After third period in the afternoon, Richard went around the holly hedge and, as usual, arrived at the abandoned house behind the main building.
The door to the abandoned house was closed. A sliver of light escaped from underneath it.
Richard knocked on the door with their prearranged rhythm: two short, one long.
The sound of a deadbolt being unlocked clicked softly from inside, and the door opened a crack.
Lillian was standing behind the door.
Richard’s gaze flickered to the table behind her.
The first great tit she had ever made was steeping in a jar.
It was the one with its head tilted slightly to the side, perched on a dead branch as if listening to something.
She had taken the jar out of the wooden box in the corner and placed it in the center of the table.
"Today, you..."
"I invited it out," Lillian said, closing the door behind her.
Her tone was colder than usual, so cold that even Richard felt something was off.
"Invited it out for what?"
"I want to take it home."
Richard didn’t say anything.
He sat down in his chair first.
Lillian walked around to the other side of the table and reached out a finger, gently tapping the great tit inside through the glass wall of the jar.
"...I might be leaving," the girl said.
Richard frowned. "Where to?"
"Back to the Imperial Capital with my uncle. I’ll live there for a while first."
"...And then?"
"We’ll see."
"Will you apply to university, then?" he asked, voicing the question that was foremost on his mind.
"...Richard."
Lillian looked up at him.
"A girl living with her uncle, whose mother is in a sanatorium, with no family assets whatsoever... what kind of university do you think she could possibly get into?"
Richard opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
’The good universities in the Imperial Capital are impossible; they all require letters of recommendation.’
’Edinburgh? Or one of the old colleges in the North?’
’But even those schools require a substantial amount of tuition.’
According to what Lillian had mentioned in a previous chat, her uncle had two other children.
One was three years older than her, and the other was two years younger.
"You..."
Lillian finished the sentence for him.
"I don’t want my uncle to have to glance at my aunt, and then glance at me, every time he needs to get money for me."
"My mother’s situation is my own business."
"I’ll figure out a way to pay for the sanatorium myself."
"...What way are you thinking of?"
The girl lowered her head to look at the great tit in the glass jar.
"...I have a foundation."
She spoke so softly it was almost as if she were talking to the great tit.
"I’ve read those twenty-six books."
"I stopped after I finished them because I hadn’t figured out what I would do with that knowledge."
"Now, I’ve figured it out."
"...What?"
"Someone on the Mysterious Side can cure patients like the ones in the sanatorium."
Richard’s breathing slowed.
"Who can cure them?"
"I can’t tell you."
Richard stared at her.
The girl lowered her head even further.
"...Richard, aren’t you also doing things you can’t tell me about?"
Richard’s lips moved, then pressed shut again.
"Have you heard the word ’Abyss’?" the girl asked suddenly.
Richard’s nerves instantly tensed.
"Of course I have. Don’t go near it."
"Why?"
"Because you can’t afford the price."
Lillian looked up.
Her gray-blue eyes held a mysterious gleam in the lamplight.
"How do you know I can’t afford it?"
"..."
"How do you know that the price is the same for everyone?"
Richard was speechless for a moment.
He wanted to argue, but for a moment, he couldn’t find the words.
’The three narrative styles in the *Secret of the Abyss* all described prices that were ’unaffordable’.’
’The child with the ’fast Breathing,’ the Hunter who found his axe too slow and descended, the Taciturn Sect and the Burnt Offering Sect.’
’Those three prices were written for ’people who want to get things done’.’
’For someone who wants to trade for Strength, for someone who wants to change the world a little.’
’But it wasn’t written for ’a girl who wants to save her mother’.’
’She’s already standing on the edge of the Curtain, without anyone even needing to ’lure’ her in.’
’She took one look down and understood on her own.’
Richard sat on the right side of the table. What could he say?
"Lillian, don’t rush into a decision."
"...I’m not rushing."
"After you go back to the Imperial Capital with your uncle, give yourself some time to think."
"Okay."
She answered crisply.
Richard knew, however, that the quicker she agreed, the less she meant it.
She had already made up her mind.
The girl’s gaze returned to the great tit in the glass jar.
She picked up the glass jar and held it to her chest.
"I’m taking this one back with me. I’m leaving the rest here for you."
"For me?"
"Mhm, they’re in the wooden box."
Lillian held the jar a little tighter.
"The formula is on the piece of paper at the very bottom."
"Three parts naphtha, one part limewater. For oilier birds, you need to add distilled water to dilute it."
"In the future... if you ever happen to come across a dead bird, you can make one for me. Just one is enough."
Standing beside the girl, Richard felt a lump form in his throat.
"...I might not do a good job."
"It’s okay."
Lillian smiled.
"Even if you mess it up, at least it’ll be one that you made."
