Satanas Chapter 1.2 - Bell

“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven…! Give us this day our daily bread…!”

“Grrrraaargh, how dare a mere deacon!”

“And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…!”

The way he bared his teeth with his jaw stretched wide in a threat was reminiscent of a leopard cat. Tadeo squeezed his eyes shut tighter, holding his trembling arm steady with all his might. He pressed all his strength into the crucifix held against the small forehead. The child began to twist his body in agony. His untrimmed, overgrown nails dug into his own skin, and he crumpled the simple priest’s robes in his fists.

“Father, Father, it hurts…. It hurts, Fatherrrr….”

The child now began to wail. But the lips of Tadeo, who was reciting the Lord’s Prayer aloud, remained composed. In his mind, he repeated the prayer over and over without faltering. In contrast to his calm voice, inside he was crying out the prayer to the Lord with all his tenacity. Louder than the shrieks of the evil spirit that rejected him and the Holy Spirit. Louder. With a more forceful voice.

“And forgive us our sins, and lead us not into temptation!”

“You filthy… priest… you bastard, gurgle….”

The sound of his gasping breath was precarious. It was like the final breath of a dying person, as if it could be cut off at any moment.

“Tonight… I will, guck… rip out… your entrails….”

The whites of his eyes rolled back completely, and his face twitched with trembling muscles. Drool trickled down, wetting his lips that were peeling and white, and the hand gripping Tadeo’s arm began to lose its strength.

“S, save… m, me, Fath…errrr….”

Thump. With a great gasp, the girl finally lost consciousness and collapsed. Only then did Tadeo slowly open his eyes.

“But deliver us… from evil, Amen.”

And he did not forget to finish the prayer to the very end. His voice seemed to tremble slightly as he uttered the two syllables that held his wish for it to be fulfilled.

Jingle. He gently gathered the crucifix that had been swaying in the air into his palm and made the sign of the cross. His face was so solemn that he looked as pure as a monk beneath a lit pine knot torch. After finishing a silent prayer with his hands clasped together, he approached the child who lay unconscious on the cold floor.

The beastly face that had been revealed during his rabid frenzy was now hidden without a trace. This was the ‘stillness’ phase. It was merely a disguise. The demon, feeling threatened by the power of the Holy Spirit, had hidden deep within the child’s spirit. Just then, a commotion arose from outside.

Creeak. The sound of a rusty hinge made everyone in the living room turn their heads. A man whose chin was completely covered by a thicket of beard appeared at the front door, a bottle of cheap gin in one hand. His chest, revealed through a loosely opened shirt, was fuzzy with shaggy, reddish-brown hair, and his overalls, pulled up to his stomach, were utterly shabby.

It seemed a misty rain had started again, as his clothes were slightly damp. Through the wide-open door, the outside was faintly visible, a thick fog settled all the way to the ground. The man, his eyes soaked in alcohol, rolled them as he closed the door. He was studying the faces of those in the house one by one.

“What is all this noise?! Demons, what nonsense is that! You bunch of con artists!”

“Sir, I am a police officer. What kind of outrageous…!”

“Ha! Poliice? What kind of police can’t even catch a single serial killer named Jack or whatever! You’re just trying to pull some weird stunt and then ask for money, aren’t you!”

The sound of angry footsteps was approaching. Tadeo, who was about to lift the child into his arms, turned his head to look at the door.

“Out of my way!”

“Ah, excuse me.”

Bell, who was standing in front of the door, stepped aside for the huffing man. Bell looked down at the top of the man’s head, which came up to his chin, with a subtle smile.

“Come out, you damned fraud! Stop your pathetic little make believe!”

Bang. Even if the old door had been locked, it was no match for a drunkard’s kick.

“You son of a bitch, what did you do to my daughter!”

“No, Gary!”

“Father Tadeo!”

A face resembling the girl’s rushed in at once. Orangey-brown hair. The girl looked just like her father. The man grabbed Tadeo by the collar and hauled him up roughly. As Lestrade and Mrs. Harrison came in to stop him, the cramped room left no space to stand.

“Haha, what’s this now. So you’re a yellow dog. I hear your kind is so barbaric. Hey, you rat. What did you do to my daughter…!”

“Is she really your daughter.”

“What did you say?”

“You’ve abused the child under the name of being parents.”

