The rattling train is eerily quiet.
Many people are on board. I am one of them.
Outside the window, snow is falling. The heavy snowfall seems as if the stars that once lit the night sky have transformed into a meteor shower.
Such thoughts make me smile wryly.
The entire world has been dyed in that small, cold silence. The distant horizon stretches endlessly, and everywhere visible has lost its color, becoming a blanket of white. It’s white here, white there, just white.
The train rattled again. This rhythmic shaking brought me an odd sense of unease. Did my brows furrow?
Snow fell. It clung to the window. It melted away, disappearing. And in that transparency, it flowed down beneath the window….
Though water is transparent, why is snow so purely white?
Water freezes to become snow, and snow melts to become water; why do they look and have different names? I can’t help but dislike the distinction between them.
Water flows. It flows and passes by. I know that well.
In obsession, perhaps beyond madness in the chaos of destruction, the people who have drifted away are like water.
The snow, while staring blankly at those who have drifted away, is frozen in place, being tossed around by the wind. The survivors. The ones who remain. The ones who have fallen behind….
Frozen, then melted.
That winter was indeed cold, yet the many people who flowed away melted did not freeze again into snow even amidst that chill. They flowed away like that.
To a distant place where we can never meet again.
Among them, I often think of her, who has become water. Though nothing has changed now, seeing the snow fall outside makes my heart ache anew.
That white blanket covering the world was once what made me tremble in the cold, which I used to call “white hell.”
Snow has covered the world. Even in a momentarily frozen world, snow quietly accepts the force of gravity, riding on the winds to cover the entire world.
It was a longing for those who had become water. Longing completely enveloped the world.
It wasn’t a melancholic longing. It was the pale transformation of memories from the world.
Perhaps the world, not wanting to show the devastation that burned away everything, willingly blankets itself in snow.
The bare, dry tree looks like me. Stripped of any leaf, so frail as to be doubtful of whether it is truly alive.
Some branches are broken, the large branches piled high with snow, and a squirrel hoarding food is seen peering out of a hole drilled into the tree.
How cold it is.
Is that tree alive?
But surprisingly, that bare dry tree was alive.
Rooted deep in the ground, it endures, knowing that even this cold winter will one day pass.
Even without producing a single leaf, the tree cradled a small squirrel in its arms. That was certainly a difference from me.
We may share similarities, but it seems unnecessary to be completely alike. The tree seems to whisper to me.
This too shall pass—.
What’s truly strange is that I know this lengthy time will surely pass.
Yet, I can do nothing.
Like that cold tree shivering in the chill, I too had to spend this time of loss trembling in pain.
“Head Priest.”
A warm hand gently rests on the bare branch. Sofia Sub-priest sits next to me.
“Everyone is asleep.”
I thought it was just a journey for Sofia Sub-priest and me, but across from us, Chloe and Elin, along with Professor Esther, leaned against each other and let out steady breaths. They seem to be deep in slumber.
“…Should I wake them?”
As I silently gazed at the two, Sofia Sub-priest cautiously asked. She seemed to have something more to say.
I shook my head toward Sofia Sub-priest, who was reaching out to the two.
“No. Let them sleep.”
“Yes….”
With a slightly displeased expression, Sofia Sub-priest pouted her lips for a moment. I turned away from her and began to gaze out the train window once more.
“But what are you looking at?”
“…….”
No words came. For a moment, as if my breath was caught in my throat, I silently stared out the window without responding to Sofia Sub-priest’s question.
What should I have answered?
The world was still covered in white snow. Given time, that snow too would melt away and flow as water.
It would likely burrow deep into the earth, collecting in underground springs, or flow elsewhere, adding strength to the large currents of water, or evaporate to become rainclouds that sprinkle down.
Once everything melts away and flows, there will be no trace left that this cold and harsh season of winter ever existed.
As if it was all a dream, demanding a compulsive loss of memory from me. I would likely yield to that pressing request, deeply resenting the longing and memories that cover the world, and thus attempt to forget.
Can that truly happen?
Who knows. What will it be?
It is so quiet that it seems to absorb all sound from the horizon of events. That soundless white hell, this snow-laden world that seems eternal yet will fleetingly vanish has draped itself like a veil, isolating us. My heart had long been isolated, yet perhaps never had the corner of my chest hurt so much.
The more I recall, the more I long, and this longing has already enveloped the entire world.
“…Snow country.”
“Yes?”
“It’s snow country. Completely….”
I thought it was far, far away, yet it always came to find me when winter arrived. The sharpness of this profoundly longing landscape doesn’t shine as coolly and brightly as it once did.
The snow resembles your skin. Pure white, soft, somewhat chilly, and that chill came to me pleasantly.
The snow certainly resembles her.
About four hours after the train departed.
*
Two days before boarding the train.
