When the snow melts, it becomes water and flows.
When a volcano erupts, the molten lava flows out.
When the sun sets beyond the horizon, the stars filling the night sky flow with a regular cycle of one year.
And as a person lives their life, time inevitably flows.
Just as flowing water carves stone and smooths it out, time changes everything. Isn’t there a saying that even rivers and mountains change in ten years?
Therefore, as time flows, any wound is bound to heal. A wound that doesn’t heal simply slowly dries up a person.
Whether it be a physical wound or an inner wound.
No matter what anyone says, there is a wound in my heart. A wound that is very deep and without stitches, and I can’t seem to find a way to fill that horrifying wound. Blood oozes from my split skin.
And that wound cannot be healed by anyone. It is an invisible wound that isn’t inflicted physically on the body but rather carved into the inner self.
It is indeed possible to recover from that wound by receiving counseling or leaning on the efficacy of medication to speed up its healing process. However, ultimately, the influence others can have is limited.
In the end, inner wounds can only rely on my own resilience.
No one can directly help with that wound. Unless embraced by the person who directly caused it, in my case, isn’t that even impossible?
Unless it is a wound thrust upon me by the death of a single person, my wounds are not so localized. They are filled with wounds that span across my heart.
Healing them is solely dependent on my natural resilience.
Another name for that resilience that solves the problem is time. Time solves everything. Whether in a good sense or a bad sense.
But have you ever faced a situation like this?
The wound is too deep. Various cuts are noticeable, but still, the largest and deepest wound seems like it will take my breath away before relying on natural resilience.
But I absolutely cannot die. Whether leaning on artificial medicine or continuously receiving blood transfusions. Despite the fact that I continue to bleed from that wound, I cannot die.
Time flows. Naturally, that deep and horrifying wound that seemed like it would never heal begins to slowly close.
And the progress of recovery stops there.
What is applied is merely an extremely thin temporary skin-like layer of clotting platelets. Naturally, the appearance of the previous wound is clearly visible behind that thin and unstable skin membrane, and it is unbearably uneasy, as if it is about to burst with a slight touch from a finger.
I felt certain that it was healing little by little. If I could just take one step forward at a time, surely this wound could completely heal.
Regrettably, the recovery of the wound, which I had hoped would heal as soon as possible, stopped there.
While feeling hope in the sight of the slowly healing scar, I simultaneously felt despair as that only lifeline came to a halt.
Therefore, I am.
I seek something that can become nourishment anew.
To find the nutrients that will allow new flesh to sprout from my wound, buried in a pile of dirt. I have set out to dig up the remnants of my distant memories.
Hiding my strong desire to leave alone.
But sometimes…
It didn’t seem bad to take a chance on an impossible possibility.
For instance, searching for someone who can embrace my wounds.
Indeed, a truly dreamlike possibility.
*
Chloe stirred from her sleep.
Her drowsy, slightly closed eyes were heavy. She yawned widely and staggered her way to carefully open the door and step outside the guest room. The train’s corridor was quiet, without any noise seeping through.
“Ugh…”
Awakened by thirst in her sleepy state, a whiny sound slipped from Chloe’s slightly cracked voice. She didn’t want that whimper to be heard by anyone.
“Mm…”
Chloe walked slowly down the moonlight-drenched corridor. There was no sound coming from the corridor. Her footsteps echoed softly in the silent passage.
The only noise was from the train’s exterior. Occasionally, the clattering of the wheels on the track created a sound, but that was it.
Despite hearing such noise, Chloe thought this place seemed like a space of silence.
An echoing dark corridor where only the noise from outside the train resounded. If it were the usual Chloe, she would have panicked and trembled in fear at the scenery, but now, under the harsh temptation of sleep, she had no time to worry about such things.
Chloe’s footsteps swayed as she stepped out of the guest room in search of water. The bedroom with the bed and the room with the table weren’t far apart, so she was soon able to reach the door of the guest room.
She swung open the door to the guest room, deeply submerged in a sleepiness that made it hard for her to recognize where she was going.
“Miss Chloe?”
At that moment, a voice in her ear pulled her confused mind back to reality. Her eyes darted quickly.
A low, deep, yet somehow reassuringly gentle voice. Upon hearing it, Chloe jolted involuntarily and looked around with wide-open eyes.
“What are you doing up at this hour?”
In front of Chloe, that is, inside the guest room she had just opened the door to, there was already a passenger.
“Oh, Professor Antorelli…”
Professor Antorelli was sitting in the same spot as when they had laughed and chatted on the train during the day, without turning on the light. The moonlight streamed in at an angle to his face as he sat by the window.
Standing at the door of the guest room, Chloe hesitated to enter, but soon saw Professor Antorelli’s gesture inviting her inside and carefully took a step in. The reason she was hesitant was simply because of the unexpected encounter with Professor Antorelli.
Chloe’s eyes rolled around but eventually fixated on the wall clock hanging on one side of the room. The clock’s hands pointed to two o’clock in the dawn.
