MLCD Chapter 2.1 || Blind Rest

Even if you are in a relationship with a murderer, the world still keeps going on.

The world hadn’t changed a bit after he dated a murderer. Shavonne still had no money. Even if he was called a beggar, my wallet was so light that he couldn’t refute it. No, it was not light, but empty.

The world still gave Shavonne the cold shoulder. There was no publisher who gave him a job. There wasn’t a single place where he would get hired even if he lowered his salary to an unconventional bargain. It was because the editor of Deck Publishing had trouble with Shavonne, and spread the rumor that a ghostwriter named Shavonne was cheap, but his job spirit wasn’t good.

Neighbors argued that they were uncomfortable because of Shavonne. Some people left trash and reported it saying that it was Shavonne’s doing, and others pointed out that if they heard a pounding sound somewhere, it was the psycho living in Room 303.

The seasons still passed by. He thought the whole world would always be spring with a yellowish color, but then turned pale. In late spring and early summer, all the air was fresh with the green on the border.

It was a strange thing. As he dated a murderer, he didn’t know exactly what it, but he thought something would collapse and the world would change, but he guessed in vain as when he was kicked out of the orphanage, went broke, and was called now a psychopath. Maybe Shavonnee wasn’t very good at judging the world.

There was only one thing that changed. What was at his side was his “young, handsome, and unpredictable, but  cute neighbor and murderer” that he could call “lover” instead of that long and complicated relationship.

Even if he was in a relationship with a murderer, the world kept going on. Buds sprout, warm winds blowed, flowers bloomed, fruit got ripen in a poplar tree on the side of the road,, and then every time he saw him, he found himself thinking of the word ‘lover’ first rather than ‘murderer’.

***

The serial murders in Ira, which rocked the entire South Bunch last winter, were over as the investigation ended. Although it wasn’t closed, it moved to a long-term unsolved case, and considering that the rate at which long-term unsolved cases were resolved was as low as the probability of being struck by lightning while walking down the street, it was best to say that it had ended.

The police had nothing to do because they couldn’t find a clue to catch the criminal, and it wasn’t clear whether a follow-up crime would happen or not.

Moreover (maybe, above all), there were too many more important violent crimes. Terrorism and serial kidnappings were such “important” violent crimes because it was aimed at local and foreign politicians staying in Bunch before the small neutral country Bosch’s asylum was granted, and the series of kidnappings were aimed at women across South Bush’s richest street, K Street.

The poorest district in Bunch was South Bunch, and Ira Street was the poorest street in South Bunch. It was natural to solve crimes that were feared to lead to diplomatic and social problems first, rather than a series of murders that took place on Ira Street, which was a  extremely poor slum, and where victims and perpetrators hadn’t been identified.

He wanted to say that all lives were precious as moral textbooks and religious doctrines said, but the reality was too clear. Their life was at stake.

No one knew it and no one should know it, but Shavonne made a great contribution to ending the serial murders in Ira. It was spring. For a moment, he was glad they started dating. Shavonne decided to get rid of Lewellyn’s “work”. Whenever he read a murder article on the first page of The Daily Bunch, passed by the police station, or recalled the hospital’s morgue, Shavonne’s determination weakened.

Of course, Shavonne knew the fact that there was no such thing as trying to change people by using their status as lovers.

But if the problem involved a crime, the story was different.

“I know… you did all that.”

It was the first words that Shavonne could say.

It was one o’clock in the afternoon when the white sunlight deflected into the window. Waves of light rippled across the edge of the bed head and shelf. The typewriter on the desk reflected a sparkle-light. Looking down at the typewriter, Lewellyn turned his head and looked at Shavonne. His face was dazzling in the sunlight.

“That?”

Asked Lewellyn. Shavonne wiped his face. He avoided the word murder because he didn’t want to put it in his mouth, but now that this situation happened, he couldn’t help it.

“Murder.”

