MLCD Chapter 1.3

When he realized it, it was already morning. Shavonne ran out into the street. He couldn’t sleep at all, so his face was all puffy. He came back in 30 minutes.

“Here.”

As usual, the man was sitting on the stairs. He handed what he had just bought on the street to the man who peeled onions. It was a scented candle.

“If you light a candle, the onions won’t smell.”

The man looked at the candle, looked at Shavonne, looked at the candle, and looked at Shavonne again. Shavonne kept talking.

“Didn’t you tell me you peel onions here so your house doesn’t stink?”

“Thank you.”

How kind, the man smiled. When Shavonne looked at him, he looked at Lewellyn’s hand holding the candle. It was so delicate that if someone asked him to touch him, he would. White, smooth, long…

The next moment, Shavonne’s eyes stopped.

“…”

His nails looked weird. It was as if they had been heated with a poker and bent until they broke. They were ugly. Although ‘horrible’ fit them perfectly.

“Mr. Shavonne.”

The man called out to him. Shavonne regained consciousness and looked at him. The man was still smiling. For some reason, he had a smile that didn’t feel as bright as always.

“Would you like to join me for dinner?”

When Shavonne couldn’t answer to his offer right away, the man smiled and added.

“It’s only polite to return a gift, isn’t it?”

As if it were no big of a deal. As if I were just being sensitive. As if my uneasiness were nothing more than an unfounded whim.

“Isn’t it?”

He was eyesmiling. Shavonne had just noticed that the man’s eyes were yellow. He had often seen brown eyes, and some bright enough to call them orange, but he had never seen such a yellow color as the man’s.

“Thanks for your suggestion, but…”

That alone should have been clear to understand that he was rejecting him, but the man seemed to act as if he didn’t know knew and kept going.

“But?”

Either he’s trying to be considerate without reading the mood, or he’s pushing me, Shavonne thought as he looked at the man, unable to decipher what he was thinking.

“Not that I was expecting something in return.”

“Oh my, are you trying to make me look impolite?”

“No, it’s not that. I just…”

“Fine then. How about six o’clock this evening? Or seven if it’s too early.”

Innocent or willful? Shavonne wondered as he stared at the man’s face. Still, he couldn’t read him at all.

“Do you like the Karnitsov tableware or do you prefer the Grey one? What about napkins?”

Shavonne replied to the man, who kept chattering away.

“I like the Ivan dishes, the Liner napkins, the Elliman tablecloth. Still, I’m not going to dinner.”

The man looked at Shavonne. Shavonne explained.

“I don’t have much free time. I have to visit my family and…”

Of course, Shavonne was an orphan.

“I have some manuscripts that I must send…”

Of course, Shavonne didn’t have a manuscript to turn in and the deadline was more than three weeks away.

“I have to meet some friends that I haven’t seen for a long time…”

Of course, Dr. Fawkes was extremely busy with his New Year’s clients, as they wanted to take care of their health. His boyfriend, August Basch, was the only one he had left, but Shavonne no longer had him because they broke up.

The man cocked his head. His fine hair spread across his forehead.

“So?”

There was amusement in his voice. Before he knew it, his smile disappeared.

Damn, I got caught.

― So?

No matter how embarrassed he was, he shouldn’t have acted like that.

Shavonne took a long breath. White breath flowed from his lips like cigarette smoke.

However, he couldn’t help it. Until just a second ago, the man who had been coldly serious suddenly smiled brightly and said,

“I’ve only got Karnichov and Gray tableware at home, but if you want, I can buy the Ivan ones and have them ready. Seven o’clock would be good for dinner time, right?”

―I s… suppose so.

He had no choice but to say that.

The one fortunate thing in this misfortune was that Shavonne said the following.

― Dinner sounds good, but… I already told you that I have a manuscript to hand in by Sunday, so it can’t be tonight.

Shavonne then suggested.

―How about next Monday?

So Shavonne passed dinner with the man for Monday because he had a ‘supposed’ manuscript he needed to send on Sunday, but in reality it was because he needed time to psychologically prepare for it and, on the other hand, he needed time to find out what kind of person the man was.

Of course, Shavonne was aware that background checks were not exactly honorable, but he was in no position to care about that. The world was horrible, not to mention Ira Street, full of criminals, prostitutes and the poor.

There were three days left until Monday. Meanwhile, Shavonne was going to explore whether the man was dangerous or not. He never thought that he would fail in the attempt, though.

Anyone who is alive or has died at least leaves a trace of their life. But this was not the case with that man.

All Shavonne knew during the three days that passed was the name he used to sign the contract for the apartment number 302 on Ira Street. He couldn’t tell if it was his real name or an alias.

Lewellyn.

Shavonne looked at Lewellyn’s contract with a painful expression. Lewellyn. That name sounded familiar to him. Although it should not only sound familiar to Shavonne, but also to everyone. 25 years ago, the name of the descendant to the royal family, who were anxious because there was no successor to the throne until then, was Lewellyn.

Of course, the entire nation named his son, even his daughter, Lewellyn. The orphanage where Shavonne grew up was no exception, with five boys and girls four or five years younger than Shavonne named Lewellyn. This ‘Onion Crazy Lewellyn’ also had to be named after that.

Three boring days passed and, and on Monday morning, snow began to fall over Ira Street.

It was a heavy snowfall.