Bell was merely watching this whole situation. His body, caught helplessly in a thick arm, looked frail. And yet, the voice he produced was serene and cold. Ah, you’re angry. Bell’s lips, the same color as his skin, drew a curve. He couldn’t stop the smile that came out naturally. Due to his innate nature, his soft and gentle way of speaking remained the same even when filled with anger.

I told you. Getting angry like that is pointless. You should be able to make them wet their trousers with just a glance.

“London is crawling with people like you. I know it well. They wear the guise of a human but are sometimes more cruel than demons.”

“What the hell are you on about? All talk and no…!”

An arm with its sleeve rolled up was raised high in the air. Eyelids softly closed over the black pupils in which the lamplight was vividly reflected. Perhaps he had clenched his teeth in anticipation of a slap, because a pebble-like muscle bulged out from his thin jawline. Long eyelashes cast a dark shadow on his slightly prominent cheekbones on his gaunt cheeks, and his dark red lips, numb from the cold, were firmly shut, no longer letting out puffs of breath.

“…And who are you?”

No pain was inflicted. Tadeo, sensing something was wrong, opened his eyes.

“Bell….”

The dark red lips parted, calling his name like a moan. Bell’s face, visible beyond the blooming breath, was so pure and beautiful. Well-shaped fingernails and long fingers. The hand, white and delicate, was clutching the man’s raised forearm, but his blue eyes, set in cool-looking sockets, remained on Tadeo.

“Bell? What a flamboyant name for a man. Does he even have a proper….”

“Gary Harrison. Age forty-nine.”

‘Ah, of course,’ Bell replied leisurely, then added.

“Wha, what? How do you know that….”

“Alcoholic and gambling addict. Barely making a living by selling off the children you birth and raise. Though you probably lost all that money at the gambling table too.”

The lips, barely visible under the shaggy beard, pressed together tightly. Finally, some quiet. As the loud atmosphere settled down, Bell wore a satisfied smile on his lips.

“You’d better take good care of that dick you have if you want to have more children to feed yourself in the future. It hasn’t been getting hard lately, has it? Your pride hurt by your disappointed wife, you started drinking heavily since the crack of dawn….”

The voice that continued speaking was smooth and pleasant to hear, like it was gliding on the water’s surface. Bell looked like he was enjoying himself for the first time in a while. The smile he wore showed no sign of leaving, and it was even a little threatening.

“And now you’re causing a ruckus like this.”

He possessed an invisible something that overwhelmed his opponent. Bell tilted his head, meeting the man’s eyes. The man’s gaze was naturally drawn to Bell’s pupils, dilated due to the dim surroundings. Gulp. In the room, filled with a stark silence, even the sound of swallowing was heard distinctly.

“Where do you think you’re putting your hands, how dare you.”

The man’s eyes were filled with fear. The pupils, filled with darkness, gradually expanded. The man fell into the illusion that he was being sucked into them. The man’s eyes, which had not blinked since meeting Bell’s, became bloodshot and then glistened with moisture. It would have been enough to look away, but the man could not.

Dozens of invisible hands touched the soles of his feet. A swarm of shadows climbed up his legs like a beanstalk, not only binding the man’s limbs and neck, but also his mouth. They only stopped their movements after they had gripped his chin and pried his eyes open. Bell brought his lips to the man’s ear.

“I could tear your limbs to shreds and hang them on that public clothesline over there.”

The whisper that flowed from his murmuring lips was in the tone of one soothing a child. It seeped into the eardrum without the slightest leak, but from the shape of his lips alone, Tadeo could infer the horrifying words. Tadeo, who had been tenaciously following Bell’s lips, met his gaze. With Bell, who from the very beginning, had not taken his eyes off Tadeo for a single moment.

The man’s body trembled once. The coarse hand that had been gripping the Roman collar whole dropped with a thud. The front of his yellowed overalls was becoming soaked.

“Bell, stop. This man is scared.”

“I meant to scare him.”

Bell said with a shrug of his shoulders. Tadeo, stepping closer, immediately covered Bell’s eyes with his hand. His vision was visible as if sunlight were streaming through the slender fingers, but Bell decided to close his eyes.

“That’s enough, Bell. I’m okay.”

“Enough? Okay? What on earth did you do to Gary?!”

“Inspector Lestrade, I need a place to protect the child for a while.”

The woman shrieked, but Tadeo paid her no mind. The urine that had been soaking his pants was now flowing onto the floor. Ugh, Lestrade, who saw it, flinched and took a step back with his polished shoes.

“Are you sure it’s a case of possession?”

“Yes, I am. We will perform the rite as soon as we get permission from the diocese.”