As expected, he felt unpleasant while saying it. Only then did Lewellyn make an interesting face. He mumbled “Hmm?” as if he wanted him to keep talking. Shavonne bravely faced Lewellyn.

“I don’t want you to.”

He corrected himself as soon as he spoke.

“No, you musn’t.”

Lewellyn smiled broadly. He raised both hands and said casually.

“Persuade me.”

How should I persuade him? My head is spinning. Shavonne never needed to explain common sense or questioned it. Just as the sun rises in the morning and the moon rises at night, or that when bones are broken, it hurts and you bleed when you’re wounded, humans should not kill people. After much consideration, Shavonne chose the argument of morality.

“Murder is wrong.”

“Yes, and I’m a bad person.”

Lewellyn smiled and accepted it. He thought it wouldn’t work, but he was still bitter to see that it really didn’t work. After much consideration, Shavonne chose the argument of ethics.

“You’re going to feel guilty.”

“Shall we bet on that?”

This time again, Lewellyn smiled and accepted it. He thought it wouldn’t work, but he was still bitter to see that it really didn’t work. After much consideration, Shavonne chose the argument of feelings.

“It’s not just killing one person, it’s killing people around him. He was someone’s son, a husband, a father…”

“What if he was a son who killed his parents, a father who sold his wife or a father who sold his child like a dog? Did I hurt them?”

This time again, Lewellyn smiled and accepted it. He thought it wouldn’t work, but he was still bitter to see that it really didn’t work. After much consideration, Shavonne chose the argument of religious doctrines.

“You’ll go to hell if you kill people.”

“I can’t wait.”

This time again, Lewellyn smiled and accepted it. He thought it wouldn’t work, but he was still bitter to see that it really didn’t work. After much consideration, Shavonne chose the argument of Lewellyn’s safety.

“You will be executed.”

“I’ve experienced worse things than that.”

This time again, Lewellyn smiled and accepted it. He put his chin in one hand and looked at Shavonne with a joyful face.

“Anything else?”

The stories that ordinary people would say didn’t work. In a way, it was natural. If that worked, Lewellyn wouldn’t have killed people in the first place.

You needed to approach a man as a man, and a dog as a dog. Shavonne decided to approach it in a way he had never tried before.

“Let’s break up.”

In an instant, Lewellyn’s mouth was hardened as it still had a smile.

“I’ll leave you and never see you again.”

The part ‘when you kill a person’ was omitted, but Lewellyn wasn’t stupid enough not to notice it.

Lewellyn lowered his hand that held his chin. Lewellyn’s face was so hardened that he couldn’t believe he was smiling just a moment ago. The smile turned so cold that it was unrecognizable. Lewellyn opened his mouth. His voice cracked apart as it was dry.

“You said you liked me.”

“I like you,” Shavonne said calmly. “I’m doing this because I like you.”

Lewellyn didn’t seem to understand. Shavonne started to explain.

“What if you commit a murder and get arrested? Will I be okay if you’re executed? Will I be known as a murderer’s lover? I’m an ordinary person. As I don’t want to be executed or put in prison, I’m not going to like you. If that happens, I’ll have no choice but to hate you, resent you, and regret all the memories I had with you.”

Then, he asked.

“Do you want that?”

There was silence. Shavonne wondered if Lewellyn thought of what he said as persuasion or intimidation. Either way, it was that. The essence of changing something was the same, just the shell was different.

It wasn’t long before Lewellyn opened his mouth. It was a murky and cracked voice.

“I love you so much.”

Shavonne didn’t understand the meaning. He looked up at Lewellyn. Lewellyn said it again.

“I love you too, too much.”

Shavonne didn’t answer. Lewellyn left. Shavonne didn’t get it.

Too much. Left alone, Shavonne pondered the word that Lewellyn said. Unlike what ordinary people use, he chose that instead of others like ‘very’ or ‘a lot’ and those couldn’t be replaced with too much, as that kind of implies a negative tone, like ‘excessive amount’.