Snow covered everything in white at 6 p.m., when the time for the promised dinner with Lewellyn approached. It had snowed so much that people who were about to leave the apartment building hesitated at the lobby or front door and often turned back. Some brave men stepped on the snow, but even a grown man’s foot would get stuck in the snow.

The weather was cold enough, making the saying that the day was warm when it snowed a lie. A sharp wind hit the window and slammed into it again. All that could be seen in the dark streets were the gas lamps and the thick snowflakes they illuminated.

“There will be like five or six people freezing to death only on Ira Street.”

Thinking, Shavonne closed the curtain as he gazed out the window onto the street. The day had turned dark.

In his 29 years of life, Shavonne had never been invited to anyone’s home. Not even once. Shavonne felt bitter due to that.

Shavonne was an orphan, he didn’t have a unique personality, he wasn’t intelligent, he wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t exceptionally handsome either. He didn’t have enough points to attract other people’s attention, whether positively or negatively, so it was natural for him to have no friends (except Dr. Fawkes) just as much as he had no enemies.

No one had invited Shavonne to his house, because if they had to meet, they would do so in a square, an outdoor café, or a hotel.

So this was the first time he was invited to someone’s house.

‘I should knock three times like when someone comes to my house, right?’

Shavonne didn’t know if there was anything people did as if it were common sense, if there was any etiquette that he should follow when invited to dinner, or if there were any rules related to knocking. He was just as nervous as when he stepped on a crack in the sidewalk, when the number of bottle caps wasn’t the same or  he saw the typo in new year – new yeer.

As he was worrying about this, a familiar voice suddenly came from beyond the door. It was Lewellyn.

― Are you going to open the door or do you want me to open it for you?

Shavonne blinked. How did he know I was here? I didn’t knock, didn’t make any noise with my footsteps, and certainly didn’t breathe loudly or mutter to myself.

― In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Shavonne, you were standing still for three minutes.

How embarrassing.

Shavonne replied with a frown.

“You didn’t have to count the time.”

When he entered room 302, the whole house was… full of candles. Ten, twenty, thirty… countless scarlet candles lit the dark house.

“I don’t know if I’ve come for a marriage proposal or to watch the moments before a house burns down.”

After saying that, Lewellyn peeked into the dining room from the living room and asked.

“What would you prefer, Mr. Shavonne?”

He’s asking me if I prefer a marriage proposal or a house burning down? Wordlessly, Shavonne laughed and asked.

“How does telling you matter?”

“I’ll do whichever one you like,” Lewellyn smiled. “I’ve got both roses and gasoline.”

Shavonne answered him.

“Do that when you are alone.”

Shavonne then changed the subject so that Lewellyn could no longer talk about these two terrible things (a proposal and double suicide).

“What about dinner?”

Lewellyn stretched out three fingers.

“Wait three minutes.”

Shavonne looked around the living room for those three minutes. He hadn’t noticed it at first due to so many candles being everywhere: tables, walls, windows and even the floor; but the living room was empty. There were no sofas, shelves, or a desk.

All he had was a small table, a squeaky drawer, and a chair that looked like a leg could give up at any second. All of these were covered with checkered pink blankets. Shavonne thought, he must like pink.

Three minutes had passed, but Lewellyn never told him that the food was ready. Shavonne, tired of waiting, was about to ask him, but Lewelyn appeared. He stretched out three fingers again.

“Wait three more minutes.”

There was a picnic basket by the table. Outside, there were unpeeled onions, but what was inside? Shavonne couldn’t contain his curiosity and peeked inside. In it, there were two books with few pages, so few they could even be called brochures. He thought they would be about 30 and 50 pages respectively. The first title was…

《The study of the fundamentals of ABC》

Shavonne raised his eyebrows. Does he have a child? He doesn’t look like he a father at all. The other title was 《Practical Foreign Languages》. When he opened it, what he saw was

‘Greetings from around the world.

Guten Morgen

Bonjour

Buenos Días’

Each word had a note about how they were pronounced in their native language.

Guten molgen

Bonchiur

Wenos Dias

I knew it, I can’t pronounce them well. Shavonne thought. Every time he lifted the page and turned it several times, a fluttering sound was heard.

Three more minutes had passed, but Lewellyn didn’t come to tell him that the food was ready. Shavonne, who was tired of waiting, was about to complain, but Lewellyn appeared. Before he could raise his fingers again, Shavonne beat him to it and spoke first.

“If you’re going to say ‘Wait three more minutes’, I’m going to break your fingers.”

Lewellyn, left with the words in his mouth, just blinked.

“Lead the way,” Shavonne ordered. “Three minutes,” Shavonne snapped at Lewellyn firmly. “If you don’t feel like it, then I’ll go there myself.” Suddenly, he headed for the dining room. He thought that all the trouble would be over when he got to the table, but he was wrong. It was not the end but the beginning.

“…?”

There were no knives on the table. There were only two forks. He also realized they were made for children. There was no need to complain as the appetizer came before he could do so. It was potato soup. Or more like… a soup with potatoes and onions floating around. Wait, why whole potatoes and whole onions? No matter how troublesome it is, shouldn’t he have cut them into edible pieces?

And the next moment, Shavonne was suddenly overwhelmed by intense anxiety. No way, don’t tell me…

“…What are the main dish and dessert?”

“Steak and bagel. ”

“Onion steak and onion bagel?”

Lewellyn smiled brightly.

“Exactly.”

