Like Keith, I was an open book sometimes. Bernadetta had caught me in the act, so I was a little embarrassed. I had invited her to join me in the VIP lounge. Our relationship wasn’t real, but as an organizer of the event and a member of the regalia, I thought it would be strange not to ask her to attend.
“How are you finding the Seven Star Cup?”
“To be honest,” she said with a gentle smile, “I don’t really enjoy fighting. At the same time, I am very glad that no blood is being spilled. It allows me to enjoy this purely as a competition.”
“Well then, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” I rose from my seat and offered Bernadetta a hand. “I’m also delighted you joined me today.”
“I’m pleased you thought to invite me out again.” Bernadetta took my hand and stood, then took a long look at my face.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just…”
“Yes?”
“Up close like this, your face truly is beautiful.”
I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I believe I am the one expected to spout that particular line.”
“I apologize,” said Bernadetta, lowering her head. “I suppose you mustn’t like being called beautiful.”
“I can’t speak for other men, but this face has caused me a great deal of trouble.”
People either looked down on me, underestimated me, or instantly assumed I was gay. But Bernadetta knew nothing of my anguish, and she stifled a giggle.
“Is one’s misfortune really so funny to you?” I demanded.
“I apologize, truly I do. It’s just so rare for one to be so troubled by their own beauty…”
“You are awful, you know that?”
Bernadetta nodded. “Perhaps so. I am a hysteric, after all.”
“That was rude of me,” I said. “I’m a brat like that sometimes—I’ll say whatever pops into my head.”
Another giggle. “Then I suppose that makes us equally terrible.”
“It pains me that I cannot refute your words,” I said.
We looked at each other and burst into laughter.
Bernadetta and I left the colosseum and boarded a carriage bound for her home. Once I saw her off, I would head out to see Finocchio. I was idly gazing out the window when Bernadetta suddenly spoke up.
“I’ve been thinking…”
“About?”
“I don’t think it is right that we’re deceiving my father. Why don’t we take this more seriously?”
That caught me off guard, and my eyes flicked toward her. Her face was red, and she gripped the fabric of her dress tight in her hands. There was a warmth, a heat, in her eyes.
“Do you not approve?” she asked, looking up at me.
I sighed and looked back out the window. “What put this idea in your head?”
“We get along well. I actually don’t mind being in your company. We’ve argued, I know, but rather than hating it, I found the experience quite refreshing.”
“Refreshing, eh?”
“I’ve never experienced anything quite like that; it’s an entirely unique experience. It made me think that there is value to being upfront about one’s feelings.”
“You find arguments fun? You’re a weird one.”
“But I think that’s exactly it. If you feel something out of the ordinary, doesn’t that make it special?”
In the window’s reflection, I saw Bernadetta clasping her two hands in front of her chest, waiting for me to speak. As I thought about how best to reply, I saw a family outside enjoying a walk. The father carried their young child on his shoulders, and he looked to be happily in love with his wife, who held his hand. The sight warmed my heart even though I had no memories of my own parents.
Perhaps it was not a bad thing to have a family. Even if I only had ten years left, there was still much I could foster and leave behind. Yet when I thought about it, I felt a cold refutation coil around me: You don’t have the right.
“Bernadetta,” I said, still looking out the window to avoid meeting her gaze. “You know nothing about me. I am more monstrous than you may even believe.”
“Father did tell me you sold your companions as slaves… But you had good reason to do so, did you not?”
“I am not talking about that. Yes, I sold my companions as slaves, but I have done much evil in my short life. I can make excuses for a lot of it—I had good reason, as you put it. But I carry one particular sin with me that no rationalization can wipe clean.”
The words that came next hurt more than I had expected.
“I killed a child who adored and looked up to me.”
“I-I… Whatever do you mean?”
“I did not kill her with my own hands, but I knew full well that my decision would result in her suffering. I knew, yet I put myself first anyway. And in the end, she was made to endure great pain before she was killed.”
Back in Mintz Village, when I meted my own punishment out to a village elder who deceived me, I knew what the consequences would be. When you owe money to gangsters and you cannot return it, you pay a different price. It is all too easy to imagine what happened to Chelsea when she landed in the hands of those gangsters. I didn’t think they would kill her, but that didn’t make it right, and it didn’t lessen the depth of my sins.
“That is the kind of man I am,” I went on as Bernadetta sat up straight and faced me. “I will not hesitate to put a child to death if such an act is necessary. I will not regret my decision. Not this time, not the next time, and no matter how many times it happens. I—”
I will kill her.
Bernadetta wrapped me in a hug before I could finish.
“I’m so sorry,” she said earnestly. “I never intended for you to relive such horrible memories.”
“I don’t need you to comfort me. It’s my problem.”
Nodding, Bernadetta buried her head in my chest. “I know. But I don’t know what else to do.”
She did not forgive me my crimes, nor did she denounce me for them. She simply stayed put. I hated to be touched, and the idea of people feeling sympathy for me made me sick. I wanted nothing more than to shove her away, but when I tried…I couldn’t.
Time passed, and Bernadetta held me until we arrived at her home. When the carriage came to a halt, she let go and looked up at me with a kind smile.
“We can talk more about what I said when next we meet,” she said. “I will await your reply.”
Bernadetta made to leave the carriage, but I hated the idea of waiting so long. Perhaps someone else had that kind of patience, but I sure didn’t. I grabbed Bernadetta by the shoulders, whirled her around to face me, and kissed her on the lips.
“Mmph?!”
With her lips covered by my own, Bernadetta’s eyes grew as wide as saucers, but she made no attempt to push me away. The warmth of our breath mingled between us. She let out a half-pained, half-amorous moan as her body lurched.
How long did we kiss for? When I pulled away at last, Bernadetta looked down bashfully. Her delicate shoulders shook with each ragged breath.
“Is that enough of a reply for you?” I asked.
Still not meeting my eyes, the girl nodded. I smiled gently, then got out of the carriage and walked around to Bernadetta’s door. I opened it and offered her my hand.
“Whenever you’re ready, Princess.”
“Thank you.”
Suddenly shy, Bernadetta took my hand and alighted from the carriage. I asked the driver to wait for a moment while I escorted her inside. Though she hadn’t yet met my gaze, I bid her farewell and returned to the carriage.
“We’re done,” I said. “Let’s go.”
At my command, the carriage rolled away. I lit up a smoke as I watched the scenery breeze past through the window. The smoke was more saccharine than usual, and I didn’t think it was just my imagination. The warmth of Bernadetta’s kiss still lingered, and I slid my tongue across my lips. A wicked grin grew upon the face in the reflection I saw in the window.
“Awfully sweet,” I muttered. “So this is the taste of a lying wench.”