Shavonne pondered again. I love you too much.

Shavonne pondered again. I love you too much that I can’t handle you.

Shavonne pondered again. I love you too much that you are harmful to everyone.

Nevertheless, Shavonne didn’t know what it meant to love a person ‘too much’. Maybe Shavonne already loved a person ‘too much’. If he didn’t love ‘too much’, he wouldn’t have dated a murderer. No, he wouldn’t even dare to date him.

Lewellyn, who left the apartment in Ira at 1 p.m., returned at midnight that day. The staggering footsteps were heard through the hall. Shavonne, who was reading John Gray’s novel at home, thought Lewellyn must have been drunk.

A letter arrived the next day. It wasn’t a letter through the post office, as there was no stamp on the envelope. A stamp looked like the ash tree, the symbol of South Bunch, and it was drawn in detail, and the letter Shavonne received only had an Y on the spot where the stamp was supposed to be attached. He later realized that the Y in question was supposed to be a drawing of the ash tree. The sender was Newell y. l. l, the one he was familiar with.

Shavonne was at a loss for words. He would get it if Newell’s identity hadn’t been revealed, but he couldn’t as it was already public that Newell was Lewellyn.

The content was as expected. It was more like a diary than a letter, and there was one sentence that caught his eye.

『It’s hard, loving someone to the point of losing yourself. 』

Shavonne felt the same way. It was hard to bring Lewellyn into Shavonne’s life at the expense of Shavonne himself.

But…

Shavonne sent the mail. The sender was Shavonne, the recipient was Newell, and the location was from 303 to 302 apartment houses in Ira. Shavonne sent only one passage in Newell’s letter, which was followed by a text and correction.

『It’s worth trying to love someone to the point of losing yourself.』

To begin with, that persuasion worked for him. At least Shavonne thought so.

***

On a rainy evening, Shavonne suddenly opened his mouth as he looked over the window at the foggy drizzle. It was like a Q&A.

“Why did you kill them?”

Lewellyn didn’t answer. Shavonne looked away from the rain and looked back at Lewellyn. A dim room. Sitting at his desk, Lewellyn looked down at the floor and remained silent. Shavonne sighed inwardly. Shavonne was his lover, not an interrogating detective. He couldn’t force a person who wouldn’t answer.

“Who did you kill them?”

It was a formal question. There was no expectation in the first place that there would be an answer. Unexpectedly, however, Lewellyn replied to that. Am I mistaken? Lewellyn’s face feels ice-cold.

“Because they needed to die.”

Shavonne didn’t ask any more. The sound of rain was loud.

Shavonne contributed greatly to ending the serial murder in Ira. It was obvious, but it was something no one knew and no one else should know.

***

Work was part of everyday life. That was true for the men Shavonne dated. Shavonne’s boyfriend, who may be the seventh or perhaps eighth, was a chimney cleaner, and the standard for him to choose his lover was whether there was a chimney at home. The chimney cleaner claimed that if there was a chimney, it would be so annoying for him that he couldn’t concentrate on his lover, thinking whether it was dirty or not.

The typesetter, his tenth boyfriend, always protested when he found a stain on the printer, and his 13th boyfriend kept grinding his teeth when he saw the gas lamp.

Shavonne was no different, and as a writer and proofreader, he couldn’t miss the word with the wrong spelling. That’s why he corrected Lewellyn’s spelling, new yeer, as new year. Is that only it? He also said that he loved Shavonne “too much”, which would not have meant much to ordinary people, but ‘too’ wasn’t ‘so’.

What you did was used in your everyday life. If you watch the way someone lived, you could tell if that person was a chimney cleaner, typesetter or whatever. Shavonne thought it was an absolute rule that couldn’t exist as an exception. At least until he dated Lewellyn.

There was nothing that reminded him that Mr. Lewellyn was a murderer in his daily life. He wasn’t a normal murderer. Of course, Shavonne wouldn’t be able to give a clear answer if someone asked him what a killer’s routine was like. A murderer didn’t eat human flesh, live in a house decorated with human bones, or wear bloody clothes that looked suspicious.

