TMIAP Chapter 3

The place where Monica had worked was a little removed from the front lines, but wounded soldiers were brought in every day.

Sol was among them—a man who'd arrived two months before the defeat.

The young man's identification tag had been half torn away during transport, worn down until only the name "Sol" and part of his service number remained. He'd been near a bomb blast, they said, caught by shrapnel.

Unlucky enough to have taken fragments to his eyes, he wore bandages over both. Still, it was clear the young man was beautiful. The nurses pitied him greatly for his lost sight.

He remained unconscious throughout. The care of unconscious patients was a burden to the busy nurses. Eventually Monica was assigned his bed. Because Monica was diligent, they said.

What nonsense. Monica had simply grown accustomed to it.

Nevertheless, when the young man miraculously regained consciousness, Monica was delighted.

Delighted enough not to mind the inevitable melancholy of a young man who couldn't see, nor the slight roughness that came with it.

"I knew you'd wake up! I made a bet on it!"

She'd said that—it seemed like only yesterday.

"Sol, isn't it?"

Monica asked with round eyes. The young man frowned slightly. His brilliant blue eyes, shining in the sunlight, looked like jewels.

Heavens. Monica's mouth fell open a little, then closed as realization struck.

Sol wouldn't know her.

Less than a month after the young man regained consciousness, the kingdom had declared defeat.

All units stationed at the front withdrew. The wounded had to be evacuated separately, so even after the declaration of defeat, the nurses were too busy to sleep. No time for grief. They rebandaged the wounded's injuries and sent them off.

'Come to think of it, where is Sol?'

By the time Monica thought to look for him, the young man's bed was already empty.

It had been such a chaotic situation—she assumed someone had sent him off in her place, and regretted not saying a proper goodbye.

The truly unfortunate thing was that even then, the young man hadn't been able to remove the bandages from his eyes. She'd grown rather fond of him during the time she'd cared for him.

Monica felt all these memories rush past in an instant as she greeted the young man with pleasure.

"It's me, Moni. From the Arvidd hospital! Don't you remember? You injured your eyes then, so you might not recognize me..."

The young man's brow furrowed deeper. But Monica, thinking he simply couldn't quite recall, peered at him from various angles.

The young man was exceptionally handsome and wore fine clothes. Even at a glance, the quality showed—the linen cravat, the thick jacket woven in plain weave.

But far more captivating than any of that were the young man's beautiful eyes.

"They said you might never see again! But you've recovered?"

"...That."

A cracked voice emerged from the young man. Monica blinked several times, then realized he was uncomfortable.

At the same time, she understood why.

Heavens. Monica had practically seized the young man by the collar, thrusting her face into his. The young man, considerably taller than Monica, had been pushed back as if shoved.

To summarize: if Mistress Oraingne had witnessed it, letter of introduction or not, she would absolutely never have hired Monica—it was a posture entirely lacking in modesty.

"Oh my! I'm sorry."

Monica instantly released the front of the young man's chest she'd been clutching. Her face turned scarlet. Yet even in her embarrassment, her mouth continued chattering.

"This is the first time I've seen you with your eyes open! Right after the defeat, I tried to check on you but you'd vanished in the meantime... How have you been? How did you come to La Spezia..."

But the young man quickly raised his hand to cover Monica's mouth.

"I'm sorry, miss."

The troubled expression had already been replaced with a faint smile. The young man smiled gently and spoke to Monica.

"I don't know what you're talking about. That isn't my name."

"Oh!"

Monica's face turned twice as red. She'd been certain he was Sol.

But the young man truly looked as if seeing Monica for the first time—smiling, yes, but with the expression of a stranger.

Monica's small head grew confused.

Yet he really does look similar—though Sol's hair wasn't golden like that... In the chaos of war, plenty of people's hair turned gray from filth.

He wasn't this well-groomed either, had a full beard growing... um... well...

"I'm sorry..."

In the end, confused, Monica apologized and stepped back. Was it him? Wasn't it? Still uncertain, but the young man offered an excuse on her behalf.

"It's all right. There are plenty of people in the world who look alike."

The young man's bearing as he said this was perfectly upright.

He had clearly been educated in a good household. Particularly the way he stood with his right hand behind his back when addressing a woman—that was southern kingdom etiquette.

Only then did Monica become certain that the young man was someone entirely different from the person she knew. After all, Sol...

"My name is Luis. I must resemble your acquaintance a great deal."

"No, well, yes..."

That low, smooth tone. Even his voice was truly similar...

Seeing Monica's eyes waver, the young man smiled with half-closed eyes.

"Oh dear, now you're making a face that makes me feel apologetic. This is my fault."

"Oh! I didn't mean to fluster you."

At those words, Monica hastily waved her hands and stepped back further. She seemed to have been far too rude for a first meeting.