Tadeo nodded, still covering Bell’s eyes.

“Bell, let’s take the child.”

“I can’t stand kids.”

“Just this once. It’ll only be a day.”

The hand covering his eyes was small and soft. When Bell opened his eyes, he saw pleading red lips through the gaps between the thin fingers. Then Tadeo, what will you do for me. The large hand that had been stroking Tadeo’s hand grasped the thin wrist where a small bone protruded. Just then, Lestrade spoke up.

“I know a temporary shelter. It’s an orphanage in Soho, and if I put him in my name, he’ll be treated well.”

“No! You can’t take the child!”

“No, Inspector. An orphanage is too dangerous. The reason we’re taking the child is for their sake.”

Mrs. Harrison let out another bloodcurdling scream, but Tadeo completely ignored it. When he finished speaking while looking at the Harrisons, Lestrade stroked his heavy chin, lost in thought. But it was only for a moment; finally, Lestrade seemed to have made a decision and opened his mouth.

“Then I’ll take him in at my house.”

🦇

The River Thames, which crosses the south central region of England, marks a significant line through London. The carriage carrying four people, including the child, was quickly crossing the fog-laden Westminster Bridge. This beautiful stone bridge connecting the eastern part of Lambeth was a famous London landmark, known for offering a sweeping golden view, but now it was all grey with the thick fog that extended down to the river.

As the two horses pushed through a clump of fog, Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, standing alongside the lead-colored Thames, loomed closer. Tadeo looked at the girl sleeping soundly next to Lestrade. Her body, so thin that her bones showed, was small enough to look three years younger than her peers. To think Lestrade’s coat, which he had used to cover her, looked this big. Of course, his own considerable size was a factor, but there was enough room to cover another child.

Tadeo’s heart ached, and he turned his head to Bell, who was sitting beside him. He was looking at the girl with an unreadable smile. Just as he was about to call him, the carriage jolted violently. A wheel got caught on a stone or in a large rut, and the carriage body shook fiercely. Lestrade quickly grabbed the girl’s body, and Bell, who had been quietly gazing at the girl, also swiftly extended his arm to block Tadeo’s falling body.

“My apologies! Are you all right?”

“Can’t you do your job properly?!”

“We’ll be at Kensington Gardens shortly, sirs!”

Whether he heard Lestrade’s sharp remark or not, the coachman announced their arrival near the destination in a cheerful voice. Bell’s large hand was still resting on Tadeo’s left chest. Thump, thump. Perhaps that was why the beating of his heart could be felt so clearly.

That subtle vibration brought the London fog into his chest as well. A swirling sensation filled his ribs. It felt like it was churning, and also a little tingling. Tadeo thought it must be because of motion sickness.

“Are you okay?”

Bell asked with a expressionless face.

“…Yes. Thank you.”

Tadeo replied, his eyes not leaving that face. The beating of his heart was now faster than before.

After getting out of the carriage, Tadeo gave Lestrade some advice and warnings. Still feeling uneasy, he repeated his instructions and earnestly requested his care. Lestrade, with a hearty laugh, told him not to worry and pushed him by the back toward the front door.

Tadeo staggered from the push. As his steps got tangled and he was about to fall, Bell wrapped an arm around him. The pleasant texture of a tailored coat touched his back. Rustle, a lock of golden hair flowed over Tadeo’s shoulder.

A faint scent of wine wafted from the nape of his neck. The scent was so warm that a heat began to rise from his ears, and Tadeo hurriedly tried to remove the arm wrapped around his waist.

“Well then, I will see you as soon as the diocesan permission is granted, Father!”

Lestrade, before getting into the carriage, waved at them. Just as Tadeo was about to turn his head to answer the cheerful greeting, Bell, with an indifferent expression, slammed the door in Lestrade’s face.

As soon as he locked the door, he went up the stairs first. Looking at his back from the bottom of the stairs, it felt as if a chilly wind was blowing. It seemed the tingling sensation he had felt around his left chest in the carriage had now moved to his lower abdomen.

The sleeve of the tailored coat, as soft as a child’s hair, the arm that had hugged his stomach tightly, the golden hair more brilliant than the sun which is rarely seen in London, and… the sweet scent of wine.

“What are you doing, down there.”

Bell, who had reached the top of the stairs, asked as he shrugged off his coat. The front of his vest, stretched taut across his proffered chest, revealed a sensual line. Tadeo, who had been staring while rubbing his lower abdomen, finally snapped to his senses and ran up the stairs.