But…

“What’s all this?”

“Onions.”

“I know that, but…”

“It was being sold at half price at the market, so I couldn’t miss it.”

Lewellyn had a basket full of onions and smiled proudly. Shavonne thought. There is no one who can think of the word murderer as ‘this’.

But even if he atet an onion salad instead of human flesh, even if he lived in a house decorated with a red circled calendar instead of human bones (“What happened the 23rd?” “It was the day Shavonne confessed to me” ” Ah” ” Why do you say ‘ah’?” “I didn’t think you’d be a person who celebrates your anniversary, so it surprised me”), and even if he was wearing a nice suit instead of bloody clothes, a murderer was a killer. The law that worked was used in everyday life had never been wrong. Lewellyn would be no exception.

Shavonne was determined to confirm the flip side of the killer from the ordinary-looking Lewellyn. Rather than coming, it was a sense of duty and a sense of responsibility rather than curiosity.

He accepted Lewellyn because he thought he was the only one on ‘his side’. It was absurd that he didn’t know what kind of person was at ‘his side’. It was of course scary that at “his side” there was a (current or former) murderer, but what scared Shavonne was the fact that Shavonne himself didn’t figure out what “his side” was.

The first attempt was the Ronin mystery novel. It was a popular mystery novel of the time, and the story was a typical one: a detective looking for a criminal, but the narrative was different.

If it was a conventional mystery novel to describe, “There was a dead body,” Ronin’s mystery novel described, “He must have been dead, but the man’s eyes were moving. When I looked closely, his eyes were not moving; the swarms of white maggots were wriggling into the small pieces”.

That wasn’t enough, but it also contained illustrations, which reminded him of a close-up picture of how precise it was. Children, elderly, pregnant women, as well as adults with fine limbs, often fainted while reading Ronin mystery novel. Shavonne was like that. He challenged the Ronin mystery novel five years ago and he had nightmares for three months straight.

Shavonne lent him the Ronin mystery novel. It was based on this calculation that a murderer would not be afraid of it. If he wasn’t scared, he would have fun with it.

It was only a day after Shavonne lent him Ronin:

“Here you are.”

Lewellyn put the book on the table.

“…”

Shavonne glanced at Lewellyn’s face. Lewellyn didn’t have any significant expression. It was neither scary nor fun. Shavonne asked under the guise of being calm.

“How was it?”

“It was fun,” Lewellyn replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Until the table of contents.”

Lewellyn pushed the book with his fingertips to the end of the table and added.

“You know, I’m kind of weak.”

He didn’t look like a murderer. Of course, if someone asked what a killer looked like, Shavonne couldn’t give a clear answer, but definitely not someone a little weak.

Shavonne wanted to ask how a weak person who couldn’t even read the novel was able to murder someone, but then he was afraid that Lewellyn would get an answer that Shavonne couldn’t even imagine (“The novel is exaggerated. It’s actually worth doing it”).

“But if I read with Shavonne’s knees as a pillow, I feel like I can read it completely.”

“You don’t have to go that far to read it.”

“You’re heartless.”

“Did you notice just now? ”

The second attempt was to draw blood. It was based on the calculation that a murderer would like blood. Even if he didn’t, he would be used to it.

Shavonne bought raw meat that had just been slaughtered at the South Bunch slaughterhouse. He put it in his bag because he had nowhere to put it, and by the time Shavonne arrived at the apartment in Ira, blood was leaking from raw meat, so the bag was red.

As soon as he knocked, the door of room 302 opened. Lewellyn’s face was white, slipping through the open door. “Someone else did it this time, and it was Mr. Shavonne,” he laughed and added. “I know why you came.”

There was no way he could know, but he said he did. Shavonne had a brusque face. “Why did I come here?”

