Bailonz Street 13

Herschel Hopkins was smiling softly. Compared to his young and vibrant self of the past, he had aged considerably. Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, and the skin around his mouth had sagged a bit. The signs of aging were clear. His hands, too, showed wrinkles, and his strength had waned compared to his youth. Yet, he still possessed a gentle charisma that seemed to grow stronger with age.

He took a sip of tea and looked at me. “Isn’t he a funny guy?”

I recalled the image of Liam from my memories. A chubby-cheeked boy, mature for his age, often reciting words with a precocious air. He also had a wild, untamed spirit like a rebellious horse. So many thoughts flooded my mind at once. He was lovable, sometimes cheeky. His younger self was like that. But none of these thoughts escaped my lips; I just smiled.

What should I say? It felt as if the distance between Liam Moore and me had slightly narrowed. Though he might not feel the same, having seen him as a child made it inevitable for me.

After a brief pause to choose my words, I finally managed to speak. “…He was quite the pretender, wasn’t he?”

“I hope you don’t think of him as lazy, Miss Jane. I now feel like he’s half my nephew.”

That made sense. To Liam Moore, Herschel Hopkins was a mentor, an understanding friend, and almost like a brother to his father. Even though Liam now addressed him with a casual ‘you,’ bordering on disrespect.

“When did Liam start calling you ‘you’?”

“When did he start calling me that?” Herschel replied.

If it were me, I’d call him uncle or maybe mister.

Then, a voice answered from behind me. “Oh, it was after I graduated from college, ma’am. We started meeting for work, and sometimes personal feelings had to be set aside.”

I almost jumped out of my seat. I choked back a scream and hurriedly sipped my tea. A strong arm wrapped around my neck from behind. I was caught talking about him! More than that, I wasn’t sure how to face him. In my mind, he was still the cute, young boy. Seeing the grown Liam Moore might make me cry out, “Why did you grow up so much?”

The man whispered in my ear. “Ma’am?”

“Just a moment.”

My ears were burning. I couldn’t scream. I knew that. Why now? Please, give me a warning when Liam Moore is about to appear. Please.

“…Herschel. You said something unnecessary again, didn’t you?”

Herschel watched my flushed face and replied with a mischievous smile. “Oh, of course. I was telling her about the time you decided to put on airs in front of ‘ma’am.’”

Ah.

I just wanted to go home.

The man beside me protested. “You shouldn’t be airing out the past like that, Herschel.”

Herschel, propping his chin on his hand, watched with amusement as Liam fumed. I really wanted to shut my eyes tight.

“How much did you hear?” Liam asked me, but just then, the waiter arrived with breakfast, sparing me from answering. My cheeks were burning. If looks could pierce, my cheeks would have had holes in them.

“I need to eat.”

“Fine. You can eat, but Herschel, you’re not getting any.”

“This is elder abuse,” Herschel muttered. “I knew you lacked respect for your elders, but now you torment old men too. Even though I’m your godfather.”

That’s right. Herschel Hopkins was nearly sixty. Even if he ate three meals a day, he’d feel his age. Depriving him of breakfast wasn’t right. I nudged Liam’s side.

“Little Moore, don’t take away the professor’s meal.”

And I… well, I admit I misspoke.

Liam Moore turned to me, eyes wide. His gray eyes were trembling with shock, as if wondering how I knew his childhood nickname. If I told him I saw him as a child, he might jump out the window immediately.

“The professor said he used to call you that. Little Moore.”

“Damn you, Hopkins!” Liam muttered, shoving the salad plate back to Herschel and burying his face in his hands. I chuckled. Finally, Liam Moore, his forehead pressed to the table edge, lamented.

“How much did you say…?”

“Well. From when you were nine until about…” I trailed off, unsure of his exact teenage years. Herschel chimed in.

“Until he was sixteen. All the big incidents.”

“Just how much of a pretender you were.”

“Oh, if I’d known you were so concerned about Miss Jane, I would have been more discreet.”

Herschel and I lightly clapped hands. Liam Moore, clutching his head, didn’t seem to notice. I was cutting my eggs and bacon with my left hand, struggling with the force. If I were using chopsticks, I’d have given up on the meal. Eating bacon with a spoon? Absolutely not.

Liam, who had been pressing his forehead to the table, saw my struggle and took the fork from me. He methodically cut the food on my plate, as if he were dissecting Herschel. His twisted personality hadn’t changed.

He pushed the neatly cut food back to me and rubbed his forehead. A long mark from the table edge stretched across it.

“Jane.”

Liam’s voice was incredibly low. He was awake, but his voice was still hoarse. That’s right. He must have woken up at nine. Given his previous behavior, it was astonishing.

“Yes, my morning-sleepy darling.”

“…Yes. I do have morning sleepiness.”

In the end, Liam conceded. He muttered, fists clenched as if ready to hit Herschel’s back.

“It wasn’t pretentious. It was necessary to improve my habits…”

“Habits you haven’t fixed in over twenty years.”

“…Jane. I’m really dying of embarrassment.”

Oh. Don’t die. Losing someone like you would make all of England mourn. Smiling, I leaned my head on Liam’s shoulder. It hadn’t been long, but acting like a couple felt natural. Liam reflexively put his hand on my shoulder and cleared his throat.

“Every morning, you’d wash up, put on your gown, and enjoy a cup of tea with the newspaper, my darling.”

“You’re trying to kill me with embarrassment, aren’t you?”

He protested softly. His voice now had a hint of moisture. Was he crying? Are you crying?

Yes, but I didn’t say that. I just smiled, dipping the egg whites and toast into the broken yolk and popping it into my mouth. It tasted very sweet.

Just then, the conductor announced, “This train will arrive shortly — and will be stationed here for the day. Passengers, please gather your belongings.”

Strangely, the name of the station wasn’t audible.

I turned my head. Herschel raised an eyebrow and stood up, leaving only the tomatoes on his salad plate.

“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast?”

I suddenly remembered Liam hadn’t eaten anything. When I asked, he shook his head. His ears were still red.

I made a mental note not to forget this moment.

＊ ＊ ＊

Back in my room to pack, I inadvertently realized a disconcerting fact that I couldn’t laugh off. The surroundings were brimming with life.

Already living in reality, the expression ‘brimming with life’ might not have been entirely appropriate. But it was true. Everything felt incredibly ‘alive.’ It shouldn’t have felt this way.

‘No.’

Of course, it had been quite some time since I started feeling the temperature, sensations, and breathing—everything that sustains human life. Honestly, I couldn’t even remember what it was like before. Even if I asked myself, nothing came to mind. It felt natural, as if I had always lived this way.

But at least, the game had always maintained an appearance ‘like’ reality. It still let me know it was a game.

‘No.’

The one thing that still made me aware this place was a game was the voices. No matter how much people around me talked, laughed, got angry, or cried, to me, their voices sounded uniform, like a broken radio. There were no intonations or pitch changes. It was just the same British accent, indistinguishable.

I denied it again.

‘This can’t be happening.’

Liam Moore turned, carrying my suitcase for me. My expression must have been odd… I guess.

“Jane?”

His voice was surprisingly ‘kind.’

just know that it’s about to go down… 🤭