The rational part of his brain was telling him that he ought to be relieved, but the emotional part was wrestling with a violent tempest of passions. Now he had to meet a complete stranger, whisper a few perfunctory sweet nothings in her ear, have a couple of kids with her, and raise those kids like he’d wanted and loved them all his life. He could treat it like business, just like all his past relationships. He prided himself on that—he could do anything if it was business. But this required the willpower to weather the agony of continuously ignoring the little voice in his head asking if this was really the right thing.
And then death.
A peaceful death at the end of it all.
If only his life was a video he could play at 4× speed, just like how he watched boring TV shows on his subscription services. That was his go-to method whenever he had an obligation to review the piece of media prior to talks with the individuals involved in its production. He couldn’t help but think how much easier it would be if he could do the same for his life, if he could just wheel around and around like a paper cutout and fall to the ground all the faster.
Sounds like I have a death wish, Jeffrey thought, and that made him smile. What punishment was more fitting for a man who had given his favorite person, his best beloved little brother, the kind of wound that would never heal? The problem was, he had to concede, he’d never considered that this punishment—this “business”—would ever ruin someone else’s happiness in the bargain.
Once he’d pulled himself together enough to walk straight, Jeffrey staggered out into the main part of the mansion, where he bumped into Henry, dressed in work clothes—a casual white shirt and brown vest. The one-day earl looked Jeffrey straight on with a gaze so steady it was like the man who’d been in the throes of depression had never existed.
“…Jeff? Whatever is the matter?” Henry asked.
“Nothing at all. I just felt like dropping by for a spell. How are things with you, Harry? Did I catch you in the middle of work?”
“I was going through our grandmother’s records. Curiously enough, I’ve noticed the individuals who have negotiated with Octavia tend to be linked to these gemstone transactions.”
“Yeah? You don’t say.”
“I wonder why that should interest Octavia so.”
Probably because the Claremont butlers were scheming in the hopes that Leah’s shady business dealings wouldn’t weigh down future generations of Claremonts, but Jeffrey didn’t say that. He was the only one making deals with the butlers, and that was fine by him. All he needed was for Henry to buy him a little time.
“Jeff?”
“Hm?”
“Get some good rest tonight. You don’t look well.”
“Right-o. Will do.”
He tacked on a thanks before heading to the room he stayed in on his rare visits to the Claremont estate. For Jeffrey, who had begun living in dorms and flitting around the world in the transitionary period between no computers and universal internet access, his old room was less a nostalgic haven and more a collection of relics of the past, a metallic cookie cutter of a room. It felt like the estate itself was declaring a traditional existence for its occupant, a certain Jeffrey Claremont, a man who would be permitted no wild deviations from the norm.
He lay on the always immaculately made-up bed, thrashed around until the sheets were a wadded-up mess, and then groped for his phone. His fingers moved on autopilot and called a number on speed dial.
The phone rang twice before the person on the other end picked up. “Hello? What’s up, Jeffy?”
Jeffrey’s mouth quirked at the mention of his nickname. The boy who had grown up in this room had never, not once, been called by that name. He ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to sound casual. “Not much. Just wanted to check in and see if you’re doing okay.”
“I should be asking you if you’re doing okay. I could tell from word one that something’s wrong. Poor little bunny boy’s ears are drooping.”
A response died in Jeffrey’s throat. You know, I think I might be in love with you, he might have said. But he didn’t. A crush was only simple and wonderful in childhood, but Jeffrey had reached the age where love walked hand-in-hand with numerous responsibilities. Personal feelings—love, hate—were nothing more than obstacles to living a rational, systematic life.
“What’s the matter, hon?”
“It’s nothing. It’s… Chim?”
“Still here.”
“Is there…anything you want in life?”
“My oil field.”
“Besides that.”
“A mountain full of gold.”
“Or that.”
“A happier you.”
A happier Jeffrey trailing in the wake of oil fields and gold mountains made no sense to Jeffrey. It was so grotesquely comical that it made his head spin like he’d been caught up in a cat and mouse chase, like something from a pre-WWII American cartoon, like a drawer with an incongruous jumble of larger and larger objects popping out, like a man cut in two who kept on walking.
Jeffrey cleared his throat in an attempt to pull himself out of his confusion. Staying quiet would only give Joachim more clues to work with, something he didn’t want. “If you had a happier me, what would you do with me?”
“Pat him on the head and tell him I’m glad he’s feeling better.”
“Bit of a downgrade, after an oil field or a gold mine.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“…Chim?”
“Yes? Keep it short, hon. I gotta get to work soon.”
“No, don’t hang up on me. My plan today was to hang up on you.”
“Oh? Ooh, Jeffy, please don’t hang up on me. It’s been sooo long since I’ve heard your voice. I miss you!”
“…Oh.”
“What? I was playing the part. I thought you wanted to hang up on me.”
“…Uh…”
“Oh boy. You must really be tired, hon.”
“Uhh…”
The noise that came out of Jeffrey was halfway between a groan and a scream. For some odd reason, Seigi Nakata—the young man rapidly becoming Richard’s significant other in every sense of the term—flashed through Jeffrey’s mind. As an outsider to Seigi and Richard’s relationship, Jeffrey didn’t know what Richard truly made of Seigi, but he felt like he had finally come to understand some part of their dynamic. A person that made one want to stay on the line.
If he chose, here and now, to not let go of Joachim’s hand… then…then…
…then, in all probability, Richard would let go of the hand holding Seigi.
A cruel smile grew on Jeffrey’s face. He laughed, like Joachim had made a joke.
“Just messing with you. Call me when you have more outfits to show me. I’m eager to see what you’ll do next.”
“…Stop getting weird ideas.”
“What do you mean, weird ideas? I’m not asking you to tie me up, for Pete’s sake.”
“Enough with the jokes, Jeffy. I mean it. I know you too well for these games.”
It felt like a manicured nail had reached out and plucked Jeffrey’s heart like the string of a musical instrument. Jeffrey almost threw his phone at the mattress but checked himself in the nick of time. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t stifle the low groan that came from his mouth. Nor could he hold back the words.
“…Now you’re the one making jokes. What makes you think you know anything about me?”
There was a low intake of breath on the other side of the line. Calmly, Jeffrey thought, He must like me a lot if that actually shocked him. Everything felt as far away as if this was all just some story that had happened long ago.
“I gotta jet. See you.”
“…You do that.”
Jeffrey’s thumb pressed the End Call button before he could give one of his usual cheerful farewells. He flopped back on the bed and stayed like that, thinking, for a good fraction of a minute. Then he began to laugh.
Hadn’t he wanted to break things off with Joachim once and for all? Didn’t he have good reasons for living his life like this? Didn’t he live purely to punish himself for a crime that could never, ever be forgiven?