“Ah, it’s nothing.”

Thanks to having left the fireplace lit before going out, the house was warm. As soon as he stepped on the carpet, which was the color of a faded rose and thick with dust and grime, the smell of old paper hit him. It was the smell coming from the books piled up on the bookshelf occupying a corner of the living room, on the floor, and even on the windowsill.

The books, shoved in as if crammed, stuck out here and there like bricks. Tadeo liked this smell he encountered when he came home from an outing. As always, today the nutty scent of paper greeted him and Bell.

The fireplace was full of ash, and there was not much firewood left. Tadeo crouched in front of the fireplace, tossing in logs, and opened his mouth.

“The Inspector will be okay, right?”

“You must be hungry. Shall we get something to eat.”

“I keep feeling anxious.”

“Want to check out that new restaurant?”

The two men’s conversation kept missing each other. Bell, who had hung his coat on the standing coat rack, was now untying the blue cravat from inside his shirt collar. His eyes were fixed on the window that framed the foggy London cityscape. Crackle, crackle. The flames, rubbing against the new logs, grew larger and made a popping sound.

“If you don’t feel like going, then never mind.”

Bell turned around, unbuttoning a button embossed with a shield crest. A noble grace flowed down his long hair that fell below his broad back. The well-fitting clothes on his wide, square shoulders created stylish creases, sometimes taut, sometimes slender, along the lines of his muscles.

“You don’t really want to talk about this, do you.”

“I wish you’d stop, now that you know.”

Bell said without looking back. The years he had lived with him, skin to skin, were well over half his life. Living so closely, it was not as if they had never seen each other angry. He was always one to express his feelings without restraint, and whenever he did, Tadeo would try to soothe him. There were several ways to do that.

“Bell, are you angry by any chance?”

Tadeo, approaching Bell from behind, carefully reached out his hand. I don’t know why you’re upset. Could it be because of the conversation we had this morning.

He gently gathered the hair that shone nobly even in the mold-like gloom. The white neck was revealed beneath it. Tadeo brought his lips to the gathered hair. The lusterless red lips met the hair that flowed like light.

“Alright, Bell. Let’s stop by St. Paul’s Cathedral and then eat together.”

Every time his lips moved, the fine-textured hair tickled. Somewhere in Tadeo’s heart also felt a tingling sensation, as if being lightly stroked by the tip of a quill pen. As Bell silently turned around, the hair slipped through his slender grasp. The feeling was lighter than sand slipping away, making his fingertips, left in the air, twitch. As if he had realized he had been holding onto a mirage that never existed in the first place.

“Good.”

Only then did Bell reply with his characteristic smile.

🦇

It was around the time it turned noon that the fog began to lift. A carriage stopped in front of the 110-meter-high St. Paul’s Cathedral. St. Paul’s Cathedral, built from the ashes after the Great Fire of London, was undeniably one of London’s greatest masterpieces. The Latin cross and the massive dome-style exterior, which required one to tilt their head back to the point of breaking to see, were so elaborate that not a single line was passed over without care.

“Bell, wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright. Go on.”

Upon entering the cathedral, the chill subsided a bit. The brilliant interior was magnificent in a way different from its exterior. Bell, nodding, leaned his body against a Roman-style pillar with his arms crossed. His gaze, which had been watching the running back, slowly shifted. His eyes, taking in the cross on the altar on the other side of the chapel, blinked, and his densely packed eyelashes fluttered. The Adam’s apple, slightly visible above his cravat, moved greatly. His parched throat felt tight.

“Haah…”

He tore his eyes from the cross and let out a light sigh. When he tilted his head back and leaned it against the pillar, he could see the various patterns and paintings engraved on the deeply recessed coffered ceiling. Remembering how Tadeo had praised it endlessly, Bell simply closed his eyes. Just then, he heard a woman’s voice.

“Oh my, aren’t you Deacon Tadeo’s brother?”

He opened his eyes and saw a very young nun.

🦇

The bishop’s office smelled of glaze. John, the bishop of the London diocese here at St. Paul’s Cathedral, was a man with a discerning eye for collecting ceramics imported from the Qing dynasty. He scratched his white hair and readjusted his magnifying glass. Tadeo, who had been waiting for an answer with licked lips, spoke again.

“I’m certain he’s possessed. I’d appreciate it if you could issue the diocesan permission quickly.”

At those words, John nodded and folded the paper into an envelope from which the wax seal had been torn. He seemed to have little interest in the report scrawled in Tadeo’s handwriting.