The fact that she'd bumped into him when she suddenly changed direction aside... It was then.

"Move!"

"Careful."

The young man lightly pulled Monica back as she tried to step away.

Monica found herself inadvertently caught and embraced by the young man who'd identified himself as Luis.

Even in her surprise, she glanced back to see sailors heavily laden with cargo passing by. One of them even glared when his eyes met Monica's.

"Are you all right?"

Only after the young man whispered to Monica did she start and pull away.

"Forgive me. There wasn't time to think."

"Oh, no. You saved me."

If those sailors had struck her, she'd certainly have been buried under all that cargo. She might even have been injured.

She'd ended up embraced in her haste to dodge, but it was rather something to be grateful for.

Monica separated herself with embarrassment, far more carefully than before. Luis extended his hand, and the two stepped up onto the path beside the harbor waterway.

"Outside these posts, cargo horses and people constantly pass through."

"Ah, I see... I didn't know."

"It doesn't seem like a place for a lady. Did you perhaps lose your way?"

At the young man's question, Monica nodded.

"Yes, I was trying to get to the train station..."

"I thought so."

Luis laughed lightly. Her heart skipped at that refreshing laugh.

"This area connects to Argent Plaza—first-time visitors lose their way in an instant. Since we've met like this, if you don't mind, I'll escort you to Argent Plaza."

"Argent...?"

"Ah. That's the name of the plaza in front of the train station."

"Oh my, yes! That's what I was looking for."

The young man guided Monica with considerable skill.

Thanks to him, Monica was able to pass through wet sails erected haphazardly to dry, piles of rope, walkways over drainage ditches constantly spewing salty, dirty water, and emerge onto the wharf where hot wind blew.

"My name is Luis Berfeil."

"Ah, I'm Monica."

Luis raised his eyebrows. If he asked for her surname, she'd have to say she had none. Monica unconsciously gripped her skirts tightly, but instead of opening his mouth, the young man extended his hand to her.

"Careful."

"Oh."

Whether someone had used and discarded it, or was simply drying it, fishing net lay spread across the street.

Monica took Luis's hand and lightly jumped over the net. The young man offered light praise: "Excellent."

Within a short time of meeting Luis, Monica learned not only his name and age but even his hometown.

Luis said he lived in a nearby city, a bit north of here but close nonetheless, and had come to La Spezia to find someone he knew.

"Did you find the person you were looking for?"

"No, but I may have been mistaken."

"I see."

Luis was a man who knew how to make very pleasant and agreeable conversation.

Thanks to this, Monica was able to tell him that she'd come here to become a governess through an introduction, arriving only this very morning. The sunlight was fierce, but her mood wasn't bad at all.

"A governess. That suits you."

"Oh my? Do I look like a governess?"

Even the feeling of her pinned-up hair fluttering in the sea breeze was welcome.

Luis reached out quite naturally to tidy Monica's hair as he answered.

"No, because you have the most sparkling eyes of any young lady I've seen."

"I often hear I look clever."

"Ha ha. Of course, that's also true."

The young man's blue eyes crinkled.

"But you seem full of curiosity."

Monica's cheeks flushed.

He must have seen her looking around the harbor with uncontainable curiosity as she followed him.

"It's just—this is my first time in a harbor city..."

"Of course it would be."

Luis lightly squeezed and released the hand he held. It meant to watch for the palm-sized waterway at her feet. Monica hopped over the waterway.

Once across—heavens. Monica realized she'd somehow reached the plaza in front of the train station.

"We're at the plaza already!"

"Indeed. Unfortunately so."

Luis pointed to the right side of the plaza. That must be the direction of Monica's lodgings.

Then the young man pointed the opposite way and told her that going straight that direction would take her to the district full of great estates. Monica shyly expressed her gratitude.

"Thank you, Luis."

"The pleasure is mine."

Luis, offering southern-style courtesy again, smiled with half-closed blue eyes.

He truly was a remarkable beauty. She suddenly wanted to say something she'd never said before. Could she see him again?

But the young man was faster.

"We'll see each other soon."

"What?"

"Wasn't that what you were wondering?"

At that mischievous smile, Monica's mouth opened slightly, then closed.

As if he hadn't wanted Monica's answer, Luis bowed and lightly kissed the back of Monica's hand, which he'd been holding all this time. It was truly perfect southern etiquette.

"Though I wasn't the man Monica knew, if we meet again, I can become a man Monica knows. What a pleasant thought."

"Heavens."

Monica finally couldn't contain it and spoke the word she'd been thinking all along.

"Luis, you're quite the rake..."

Luis's brow creased with a smile. But he didn't deny it. Rather, as if delighted by the remark, he offered a greeting with exaggerated, light-as-wind gestures.

Monica returned the greeting while thinking:

Heavens, whatever household's wastrel he might be, she absolutely must not get entangled with him.