Shavonne reflected on past events to see if he had done something wrong to Lewellyn. One by one, he remembered that he treated Lewellyn as a psycho, ignored him, and filed complaints with the management office of te apartment.

Does he want revenge?

But for a revenge… Lewellyn’s eyes looked so innocent, waiting for Shavonne to taste the potato soup.

Whatever. It’s not like I expected a feast fit for a king with appetizers, soup, salad, fish, meat, poultry dishes, dessert, fruit, coffee and drinks.

Shavonne sighed briefly and asked.

“Do you have cheese?”

Lewellyn stared at Shavonne with wide eyes and shook his head. Shavonne asked another question with a light frown.

“What about eggs? You have eggs, right?”

Lewellyn still stared at Shavonne with wide eyes and shook his head. Shavonne couldn’t hide his tired look.

No eggs, no cheese. Does this man only eat onions for every meal? Maybe he even drinks onion-infused water at teatime instead. Or drinks onion juice, enduring the tears and runny nose.

“How about an omelet?”

Shavonne asked. Unable to understand, Lewellyn raised his head straight up and looked at Shavonne. Shavonne raised an eyebrow.

“Haven’t you heard of the word omelet? Let’s eat a cheese omelet.”

He couldn’t help it. Shavonne wouldn’t be able to eat onions for the next 10 years if he ate what Lewellyn had prepared for them. He might even feel unwell just smelling onions. When Shavonne was nine or ten years old, the head of the orphanage where Shavonne was staying had fed the kids anchovies all week, and since then, Shavonne hasn’t been able to eat anchovies. Even now, when he’s 29 years old.

Lewellyn had a puzzled face, neither for nor against the idea.

If he isn’t disagreeing, I can take it as a yes, right?

Shavonne stood up.

It wasn’t long before Shavonne returned to room 302 with cheese, eggs, a bowl and a pan from his house, room 303. He still had to finish the omelet. He mixed the eggs, added salt, poured it into the heated pan with oil, stirred with a fork, and folded it. Meanwhile, Lewellyn was watching Shavonne cook far away, and Shavonne told him.

“Don’t forget to give me one rona. It’s 50 celronas per egg and 30 celronas for the cheese. The remaining 20 celronas is the commission. A total of one rona, right?”

Ten minutes later, Shavonne and Lewellyn sat at the table and started eating the omelets. Shavonne was eating when he turned his eyes unconsciously and saw the forks. Just as there’s a thread if there’s a needle, it’s natural to have a knife if there’s a fork, so the forks neatly placed on the table without a knife besides them looked weird.

Wasn’t there a knife in the kitchen? Out of curiosity, Shavonne narrowed his eyebrows and tried to remember. He didn’t even see a single knife, let alone a kitchen knife, in Lewellyn’s kitchen. Other types of knives such as a boning knife or a bread knife were also not in sight.

He was about to ask where he had knives, but what Lewellyn was doing across the table caught his eye. Lewellyn was decorating the omelet with onions. He put them on the omelet, leaned on the left, and when Shavonne saw it, he completely forgot his plan to ask about the knife.

“Onions again?”

It wouldn’t be strange to say that he has an obsession, right?

When Lewellyn didn’t answer, Shavonne changed the question.

“Why onions?”

Only then did Lewellyn raise his head. His eyes were yellow as he looked into Shavonne. His eyes felt more animal than human.

“Don’t you think you know that already, Mr. Shavonne?” Lewellyn added with a smile. “Maybe even more than me.”

No. I don’t have a fucking clue.

Shavonne was about to answer without a moment’s hesitation, but he was stopped by the sound of someone knocking on the door of room 302.

Knock, knock.

Who could it be? As he turned to look at the door, Shavonne didn’t get to see Lewellyn’s smile freeze.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

Shavonne asked. Lewellyn shook his head. “They must have the wrong house. They’ll leave on their own.”

However, the unpleasant guest didn’t ‘leave out on their own’. There was a knock. There was a knock, another knock, another knock, another knock, another knock, another knock, another knock on the door. It was very annoying.

Shavonne put down the fork that touched the omelet. The sound stopped.

“Go and check who is it.”

But Lewellyn wouldn’t move from the table. Shavonne shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not going to eat the omelet until you come back.”

Only then did Lewellyn stand up. As if to say goodbye, Shavonne raised his hands and waved slowly.

As soon as the door was opened and closed, Lewellyn’s presence disappeared. If the visitor were a stranger, that is, if they had “come to the wrong house” as Llewellyn had said, it would have been enough to just say “You’ve come to the wrong place,” but since he didn’t do that, it seemed the visitor was indeed someone he knew.

Who could it be? Family? Friend? Lover?

He got thirsty for no reason. Shavonne started looking for water. He said he wouldn’t eat the omelet until Lewellyn came, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t drink anything. He knew it was rude to search a house without the owner’s permission, but he didn’t care at all. If Shavonne’s courtesy score was 0, then Lewellyn, who prepared onions as an appetizer, main dish, and dessert, was -60 points.

Shavonne couldn’t find water in the dining room, in the kitchen, or in the living room. There was only one room that he didn’t check, the bedroom.

It must be there.

Shavonne thought it over.

Whether it’s a slum or a palace, there must be water somewhere, so it must be there.

Shavonne entered the bedroom without any worries, and the next moment, in darkness so thick he couldn’t see an inch in front of him, he encountered a stench that felt somehow familiar.

A putrid smell.

