When they returned to the inn, the Count told Lila to go to bed, then stopped Jörg in the hallway.
“Has Lila warmed to you at all?”
“A little, but there’s still a long way to go. I’m more interested in the dire situation they were talking about at the Eiffel Tower.”
“The food shortages in Germany?”
“You knew about it?”
“There’s nothing you can do to help. Your duties are as Lila’s bodyguard. Don’t think about anything else.”
“But—”
“If you don’t drop it, I really will turn you into a worm or a mouse.”
“Please don’t.”
“Blockades are a common military tactic. They’ve been used since time immemorial. Germany handled the situation like fools.”
“But if nothing changes, my country will hold out until the bitter end. I can’t just abandon it.”
“The people will act when it’s time. Believe in the power of your fellow countrymen.”
After the Count left, Jörg stood in the hallway for a while.
The people of Germany would rise up if the government failed them. But in the meantime, countless people would die.
He didn’t go back to his room but walked to the dining hall instead. If he waited a little while, Lila would get up and arrive for breakfast. He wanted to hear her thoughts about the discussion at the Eiffel Tower and if she would ignore the women like the Count did or help them. If they really were her friends, then she should want to lend a hand now, of all times.
As he entered the dining hall, Jörg caught the lingering scent of food and felt a chill in the air. He sat in a chair and collapsed onto the table. The moment his eyes closed, drowsiness overcame him as if he’d fallen to the bottom of a pit.
In his dreams, he met Nil, the monster of nothingness. Nil spoke to him, but he wasn’t the one who answered. The voice sounded exactly like his. The two people were deep in conversation, smoking in a trench. It was the middle of the night, and no one else was around.
Listening to them speak, Jörg eventually realized that Nil was talking with his corpus. The experience was being transmitted to him through his dreams.
Irritation swelled inside his old body. It was understandable that he felt frustrated staying on the front lines.
Nil faced him, relating the plight unfolding within Germany. He also spoke about the revolution the socialists were planning. His corpus seemed interested in the socialist movement, planting a new seed of worry inside Jörg.
Socialist speeches always sounded like some sort of fairy tale. They harped on about how the common people weren’t learned enough and didn’t pay attention to the world around them, which made them compliant with the whims of the wealthy. Studying socialism would let them steer the world in the right direction.
Hearing such talk made the uneducated Jörg uncomfortable. He certainly wasn’t knowledgeable about a lot of things. He hadn’t gone to university, but simply worked as a barber in his hometown. Someone like him wouldn’t see the world the same way as the socialists did. That much he knew.
Still, he didn’t care for the impression they gave off, as if they were the enlightened guiding the ignorant. Jörg found it hard to put into words, but something felt off about them. He couldn’t ignore that gut feeling.
Be that as it may, there were so many things he couldn’t do. For Lila, for Christine in Paris, for the women of the Eiffel Tower, for his own country.
He wanted to turn even one of his aspirations into reality—but he didn’t have even the slightest clue as to how to make that happen.
Jörg felt his body begin to sway, and Nil’s outline became hazy.
He woke from his dream to find someone hitting him on the shoulder. It was already light inside the room.
Lila was standing in front of him.
“Wake up,” she said with her regular brusqueness. “I can’t eat with you sleeping there.”
“Sorry. What time is it?”
“Ten in the morning. I overslept a little. I’m going to have a big breakfast, but what are you going to have, Mr. Huber?”
“I’m fine with just some bread, sausage, and a coffee.”
“Then let’s both use the kitchen and try to not get in each other’s way.”
“Sure.”
Jörg had been making his own breakfast ever since Xandra had given him the croissant and coffee when he first arrived. She wasn’t family, and she certainly wasn’t hired help, so he wasn’t going to ask her to make his food for him. And besides, Jörg wanted to eat what he was used to. He liked to think that the food his simulacrum ate would be transmitted to his corpus, so he always made sure to have proper meals.
Jörg cut a slice of rye bread, boiled a sausage, and made a cup of coffee. He even added a little cheese to the food.
Lila, meanwhile, melted some butter in a frying pan, whisked in some flour, and added milk to make a béchamel sauce. She cut two thin slices of square bread, then coated the surface of one slice in the sauce. She put some ham on top, then cheese, and finally topped it off with the other slice of bread. After heating a frying pan on the stove, she dropped a pat of butter in it. Next, she carefully placed her creation in the pan, making sure it didn’t fall apart, and it began to give off a decadent smell. Every so often, she pressed the surface of the bread with her spatula, then halfway through flipped it over to cook the other side.
She was a pretty skilled young chef. It seemed that no matter what it was, Lila preferred doing things by herself.
“What’s that?” Jörg asked.
“A croque monsieur,” Lila replied cheerfully. “They eat it this way in Paris. It’s a dish that was designed for men to eat, so it might a bit too much food for a young girl, don’t you think?”
“It sure is.”
“But this is the best thing when I’m hungry in the morning. I usually have a much lighter breakfast and just eat a sweet pastry.”
Going to the Eiffel Tower the night before must have taken a lot out of her. Lila turned off the stove and put the steaming croque monsieur on a plate. She poured some milk into a ceramic cup, set a knife and fork on her tray, and carried everything to the table. Jörg followed her into the dining hall, where he sat down opposite the young girl.
After saying grace, Lila picked up her cutlery with a look of utter joy. Her knife pierced the bread, cheese oozing out accompanied by the smell of ham. She stabbed the bread with her fork, and when she took her first bite, the bread made a pleasant crunch. Lila’s smile widened. She continued to cut and devour the croque monsieur, sipping occasionally at her milk.
Jörg hadn’t thought she would eat it with such enthusiasm. Lila always acted so detached and mature, he thought she’d act similarly during meals. Still, it was nice to see her enjoying herself.
“Do you find it interesting listening to those sorts of conversations at the Eiffel Tower?” Jörg asked while they ate.
“Of course. Sometimes I ask questions, but I always learn a lot.”