Spice and Wolf - Volume 18 - Chapter 1

THE MARGINS OF A JOURNEY

The snow-covered evergreens stood silently, like soldiers. It was quiet all around, and only a distant, crisp birdsong broke the silence.

Had there been at least one cloud in the sky the man’s mind could have wandered, but today the sky was as deep a blue as the ocean floor. Unsure of what to do with himself, in the end he simply stared at his feet.

“Well then, let’s get going.”

The man heard the voice, and when he looked up, everything was ready.

With a somber look, the leading priest bowed once. Behind him, two men held staves roughly the height of a person and adorned with heavy-looking metal crests. On both sides behind them stood six more men, carrying a coffin on their shoulders.

“May God and the spirits grant us their protection.”

The priest chanted solemnly as they slowly began to move. As they did, people hesitantly came out from beneath the evergreens that lined the street.

Some had dressed for the occasion, while others seemed to have come straight from work. They were uncertain, like deer that spotted a person in the woods. But encouraged by the priest, they approached the coffin and each whispered their parting words. Though their murmurs were brief, the man could tell they had thought carefully about what to say and their words were full of feeling. As he listened, he began to feel as though these words were meant for him, and his head fell toward his chest a bit.

No, I shouldn’t interpret it that way—he cleared his mind of those thoughts as they neared a corner and turned onto the next road.

There was a single building. Though one could catch glimpses of its vitality from when it was first built, as time had passed, the structure settled and now fit comfortably into its surroundings. Even with all the help there had been, in the end the ones that protected this place were none other than him and his companions. It should have been a source of pride.

As though the men carrying the crests in front of the procession shared a similar sentiment in their hearts, they held their staves up even higher. A sign glinted dully in the winter sun.

A lone wolf was engraved upon it.

“Under God’s protection, we have safely reached his house. May the spirit of our friend find eternal peace here.”

The priest made his announcement before a shed—a place deep in these mountains that had been hastily redecorated as a church—and the people bowed their heads reverently. The priest nodded, and the men carried the coffin into the shed. After waiting a moment, the man followed them into the shed and found it had already been placed at the altar. As though opening the way for him, the men split to either side and exited. They closed the door, likely out of consideration.

Slowly, he approached the coffin and sat down beside it.

He removed the veil from the face resting within the flowers, and it was almost as though he could hear silly-sounding snores even now.

“I never thought I would be the one to lead your funeral.”

As Lawrence spoke, he stroked the lightly powdered face lying in the coffin.

“Holo.”

From beyond the door, he could hear the deeply somber sound of a bell.

It had happened one sunny winter day…

The smell of lunch still lingered in the dining hall, and a lute’s gentle melody drifted from the baths.

He had been working nonstop since before sunrise, and by the time he could finally take a breather, it was already late in the afternoon.

“The Land of Hidden Water, Nyohhira. Still, the only ones who can relax are the customers, eh?”

Lawrence, owner of the Spice and Wolf bathhouse, stretched his head and cracked his neck. There was any number of reasons for his troubles.

For example, many of his customers were high-ranking clergy, and they usually made quite selfish requests. When they insisted on praying early in the morning, Lawrence had no choice but to comply. For that, he had various duties, such as readying their scriptures, cutting the candlesticks to a uniform length before lighting them, and laying out a fur rug for their comfort when they kneeled to pray.

While they prayed to God, oblivious to the pains he had to endure, Lawrence began cleaning the baths. Afterward, he put away the utensils that the late-night customers left out from the previous evening, threw away garbage, scooped out fallen leaves from the springs, and splashed some hot water around to thaw the path that connected the main house to the baths. Sometimes, there were even critters hiding in the water that needed to be chased away.

As he did all this, smoke began to rise from the kitchen chimney, and a new fight began—preparing breakfast. The idea that a clergyman’s breakfast should be simple and easy was almost nonexistent. Customers ate and drank until they slept, and they of course ordered plenty of breakfast.

Lawrence earnestly did the washing next to the cook, Hanna, who skillfully performed the work of three people on her own. It was not as though it was the owner’s job to wash dishes normally. But after losing the two workers whose duties included these menial jobs, a few sacrifices were necessary.

Afterward, he had to care for the customers that trickled in for their morning meal, ready towels and coats for guests headed to the baths, and act as manager when the musicians and dancers arrived. The baths varied in size, and how much performers earned depended on the place—and it was up to Lawrence as owner to decide who performed where in a way that would not upset the musicians and dancers.

And to ensure their performances livened up the baths, he had to prepare props like branches or flowers with green leaves still attached or embroidered tents. If he was stingy with these things, then tips decreased, and fewer tips meant that the musicians would go to other bathhouses. No bathhouse was so sad as to have no music or dancing. Of course, he could not allow the dancers to dance on cold, wet stone, so he made sure to wrap with wool the stones he had dried on the fire the day before.

Then, as the last breakfast plate was being stored away, he had to line up lunch for the early comers.

Lawrence sometimes felt as though all this work was in vain, like trying to catch an entire downpour in a single pot. But so long as he worked his hardest, it would end someday.

And all this excitement was only supposed to be a brief test of patience.

“Good work today.”

Lawrence sat down in the now-quiet dining hall to take a breather by the corner, and in came Hanna, to whom it would be somewhat rude to call a young girl. Though she was not physically imposing by any means, Hanna had a commanding air about her and did not show a single trace of fatigue from the morning’s commotion. If someone had told him that she had raised ten children all on her own, he would have believed it.

On the tray she carried, there was a bowl brimming with baked beans, thick-cut smoked meat, and wine. Garlic and mustard garnished the meat, its fat still sizzling, and it smelled as good as sin. Lawrence remembered he had not eaten since morning and gulped.

“You too, Hanna.”

Though he was the owner, he did not forget to give thanks before wolfing down his food. Hanna may or may not have noticed his tactfulness as she laid out his utensils and poured wine into his cup. He scooped the beans into his mouth with a spoon, and his salt-deprived body was happy.

“I don’t mind so much that we lost our two helpers so quickly, but if you collapsed, sir, we’d lose everything.”

Shivering at the luxury of washing down salty food with wine, he cut himself another slice of the well-preserved meat and stuffed it into his mouth.

He was finally getting used to being called “sir.”

“Of course, I plan on hiring new workers, but I don’t think this excitement is going to last much longer. It’s almost time for spring to arrive at the bottom of the mountain.”

“Oh, it’s almost that time already? The winters are so long up here in the mountains, you forget about the rest of the seasons.”

“You’re not excited for spring, Hanna?”

The word winter carried the same meaning as the word perseverance for those who lived in the mountains, where the snow piled high. Everything—people and animals and trees—withdrew, dreaming of the release spring would bring.

“That’s not quite true, sir. But once winter’s over, everyone goes down the mountain, and the bathhouse is slow until summer. That makes me a little sad.”