The naked body of a bald man Shavonne found in Lewellyn’s bedroom that evening, was found severely decomposed ten days later, exactly two blocks from Shavonne’s apartment.

Comparing the body with the two bodies found on Ira Street on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve, investigators found that they were the work of the same culprit, and slowly at the end of January, they announced the case under the name of “The Ira Street Murders”.

And, Shavonne…

A man moved in next door.

He’s young, handsome and unpredictable, but he’s a cute neighbor.

And perhaps, the culprit behind the recent murders in South Bunch on Ira Street.

Putrid.

More than any other odor, the stench was all over the bedroom. The dining room, kitchen, and living room were cool, while the bedroom was warm, and perhaps because of the warmth, the smell was thicker and sticky.

Shavonne’s eyes, which unintentionally became accustomed to darkness, found an outline lying on the floor. Rather than verifying their identity, he couldn’t even tell whether they were male or female, but it was clear that it was the outline of a person.

Without even realizing, Shavonne picked up the candle closest to him in the living room and brought it into the bedroom. The flame was the size of a fingernail. That alone was enough to see the outline.

It was a dead body.

A bald man. He couldn’t see his face because he was lying face down. All he could check was a big mole on the back of his neck. It was a mole, but strangely it was more like a square than a circle. His hands trembled. No, not only his hands but also his whole body was shaking.

The fear, wanting to running away and the obsession to check the face crashed at the same time.

Run away, run away…

, while repeating so, Shavonne’s hand was already moving on its own.

But rather than Shavonne turning the body upside down and checking the face, he heard the sound of the front door opening and closing from afar.

Lewellyn.

Quickly, the name went through his head.

He hurried out of the bedroom. He turned the doorknob in a way the door opening and closing wouldn’t be heard. The problem was the candle. He was trying to return the candle, but he couldn’t remember where the candle was. It may be partly because the house was full of them and partly because Shavonne’s reason wasn’t working as it normally did due to what happened.

Where, where was the candle?

He tried desperately to remember, but it was in vain. The only thing filling his mind was words. Words Llewellyn had said at some point, words he hadn’t understood at the time.

― It’s disgusting when smells mix up.

Just in time, Lewellyn’s presence was near. “Mr. Shavonne?” Lewelyn’s voice, calmly asking, touched the ear and drifted away.

What should I do? What should I do?

His whole body froze as if he had a paralysis.

The next moment Lewellyn found Shavonne. Shavonne was standing empty-handed. The candle he was holding until now wasn’t in Shavonne’s hand nor in the house of Lewellyn.

“You took… you time”, Shavonne said. “Was it someone you know?”

Shavonne looked calm at first sight, but if one looked closely, his eyes were slightly flinching. Would Lewellyn have noticed that Shavonne was hiding something? His mouth dryed when he thought about it. Even when he tried to gather saliva, he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Yes. Someone I know.”

Lewellyn replied. He added as if it were no problem.

“It’s someone you know too, Mr. Shavonne. Probably.”

“What?” Shavonne jumped. His voice rose involuntarily. “No, absolutely not! There’s no way I could have an acquaintance in common with you…”

Shavonne couldn’t finish because Lewellyn stared at Shavonne closely. Only then did Shavonne shut up, belatedly realizing that his actions might look as him overreacting. All Shavonne could do at this moment was hope that Lewellyn wouldn’t feel suspicious.

Lewellyn didn’t say anything as Shavonne remained silent. It took less than ten seconds, but it felt like ten hours for Shavonne. Lewellyn slowly opened his mouth. The explanation that flowed through his lips was calm.

“It was the janitor.”

The janitor. Someone both Shavonne and Lewellyn knew.

Why haven’t I considered the possibility of the janitor?

Shavonne closed his eyes tightly.

When I get home, I’m going to sew this foul mouth shut.

Yeah, if only I could ‘go back home’…

It was then that something was placed on his cheek.

“You don’t look very good.”

It was his hand. It was a loving gesture, a touching like caressing a lover, but Shavonne couldn’t take it that way. A chill ran down his spine. An eerie feeling drenched his entire body. It wasn’t just because it was Lewellyn’s hand. It wasn’t only because it was the hands of a criminal, psychopath, or a psychopath criminal.

His hands were cold, to the extent that he could hardly think it belonged to a living person.

“You seem to have a fever, too,” mumbled Lewellyn with a worried look on his face. He wanted to reply that his hands were too cold, not that he had a fever, but he couldn’t. His mouth wouldn’t move.

Lewellyn raised his head and looked at Shavonne. Yellow eyes. It was only a few minutes ago that he had thought they seemed more like the eyes of an animal than those of a human, but now it felt like ancient history. Lewellyn’s eyes didn’t seem to be of either. They couldn’t belong to a living creature.

“Are you hot?”

Lewellyn asked.

I have to answer. If I don’t, he will start having doubts.

Shavonne swallowed the tension down the back of his throat. A hoarse voice leaked through Shavonne’s lips.

“Of course I’m hot.”

“What?”

Lewellyn tilted his head. It wasn’t that hot, but he couldn’t mumble a single word. Shavonne pretended to be nonchalant, and squeezed out his answer.

“You know. I got hot making the omelets.”

Lewellyn looked at Shavonne. His gaze felt like a net. Shavonne suppressed his instinct of avoiding Lewellyn’s eyes.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but Lewellyn smiled. As for Shavonne, Lewellyn offered him something he would never agree to.

“Would you like to have dinner with me some time again?”

