* * *
“Jerome Howard. I remembered. That’s right, isn’t it? I heard about you from Cheryl.”
“……”
“I also heard it was thanks to the Howard family’s support that this library was built. I appreciate it.”
Jerome’s face darkened with regret at Jean’s words. Jean looked at him curiously.
For someone who’d just had their name remembered, Jerome’s reaction felt more like disappointment than gratitude. Jean couldn’t understand him.
He thought Jerome was an enigmatic man and unwrapped the cloth tied around his own wrist.
Then, carefully, he rewrapped it around Jerome’s wrist, which bore bite marks as if from a wolf.
It wasn’t a proper treatment, but it should at least stop the bleeding for now.
Pausing briefly as he noticed Jerome’s scarred, long fingers, Jean silently tied the cloth before asking,
“So, is it true? That rumor about you killing your father and brothers?”
“Of course not.”
“Then are we supposed to believe that it’s a coincidence they all died around the same time?”
“The official cause of death for my father and brothers was suicide.”
“……”
“Though, none of them left a note.”
Jean’s hands froze in place as he was tying the cloth.
Deep in thought, he slowly raised his head.
It might have been just his imagination, but he felt as though Jerome was blaming him for something.
After finishing the makeshift bandage, Jean let out a sigh and turned away.
“Follow me. No matter what, I can’t let an important patron like you die in a place like this.”
Jerome Howard, the youngest head of the venerable Howard family, was a man shrouded in mystery.
Normally, he would’ve had to fight his half-siblings for succession.
But after his father, Duke Michael, passed away, his siblings followed one by one, leaving Jerome as the sole heir.
With that, the mines, wealth, and bonds that should have been divided among the family all became his. It was said that Jerome was now second only to the imperial family in wealth.
Despite the suspicious circumstances, no one dared accuse him.
The reason was simple: Jerome was a hero who had saved the empire from Mephisto.
Honor, wealth, and overwhelming power—qualities ordinary people struggled to possess even one of—Jerome seemed to have them all, making him a man without fear.
Jean glanced at Jerome, who was following him.
‘Is he a saint, a murderer, a hero, or a devil…?’
Jerome’s eyes were neither black nor white but an ashen gray that seemed to change depending on the light.
Jean thought the peculiar color suited him perfectly.
When Jerome caught Jean stealing glances, he gave a small, impassive wink.
Jean startled and quickly turned his head away.
‘Why is this happening?’
His heart, always steady, began to ache.
It was an odd, dull pain, like something on the verge of surfacing.
Jean bit his lip as his head throbbed with a faint headache.
‘My heart feels strange.’
There was a time he’d wondered if he was nothing more than a doll created by some deranged puppeteer.
Ever since waking up by the sea, Jean had been unable to feel human emotions.
Watching animals die while being hunted didn’t make him sad, and reading good books didn’t bring him joy.
It felt as though he’d lost both his memories and his feelings.
But now, things were different. Being near Jerome made Jean inexplicably sad.
Those emotions stirred other questions in his mind, one in particular:
‘What kind of person was Jerome’s ex-wife?’
For someone to have inspired the construction of a library on this remote island, she must have been deeply loved.
Jean felt a faint resentment toward Jerome’s former wife, a woman he’d never met.
He knew all too well the feeling of being left alone.
If Jerome had suffered a loneliness as profound as his own, it made him seem a little more pitiable.
A strange sense of camaraderie began to form.
At the cabin, Jean didn’t bother changing his clothes and immediately set about boiling water.
In weather this cold, it was essential to warm up to avoid catching a cold.
As Jerome entered and surveyed the cabin with mild interest, Jean brewed tea and finally spoke.
“I pour the tea first. What about you?”
“I do the same.”
“Interesting. Most people pour the milk first.”
Jerome responded with a faint smile and took a seat on the sofa.
Jean handed him a cup of warm milk tea before sitting down beside him.
The heavy snowfall outside created a cozy, drowsy atmosphere inside the cabin.
As he sipped his tea, Jean broke the silence.
“How did you meet your ex-wife?”
“In prison.”
“…That’s an unusual first meeting.”
“Everything with her was unusual.”
Jerome sighed deeply after speaking.
Then he reached out to gently brush Jean’s damp bangs.
Accepting the gesture, Jean hesitated before asking,
“Did you love her?”
“More or less.”
“Your answer doesn’t sound very convincing. I guess you didn’t really love her.”
“There was a time I tried not to.”
Jerome’s gaze lingered on the droplets clinging to Jan’s eyelashes.
His long, dense lashes looked almost doll-like.
The once delicate face had matured, exuding a strange allure that stirred something deep inside.
Jean, who had been staring at the floor, finally looked up, meeting Jerome’s eyes.
After studying Jan’s face for a moment, Jerome said calmly,
“But it didn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“……”
“I always ended up back where I started, loving her again.”
Jerome’s resigned tone made Jan’s eyes tremble slightly.
As the fire crackled in the hearth, Jean leaned back against the sofa and blinked slowly.
