I Start with a Bad Hand!

Dietrich is dead, and he can’t come back. What’s the point of all my sincerity? It’s just me venting, like an excuse. The rituals for the dead are ultimately for the living. When you peel back the layers of doing it for others, there’s always one’s own hidden face underneath.

“Should I take over now?” I reached out my hand to take the pepper grinder from Icarus, but he didn’t hand it over, saying it was fine. The coffee powder had piled up nicely, about enough to fill two spoons.

“Me too.”

“…What?”

As I gazed blankly at the falling coffee powder, he spoke in a dry voice, “I think the same. It’s foolish.”

All the fuss about honoring you, doing something in your stead, whatever it may be. It’s not as if the dead come back to life because of it. He said this as he poured a few more coffee beans into the grinder. A few beans that couldn’t fit rolled out.

“But… remembering those people is something only the living can do. And leaving their mark is the only thing the dead can do. To change the course of a person driven by inertia, it takes an impact strong enough to shift their trajectory.”

He spoke as if he had experienced several changes in trajectory himself.

“Are you saying someone’s death can be efficiently used as a catalyst for change in the living until the very end?”

To my question, he replied gruffly, “It’s more that the visible changes in the living, the new directions they take, are the results of the last bit of influence exerted by the deceased. So, I don’t think it’s all entirely futile.”

He added this, separate from his earlier assertion that it was foolish. His remark was unexpected to me.

“I didn’t expect someone of your stature to think that way. Someone who has the power and the right to change anything.”

“You know that power is to be used for the empire. Once my brother becomes the emperor, even that will not truly be mine.” 

He said this with a nonchalant expression, slowly focusing on the falling coffee powder.

“I haven’t had much I could change, and whether I had more right to live than those who died in my stead… well, I’m not sure.”

He then looked up, meeting my eyes, and reached out towards me. He pressed his thumb against my forehead as if smoothing it, saying, “I’m not trying to comfort you. It’s just what I think. So, don’t look like that.”

…

“Anyway, let’s keep today’s conversation between us. Especially the part about nothing being left after death—if the clergy heard, it would turn everything upside down.”

“We both should probably study doctrine again.”

Icarus got up from his seat with a playful smile. By now, there was enough ground coffee in the bowl for about two cups. Forgetting that I live in a country with a state religion, I stood up to boil some water, following him.

As we made the coffee and I took a tentative sniff, the familiar aroma was there. Suppressing my excitement, I handed him a cup, and he looked at the liquid inside with a grimace.

“Are we supposed to drink this? Looks like ditch water.”

“Ditch water? Try it with some sugar and milk.”

It should taste a bit better. I had anticipated this and handed him both, which I had prepared earlier.

“You talk like someone who’s tasted it before.”

“…Everything tastes better with milk and sugar.”

I cautiously touched my lips to the hot rim of the cup and took a sip. Really, it was a taste that made you exclaim, “Yuck!”

“…What’s that sound? What’s happening?”

“It’s just so delicious.”

This was my first time in years. While it might not objectively be excellent, the burnt taste evoked a strange nostalgia for my homeland.

…Though it weirdly seemed a bit peppery.

Icarus, having mixed in the milk and sugar, took a sip and soon scrunched up his face. I pretended not to notice and asked,

“How is it?”

“Milk and sugar and…”

It’s like ditch water with pepper. Are you sure this isn’t some sort of medicinal concoction? He grumbled.

‘Naive kid.’

I tried to hide my amusement and nodded. However, he pinpointed the odd look on my face and dug deeper. After a few more sips, he finally spoke again.

“And…”

“And?”

“It’s a bit strange.”

“What is?”

I was fruitlessly trying to fish out floating pepper particles with a teaspoon, so I responded half-heartedly.

“My heart… it’s beating too fast.”

This isn’t some kind of drug, is it?

I finally looked away from the cup and back at him.

“That’s… normal with coffee.”

“Normal, you say?”

He said with a skeptical expression. In such cases, showing is the only option. 

“Yes, try checking my pulse.”

The atmosphere suddenly felt like we were in a clinic, but I handed him my wrist. He looked at it intently, an uncharacteristic earnestness on his face, then touched it hesitantly. It seemed like the pounding of my heart was traveling from my wrist to his fingertips, and back again.