“That’s…”

“If you don’t agree, I won’t let you leave.”

Lewellyn was still smiling. It was a smile full of mischief, like that of a naughty child.

― If you don’t agree, I won’t let you leave.

Under the harsh conditions that Lewellyn put forward, Shavonne had only one answer.

“…Sure. ”

Their dinner finished at 9 p.m.

“See you tomorrow―.” Shavonne left and Lewelyn came out of room 302 and the later waved his hand. When Shavonne entered room 303 across the empty hallway, he rushed into the bathroom and threw up the omelet.

I survived.

I’m alive.

After throwing up until his throat hurt, Shavonne realized something.

The pocket of his coat felt heavy. Just before Lewellyn appeared in front of Shavonne, he decided to blow out the candle and keep it.

The melted and hardened candle was cold. Like the hand of Lewellyn that touched Shavonne’s cheek.

While organizing the candles, Lewellyn found one was missing.

***

He had to report Lewellyn as soon as possible. Instead of trying to leave the house, Shavonne brought a boning knife (*A boning knife is mainly used in butcher shops to trim meat or separate meat from bones) from the kitchen. It was as small as his palm, but it was perfect for self-defense as it was sharp enough to easily hurt a person’s flesh. As soon as he hurried out of the house, he saw someone. It was Lewellyn.

Shavonne felt his body stiffened. The only thing that didn’t was his head. Questions poured out like heavy snow.

Why is Lewellyn here? The only thing we promised was eating dinner together, but we just did last night. Does he have any other plans?

Or is he ‘looking’ for something?

“Where are you going?”

It was Lewellyn who opened his mouth first. He couldn’t answer “to report you,”so he had to make up a story that would not make him look suspicious even if he went out of his house out of the blue at 9 p.m.

Fortunately, Shavonne was a writer (a ghostwriter is also a “writer”) and had the talent to make up plausible stories quickly.

“I’m going to the janitor’s office. The water keeps leaking,” Shavonne added. “If I just leave it alone, the house will be flooded or the walls and floors will rot.”

And unfortunately, Shavonnee was a writer who wasn’t good at keeping up and had the problem of making a plausible story turn into a mess.

“I guess those guys aren’t listening to you.” Lewellyn smiled.

It’s true that the janitors don’t listen to me, but why would he say that?

Shavonne blinked as he didn’t understand Lewellyn’s intentions. It was the next moment that his question was resolved.

“If you have to take a knife to tell them the water’s leaking.”

I forgot about the boning knife I’m holding.

His lips were wide open. His mind went blank. He couldn’t think of anything. It didn’t even occur to him what Lewellyn would think about the knife, the lie, and the unplanned outing. It was at that moment that cold water poured into his head, which made him go blank. Lewellyn had grabbed the hand that was holding the boning knife, Shavonne flinched as if he had woken up in a nightmare.

“Like this one.”

Lewellyn whispered in his ear. When he heard his breath and voice, he felt goosebumps down his ears, nape, and back. Lewellyn corrected Shavonne’s grip.

Lewellyn’s hand, which grabbed the handle so that the knife wouldn’t slip, guided him to put his thumb on the guard so that it wouldn’t fall out of his hands. Lewellyn was sweet to him, so he couldn’t imagine how he was the same person who had a body in his house, especially in his bedroom.

“If you hold it like that, you’ll cut yourself.” Lewellyn said while looking at Shavonne’s hand. As if choosing his words, or perhaps choking on them, Lewellyn paused for a moment and carried on with his words. “If you cut youself… it will hurt a lot for a long, long time.”

Who doesn’t know that?

Shavonne glared at Lewellyn. Whether he didn’t know the meaning of his stare or pretended not to know, Lewellyn clapped his hands loudly as if he had come up with something.

“Oh, if you don’t take an umbrella now, you’ll be a snowman when you come back, or end up lying down in the corner of the Royal Hospital’s mortuary,” he added with a bright smile. “Have a safe trip.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be home. Unlike Mr. Shavonne, I don’t have anyone to visit while holding a knife at 9 p.m.”

Lewellyn was coming up with the wrong answer to the point that it was hard to notice whether he misunderstood or pretended to have misunderstood. Shavonne felt a prickling sensation in his throat as if he had a thorn stuck. He collected dry saliva, swallowed it and asked a direct question.

“What I’m asking is what you’re here for.”

Lewellyn didn’t answer. He stared at Shavonne with his yellow eyes. Shavonne felt a tickle of nervousness creeping back and forth. It was Lewelyn who said all the words that had been said until now, but since Lewelyn suddenly kept his mouth shut, it wasn’t unusual for Shavonne to be swept away by anxiety.

“I forgot something.”

Forgot?

He suddenly thought of the candles. The cold wax of the candle he had stuck in the pocket of his coat still seemed to be hovering around his grasp.

‘

What did you forget

?’ He knew he had to ask, but he couldn’t move his lips. If he asked and heard an answer he couldn’t digest, then… Shavonne grabbed the boning knife harder. His hand was wet because of his cold sweat.

The next moment, Lewellyn put something in front of Shavonne’s eyes. It was…

“Here you are.”

It was money. One rona bill.

“For the omelet.”

… Omelet?

Shavonne blinked because he didn’t understand the situation. He alternately looked at the one rona bill and at Lewellyn. As a result, Lewellyn continued to explain without caring.

“Fifty celronas per egg, 30 for the cheese. The other 20 is the comission.”