She crossed her arms and touched her cheek, gazing off into the distance, and Lawrence forced a smile. He should have felt the same—his purpose in life was supposed to be working hard and staying busy—but Hanna was special. In terms of being a helper, no one could be more reassuring than she was. But Lawrence pined for spring’s arrival as much as anyone else. He for the chance to rest that season would provide, since his body could not handle strain like it used to. In light of all this, Hanna’s words stung a little.

On the other hand, as a former merchant who could not stand pointless waste, the period between winter and summer bothered him like a rock in his shoe. If he could get some customers to come during that time, then he could rest and work and profit all at once, but plans for that were not progressing much.

“Anyway, is your wife still asleep?”

It was long past noon, but the bathhouse’s mistress was nowhere to be seen.

Lawrence put more baked beans to his mouth and rewarded himself with some high-quality imported wine before biting into meat he covered in mustard. Then he spoke.

“She’s the kind that can’t wait for spring.”

“My.”

Hanna gave a small smile. “I’ll go prepare for dinner.” And she returned to the kitchen.

Lawrence took his time eating, and when he finished, he washed the dishes himself. Then he immediately poured wine into a small carafe and headed for their bedroom on the second floor of the bathhouse.

During the day, most customers were at the baths, so it was very quiet inside the building. When he opened the door and entered the bedroom, he could faintly hear the noise coming from the baths through an open window.

“Hey, how long are you planning on sleeping?” He called out to the lump on the bed, but not a single word came in response. The tightly curled bulge seemed to indicate closing the window would not be worth the effort.

Exasperated, Lawrence sighed and placed the wine on a desk where a quill and stacks of papers sat. There was still no answer, and he began to feel a bit worried.

“Holo?”

He called, but there was no movement. He approached the bed and gently pulled back the covers. Underneath was the sleeping face of a teenage girl. Usually, she arranged her hair and clothes to appear less girl-like, but looking at her now, he could see how young she appeared to be. She had long hair like nobility, and her spotless, pearl-like skin did not seem at all like it belonged to someone whose livelihood included hard labor. The way she quietly lay there—eyes closed, unmoving—was as though she had been freed from all sorts of pain and agony. Her peaceful face almost made him think, If I was to die, I’d want to die like this.

As Lawrence’s finger touched her cheek, the girl’s ears twitched. They topped her head, large and pointy. They were triangular and a shade darker than her flaxen hair. Simply put, they were animal ears, and they protruded outward. What’s more, a tail covered in a fine coat of fur grew from her lower back. Holo was not the young girl she seemed, and her true form was a wolf that could easily devour a person in one bite, a spirit that had slept hundreds of years in wheat.

Lawrence could not thank the gods enough for the luck that, in some twist of fate, led her to become his wife.

But daily life did not play out like a fairy tale.

Lawrence saw her rather fidgety ears, which were unlike her unchanging, sleeping expression, and sighed. “If you want to eat, get up and come down to the dining hall.”

With that, her sleeping face finally changed. She tightened her already-shut eyes, curled up even more into a taut ball, and the ears on her head wiggled. Under the blanket, her tail was most likely wagging in response to what she heard.

“Haaaahh…ahhh.”

At last Holo gave a silly-sounding yawn and opened her eyes just slightly.

“I do not wish to get up…” She spoke selfishly, sounding like a frail, spoiled princess. “Must you keep me up so late all the time…?”

She glanced at him with accusing eyes. But she was not wrong.

“Well, for that…I’m grateful,” Lawrence said and leaned closer to Holo’s face. “But the sleeping beauty should wake up with this, shouldn’t she?”

He kissed her cheek. Holo closed her eyes, and her ears twitched as though she was embarrassed.

He thought that he would grow bored after living under the same roof for ten years, but he did not feel that in the slightest.

What happiness. He smiled to himself, and Holo smiled, too.

“Really, you fool.”

“I know you’re exhausted from working every night, but you really need to get up. The mending is piling up.”

Holo seemed to surrender when Lawrence brought up reality. She gave one last big yawn and crawled out from underneath the blanket. Asking her to do other kinds of work would cause her to complain endlessly, but surprisingly, needlework seemed to suit her very well, and her work was careful and neat.

“Ooh, how cold!”

“Here, wear this.”

Lawrence gave his trembling wife a woolen robe to wear and handed her a cup with some wine.

“Not enough.” She complained like a child.

“If you’re going to drink, do it after you eat. It looks bad if the lady of the house is drunk midday.”

“So strict, as always.”

Holo grumbled and sipped the wine.

“And? How was last night?” Lawrence asked Holo as they left the room, respectfully putting his arm around her, as though guiding a princess.

“You always fall asleep right away now.”

Holo lightly hit his shoulder in complaint.

He partially dodged the blow and cleared his throat. “Isn’t that you?” And then he added, “That’s, well…That’s something I want to work on…”

“Heh-heh. For it is a busy season, yes?”

Though he felt a touch scared at the implications that he might be promising her something, he held her tenderly.

“And about the mountain last night, ’tis well. I rid the dangerous areas of snow.”

“I see. Thanks for that.”

Recently, it had been snowing nonstop, and the sun had been stronger with the approaching spring, so there was a risk of avalanches.

Lately, people were carrying more and more goods down the mountain paths. So, the past few days, Holo would return to her wolf form at night and check the worrisome areas.

There was nothing Lawrence could do about it, and it pained him to leave it to Holo. What little comfort he did have was that Holo being Holo, she seemed to have a good time running around the mountains as a wolf. And she seemed to enjoy returning home in the early hours of the morning and throwing her chilled body into the baths while no one was around.

“It’s going to be pretty busy tonight until the customers go home, so I appreciate it.”

“I do not mind. Smiles when they come and smiles when they go is our bathhouse’s selling point.”

Running a bathhouse was different from doing everything alone as a merchant. There were times when it was troublesome, but having someone working with him by his side took that trouble and made it his happiness. Lawrence replied to his wife with a pleased expression and a nod, and Holo beamed back a smile like a young girl.

As they went down to the first floor, Holo restlessly pulled the thin robe over her head. Sometimes she felt it was fine to leave it down since their customers were drunk all the time, but she could not let anyone get a good look at her ears. The only ones who knew about her identity in Nyohhira were the ones who worked at this bathhouse.

Entering the dining hall, Hanna brought Holo food, as though she had been listening for their footsteps. There was not too much, but the beans-to-meat ratio leaned much more in favor of meat this time, compared to Lawrence’s meal. He smiled wryly. While aware that she was still young, seeing Holo eat this much meat right after waking had him worrying.

He understood and was prepared for the huge difference in life spans between himself and Holo, the avatar of the wolf-who-lived-in-wheat. But slowly, he experienced more and more moments that underscored the reality.

Understanding it with his head was different from seeing it happen in daily life.

Every time he realized it again, he thought about how he wanted to appreciate each and every day.

“Oh.”

“Hmm?”

Lawrence gazed at the tomboyish Holo, who was deliciously gulping down meat before speaking slowly.

“’Tis you that must deal with all the trouble. You’ve been without rest since you lost the other helpers.”