“That’s because Mr. Shavonne loves me” replied Lewellyn with a smiling face. His voice was full of conviction. “Because you missed me… you thought you’d go crazy if you didn’t see me. Right?”

“….”

Here we go again.

Shavonne decided not to show any response because he would seem cold-hearted if he denied it.

The bag in his hand is heavy. The bag was red because of the raw meat. Shavonne’s idea headed for raw meat in his bag and bag by itself. He had to talk about it to see Lewellyn’s reaction, but now that he was there, he couldn’t figure out how to show him the raw meat. He wouldn’t believe that Shavonne took out raw meat and put it in front of his eyes. Just imagining it was a strange picture.

Shavonne felt a throbbing sensation in his head. He felt pathetic about himself while knocking on Room 302 without even preparing a decent excuse.

Redemption was done by Lewellyn.

“What is it?”

Before he knew it, Lewellyn was looking down at the bag. To be exact, the bottom of the bag, which was wet with blood.

It was a good moment to get his act together. Shavonne pulled raw meat out of the bag. Instead of telling the truth and saying ‘it’s a tool to help me’, he said.

“It’s a gift.”

There was silence. The only sound was a ttuk, ttuk sound. It may have hardened or dried while coming from the slaughterhouse to the apartment, but blood was still dripping from raw meat.

“Thank you, but…” Lewellyn started talking. “Can you cook it for me?” He shrugged lightly and added. “I’m not that tough of a person.”

He didn’t look like a murderer. Of course, if someone asked what a killer looked like, Shavonne couldn’t give a clear answer, but definitely not “Thank you but can’t you learn how to cook it?”

Shavonne said while stuffing the raw meat into his bag.

“Let’s have dinner together.”

At dinner, the two had a heated debate over how much meat to grill, and Lewellyn said it should be well-done, while Shavonnee said rare was the best taste. It was Lewellyn who stepped down first from the heated debate. “If you give me a kiss, I think I’ll like it, too.”

” You don’t have to like it. Let’s cook it well-done.”

“Meanie.”

“You’re right, I am a meanie.”

After all, their dinner was half burnt and half well-done.

***

The third attempt was to meassure how much he was a murderer. It was based on his own calculation that a murderer needed to have a light mind to kill a person. If he didn’t, he would just be a psycho.

Shavonne pretended to have met a gangster on his way home.

Whatever, I don’t even have any money to be stolen, so I didn’t fight and gave all I had,, but it was only one or two selonas. Do you know what he said afterwards? I apologize for extorting money from a beggar without realizing. He apologized!

“Damn it, I’m going to kill him if I see him again!”

Lewellyn was blinking, being surprised. “Mr. Shavonne, even if you don’t look like it…” Lewellyn tried to carefully choose the right words. “You’re violent.”

Shavonne shouldn’t have laughed, but he couldn’t help it after being dumbfounded to hear that he was violent by a real murderer. Lewellyn smiled brightly as if he interpreted it to mean that Shavonne’s anger had been released and raised his hand to caress Shavonne’s cheek. He also brushed the disheveled hair off Shavonne’s forehead.

“You’re pretty, too.”

Shavonne was wondering if he heard it wrong. He frowned and looked at Lewellyn. “What?”

“Shavonne is still pretty even if you’re violent.”

Shavonne shouldn’t have laughed, but he couldn’t help it after being dumbfounded to hear that he was pretty from a really pretty person. Lewellyn grabbed Shavonne’s cheeks and pushed his face as if he interpreted it to mean that Shavonne’s heart was relieved.

Shavonne thought that Lewellyn’s beauty was so unrealistic that he didn’t feel human.

The owner of that unrealistic beauty suddenly spoke out. His eyes were squinted with a smile.

“You can do it if you want.”

What? Shavonne looked at him because he didn’t get it and Lewellyn smiled.

“Kissing me.”

Shavonne had a sick and tired face. Lewellyn said, “Oh, you don’t want to”. Whether his face meant that Shavonne turned it down or not, Lewellyn didn’t seem to care.