The girl walked out of the small house, holding the glass jar.
Richard followed behind her.
When they reached the fork in the gravel path, Lillian stopped and turned to look at him.
Richard held out his hand.
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
Their hands met, then parted in an instant.
.........
「The last day before the Easter holidays.」
After third period, Greenwood let out for the day.
The stretch of road by the school gate was two or three times more congested than usual.
Richard stood under the old elm tree at the school gate.
The elm tree’s new buds had just sprouted, a tender green, as if someone had dabbed them with a calligraphy brush.
When Hugh came to say goodbye, he took his sketchbook out of his bag.
"Let me show you something."
"Hm?"
Hugh flipped the sketchbook to the last page.
On the last page was a drawing of a group of people at a table.
Grey was in the center of the table, holding a dinner knife;
On the right was Warren, holding a double-entry ledger;
On the left was Mason, wearing a crookedly drawn foreman’s hat;
At the far end of the table was Hugh himself, with a chicken in a flat cap perched on his shoulder;
And in the position closest to the viewer, a person was drawn.
Only the person’s back was visible.
"...Who’s this?" Richard asked.
"It’s you."
"Why just my back?"
"I can’t draw your face."
"Hm?"
"You look different every day lately."
Hugh smiled.
"I tried drawing it several times, but it never looked right."
"If I can’t get it right, all I can do is draw your back. At least I can’t get a back wrong."
Richard closed the sketchbook and handed it back to Hugh.
"It’s a great drawing."
By the time school let out, the rain had started coming down harder again.
At the row of school bus stops by the gate, engines started up one by one, spitting out black smoke.
Richard walked to the bus stop, holding an umbrella.
Grey was standing on the opposite side.
She was holding a dark blue umbrella. Normally, she would have turned left after leaving the school gate.
Her family’s car would be parked over there, where her driver would pick her up on time every day.
But today, she came over to Richard’s side.
Sensing the mood, a few students at the bus stop tactfully made way for her.
"Richard."
"Grey."
She stopped beside Richard, angling the tip of her umbrella outward to guide the rainwater away.
"You’re going to university in the Imperial Capital?"
"Mhm," Richard replied. "Barring any surprises, I’ll be starting in the fall."
"Which one?"
"Imperial University."
"...The Classics Department?"
"Mhm, my aunt teaches there."
Grey nodded.
She lowered her eyes, looking at the tips of her shoes.
A few students were still at the bus stop. Rain drummed on the shelter’s roof.
Grey reached out her other hand from under the umbrella. In it, she held a small packet wrapped in brown paper.
She handed the packet over.
"This is the last time."
Richard’s hand paused.
"...The last time for what?"
"The last time I’ll be baking in Brighton."
Grey’s voice was very soft, almost lost in the sound of the rain.
"I’m going to the Imperial Capital too, to attend a girls’ school there."
Richard took the packet from her hand.
The packet was still warm.
The aroma of scones seeped through the brown paper, carrying the scent of butter and fine sugar.
There was also a hint of cardamom, a spice the Grey family imported from the East.
Raindrops fell on the brown paper, blossoming into small, dark spots.
Grey turned her head to look at the boy before her. "I’m leaving at the end of April."
"My family hired a tutor for me in the Imperial Capital. I’ll be studying with them for a few months before I officially enroll."
As she said this, the rain suddenly grew even heavier.
"Then..." Richard carefully tucked the packet into his schoolbag. "Will I still be able to eat your scones in the Imperial Capital?"
Grey’s blue eyes watched him from under the shadow of the umbrella, the corners of her lips turning up.
"That’ll depend on your performance."
Richard wanted to say something more, but the girl had already turned away.
"The school bus is here," she said without turning back.
Holding her dark blue umbrella, she walked toward the left side of the school gate, where her family’s car was already parked.
The canopy of the umbrella grew more distant in the gray rain, its deep blue darkening in the downpour until it finally became a blurry little dot.
Richard stood under the shelter for a while.
He was still lost in thought when the school bus pulled in.
Hugh poked his head out of the bus window. "You getting on or not?"
"Getting on."
Richard got on the bus and found a window seat.
He placed his schoolbag on his lap, the faint warmth from the packet inside seeping through the canvas.
The bus started moving, and the windshield wipers swept back and forth.
He glanced out the window; the Grey family’s car was already gone.
When he got home, Richard first went to wash his face.
Evelyn was arranging some things on a table in the living room.
On the table was a new, still-warm gingerbread rabbit.
The rabbit was wearing a small top hat drawn with frosting on its head.
"My newest creation," Evelyn said smugly. "Sir Rabbit got a promotion. He’s Professor Rabbit now."
"...Why a professor?"
"Because he’s going to Imperial University."
Evelyn pushed Professor Rabbit in front of her older brother.

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