I held my throbbing head, nervously blinking my eyes hard. I felt just buzzed enough to be pleasantly intoxicated. If I drank any more, it would definitely be overindulgence.
I hurriedly took a sip of water, sweeping away the faint smoky and chocolate aromas that lingered from the whiskey in my mouth. No matter how much cold water I drank, my stomach still felt unsettled.
“KrHaha! I need to drink more! Hey there! We’re out of drinks!”
Professor Armstrong’s gravelly voice echoed. The pub rented entirely by the Academy became lively.
Professor Armstrong, joining tables here and there to pour and drink, was a true alcoholic. In my entire life, I had never seen or heard of someone who drank as well as he did.
Perhaps his liver detoxification matched his large frame. He drank like a whale, as if it was water.
Many professors fell over at the gathering, trying to keep up with Professor Armstrong.
Of course, Professor Esther and I were exceptions. So was Sofia Sub-priest.
We knew we didn’t stand a chance against Professor Armstrong’s drinking capacity. Thus, it was possible.
“Come on! Professor Andres! You’ve worked hard this year, and we must push on for next year, right? Wuhahaha—!!”
“Of course! The third-year students of next year will truly make waves in the Empire! Ah! Of course, that’s because they are my students! Wuhaha—!!”
“I like it! That’s a spirited response! Have another drink!”
Professor Andres surprisingly kept up with Professor Armstrong in stamina. Contrary to his appearance, he was quite the drinker.
While he might not be able to drink as much as Professor Armstrong, he still knew how to enjoy his drinks without getting too drunk. This was quite an example of adult skill at the drinking table.
Watching Professor Armstrong and Professor Andres arm in arm, enjoying their drinks, I noticed Professor Underwood had approached me and elegantly raised his glass with a sigh.
“Hoo… Really, that man… This is why I didn’t want to come…”
“Professor Underwood.”
Professor Underwood, who spoke those words, looked quite sober, merely drinking just enough not to be intoxicated. Though his pale skin was slightly flushed, with skin that white, it looked red even with a slight blush.
“Hoho… Professor Antorelli. Are you enjoying the gathering sufficiently? It seems you might be getting a bit tipsy, which is unlike you?”
“I’m drinking moderately, not excessively.”
“Yes. I trust you more than Professor Armstrong, who is wreaking havoc over there, because you know how to practice restraint.”
“That’s not true. Professor Armstrong has a strong tolerance.”
“…That’s true. That’s the problem. Ha… We should have gone to a better place for this gathering…”
It seemed Professor Underwood wanted to go to a more atmospheric restaurant, but Professor Armstrong, demonstrating the miraculous logic of ‘drinking does not taste good in such places,’ led most of the Academy faculty to reserve an entire pub in the City.
The tavern owner, who was staring blankly as the place languished, had an impressive cheerful smile.
“…Thank you.”
“What?”
“For that consultation back then. Thanks to it, I cleared up misunderstandings with Professor Armstrong, and I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”
“It’s nothing. Ultimately, you were the one who took the first step. I have done nothing.”
“Being too humble isn’t particularly appealing either.”
Professor Underwood was silent for a moment. He and I sipped our drinks quietly.
“Where are Professor Esther and the Sub-priest?”
“They went to the bathroom a moment ago. They should be out soon.”
“…Professor Antorelli.”
“Yes, Professor Underwood.”
“Thank you for all your hard work this year.”
Professor Underwood’s eyes sparkled slightly. The time when the sun shifts evokes an unknown feeling in everyone. It truly is a magical time.
“You’ve worked hard as well, Professor Underwood.”
“Indeed. Next year…”
Professor Underwood’s words trailed off. A loud crash was heard from somewhere.
“Wuhaha! Professor Madison! You’re quickly getting tipsy!”
“Cough! Cough!”
“Hey! Where are you going?! There’s still more drink left!”
Professor Madison, who was staggering as he was grabbed by Professor Armstrong, hurriedly fled over here. The approaching Professor Armstrong froze when he met the eyes of Professor Underwood, who was standing next to me.
“…Tch. I’ll be going now. Professor Antorelli. Enjoy the gathering.”
“Ah, yes.”
Soon, the shrieking voice of Professor Armstrong, rising ear-piercingly, could be heard. It would be hard to imagine that such a shriek could come from Professor Armstrong.
Quickly escaping, Professor Madison gasped for air and then rested his hand on my shoulder. His vacant eyes turned to me.
“Oh, Professor Antorelli. Let’s step outside for a moment.”
“Top Student. Where are we going….”
“Just for a breath of fresh air! Come on, quickly! If I get caught again, it’ll be the end for me!”
Following the frightened Professor Madison, I had no choice but to exit the pub.
“Waaaah! Professor Underwood! My ears! It feels like they’re going to split!”
“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad! Come this way!”
“Eeeek—!”
And thus, it was winter.