“Yeah, well, that’s all right. It should be busy for only a bit more, and really I’ve been too easy on Col. He said he wanted to travel, but I couldn’t really stop him.”

Over ten years ago, when he met Holo and traveled here and there, getting into all sorts of adventures, they met a boy—Col. At the time, he was a wandering student trying to learn theology and was even younger than how young Holo had already looked.

And now he was a young man the same age as Lawrence was then, and the thought made the older man dread the passage of time.

At the same time, despite all the ups and downs, he felt guilty having Col work in the bathhouse forever when it had always been his dream to become a clergyman.

So Col, after hearing a story from a guest one day, could no longer stand it and finally decided to ask permission to leave on a journey; Lawrence had no choice but to support him.

“But I also think that maybe I should have had him wait until spring, honestly.”

“Hmm. Om, om…gulp. Well, that Col is oddly diligent. If he let that chance get away from him, he would likely still be dragging his feet for who knows how long. I feel ’twas not wrong of you to send him off like that.”

“That makes me feel better. I don’t want to get in the way of a kid with his whole future ahead of him.”

Lawrence poured some wine for himself into a tin cup, and Holo gave a small laugh at his particularly old-man-sounding speech.

“Indeed, but I never thought it would be an excuse to elope.”

Clang! The tin cup fell, the cask tipped over, and the spilled wine spread slowly across the long table.

Lawrence desperately tried to cover his agitation, which had rushed out just like the wine, by reaching out to the cup and the cask, but it was not much use. Hanna heard the noise and came over with a cloth, while Holo just laughed and laughed.

“Heh-heh. You really are a fool! Why not just accept it?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

Lawrence spoke in a stiff wooden tone while lending Hanna a hand. Hanna’s glance contained a bit of a smile. After they wiped up the wine, Lawrence sat in his chair and Holo waved a knife tip in his direction.

“Col’s a good male, no? You don’t think ’twould be good for him to take over after you?”

“Ghrh…”

Holo’s logic was dead-on, and that was definitely how he felt. But understanding it in his mind and actually confronting it head-on were two different things. Lawrence was acutely aware of this every day.

And if this conversation pivoted toward the topic of their daughter, he likely would not be able to keep it together.

Indeed, the reason managing the bathhouse had become so dizzyingly involved lately was not just because they were lucky their customers valued them greatly. It was also because Lawrence was filling in for the two young helpers after they left. One of those helpers was the aforementioned Col. And the other who made a completely unexpected departure was Lawrence and Holo’s only daughter, Myuri.

Just as Col was leaving on his journey, of all things their daughter also took off from the bathhouse and followed right after.

Of course, there were several answers to the question Why?, but it was clear that one particular matter sat prominently in the middle of all this. This village was small, and the bathhouse even smaller. Who liked whom was quite obvious.

“It’s too early for her to get married.”

Though he thought he had tried to make a reasonable objection, both Holo and Hanna began to laugh. It was the laughter shared between two women who were confirming with each other that men, no matter how old, were always foolish.

“Then when is it not too early?”

“Um…mmnm…”

“Sir, don’t stress yourself out.”

Agonizing over Holo’s remark and then Hanna’s words, which could be taken as either comforting or teasing, Lawrence finally plugged his ears. Reason was not going to help him much. He knew. He knew! Since the very day his daughter was born, he was prepared for this moment.

“Heh-heh. Then what a relief she chose to elope with Col.”

“It is not an elopement!”

But it seemed that no matter what, Lawrence would object. Holo and Hanna cackled in delight together. He wished he could drink with other bathhouse owners.

“Besides, I do not see what you could gain from not sharing what you want to say with your beloved. Rather, for someone who is my daughter, she is a taking her time a stretch too long.”

It seemed as though Holo was jealous in her own way.

All things considered, Lawrence thought that Holo had no right to speak about people holding back their feelings, recalling memories of their journey from over ten years ago. Of course, if he actually said such a thing, he knew what would happen, so he stayed his tongue.

“Do you think it’s due to the influence from the many churchmen?”

“The Church?”

Lawrence didn’t seem to follow, and Holo twirled the tip of her knife as though hauling in a string from her head.

“Aye. They have the odd habit in never saying what matters until they die.”

“Oh, you mean their final confessions.”

“Aye, that.”

Praying for reconciliation with God at death’s door, people confessed various things to a priest, mostly sins or final requests. Some of these people were stubborn old men who would finally share their hidden thoughts with their family or divulge immoral love—anything imaginable could come out in these moments, so Holo was not exactly mistaken.

“How pointless it is to not say important things when you should.”

Lawrence agreed, especially now that he had reached a certain age, and trembled at how fast time flew. Younglings should live fast and wild.

However, just as Lawrence was thinking about how it was much too early for Myuri to fall in love and marry, Holo suddenly spoke.

“Besides, I want to hurry and see the faces of my grandchildren.”

“What! Wha…!”

Lawrence was left speechless, unable to breath in or out. True, they would definitely be cute, but Myuri was still a child. She may have been at the age where it was socially acceptable for her to wed, but she was much too young. There was no mistaking that. There was acceptable by society’s standards, and then there was acceptable by the family’s standards.

As Lawrence tried to push away the fast-approaching reality, Holo leisurely drank her wine. Her composure came from either the difference between his and her age or the difference between a mother and a father.

It was the same when Col said he was going to leave and began his preparations before finally leaving. It was then they found out their daughter, who had always said she wanted to see the wide world outside the mountain village, had somehow snuck into Col’s luggage.

Traveling came with danger, and thinking on his only daughter’s safety, Lawrence was too impatient to write a letter, but Holo had admonished him when he tried to go after her on a sled.

“It will be fine,” she had laughed.

There was a saying that went, “If you love your children, send them out into the world.” Though he agreed in principle when watching how Holo acted, he could not accept it all.

Holo ignored Lawrence, who was groaning beside her, and she spoke thoughtfully with eyes closed, as though soaking in the baths.

“’Tis good enough, at any rate, if she is enjoying her first journey.”

Though she seemed irresponsible, it was not as though she had no worries. Lawrence glared at Holo, who he felt tended to keep all the best parts of parenthood to herself.

Holo drew him close to her, smiling dryly.

“Everything fades with time. But I shall be by your side forever.”

Holo, shorter than Lawrence, gazed up at him with her beautifully shaped eyes.

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

When she said that, there was no way he could respond. To Holo, who would live for hundreds of years, everything happening before her now was just one scene of a brief journey. It was too much for her, and once she had tried to end things with Lawrence—thinking if she must see him off, it may as well be when goodbyes would not cut so deep. But she had chosen the fleeting happiness over the pain of parting.

Lawrence relaxed his shoulders, giving in to her.

“Don’t be silly.”

“Heh-heh.”

She gave a small laugh and rested her head on his shoulder. He lay his hand atop Holo the Wisewolf, her head round and small enough that his fingers fit snugly around it.

Surely this was the greatest extent of happiness that he could hold onto with his own hands.