“What about hugging?”

“No.”

“And holding hands?”

“No.”

“Is there anything that I can do?”

He didn’t look like a murderer. Of course, Shavonne couldn’t give a clear answer if someone asked him the appareance of a killer, but it definitely wouldn’t be someone that went, “Can I hug you?”, “And holding hands?” or “Is there anything that I can do?”. Shavonne replied while pulling back.

“As it seems, for now, nothing.”

Lewellyn had a sad look on his face. Shavonne bursted into laughter. Shavonne’s three attempts to find out what kind of person Lewellyn was were not just a failure. He didn’t know if Lewellyn was indeed a killer or not, but he knew for sure that Lewellyn was a kid.

Having someone ‘by his side’ wasn’t that bad. It was the first time in his life he experienced it.

Lewellyn tried tasting rare meat as Shavonne liked. It didn’t taste good.

***

The leaves of the Platanus tree were wet because of the rain. Raindrops falling down the leaves fell into a shallow round puddle.

It had been a week since it rained, stopped, and rained again. Throughout the week, Shavonne didn’t leave the apartment. No, it would be better to say that he didn’t have anything that made him want to go out. He hated getting wet in the rain, because he had to walk carefully to avoid the stagnant puddles on the floor, and because he hated it when the muddy water splashed and stained his clothes. He didn’t even know if he had an umbrella. The only umbrella he had was broken and it was too expensive to buy a new one.

Like every year, Shavonne planned to stay in the apartment until the spring market was over. He would just read the newspaper, catch up on books, cook roast beef, pudding, omelets, help his lover peel onions, and so on.

If he hadn’t received a letter from Dr. Fawkes that he had returned, he would have actually done so.

『I heard you came to see me.』

It was the first line in Dr. Fawkes’ letter.

『I hope we can meet on Wednesday. You and I have a lot to talk about. Reply if you can’t come. I’ll visit you.』

Shavonne received the letter from Dr. Fawkes on Tuesday night, and the next day, Wednesday, it stopped raining for a while. The sky was still cloudy and damp, but it didn’t seem like it would rain soon.

During their eight years as friends, Dr. Fakwes and Shavonne had met hundreds of times, and they had never met for more than three hours, so Shavonne would probably be able to go home before it rained.

Shavonne left the apartment. Lewellyn was on his mind, but just for a while. It was a minor outing that wouldn’t take more than three hours, so he thought it wasn’t necessary to tell Lewellyn. Just because he was his lover, he didn’t need to report every move.

Of course, if they lived together, it would be nice to say it, but Shavonne and Lewellyn were just neighbors. On his way, Shavonne was thinking about buying onions for Lewellyn.

“I thought you had died in Bosch, but I see that you’re still alive.”

As soon as he sat face to face with Dr. Fawkes at the café, Shavonne said this.

“Luckily, I’m not dead. Half of my patients are dead, and the rest are missing.”

“What on earth did you do in Bosch?” Shavonne frowned. “Did you go to a remote mountain village where Cholera spread, or did you do charity work for the poor?”

“It was more painful than that. You can’t imagine it.”

Dr. Fawkes waved as if he didn’t want to talk. Although Shavonne said it jokingly, it was nonsense to say that half of the patients were dead or missing. After all, he was Dr. Fawkes, a self-employed workaholic. The poor performance of an overseas business trip would be a huge wound for Dr. Fawkes. Shavonne didn’t mean to hurt his friend.

“What about you?”

Dr. Fawkes asked just in time. It was a back-and-forth question. Shavonne asked, “What?”.

“Why did you come to see me while I was gone? Was it money again? Or a boyfriend?”

The first time he went Dr. Fawkes’ was because he didn’t want to sleep on the streets. When he just got kicked out of the apartment, Shavonne remembered going to ask him to sleep there because the bedroom was good, the attic was good, the servant room was good, the closet was good, and the basement was good. Of course, he only heard from the butler that Dr. Fawkes went on a business trip to Bosch, so it all had been for nothing.