Lewellyn smiled.

“What, I’m right, am I not?”

Don’t forget to give me one rona. It’s 50 celronas per egg and 30 celronas for the cheese.The remaining 20 celronas is the commission. A total of one rona, right?

Shavonne thought he would never eat an omelet again.

***

About an hour after that.

The East Bunch Police Department was so rowdy that no one noticed that someone new had entered the police station. A man was seen making a disturbance and he heard glass breaking, furniture flipping, shouting and screaming.

Shavonne couldn’t take his eyes off him. A large cut that seemed to be coming down from the cheekbones to the chin, covering half of the face. It looked even more ugly because it didn’t heal even though it was a wound that was made the last few days.

Not only the face but also the body was a sight to behold. Everywhere he wasn’t covered in clothes, he was covered in bruises. His neck was black, and when Shavonne looked closely, the blood had dried up and turned black.

The absolute majority of police officers were trying to calm the man down, but with some exceptions. Some police officers didn’t do anything and some officers tried to leave the police station as if they didn’t want to get caught up in the hassle. Shavonne caught one of them and asked.

“What’s going on?”

“It happens all the time,” the police officer said, trying to pull himself out. Shavonne was somehow caught up in a sense of unease. “So what’s exactly going on?” The policeman raised his shoulder and got off. The story told by the police officer was as follows.

“There was an unexplained fire that swallowed three warehouses in East Bunch on Rule Street, and the incident began when a man saw and reported his neighbor, shouting that he did it.

It wasn’t until last night, three days after the report was filed, that the police visited the neighborhood,

‘Did you start the fire on Rule Street?’

At that question, the neighbor answered, ‘No.’

The policeman nodded. ‘I see.’

The neighbor asked, ‘Who would say such a thing?’

The policeman shrugged, ‘The man upstairs.’

The neighbor went upstairs with a knife as soon as the police left. Then he kicked him, slapped him, beat him up… He even slashed his face with the knife.”

Shavonne’s jaw dropped. “No, how…” Shavonne couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t understand how he could have told him that and the police didn’t protect the reporter. The police officer, however, only answered casually with a look on his face as if he knew what Shavonne wanted to say.

“Well, we couldn’t do anything about it. It was his responsibility to deal with.”

To conclude, Shavonne failed to report Lewellyn. This was because he learned that the reporter wasn’t protected, whether from the police or from the citizens. He couldn’t help it. Like most people in the world, Shavonne was a person whose survival instinct was ahead of his law-abiding spirit.

What should I do?

He thought about it but couldn’t come to a conclusion.

It snowed silently all night. Shavonne started to have nightmares, but he couldn’t remember them.

Let’s go back.

That was Shavonne’s conclusion after a full day of consideration. It was morning. When Shavonne looked at the money he had, it was less than 15 ronas. He barely had money for the rent, let alone moving out. The problem was that rent wasn’t the only thing a person had to spend for living.

Shit.

Shavonne did a face palm. His face was sunken as if he hadn’t slept for at least a month.

He couldn’t help it anymore. Shavonne walked in front of the trash can. As he turned over the trash can, piles of trash poured down. Shavonne searched the floor.

It should be here…

A cold and sharp thing touched his hand. The key.

As I expected, here it is.

He tried to pull it off, but it wasn’t as easy as he thought because the key and the bottom of the trash were sticky. Shavonne was able to grab the key only after putting so much effort that it even made him fall off.

The place he stopped by after the trash can was the bed. More exactly, under the bed. He tried to put his body in, but acrid dust hit his eyes, the smell of musty rat poop hit his nose, and the sound of bugs pierced his ears, so Shavonne decided to move the bed.

The bed didn’t move easily. Not only because of its weight, but because it had been stuck there for as long as eight years. When he moved the bed, he saw the sacrament dust, rat poop, dead bugs, and the household safe.

A safe. When Shavonne got a job as a ghostwriter, it was bought by Dr. Fawkes as a souvenir, and at first, the glossy exterior was very shabby.

What if it doesn’t open because it’s old?

Shavonne became nervous for no reason.

Fortunately, the safe was fine. What bothered him was that it felt stiff when he put the key in and turned it, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. The safe had an envelope that read “Use in an emergency”. When he grabbed it, there were two ronas and twelve celronas inside.

He rubbed his eyes and checked again, but he lifted it upside down and shook it out, the result didn’t change. 2 Ronas. 12 celronas. That was it. Shavonne felt an urge to smash the safe. His past self could have shared a little bit more.

Whether Shavonne wanted it or not, there was only one person Shavonne could lean on. That was…

“Do you have any extra money?”

When Shavonne asked a sudden question, Dr. Fawkes nonchalantly refused as if he were familiar with such request.

“I don’t have anything to lend you.”

“Not a single celrona?”

He asked back with a determination to catch at straw. He didn’t expect Dr. Fawkes’ answer to change, of course, but he couldn’t stand still. Dr. Fawkes replied, still with a calm face.

“Not even a celrona.”

Damn it.

Shavonne dropped his head. Even so, Dr. Fawkes drank tea. As if not caring at all, he started a long talk, evaluating the tea he was drinking.

“It tastes great, but the aroma feels cheap, to say the leasr. The person who made this must have either olfactory problems or an antisocial personality disorder, otherwise one wouldn’t sell this in their store menu, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.” It didn’t matter whether the tea tasted like nectar or if the dessert tasted like ambrosia. What was important was reality. Shavonne won’t be able to earn a penny from Dr. Fawkes, won’t be able to leave Ira Street, and must live as the neighbor of a murderer.