And that was more than enough.

“Would you like some more wine?” Lawrence asked, and Holo answered, “Only if you have some, too.”

Lawrence could only laugh. “I can’t win against you.”

Lightly, he kissed the top of her head and handed the empty cask to an astonished Hanna.

That night happened to be the date of the monthly town meeting. In the wavering moonlight, Lawrence carried food and drink along the road, shivering. When he first came to this village, he could not shake the eerie feeling nighttime gave him on this remote mountain, but now he was completely used to it.

And during this season when there were many visitors, inviting fires burned late into the night throughout the entire village, while the sounds of laughter and music drifted all over. The scene had an ethereal, fantastical air about it, and sometimes he would occasionally come out with Holo to gaze upon it.

Along the way, he passed popular musicians as they went from bathhouse to bathhouse and casually exchanged greetings with them. It had been more than ten years since he and Holo settled here, and it felt as though they were finally fitting in.

But this was both a good thing and a bad thing.

“Ooh! Our Sir Lawrence has finally come!”

As he entered the torch-lit community center, cheers bubbled up all at once.

Lawrence was bewildered, but other bathhouse owners came up to him, already red in the face, and patted him on the shoulders.

“Well, well, Lawrence! Let us drink till dawn!”

“Huh? Ah, right.”

Although it had been some ten odd years since they came to this village, most of the bathhouses were as old as Lawrence if they had not been in business for even longer. He had to behave in front of his seniors, but at the same time they were competitors in business, and so they did not act too familiar with their fellows. If anything, these people occasionally stole materials or supplies from one another, and more often than not they were cold and unfriendly toward their peers.

This is sudden, he thought, and one man holding his drink spoke.

“Lawrence, I know it’s tough, but it’s not all hardships!”

“Ah…Um, I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! We know well how difficult it is to let your daughter go!”

“Huh? Oh yes…”

Lawrence finally realized the identities of the people that kept offering him alcohol.

Most of them were parents with daughters.

“Um, well, it’s not that they would end up together…”

“Oh no, we know you don’t want to accept it, we know!”

Another person aggressively tried to reassure Lawrence, and he offered a vague smile in return. But in his heart, he kept repeating to himself, They’re not eloping, they’re not eloping!

“All right, gentlemen! Sorry to interrupt your merriment, but please leave it for after the meeting.”

There was a clapping of hands, and like awakening from a spell, everyone returned to their seats.

But there were some who, after returning to their seats, still recalled when they married their daughters off and were sobbing. Lawrence saw them and was filled with warmth rather than surprise. Though they were competitors, constantly fighting without mercy over sales and business, they were still members of the same community.

“Well then, today will probably be the last wintertime meeting. In other words, next month the snows should melt, and our customers will depart. And then we’ll have troublesome days ahead of us what with repairing all the buildings as well as preparations for the summer season, and again, allotting our imports.”

Seated at a long table, the bathhouse owners smiled tersely. The roads leading to Nyohhira were small, and they depended on a single town, Svernel, for the delivery of their resources and supplies. It always ended in a scramble for goods.

“Oh, about that, I’ve heard something that worries me.” One man raised his hand and spoke up. “I’ve heard that there’s going to be another hot spring village on the other side of the western mountains.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard that, too.”

“Is that true?”

“If it’s on the other mountain side, how will it affect the flow of patrons…?”

“Silence!”

The chairman cut off the growing murmurs, and quiet fell again. Lawrence had heard the same thing from a musician who said that people might not come to Nyohhira next year.

“I was told that, too, and it’s apparently true,” relayed the owner of Spice and Wolf.

Then anxiety crept into their feet. No one wanted more competition, but what everyone cared about the most was the question of where this new town would get its resources.

“And they might have Svernel supply their materials, too.”

“Oh, God!” someone yelled. Much like how much water a river could hold, the amount one was able to carry deep into the mountains was more or less set in stone.

And should these new competitors get their materials from Svernel, then that meant the new location would have a road straight from the town that guests would take.

This meant two villages would fight over patrons.

“If this were back in my time, we’d be going there now armed with clubs, but that won’t do.”

After the chairman spoke, the crowd’s anxiety became ripples of laughter.

“We are the proud people from the hot spring village, the historically renowned Nyohhira. Every quarrel that soaks in our waters soon softens and mellows. We have no choice but to draw people in with the allure of this land.”

“That’s right!” came voices of agreement.

“But what should we do?”

One person asked the obvious question, and everyone clammed up.

The chairman gave a small smile, cleared his throat, and looked suddenly toward Lawrence.

“This is when I propose we seriously consider what Sir Lawrence suggested previously.”

Lawrence felt nervous as everyone turned their eyes on him, but he immediately understood.

“Ah, is this about the new village event?”

“Why, yes.”

Lawrence suggested several years ago to hold something during the off-peak seasons of spring and fall. Spring and fall were crammed full of festivals and markets and religious celebrations all over, so normally no one would go out of their way to visit a far and inconvenient-to-reach spa.

Thus, business slowed to a crawl and it was too expensive to feed and board the helpers that had been hired in the winter, but if they were let go, there was no way to know if they would be able to work again in the summer—such extreme changes in customer turnout throughout the seasons brought about too much waste.

The plan was that if there were some fun event here in the spring and fall, then they could expect new customers.

“But then why did we drop it last time?” one participant wondered aloud.

“I think it was because it seemed like too much work. I want a break in the spring and fall at least.” At the time, Lawrence thought that these owners had lapsed into complacency, but lately he had begun to understand how they felt. Working as a merchant, where potentially lost profits urged him to continually move forward, was different from owning a bathhouse—living in the same place and doing the same work for years.

“While we sit around like that, we might have our legs cut out from underneath us. Like the Church,” the chairman announced gravely, and the bathhouse owners all crossed their arms, grunting.

Lawrence did not know the details, but apparently at the foot of the mountains, the Church had reached a major turning point. They had officially ended their war with the pagans, who, ten years ago, were already a mere shadow of what they used to be. But right when they thought peace had finally arrived, another enemy appeared from within their own ranks. Col had heard about this from a guest and could not stand idly by. “I have to face this critical moment in history, or I’ll regret it for the rest of my life,” he had said.

“As you know, the fights with the pagans have ended for now, and so Nyohhira is losing its reputation as a dangerous but nevertheless irresistible uncharted destination within hostile lands. We must act quickly.”

The chairman was a descendant of this village, but when he was young, he was an apprentice in a large commercial firm in the south, so his thinking reflected southern perceptions of the region as well.

Since what he said was correct, there were no particular objections and the attendees approved it with applause.

But it was also clear why the praise was a bit hesitant.

“So, what are we going to do?”

The chairman reached out and grabbed the wine cask that sat on the long table.

“We will think together.”

A sense of panic hung in the air, but there was no plan. If everyone was to think of something together, the practical troubles would seem endless and they would never reach a conclusion, but if one person came up with an idea, that individual would have to fill in as the coordinator.