“When she was cold, what did you do for her?”
“I held her.”
“You held her?”
“I mean, we made love.”
“I thought babies just washed up onshore like me.”
Jerome’s expression turned grave at Jean’s innocent remark.
Chuckling softly, Jean asked,
“What’s with that face?”
“I’m dreading having to teach you everything from scratch.”
“I was joking. I know how babies are made.”
“You remind me too much of her.”
Jean smiled faintly and closed his eyes.
“Since I came here, it’s been so cold. Then one day, I had this thought: humans are strange creatures. Even if they don’t know what warmth is, they can still feel the cold.”
“……”
“It’ll snow heavily for at least another week. And no one else will hear the conversations we have here. Every word we exchange will be buried in time, forgotten.”
The thought that these fleeting moments would one day vanish felt both hollow and comforting.
Because it meant this deep sadness would also eventually end.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, Jean wanted to share that sadness with Jerome, who carried the same kind of eyes.
“So, tell me. How did you hold her?”
It was an impulsive question, one Jean wouldn’t usually ask.
Maybe it was the strange jealousy bubbling inside him.
He knew he could never become Jerome’s ex-wife and that he shouldn’t want to.
But as long as the snow kept falling and they remained in this cabin, their secrets would stay theirs alone.
And Jean desperately wanted to keep this secret.
After a pause, Jerome spoke in a low voice.
“Ah, I’d almost forgotten.”
Before Jean could ask what he meant, Jerome leaned in and kissed him without hesitation.
Instead of resisting, Jean let himself go limp.
Jerome’s hands tightened on Jan’s shoulders as their legs intertwined and tongues met.
When Jean raised his hips to make it easier for Jerome to remove his trousers, Jerome chuckled quietly.
Pressing his lips to Jean’s neck, he murmured wistfully,
“You’ve always been bold at the most unexpected moments.”
✽ ✽ ✽
The blizzard finally ceased exactly a month later.
Jean felt relieved it had stopped just before their food supplies ran out.
“A pity,” Jerome had said, his tone hovering between a joke and something darker, “If we’d been snowed in for two more days, I could’ve eaten you.”
For a week, Jean and Jerome played chess, read books, or, when boredom set in, found solace in each other’s bodies.
Strangely, despite their few encounters before this, Jean didn’t feel out of place.
On the contrary, it felt as though he’d finally returned to where he belonged.
As Jerome slept peacefully, Jean gazed at him, then lazily pulled on the tunic lying on the floor.
‘Of course, to Jerome, this is just fleeting entertainment.’
Jean knew.
He wasn’t deluded into thinking Jerome loved him.
The man was intoxicated by the novelty of their seclusion, nothing more.
His lingering feelings for his late wife were evidence enough.
Occasionally, after their shared nights, Jerome would murmur a woman’s name in his sleep—Jeanne.
It stung a little.
A woman who resembled him, not just in appearance but even in name.
Jean couldn’t shake the thought that he was merely a substitute for the late Jean, someone to fill a temporary void.
‘When the time comes, I’ll let him go. No clinging, no drama.’
Jean ventured out to the plains at dawn, leaving the sleeping Jerome behind.
The air had grown warmer.
Snow had melted, and buds were beginning to sprout—a sure sign of spring.
And with spring came the inevitable departure of Jerome.
Jean stared at a tightly closed flower bud before walking on.
He met Jerome just as the man was stepping out of the cabin, speaking with a stranger.
Seeing Jean, Jerome offered a faint smile and approached.
“Before I go, I fixed the latch. Always keep the door locked,” Jerome said.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes, we won’t see each other for a while.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got a lot to deal with.”
Was this the end of Jerome’s wandering?
As Jean hesitated, Jerome gave him a curious look.
Biting his lip, Jean finally voiced the thoughts he’d suppressed.
“Jerome…”
“Yeah?”
“Even if I resemble her… I’m not Jean, the woman you loved.”
The gentle smile faded from Jerome’s face.
Jean pressed on resolutely.
“So you don’t need to feel obligated to come back. Live your life, and I’ll live mine. The time we spent together… I’ll cherish it as a good memory.”
“…”
“Thank you. This winter felt a little less lonely because of you.”
Jerome opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.
After a moment of silence, he extended his hand toward Jean.
“Take care.”
Stunned, Jean hesitated before grasping Jerome’s hand.
Warmth, so unlike the man he thought he knew, spread through Jean’s palm.
Tightening his grip, Jean whispered,
“You too.”
“And there’s something you’re mistaken about.”
“…”
“Jeanne… was a man.”
Jean’s hand froze.
Jeanne was a man?
The revelation was unexpected, but it didn’t change the truth: Jerome loved someone who wasn’t him.
Watching Jerome climb into the carriage with a small laugh, Jean couldn’t help but think, ‘So this is the end.*’
As the carriage disappeared into the distance, Jean turned back to the cabin.
His mind lingered on the name ‘Jeanne’ and a faint memory surfaced.
A pocket watch…
* * *
🥺
Please, make Jean remember 🙏🙏🙏