If it hadn’t been an open cafe, or if Dr. Fawkes hadn’t been sitting across the table, Shavonne would have buried his face in his hands like a child. “‘I wouldn’t know’, what’s up with that reaction?” Dr. Fawkes raised his eyebrows. “Are you mad by any chance?”

“… I was just asking you to think about it, so I’m disappointed that you refused without even thinking it twice.”

“A favor is powerless. If you need something, don’t ask me, persuade me. If you think it’s worth it, threaten me.”

“Is that how everybody in business thinks, or is it just you?”

“Every adult resident of Bunch says so, except you.”

Dr. Fawkes hadn’t changed a bit. Shavonne frowned, but Dr. Fawkes kept talking, so he missed the right time to get angry.

“What do you need money for?”

“For…”

How should I explain it?

While Shavonne couldn’t answer while rolling his head, Dr. Fawkes poured out a mountain of questions.

“Rent?”

“No.”

“Living expenses?”

“No.”

“A man?”

“…?”

“God, Shavonne, I warned you to check whether the person has a STD or not if you’re going to sleep with a man you don’t know. Tell me, is it gonorrhoea or syphilis?”

Shavonne frowned. He was in no condition to answer Dr. Fawkes’ joke.

“Tomorrow, no, even today, I have to move out right now. The person next door…”

Is a ‘murderer’

Shavonne shut up. It was an open space. All the clients seemed busy drinking tea or chatting with their friends, and the waiters also seemed busy cleaning up, but anyway, he would be in trouble if a single person overheard what Shavonne was saying. In the end, what Shavonne said was as follows.

“Is a bad guy.”

“Oh God, do you think there are only one or two bad people on Ira Street?”

Dr. Fawkes shrugged as if it were nothing. Shavonne was almost in tears.

“He’s a brutal criminal! I’m sure you wouldn’t bear it when you hear what kind of person he is.”

“You know, No. 403, your upstairs neighbor, Isadora, was sentenced to prison for armed robbery, and the Humphreys downstairs served time in prison for smuggling, tomb theft and forging bills. By the way, do you know the head janitor? He did arson twice and got his toes cut off , either last year or two year ago, and they all are still committing the same crimes in a way that the police won’t track them down.”

“… How do you know all this?” It was true that Ms. Isadora and the Humphreys lived upstairs and downstairs, respectively. He didn’t know if it was true or not, but Shavonne, who had a long face, hurriedly corrected the question. “If what you said is true, shouldn’t you report them?”

“Shavonne.”

Dr. Fawkes called Shavonne. Only then did Shavonne stop his questioning.

“People don’t have to be righteous.”

“…”

“There is no need for a person to be righteous even at their own risk.”

“But…”

“Your life can be threatened, Shavonne.”

“How long will you be like that?” Dr. Fawkes added. His voice seemed to be friendly as if he were trying to appease and soothe a child who didn’t listen. “Everyone is bad.”

Dr. Fawkes extended Shavonne’s hand and gave him a teaspoon. When Shavonne didn’t hold the teaspoon, he let Shavonne fold his fingers. Warmth remained within the reach of Dr. Fawkes. It was a warm feeling that felt strange.

“The only difference is whether they are bad to you or not.”

Lewellyn’s hand came to his mind. That hand was cold enough to cool down his spine as soon as he touched it.

Can a person with such a hand not be a bad person?

Shavonne’s situation on his way home wasn’t good. He had three ronas in his pocket when leaving his apartment, but he returned with only 30 celronas. He ended up paying for the tea and dessert they had ordered.

The thing is…

― No matter how heinous a criminal is, it doesn’t matter if you or the people around you are not their targeted. Pretend you don’t know anything. It’s for your own good.

That was what Dr. Fawkes said at the café. Shavonne didn’t answer anything. Dr. Fawkes, looking at Shavonne, sighed deeply.

― Alright. If you still want to live like that, so be it.

Dr. Fawkes stood up. Shavonne, who didn’t let go of his expectation to take money from Dr. Fawkes, asked with his eyes wide open.

― Are you leaving? Already?

― I’m leaving. Already.

Dr. Fawkes added.

― You pay for it.

It was Dr. Fawkes, not Shavonne, who had tea and dessert. Because Shavonne was trying to borrow money from someone else for the first time in his life, he was nervous and, of course, never had a bite of the tea or the dessert. Shavonne tried to refute it, but Dr. Fawkes, who repeated his words, said first.

― You do it.

Then he added with a smug look on his face.

― Didn’t you say you wanted to live taking the risk?

Shavonne didn’t know if he was dealing with a grumpy kid or a famous doctor with virtues and skills. Shavonne crumpled his face.

― You’re really… childish.

Dr. Fawkes didn’t seem to care.

― Childish, huh. You’re the only one who can make me so childish.

Eventually, Shavonne returned to his apartment on Ira. It was before midnight. All he could see was darkness and countless snowflakes that wouldn’t have been seen without the lights.

The apartment building was as cold as the streets. His face was numb as if it had been cut with a knife, and every time he breathed, a white breath poured out. Footsteps across the apartment lobby, up the stairs, and through the hallway resonated loudly.

And then, Shavonne faced Lewellyn, who was crouching between doors 302 and 303.