And so, they could not be blamed for how the meeting suddenly became a drinking party as they chided one another to think of ideas. This seasonal meeting was also meant as a breather to help everyone keep it together and blow off steam during the busiest time of the year.

Lawrence was also in the presence of fathers with daughters who had all heard about Myuri and Col’s “escape,” so at the end of the day, nothing got done.

But what Holo had said earlier that day stuck in the corner of Lawrence’s mind.

“Everything fades with time.”

Do what you need to do when you need to do it—or you’ll regret it.

Thinking of it that way, maybe that was why Myuri tried as hard as she did.

As Lawrence thought this, he made sure to wash away the sentiment with wine.

Venting his stress with late-night drinking at the meeting and the subsequent hangover, Lawrence somehow overcame the daily work that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment and carried on.

But as the guests left, he suddenly found the bathhouse mostly empty.

Thanks to Holo, there were no accidents due to the snow, and it seemed that Nyohhira would safely make it to spring.

“Mmm…Soaking in the sunrise is the best.”

That day, when the last reluctant guests were finally pulled away by their minders who had come to retrieve them, Holo jumped into the bath as though she had been long awaiting it. The musicians and dancers also descended the mountain seeking more profit at the spring festivals, so for the moment, it was fine to rest without minding the stares of others.

“Why don’t you join me? Wash away all the exhaustion of winter.”

“Hmm? Mm…”

Lawrence gave a vague answer and placed the liquor that had been chilled just for her alongside a serving of pork chops and her recent favorite, which she learned from a traveler—cheese drizzled in honey—at the side of the bath.

He was not looking at her beautiful naked body, but instead focused on something completely different.

“Fool!”

“Huh?!”

She suddenly splashed Lawrence with hot spring water, and he jumped back. As he made sure the letter he held was okay, Holo, who had at some point gotten out of the water, snatched it from his grasp.

“How long will you gaze at this? They are fine, and you know they’ll be fine despite what happens to them!”

“Uh, ah, mm…”

Lawrence made a face like a sheepdog that had its snacks taken away and followed the letter in her hands with his eyes. It was from Col and Myuri. Col had written the top half and Myuri, the bottom; the second page was one they had done together.

The top half was about how the world was changing even more than the traveling pair had expected after they descended from the mountain, and there was a lot to learn. The bottom half was about how there were so many people and how lively it was in the south, and there was lots of food and other interesting things—all filled with spelling mistakes.

When Lawrence read the part that Myuri had written, he grinned over and over, but when he came to the second page, his face stiffened.

There was a full account of the troubles they had gotten into. When Col would attempt to write calmly, Myuri would butt in and try to write odd things. There were many points where it seemed Col tried to express events gently with Lawrence in mind, but Myuri rewrote them with intentionally exaggerated embellishments.

To sum it up, they had found themselves in quite the pickle, but it somehow worked out in the end. Col had been sick to his stomach with anxiety while Myuri seemed to have really enjoyed it. While Lawrence sympathized with the serious-mannered Col, he was glad that Myuri had fun and could not help but grin. Had the unlikely not happened, he would have been even more anxious.

It was like the life-risking adventure that he and Holo had experienced, but he was distressed for another reason as well.

“Still, they get on quite well, don’t you agree?” Holo was glancing over the letter and chuckled. The letter clearly showed how close the two were.

In the same inn, drawing close to one another in the candlelight, shoulders together, holding hands…

“Col is, um, yes, a good brother.” Lawrence cleared his throat and spoke, saying the words he had recently discovered that comforted him. “They always have been close like brother and sister, even more than real siblings, eh?”

“…”

Lawrence insisted, and Holo gave him an astonished look in reply.

“Well, if that is what you wish to believe.”

This male has been foolish for all time, she seemed to say, right before she sneezed.

Shivering, she handed the letter back to Lawrence and picked out a piece of cured meat, then jumped back into the bath. Smoothing out the crease that Holo’s finger left on the paper, he smiled at Myuri’s broken handwriting, but the details had him grimacing as though he was enduring a headache.

But this letter was the first thing his daughter had ever given him, and so he carefully folded it when he heard Holo’s voice.

“Oh, and did you think of anything exciting to do for spring?”

“Mm.”

“We were supposed to plan something interesting so the newcomers on the other side of the mountain leave our guests alone, were we not?”

It was what they had talked about at the meeting, but Lawrence’s face still looked troubled.

“Well…we couldn’t really think of anything.”

“There are saint festivals and such every year.”

Every town, village, and occupation had a patron saint, and throughout the year there were festivals for the saints held in one way or another. In Nyohhira, they happened in spring, and it was a private affair about rewarding the winter’s toils.

“They aren’t very unusual or novel, though.”

“In that case, how about celebrations offering a large wolf some delicious food? I wouldn’t mind.”

Holo made her suggestion as she rested her face and elbows on the edge of the bath, kicking and splashing the water with her feet. With her wet hair thrown up in a very unladylike fashion, she looked just like Myuri.

“If we offer you more than this, you won’t be able to eat it all.”

Expensive delicacies like honeyed cheese were enough. Lawrence picked out a piece, and Holo bared her fangs, seemingly on purpose as a show.

“Hmph. Fine, you traveled here and there as a merchant, yes? There had to be one or two interesting things on the way. Why not borrow from one of those?”

“Hmm…Like the bull-chasing festival, I really liked that.”

“Oh?”

“They close off all the side streets in the town and chase a bull. It goes mad, running down the streets, but they say good luck comes to whoever can touch its tail—it’s exciting. In the end, they roast it and everyone eats it…”

“Why not that?”

“Every year, someone gets hurt, and there is huge damage to the buildings when the bull smashes into them.”

As a traveler, it was exciting going to such a chaotic place, being so close to danger. However, Holo knew the troubles in preparing buildings for a festival like that and the work that went into keeping everything intact. She made a frown, as though imagining the mess a ramming bull would make.

“’Tis…no good.”

“Right?”

“Anything else?”

“There’s…that. There’s a festival where each diocese in the town makes their own team and parades around the town kicking a leather ball.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“But everyone immediately loses their cool when they take the ball from one another. Even that problem alone would be all right, but there aren’t a lot of young people in this town. Everyone will give up right after it starts.”

Holo’s ears pointed down in disgust, seemingly understanding after imagining the other owners with their bellies sticking out.

“You, too, have been sagging lately.”

“Oh…ahem! Then it’ll probably end up something like putting on some costumes and celebrating that way. There are events like that here and there.”

“’Tis difficult.”

Holo kicked the water again and left the edge, meandering with something that looked like a doggy paddle. She seemed more carefree than she actually was with her hair and the fur on her tail spreading out in the water. Had she really not cared, she simply would not discuss it.

Holo worried about the bathhouse and the village in her own way. If not, she probably would not bother going out every night in the deep mountain snow or silently doing all the mending.

“Hmm.”

As Lawrence mulled over the ideas in his head, Holo pulled herself up onto the center rock and wrung out her hair, tail wagging.