The second time he went to Dr. Fawkes’ was because he felt lonely. Shavonne remembered stopping by when he had a fight with Lewellyn. Of course, he only heard from the butler that Dr. Fawkes went on a business trip to Bosch, so it all had been for nothing.

It was only fair to explain to him the existence of Lewellyn, but Shavonne didn’t want to. I will keep my mouth shut even if someone threatens me to explain. He didn’t have a reason to, so Shavonne didn’t tell him that Lewellyn was the one ‘by his side’.

Dr. Fawkes was too ordinary to overlook the culprit of serial murders in Ira. An ordinary person who had never lived a life without ethics or common sense.

“It’s a more complicated problem than that. You can’t imagine it.”

Shavonne shrugged his hands as if he didn’t want to talk.

“Ha.” Dr. Fawkes burst into a bemused grin. He decided to settle the issue. Just as Dr. Fawkes didn’t reveal his business in Bosch, Shavonne also didn’t reveal why he visited Dr. Fakwes.

Fortunately, Shavonne and Dr. Fawkes weren’t inconsiderate enough to persistently ask each other what they wanted to hide. “I see. I won’t ask any further.” Dr. Fawkes had a soft eyesmile while saying that.

“How have you been while I was gone?”

Dr. Fawkes had turned the topic around that Shavonne got wrapped around.

“Well… just like usual.”

“So you’re still poor.”

Dr. Fawkes cut it short. Shavonne raised his eyebrows. He glanced at Dr. Fawkes.

“If someone lent me a hand, I would be less poor.”

“I don’t know who that someone is, but I don’t think he would.”

After exchanging such innocuous words, Shavonne was able to tell him how he had been. He didn’t think anything out of normal had happened, except for the events associated with Lewellyn.

He found out that the scientific name of onions was Allium Cepa. Publishers had rejected Shavonne one after another, and North Bunch’s pub ‘B’ had become no fun, and…

“B?”

Dr. Fawkes’ face became weird, but only for a moment. Noticing the situation belatedly, Dr. Fawkes returned to his usual calm face.

“Right, you told me you had broken up with your boyfriend the last time we met. What was his name? August? August Ash?”

Shavonne didn’t correct him. Just thinking about it in his head made him feel uneasy, so Shavonne couldn’t say it with his mouth.

That son of a bitch you’re talking about was stalking me. He wanted to say it, but he couldn’t because Shavonne would need to explain who handled August, and it could naturally imply the existence of Lewellyn. Shavonne chose an easy answer.

“Isn’t it basic manners not to bring up an ex, Fawkes?”

Dr. Fawkes didn’t care. He leaned deeply on the back of the chair and folded his arms.

“Was there anything else I didn’t know between you and your ex? I remember last time you didn’t mind mentioning him, and now you’re talking about manners and all that.”

“No. Nothing happened,” Shavonne said and then took the teacup to his mouth pretending that it was nothing. It was a relief that the teacup was big enough to cover Shavonne’s hardened mouth.

“Hmm…”

Dr. Fawkes’ eyes narrowed looking at Shavonne. He didn’t trust Shavonne. Shavonne put down the teacup so that it made noise. Several drops of tea splashed around.

“It wasn’t until late that I realized that he was the biggest son of a bitch in the world.”

Dr. Fawkes looked at Shavonne’s face and soon apologized lightly. “I’m sorry.” It may be because the hatred, contempt, and anger on Shavonne’s face seemed sincere.

Shavonne only looked down at the teacup and showed no reaction. There was nothing he could do to protect Lewellyn. It even bothered him that he had to lie.

Dr. Fawkes didn’t care whether Shavonne reacted or not. He put his hands together and spoke cheerfully.

“All right, old love should be forgotten with new love. Have you found a new lover?”

