words didn’t sound entirely like a joke. Not because it was Alvin’s fault, but because she couldn’t bring herself to think he was completely wrong. So she kept holding the pole and stared at him. Her sky-blue eyes, stripped of any trace of laughter, were clear, calm—and cold.

“This is Edelin territory. And we’re at war right now.”

“……”

“Of course, we are treating Fitzmark soldiers too—the ones who’d die if they weren’t treated immediately.”

Maybe that’s humanitarian, in a way. Maybe it’s kindness.

“But even so… do you think they’re treated exactly the same?”

That would be a lie.

She didn’t want reality to grow endlessly colder, but she couldn’t agree with naive idealism either.

This place was strange.

Alvin simply listened quietly to what Chloe was saying.

The front lines were as scorching as ever under the blazing sun. The bombardment had dried out not just human life, but even the plants. Still, inside the camp, a few trees remained. As if on cue, a faint breeze brushed past, stirring both their hair.

Alvin’s eyes almost looked like they might smile—but he didn’t. Instead, he pointed somewhere with his finger.

“Then go ask one of your own people for help.”

“……”

“There—perfect timing.”

Chloe turned to where he pointed. Retired soldiers were lingering near the fence, standing guard.

She hesitated for a moment, lost in thought. Then she turned back to Alvin, who was still watching her.

“Let’s just call it basic human decency.”

“Sounds good.”

With a short nod, Alvin immediately took the pole from her. Without much effort, he drove it firmly into the ground.

After roughly packing the soil down with his boot, he slowly walked back to his bed. Chloe remained standing there for quite a while.

Chloe Liberté had a good memory—once something caught her attention, she had a habit of mulling over it repeatedly. But she wasn’t particularly interested in the people around her.

She tended to spend a long time thinking things through, but she didn’t try to explain everything to others every time.

Sensitive and delicate, she could also be unexpectedly indifferent at times, acting as though she didn’t care how things turned out. Sometimes she would brush situations aside with light jokes and playful banter.

Because of that, some people found her interesting, while others sensed a shadow in her. Some thought she was dry and exhausted, while others believed she was passionate.

Why were there so many strange and distorted people in the world?

In truth, it was a simple occupational hazard. It was similar to how Julia, who sang on stage, tried to speak as little as possible in daily life and kept her voice soft. Chloe cut away anything she deemed unnecessary, saving everything for a single performance.

If she could give the same level of focus and observation to ten thousand people, the world she wrote would have been much richer. Perhaps more people would have stayed in her life. Perhaps she could have played full harmonies instead of a single monotonous note.

But Chloe knew she didn’t have that kind of innate talent.

Her world was sometimes too noisy to listen to everyone’s voice. Her heart was too small to hold everyone. Lacking energy, she occasionally severed her emotional sensors.

Perhaps this was her shield—protecting the domain of the playwright from being carelessly invaded by Chloe the person.

There were too many extraordinary people in the world, and someone had managed to neatly summarize this complicated process of thought into a simple phrase: “selection and concentration.” That was how the adult world gradually became simpler.

And yet, Chloe found herself becoming somewhat curious about Alvin these days. Was it because their first meeting had been so intense? She couldn’t tell—but that quiet man left her with a peculiar impression.

After replaying the events of the day in her mind for a while, she shook her head a couple of times and opened a drawer.

Cutting off the budding sprouts of her thoughts, she pulled out a letter she had received that morning. The sender was her friend Julia, whose voice was like a songbird’s. The handwriting that began with a greeting was rather cute.

Chloe. It’s me. You’ve been doing well, right? I’m sure you have.

Nothing much is happening here.

The war is dragging on, and people are anxious since we don’t know what’s happening at the front, but it’s relatively peaceful otherwise.

…

Oh, right. I had something to tell you.

Benjamin started dating someone recently. You know, that lady who used to follow him around?

I didn’t think it would work out, but it seems they ended up together.

Chloe muttered gloomily,

“What is this… I smell a sad ending already.”

Benjamin had always been popular. A refined poet who only wrote love poems apparently had his appeal to women. On top of that, he came from a wealthy family.

But you know how cold and blunt Benjamin can be.

Apparently, the lady got upset about something and impulsively suggested they break up.

Guess she didn’t fully understand his personality.

Do you think he’d even blink at something like that? He just said “Okay” and that was it.

Reading further, it turned out to be an unexpected happy ending. After her last relationship had failed, Chloe had been ready to lead the singles’ brigade. For the first time in a while, she found herself immersed in the text.

She’s still clinging to him, so who knows how it’ll turn out.

Andrea and I are watching with great interest for now.

“What the—so it’s an open ending. Julia, if you ended a play like this, the audience would boo you.”

Shaking her head, Chloe continued reading.

But Chloe, honestly, I don’t really want to say this…

Unless you absolutely can’t, please reply to Andrea.

He was really upset that you didn’t respond to his last letter.

I don’t want to see a grown man cry over something like not getting a reply.

Chloe frowned, letting out an awkward laugh.

“What is he, going through menopause? Crying over something like that? No news is good news.”

And Chloe, I really think you’re being too much.

We have a playwright as a friend, so why are you so stingy with words?

You really have to reply this time. I’ll keep waiting.

– Julia, the best singer among your friends.

It was only natural that Julia was the best singer among Chloe’s friends. She only had three friends, and Julia was the only vocalist among them. Chloe let out a small laugh, but she didn’t put the letter down for quite some time.

It wasn’t that she was trying to be stingy with words, as Julia said.

“Julia, they say the longer you think, the shorter your sentences become.”

Still smiling silently, she finally tore off two sheets of paper and opened her ink bottle.