“Come in!”

She called out to him, showing a smile that was more innocent than Myuri’s.

Lawrence still had work to do and waved his hand, but when Holo shot him a disappointed look, he gave in and stripped off his clothes.

“Once you know how enjoyable it is to just laze about, even if someone asked you to come up with some new fun in the spring, of course you wouldn’t have any motivation for it.”

Lawrence murmured to himself, holding cold liquor and looking up at the clear blue sky. He had called for Hanna to bring food and drink and ended up lounging around. Thinking about the other bathhouses and how they were likely in a similar state made him feel even lazier.

“I quite enjoyed lying in the grass when we were traveling merchants as well.”

“Of course. The one snoring loudly in the back of the cart after lounging around and the one sitting in front holding the reins had it differently.”

“I do not snore!”

Holo curled up, not denying that she would lie about in the back of the cart.

“Hmm…But this water is so good and peaceful. If this isn’t paradise on earth, then what is? Everyone should come straight here.”

“Well, ’twas busy for a few years, yes?”

Hundreds of years before Lawrence was even born, Holo had apparently soaked in these waters.

“Right…There actually may be a way to have the Church promote us as an earthly paradise.”

“Hmm?”

Holo looked puzzled, as though this fool was saying crazy things again, but Lawrence thought it could actually work.

“Look, you know about pilgrimages to holy sites, right? If there’s a location where a famous saint is enshrined—for example, a saint that can make the blind see again—those destinations that promise special effects are particularly sought after.”

Next to Lawrence, who rambled his thoughts out loud, Holo continued to sit, seemingly uninterested as she poured herself more alcohol. It was likely because of her experience from ten years ago, when Lawrence would often start talking thoughtlessly about clever ways to make money, and the two of them would wind up getting involved in one uproar or another.

But now that he had thought of something, he could not stay silent.

“Everyone knows that the baths are good for your health, so we could possibly secure the help of the clergymen who frequent this place and have it designated as a holy site. Yes, that’s right. It’s even in their teachings. The opposite of earth is hell, and in between there’s a midway point called purgatory, and if you can atone for your sins there, then those who were destined for hell can go to heaven instead. Like that, in the space between heaven and earth, there’s a paradise that’s neither heaven nor earth, and that is what Nyohhira can—”

Holo stuffed a piece of dried meat into Lawrence’s mouth.

“Guh?”

“So, confess your sins in this purgatory to go to heaven? And what? If you drink and frolic in paradise or whatever, then you go to hell?”

Taking in Holo’s face, flushed from the hot water and the alcohol, along with her reddish-amber eyes, Lawrence thought she looked like a demon.

“Mm…”

“We already get complaints that there are too many people here, do we not? Should the number of guests increase even more, ’tis unimaginable those churchmen would feel obligated to go out of their way and help us.”

“…Mm.”

That was definitely true.

“And it sounds like you forgot, you fool, but you want more guests to come during the season when you have nothing better to do, aye?”

“Yes…you’re right. Yeah.”

Drinking and soaking in the baths was making him drunk faster. Lawrence reached out of the water and grabbed a fistful of snow, putting a bit on his forehead.

“Hmm…I thought that the place between earth and heaven was a good idea…”

“Because there are angels like me here?”

Holo drew close, her laugh sounding like a purr. Her pearl-like skin and supple body certainly gave the impression of an angel.

But as she consumed more jerky, he could see her fangs showing, and anyone could tell she was not someone to become entangled with carelessly. As the one that reached out to her myself, there is no doubt about that, Lawrence thought in self-derision.

“Between heaven and earth…a festival…hmm…”

Next to the grumbling Lawrence, Holo bit into the snow on Lawrence’s forehead, as though she, too, was beginning to boil. But suddenly, when he raised his head, she hurriedly got out of the bath.

“What’s wrong?”

Holo hastened to pull her robe over her head and motioned to the main house with her chin in response.

“Sir, a visitor.”

Hanna had come to call on him with someone in tow. Of course, the villagers could not know that Holo was half-wolf, so she was quite careful.

“Ahh, all right.”

Lawrence rose from the bath and was surprised when he saw who stood at the head of the path leading to the main building.

He could not offer mulled wine, so he had Hanna boil goat milk and drizzle honey in it. But the visitor sat in the chair with a brooding look and stared at his hands, unmoving.

Holo, shuffling her fireplace-dried tail under her robe, came over and poked Lawrence in the back. What is this about? her face asked, but Lawrence did not know, either. At the moment, there were no guests in the quiet dining hall, and the only sound was Hanna preparing dinner. Holo stared with great interest at their guest and sat slightly farther away to work on mending.

Nothing would come of staying like this, so Lawrence opened his mouth first.

“What has your father asked you to do here today?”

The visitor looked like a child, but he was already a hardworking participant in the workforce around these parts, so Lawrence spoke with the respectful tone he deserved. But the boy slowly dropped his shoulders and solemnly shook his head. The sudden visitor was the second son of a nearby bathhouse owner and was around Myuri’s age.

They knew this boy very well, since there were few people the same age Myuri, and he often played together with her. His name was Kalm. Lawrence could not count the number of times he had yelled at him when he and Myuri misbehaved.

As they grew of age, though they had to help with things around the house and could not play together much anymore, they would still throw snowballs or frogs at each other if they crossed paths in town.

“Have some before it gets cold.”

Again, he offered the drink to Kalm, and the boy took it in his hands.

Then, as though the cup was his cue, he suddenly raised his head.

“M-Mr. Lawrence, I’ve come to ask you something!”

Lawrence was more surprised at how serious he seemed, rather than the sound of his voice.

When he and Myuri had done something bad together and Lawrence scolded them, he was the kind to turn away in a huff and pout. But now, the face of a fine young man was meeting his gaze without hesitation.

“If it’s something I can answer myself, then gladly.”

Lawrence also straightened his back in response, not looking down on the child.

“That’s! Well…”

It was as if Kalm’s energy brought him that far and then petered out. When he opened his mouth, no words came out. His face was bright red, and he seemed as though he had suddenly lost all his breath.

Kalm closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in pain, and Lawrence unconsciously began reaching out to put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. But at that moment, Kalm suddenly blurted out, “P-please let me marry Myuri!”

The words, seeming to come straight from his body and soul, became a fierce wind that gusted through the dining hall.

Lawrence, dumbfounded, did not comprehend immediately.

Myuri? Marry?

“Erm, well, even if you say that, uhh…”

Lawrence could not form a thought in his head and was thrown into confusion.

As he did so, Kalm stared straight at Lawrence.

It was a look that said he was absolutely serious.

“…So you’re asking for Myuri’s hand in marriage.”

Lawrence finally met the boy’s determination head-on.

“Y-yes.”

Kalm did not appear to be joking, and immediately Lawrence changed gears and stepped into the role of bathhouse owner in his head.

“Have you consulted your father about this?”

Lawrence raised his question and Kalm made a troubled face before he shook his head.