“Of course…”

He did, but his new lover was a murderer, Mr. Lewellyn. He had to lie again to protect Lewellyn. Shavonne shrugged his shoulders pretending to be calm and kept going.

“… not.”

“Oh, it must’ve been hard.”

Shavonne was dumbfounded and asked back.

“Why should it have been hard for me?”

“Of course, it’s not the dating itself, but you not having a lover. Am I in a hard moment  because I haven’t dated anyone for almost 10 years? No. Absolutely not,” Dr. Fakwes replied without lifting an eyebrow. “But you, you couldn’t hold out for three months without a lover for the last eight years, it’s different.”

…Couldn’t I last three months without a lover? Shavonne frowned and reflected on his love life for the past eight years.

‘Come to think of it…’

It was true. In the past eight years, there had never been more than three months that Shavonne hadn’t had a lover. Even if a relationship began, Shavonne didn’t think, “I can’t live without this person,” and even if the relationship had just started, his heart didn’t flutter, and he didn’t feel the pain of a broken heart even after the relationship was over. Shavonne guessed he wasn’t a good lover and groaned internally.

“Do you want me to introduce you to someone?”

Dr. Fawkes, who was more aware of Shavonne’s love life more than Shavonne himself, smiled and suggested. Shavonne freaked out.

“No.”

“He’s handsome. I’m sure you’ll like him just by looking at his face.”

“When did I only care about the face…? Anyway, I don’t want to.”

“Meet him and then decide.”

“If I do… I could die.”

“Please, no one has ever died from dating.”

“No… I could really die.”

Because my lover is a murderer…, Shavonne swallowed the words.

Was it that sad that a friend who couldn’t endure three months without a lover couldn’t find a lover now? Dr. Fakwes didn’t give up and expressed the strengths of the person he was trying to introduce. He was so persistent that Shavonne even thought that Dr. Fawkes might actually be a matchmaker, not a doctor.

“He’s very handsome. He’s just your ideal type.”

“I don’t know…” Shavonne’s (current) ideal type was Lewellyn, but he held back.

“He’s very rich. He owns three houses on Redwood Street, the center of Bunch.”

“I don’t know…” Shavonne wanted to say that Lewellyn was also rich, but he held back.

“He’s also intelligent. He’s a bacteriologist who graduated from Deichfen University as the top graduate, and the institute he’s currently in charge of received three medals from the royal family.”

“I don’t know…” Shavonne wanted to say that Lewellyn, who writes New Year as New Yeer, was better, but endured.

Then, there were noises. A thunderstorm could be seen by the window, making a loud noise. As if lightning had signaled, heavy rain began to pour from the gloomy sky.

Is it raining already? Shavonne was lost in thought. He checked the pocket clock just in case and it was 6 o’clock. He thought he would be out three hours at the latest, but it was already dark.

“I’ve got to go.”

Shavonne hurried up from his seat. Dr. Fawkes stood up and grabbed Shavonne.

“I’m hurt. Is it just fine to treat a friend you haven’t seen in a long time like this?”

Shavonne was wrong. He forgot to think about how Dr. Fawkes would feel. “That’s,” Shavonne started to say, but Dr. Fawkes was quick to ask.

“Why are you in such a hurry?”

A faint smile formed around Dr. Fawkes’ mouth.

“You’re not a kid, so of course you don’t have a curfew.”

“…”

“You don’t live alone, so you don’t have anyone waiting at home.”

He asked with the head down.

“What is it?”

Shavonne had a gut feeling. At this moment, he wouldn’t be able to hesitate. If he did, Dr. Fawkes would suspect, and that suspicion would find Shavonne’s lover, the killer, Mr. Lewellyn.

Shavonne needed to clear his doubts.

“Because I have a dog.”

Shavonne replied.

Dr. Fawkes frowned as if he didn’t understand. “A dog?”

“Yes.”

Shavonne added, taking off Dr. Fakwes’ hand that was holding his wrist.

“A very big one.”