‘Why is Professor Antorelli not sleeping at this hour?’
It was, of course, a natural question, but first, quenching the desert of her burning throat took precedence. As she narrowed her brow slightly and sat down across from Professor Antorelli, he handed her a cup as if he already knew everything.
“It’s warm water.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you…”
Chloe gulped down the water so no one would see. The cold water moistening the inside of her dry throat gradually cleared her hazy mind.
“Did you happen to spend another sleepless night like last time?”
After finishing the cool water that opened her eyes, she heard that gentle voice again, characterized by a natural concern for the person in front of her, which, at first glance, sounded a bit blunt, but concealed kindness within.
“Oh, no. It’s not that…”
“Then…?”
“Just, simply thirsty.”
“…Hmm.”
The conversation ended there. Professor Antorelli tilted a teacup that presumably contained black tea and naturally placed the ashtray on the shelf behind him. It was an action that was meaningless to hide once it had come into Chloe’s view.
‘…Is that the smell of cigarettes?’
Now that she thought about it, there seemed to be a faint scent of cigarettes. Chloe caught a whiff of a faint mint scent that brushed against her nose.
In an instant, a cold breeze blew through Chloe’s entire body. Unknowingly, she flinched and almost dropped the cup she was holding.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just opened the window to ventilate…”
“Oh, no. It’s fine, Professor…”
Perhaps, upon sensing a presence from outside the door, he opened the window to let in some fresh air. True to that, the room still held the warmth from the heater.
Even that was quickly cooled by the brisk winter night wind blowing in through the half-open window. Chloe didn’t particularly dislike the smell of cigarettes, but she well understood that this action was a small consideration from Professor Antorelli for her sake.
Chloe didn’t show any visible signs of shivering from the cold, but while briefly looking at her, Professor Antorelli lightly draped his coat over her shoulders, which he had kept next to him. It didn’t seem like he had worn it, but still, it felt warm thanks to being placed right in front of the heater.
‘It’s warm…’
The warmth felt like it was melting Chloe, and her eyes began to slowly close. Cuddled by the soft texture of the coat, her expression inevitably relaxed.
“Phew…”
At the unusual sound, Chloe’s eyes flew open. Professor Antorelli was looking out the window, blowing on the steaming black tea.
‘Wow…’
The white curtain, holding the moonlight, draped over his face. Chloe’s gaze descended from the top of his face systematically.
Thick eyebrows, eyes so deep one could not fathom, slightly sunken eyelids, a pronounced nose, nearly unwrinkled cheeks, tightly closed lips, a sharply defined jawline, and a prominent Adam’s apple.
‘Ahh…!’
Chloe screamed internally, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off Professor Antorelli’s melancholy face. On a cold winter day, aboard a train traveling far to another country, the window outside the guest room was covered solely in white snow, snow, snow.
The outside, resembling a prison covered in snow, was graced by the moonlight. The white prison reflected the settled moonlight and shone enchantingly, while looking out into that sparkling snowy field… was a somewhat disheveled man.
This man, approaching the age of thirty, didn’t seem to be a male of that age group at all, possessing a sculpted appearance. Although he has a tendency to neglect self-care in finer details, resulting in tousled hair and slightly crooked glasses, which could easily divide opinions.
Chloe was not bothered by that. In Chloe’s eyes, firmly entrapped in her infatuation, such a Professor Antorelli approached with an overwhelmingly handsome appearance that was simply irresistible.
They say there is a term for beings like him, often referred to as decadent beauty? Chloe had never been familiar with the term ‘decadent beauty’ itself, but meeting Professor Antorelli had altered that perspective. The male characters in the romance novels she enjoyed began to gradually shift overwhelmingly towards decadent beauty, likely influenced by him.
“…Miss Chloe.”
“Yes, yes…?!”
Chloe unknowingly bit her tongue, feeling nervous that she might have been caught glancing at his face.
“…Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes… it’s fine…”
“……”
Seeing Chloe, who had evidently been worried, may have pleased her.
Professor Antorelli looked silently at Chloe for a moment before slightly lowering his head. Chloe could no longer see his expression clearly.
“There is a saying.”
“What kind of…”
“They say people even write lies in their diaries that they keep just for themselves.”
Chloe’s mouth snapped shut. Perhaps she had realized that the words he was about to say carried some weight?
Or perhaps, it was because the constellations shining brightly in the night sky caught her attention?
The symphony of the night sky. Though there were no sounds, the stars sparkled brightly, replacing sound with light.
Countless stars made a person’s heart race.
The reason for that is likely due to some unfathomable secrets intertwined within them.
Secrets that one cannot easily reach.
How did the stars end up there? What is the space called the universe? How long ago did that starlight form before reaching here?
Thus, shall we contemplate something here?
What if those secrets were all revealed? What if the secrets that the person observing the stars could never have known gradually unraveled?
“…Miss Chloe, are you curious?”
“Yes…?”
“About me.”
Can one truly look at the stars with the same gaze as before?