It was important in this small village to know which houses were related to whom. For example, if a popular bathhouse became connected to another by blood ties, then it would create a powerful clique. Though there was no rule forbidding marrying within the village, it was preferred by most to marry out, particularly choosing someone around Svernel.

Also, simply put, it was to avoid inbreeding in a place with so few households.

“Hmm.”

For some reason, Lawrence sighed, and Kalm abruptly leaned forward.

“U-um, I—I have one question.”

“Hmm?”

“D-did Myuri, I—I mean has your daughter, really…um, eloped…?”

“Yes.”

Lawrence muttered with a sigh, and he could feel Holo grinning at the edge of his vision.

Then, he finally understood why Kalm suddenly came over so determined, without talking to even his parents.

“Even I don’t know, either…if she eloped…No, probably, a part of me felt that this would…”

Lawrence found himself suddenly muddling his words and could not apply his logic.

“But it hasn’t been completely decided.”

The reason Lawrence could say this so confidently was not just because of hopeful observation. It was partly born from his respect for Kalm, who had gathered all his courage to come here.

“You know, Myuri is the kind to do absolutely reckless things without a second thought. And she gets bored very easily.”

Kalm, her childhood friend, seemed to be familiar with this and nodded vigorously.

“So that means there’s a chance she’ll come back if they have a big fight or something like that.”

On top of that, Col was working toward becoming a clergyman and had taken vows of abstinence. When the beautiful dancers came to the village, no matter who tried to entice Col, he had not been swayed.

“If that happens, then you should come talk to her yourself. I have no intention of barring your way.”

Kalm’s face brightened, as though he had seen a ray of light beyond the dark clouds, but his expression soon lost energy again.

“But…she’s with…Col, isn’t she?”

Everyone knew one another in this small village.

Lawrence nodded, and dejection crept into the once-mischievous child’s expression. If Col had been Lawrence’s own rival in love when he was Kalm’s age, he would have simply given up hope. Col had always been a good boy, but when he grew up, he became an even more wonderful man.

“Sigh…”

Though Kalm had come in high spirits, it seemed he had lost heart when confronted with the situation he faced. Lawrence remembered he had a similar experience when he was an apprentice merchant and could not help but smile a little.

And though the person sitting before him was an awful boy who was after his beloved daughter, he was still a brave man who had marched in here all by himself.

“But why this, all of a sudden?”

“Huh?”

Kalm responded with confusion, and Lawrence drew near his face, consciously paying attention to Holo.

“Aren’t you the kind to prefer the dancing girls?”

He lowered his voice, as though it was a private conversation between men, and Kalm’s cheeks turned red. Song and dance were essential to a place of healing like Nyohhira, and there were plenty of beautiful women. On top of that, these girls, who had the privilege to indulge in the arts, could get away with anything. Like the first dazzling shoots of summer greenery, they held a beauty that everyone adored.

“That’s…well…” Kalm hesitated, but did not stay silent. “But I realized they’re…different…from Myuri.”

Lawrence recalled his daughter. Myuri looked just like Holo, but she was completely different on the inside. She was filled with endless energy, as though all the calm and cunning parts of Holo had been cut out, and all her pessimistic bits were replaced with radiant sunlight.

Once, when his daughter was little, she had blindly chased after a rabbit, trying to catch it, and fell backward in the mud, bleeding from her head. The very next day, she was playing in the woods, chasing deer.

From her very core, she was different from the confident and calmly smiling dancers, with their plaited hair and incensed clothes and carefully maintained waistlines. They were more like Holo, if anything.

“Well…They’re as different as a cat in a noble’s manor…and a wolf in the mountains…”

Though he thought his own daughter was the world’s cutest, there were some things he could not ignore.

Lawrence spoke shamefully, but Kalm gave him a small smile and hurriedly shook his head.

“Well, um, that’s not it…”

“Hmm?”

Kalm’s gaze dropped to his fingers.

“I did like the dancers once, but…when they went down the mountain, I thought, Oh, I’ll see them again.”

“I see.”

“But when I heard Myuri left, I…I!”

It was then his expression became filled with pain, and it seemed as though he would cry again.

“You just couldn’t bear waiting, huh?”

“…”

Unable to speak, Kalm nodded, lips trembling.

He was the same age as Myuri, and they were always playing together. They were like family. It seemed that Myuri was too close to Kalm to notice. But Lawrence knew quite well. From his experience traveling as a merchant, when he never stayed in one place for more than a month, the emotions of townspeople and villagers always stood out starkly in his eyes.

It was not often that big changes occurred in these towns and villages. The things that would come tomorrow had already happened today, and no matter how boring or pedestrian, they would repeat year after year, and the year after that. That was why inseparable old childhood friends stopped calling out to each other as they grew up, though they may have been interested in each other. If that went over poorly and he lost his chance, then he would continue to regret it until he became an old man, and then it would follow him to his grave.

And that was why the boy deserved respect for his courageous effort, coming here on his own. Plus, it was likely that his rival in love would be Col.

Lawrence looked at Kalm as a man.

“And I should have known that…” Kalm’s fists tightened on his knees, and tears fell from his eyes. “I should have known, when my brother got sick and died…”

Lawrence knew immediately it was about Kalm’s older brother, who had passed on all too soon due to an infectious disease. He hesitated for a moment before slowly putting his hand on the youth’s shoulder.

“I knew…I have to say…sniff…what I want to say, because otherwise…there might not be a next time…”

Lawrence patted Kalm’s shoulder, then his back, and pulled him into a hug. Then, he noticed how unlike Myuri the boyish hardness of his bones were, and the faint smell of sweat, and Lawrence felt deeply moved by the thought that if he had a son, it would be like this.

He took the handkerchief that Holo so thoughtfully brought over and, again, patted the boy’s back.

“But Myuri is still here.”

“…Sniff…”

“If it were up to me, I’d punch every single guy that came after my daughter into next week.”

He spoke purposefully, but Kalm looked up at Lawrence and flinched a bit. No matter how cute Holo thought this boy to be, Lawrence was still the upstanding owner of this bathhouse.

“But it would be irresponsible of me to tell you to go after her right now, even if you wanted to.”

Kalm tried to stand up suddenly, but Lawrence kept him seated and handed him the handkerchief.

“She can be pretty indecisive about things like that, so I think there’s a good chance she suddenly comes back like nothing happened after traveling around a bit with Col.”

Knowing that Holo was in all likelihood listening very closely, he smiled dryly after picturing her reaction, but Lawrence really did think that this scenario was more than likely. He could not imagine Col putting his hands on Myuri without saying anything to her father first.

“When that happens, I want you to show me what a fine young man you are. And once more…once more…”

You can come get her, were the words he just could not spit out. But Kalm spoke up, gripping the handkerchief.

“I’ll come get her!”

Lawrence saw a determination that would not waver from just one or two hits. Then he relaxed his shoulders and smiled, nodding.

“I’m waiting. And until then, I’ll be sure to practice some punches.”

He grinned, and Kalm just stared back, his face twitching.