He wanted to pass by pretending not to know him, but he couldn’t because they had already made eye contact. Lewellyn, who found Shavonne, jumped up.

“Mr. Shavonne!” He greeted Shavonne. In other words, he blocked Shavonne’s way, rather than just being face to face.

Silence remained. To break down that awkward atmosphere, Shavonne had to ask something, but he couldn’t think what. In the end, Shavonne…

“…Were you waiting for me?”

He tried to stretch his face but he couldn’t as his face was stiff.

Lewellyn then replied with the welcoming face remaining the same.

“Yes!”

Everyone is bad.

The only difference is whether they are bad to you or not.

The voice of Dr. Fawkes whispered in his ears.

You didn’t wait here to kill me, did you…?

Shavonne managed to shake off the ominous thought in his head.

He asked in a dry and hazy voice. “…Why?”

“Why do you think?”

He didn’t think Lewellyn would say, ‘I’m going to kill you,’ but it was an unexpected reaction anyway.

Shavonne ignored his question. This was because if he answered, the conversation would continue. It wasn’t good to have a long conversation with a murderer.

“If you don’t have any business with me, I’ll go first.”

But Lewellyn seemed unwilling to let Shavonne comfortably enter Room 303.

“Are you uncomfortable because I waited for you?”

Shavonne stopped at the question that Lewellyn suddenly asked. The hand trying to catch and turn the door handle of No. 303 stopped too. Shavonne turned around and Lewellyn was looking at him with his yellow eyes that still didn’t seem human.

Uncomfortable? Is there anyone who wouldn’t feel uncomfortable when a ‘bad guy’ is waiting in front of the house like a debtor?

Shavonne swallowed the words in his mouth with saliva and answered.

“Yes.”

His answer felt colder at first glance because his voice was low, but Lewellyn had still a bright smile on his face.

“Great. That’s why I waited.”

“…”

Shavonne was at a loss for words. Having said that, Lewellyn added with a smile.

“It’s better to be uncomfortable than to be nothing.”

He was still speechless… but it didn’t end there.

“It’s cold. You need to go in.”

And then he acted out of character,

“Ah, right, I had something to tell you, but I almost forgot again.”

And then he changed his mind and listened to Shavonne.

Don’t tell me that ‘I have something to tell you’…

Shavonne’s complexion turned pale. The cold texture of the candle came back to his grasp.

Lewellyn opened his mouth. He was smiling.

“When would be good for the next dinner?”

It was the dinner that he promised.

Would you like to have dinner with me some time again? If you don’t agree, I won’t let you leave.

Shavonne had no choice but to get caught up in what Lewelyn said with a playful smile like a child.

It seems that he hasn’t noticed that a candle’s missing. That’s right. There were dozens of candles, there’s no way he could remember them all.

Shavonne breathed in relief and answered. No, he was going to answer. But Shavonne…

“That’s…”

Lewellyn talked first.

“Are you busy?”

He couldn’t say otherwise.

“Yes. Work is work…”

“Is it hard?”

“For sure.”

That wasn’t a lie though. Ghostwriters, even if they were nameless writers, were treated poorly by the publishers, big or small ones.

“Won’t it be easier if I help you?”

“Thank you very much, but this is a task that no one can help me with.”

“Why don’t I clean up while Mr. Shavonne works?”

“…Clean up?”

Shavonne asked back. He thought he must have misheard him, but the next moment Lewellyn told Shavonne that he hadn’t.

“Yes. Clean up. Do the laundry, and so on.”

“Of course I know what cleaning means, but…”

“Mr. Shavonne”. It was still a kind voice and he still had a smiling face, but his words were not. It was far from pleasant and fresh laughter. “Why do you keep saying ‘but’?”

One step, Lewellyn approached him.

“Why do you keep rejecting me?”

Two steps, Lewellyn approached him.

“Why do you keep treating me like a child?”

Three steps, Lewellyn approached him.

He was too close. They could see how they were reflected in each other’s eyes, feel each other’s cold breath and see what each other’s eyelashes looked like. Lewellyn’s eyes were somehow creepy.

“Are you making excuses because you don’t want to be with me?”

If he answered right away, he didn’t know if he would end up like the corpse rotting in Lewellyn’s house. Shavonne squeezed out an answer.

“No.”

A reaction happened immediately. “Me too.” Lewellyn rejoiced. “If you had rejected me, I’d have stopped inviting you, but you didn’t, so I’ll keep inviting you.”

Again. I got involved again.

Fortunately, Shavonne wasn’t very helpless, even though he was involved. Shavonne also had its own countermeasures.

“Let’s go to a restaurant this time.”

It was the suggestion that Shavonne gave.

He couldn’t eat at Lewellyn’s house. It would be a lie to say that it wasn’t as uncomfortable as the house where the body was, but there was a more important reason. If he went to his “may-be-a-killer” neighbour’s house, Shavonne was more likely to be killed.

Shavonne was fearing that Lewellyn would refuse going to a restaurant because it was expensive.

“Come empty-handed. It’s on me.”

Lewellyn blinked.

“Mr. Shavonne?”

“Yes.”

“It’s on you, Mr. Shavonne.”

Whether it was an insult or a worry… Shavonne said with a frown.

“I have enough money to buy us dinner.”

With an incredulous look on his face, Lewellyn (thankfully) didn’t say anything anymore.

So the meal was set for three days later. And throughout those three days, Shavonne had to ask if there was a cheap restaurant where he could eat for less than 3 ronas per person.