“Right? Your heart races when you drink coffee.”

“It looks like both of us are wide awake now.” I offered a slight smile. He met my gaze for a moment before looking down, then asked,

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No, I originally wanted it to wake me up. That’s why it’s usually had in the morning.”

“There isn’t another reason?”

“…What?”

Surely, even if absurd, I wouldn’t have poisoned…

“Your heart races, you can’t sleep. Sounds like someone in love.”

Like a love potion. He covered his mouth with his large hand, chuckling softly. Hearing that, I wore a bemused expression. I was about to say something, but I knew a more definitive way to clarify. I blinked at him and said,

“Your Highness.”

“Yes.”

“Please, look into my eyes.”

“…What?”

I stared intently into his eyes. Beneath the dim lighting, I could see his eyelashes fluttering.

“Does this look like the eyes of someone who has fallen in love?”

“…What?”

“Do these eyes look like they’re playing tricks because they adore you?”

No need to force my gaze to soften. My usual expressions should be convincing enough. He stared into my eyes for a long while then let out a long sigh, shaking his head silently. Regardless, I gave a thumbs up and asked,

“Convinced?”

“…Yes.”

“Clearly?”

“Since you say so.”

“See? How can you hide it. They say love and a sneeze cannot be concealed.”

“Look at Aiden.”

Even if not bringing Aiden into it, my own experiences had taught me enough. The cheesy atmosphere of the office, the subtle glances, the ‘What are you doing right now?’ kind of touch that inevitably surfaces. If the power was on, even a photocopier would notice the numerous office romances, affirming my belief that true love cannot be hidden.

Watching me recall those memories with a puzzled look, Icarus murmured.

“You sure know a lot of strange things.”

“I’ll tell you when it really shows. Hide it quickly.”

“Right, thank you.”

He was still grumbling. I deliberately picked up the glass. The cup obscured my face to hide my smile.

By then, time had long passed midnight. We had spent the evening wrestling with coffee, and the leftover coffee beans were secretly stashed in a corner of the kitchen. As we left the restaurant, the hallway was silent, not even a whisper of wind.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning class.”

“Yes, tomorrow… oh, it’s not even tomorrow anymore. Only a few hours left. Are you going straight to bed?”

“That’s the plan. I’ve got to finish some assignments, clean my room a bit, take a bath, and then try to get some sleep.”

“You’re busy. I should find something to do at that time too.”

“That sounds good. Maybe go on a trip?”

“That’s a nice idea. Maybe I’ll buy a gift.”

Wow. That’s exciting.

Our conversation became more sporadic as sleepiness, unbeaten by the coffee, crept up on us. We walked down the hallway, spouting off anything that came to mind, words disappearing as soon as they left our mouths and entered our ears.

By the time I yawned three times, failing to respond to his comments, we had arrived at the dormitory.

“Go inside.”

“Thank you for today.”

Icarus almost said something else, his lips twitching, but he just nodded and turned away. Back in my room, I finished the unfinished assignment, tidied up my desk lightly, washed up, and lay down. But once in bed, sleep eluded me.

Perhaps because my body absorbs caffeine all too well, the effects came and went on their own schedule, and I ended up lying awake all night. Throughout, I mulled over my conversation with Icarus. And I thought about Dietrich, and as dawn was breaking, I got up from bed.

Before the day was over, I wanted to mourn Dietrich. Even if it was meaningless. Even in death, with no grave of his own, meeting an unknown demise.

I threw on a thin coat and stepped out of the dormitory, the chilly air filling my lungs. I headed out of the academy, the quiet streets occasionally broken by the sound of a bell and the clip-clop of horse hooves.

There were no chrysanthemums at the florist. Only daisies were white. But then, the roses blooming right in front of the florist caught my eye, and I added them to the bouquet. From then on, I indiscriminately added more flowers as they caught my eye.

The final bouquet was a chaotic mix of various flowers. The florist tried to transform the eclectic bouquet into something beautiful. There was no other meaning to it. I just wanted to give all the varied flowers that Dietrich should have received, perhaps to commemorate some day in her life.