“Well then, wipe your tears, and drink this.”

“O-okay!”

Kalm did as he was told while Lawrence gazed at him, casually resting his chin in his hand.

He would not mind a good kid like this for a son.

“If you want to wash your face, you can use the baths. Your little brother’s got sharp eyes, right?!”

“Ahh…Y-yes please.”

If the ever-boisterous, proud older brother went home crying, it would be like a pack of wolves attacking a weak deer. Kalm stood, bowed, and headed to the baths with shaky steps.

Lawrence sent him off with a smile, and Holo came in his place, sitting on Lawrence’s lap without saying a word.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Mm? Heh-heh.”

Holo laughed merrily, puffing up her tail in the robe that could not quite cover it completely.

“Is this foolish boy acting like a big man?” She made the first blow and grasped his hand. “You are quite stern sometimes, and that’s why I cannot belittle you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment for now.”

“Fool.”

Her response was short and fawning, almost like she was rubbing her ears against him through the robe. That exchange seemed to have really pulled on her heartstrings.

Lawrence pulled her into a tight hug and spoke absently.

“There might not be a next time, huh?”

How suddenly Kalm’s older brother had died was fresh in his mind. On top of that, those words really resonated with Lawrence, who had led a life filled with fleeting meetings as a traveling merchant.

“If he understands that at his age, he will make a good male.”

“I thought it was clear I knew that, too.”

He was always reaching out to Holo, knowing that if they parted, there would not be a second meeting.

But Holo leaned back from him a bit, staring at Lawrence. He looked embarrassed under her accusing gaze.

“What, aren’t I right?”

“What makes you a fool is how you rewrite things that happened in the past when it suits you.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Though you say you are so in love with me, do you know how long it took you? Hmm?”

“…”

Holo’s play biting always hurt a bit. If he gave in to the pain and tried to say, I might be wrong but what about you, she would no doubt leave teeth marks in his hide. But her eyes had been on him the entire time, and her tail rustled like a dog that could not wait to play.

He had no choice but to accept that she desperately wanted him to say those embarrassing three words to her face, even now.

Being so loved is also pain, Lawrence, the poet, recited to himself, and just as he was going to say the words that Holo wanted to hear—

“Can’t you say what you want to say?”

He murmured to himself absently.

“Um, what? Wh-what is it?” Holo’s face looked as though she was expecting to be fed honey-dipped, sweet, dried grapes, but instead had pepper sprinkled in her mouth.

Lawrence was oblivious to this, though, as he desperately pulled on something to try to connect everything inside his head. He had a conversation similar to this recently.

A situation where he could not say what he wanted to say but would say it eventually.

Confessions at death’s door!

That was the great release, divulging everything on the brink of dying, since there would be no more chances. But like with Holo in front of him, the things he wanted to say but could not bring himself to were not all bad.

So?

“So…”

“Hello? Heeeelloooooo?”

Holo was tapping Lawrence’s cheek, but he grabbed her hand and stood up, carrying her bridal-style. Everything came together. An event that would bring more people in spring bloomed in his head.

“Yes! We should make a landing on the way to heaven!”

Lawrence yelled loudly, and in his arms, Holo stared at him blankly.

A funeral was a ceremony of parting.

Once the lid was closed, prayers were given, and the coffin buried in the ground, the living and the dead would never meet again.

When the coffin was being carried from his house, all who came out to greet Lawrence spoke their parting words. There was nothing to fake, nothing to hide, nothing to be embarrassed about anymore.

In parting, there was a certain strength that pushed out the things he could not easily express.

“Holo.”

Lawrence called her name, but he could not help the wry smile that tugged on his lips.

He had prepared as much as he could, and though everyone had been courteous enough to leave the shed, it was still difficult.

“Ooh…the angels would become impatient right about now, too.”

He could hear the groans of the dead coming from within the coffin.

Lawrence cleared his throat and peeked into the coffin at Holo, who was smiling uncomfortably. He began to speak.

“I was happy since the day I met you.”

“…Was?”

She cracked one eye open and asked her question accusingly.

“This is a funeral, you know.”

“Hmph.”

“And in this funeral, the dead returns to life by the water of miracles.”

He dipped his finger into a silver cup that had been prepared for them, wetting it with the hot spring water, and spread the liquid across Holo’s forehead.

“How does it feel to rejoin the living?”

Holo opened both eyes, looking up at Lawrence, and broke out into a smile.

“How happy I am to still have time to spend with you.”

“Ah…”

Lawrence was not expecting that answer and was at a loss for words. Holo showed her fangs in victory. He could never win against her and thought it was just like her.

“I am honored,” Lawrence said and helped her sit up.

“So, what do you think of this as a festival?”

“Mm?”

“You won’t know if someone said something good about you, nor can you speak any more after you die. So this is a ritual to get just one step closer to heaven, where you may as well spell out everything while you’re still alive, just under the pretense that you’re dead.”

“Hmm, mm…Well, you know what?” Holo looked at Lawrence and spoke with an honest expression. “’Tis not bad.”

“Ha-ha, I see. Well, it doesn’t need too many preparations, and it doesn’t get too out of hand, so I think it’s worth trying out.”

When Lawrence had told the other bathhouse owners what he thought up, they were startled at first. But when he told them the point of it, they immediately became excited. Everyone had one or two things that they wanted to say belatedly to someone important to them, and it would be better to do so quickly—the appeal was easy to understand. All that was needed was an excuse to say those words.

And all the stubborn men of the world were likely thinking the same thing.

That was why, in this secluded area, in the place closest to heaven on this earth, they would hold funerals for the living as their excuse. This was what Lawrence thought.

“Candles can get pretty expensive, so we have to be careful about that…And it really comes together when we all wear the same clothes, so that’s also another expense…But yeah, this could work.”

As he thought of all sorts of things, he suddenly realized that Holo was staring at him.

Oh no, I started thinking business and forgot about her. He tensed, but Holo showed him a small smile and, as though she had just woken up, softly gripped his sleeve.

“I am so…”

“Huh?”

“So happy I am still alive.”

She kept smiling and tears rolled from the corners of her eyes.

Lawrence hurriedly wiped them away.

“Our travels will continue, yes?”

“Everything fades with time.” From Holo’s perspective, Lawrence, too, was nothing more than a leaf that would be blown away with passing years. One day, their parting would come, and this moment would forever remain in the past.

But that moment was still in the future.

Lawrence wrapped his arm around Holo’s back and hugged her. They had to protect their “now” from the flow of time, as much as they could.

“Yes,” he finally responded. “We will. Just a little longer.”

Holo lifted her head and smiled. Then, they had a bit of a back-and-forth. While neither of them made an effort to resolve it, they ended up naturally settling back down. It was similar to the time they decided to start a business together.

They shared a kiss in front of the altar, where God watched over them.

Their eyes met, and even after all their time together, they still found themselves blushing.

There were still many things left for them to do in this world.

Spring was near, the season when the snow would finally melt.