“It seems so. But Father Antonio will probably be back in about two days….”

“Two days? Wasn’t it tomorrow?”

“His schedule must have suddenly changed. Ah, it might be because the train broke down.”

Oh, no. Tadeo barely managed to suppress a groan that was about to escape.

“Ah, right. A letter came for you, Deacon Tadeo. From a… what was it. A Father Peter somewhere.”

Tadeo, who had been lost in other thoughts for a moment, snapped his eyes wide open.

“Are you talking about the Father Peter who is currently in Hanseong, Joseon?”

Nodding, the bishop came around the mahogany desk and handed him a letter. Tadeo, who was about to tear open the letter on the spot, thought of Bell who would be waiting outside.

“Thank you, Your Excellency. Then we will proceed with the rite as soon as Father Antonio returns.”

Tadeo said, tucking the letter away. John, who was carefully examining a gifted ceramic, gave a cursory nod, as if he didn’t want to spare any more of his time.

Coming out of the bishop’s office, Tadeo quickened his pace. It was because of Bell, who did not particularly like cathedrals. They had lived together for nearly seventeen years, but Bell rarely attended Mass. He had once been so curious about the reason that he asked, and Bell had simply dismissed it with the answer that he just didn’t want to see the hypocritical humans.

His increasingly fast pace was now a light run. The sound of his polished shoes hitting the mirror-like marble floor echoed. By the time he reached the spot where Bell had been on the first floor, the fluttering hem of his cassock settled down quietly. Bell was in conversation with a nun.

“Well then, I should be going. See you next time, …Bell.”

The nun, wearing a white coif and veil that covered her chin and neck, had her cheeks tinged with a blush. The nun, who glanced at Tadeo out of the corner of her eye, quickly left the place. Tadeo approached, watching the person who passed by with only a slight nod of her head. The expression she had when she said Bell’s name at the end was clearly different from when she looked at him.

“When did you two get so close?”

“While you were away.”

‘Let’s go.’ 

The short words followed the answer. Bell put on the top hat he had briefly taken off and walked toward the sanctuary door.

“Did you arrange to meet privately?”

Tadeo, who had scurried after him, asked as if to reprimand him.

“Is there a reason I can’t?”

“She’s a nun.”

“So, why not.”

Bell replied nonchalantly as he descended the granite steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Tadeo, who had been closely following his quick pace, stopped in his tracks. Bell faced him, who was standing in the middle of the narrow, low-stepped stairs with a rather serious expression.

“Bell, are you asking because you don’t know?”

“I’m curious whether you’re pointing out the principle, or if it’s you who disapproves.”

Bell said with a shrug, in his characteristically languid manner.

“If you say I shouldn’t, I won’t meet her.”

“Haha, she’s a nun. In principle….”

“I asked you.”

The fog had completely lifted, and the sunlit city streets were bustling with people who had come out one by one. Despite the biting cold, those wearing thin coats all lifted their bare faces high to the sky as if to sunbathe.

As the wind that blew up from the bottom of the stairs split around Tadeo, the long hem of his cassock billowed. The expression on Bell’s face as he looked at him with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets was teasing, and he did not like it.

“Do as you please.”

Tadeo scowled deeply and walked past Bell.

The two men did not speak for the entire carriage ride. Stopping at a restaurant near Borough Market, the two of them took a window table. The tartan check tablecloths covering each table and the knitted stockings hanging on the wall seemed to have hastily summoned Christmas, which was a fortnight away.

Tadeo ordered fish and chips, and Bell ordered a glass of whiskey. Bell, a gourmet, did not like English food. No, it was closer to hatred. Perhaps he was longing for the time he had spent in Paris. Tadeo’s gaze, which had unconsciously turned, caught Bell’s reflection in the windowpane. And then, once again, the words he had said in front of the cathedral came to mind.

In fact, that thought had been on his mind since the carriage. Lost in thought, Tadeo rested his tilted chin on his palm. His furrowed eyebrows looked like a procession of caterpillars chewing on a leaf. Why on earth is he questioning my opinion on that. It’s obviously something that’s not allowed, so I’m saying it’s not allowed. Why must he treat me like someone who’s jealous….

Wait, jealous?

The nun from the cathedral’s face overlapped with Bell’s reflection in the windowpane. A woman of pure white, for whom the coif and veil framing her oval face were so well suited. Tadeo recalled the image of the two, whom he had watched from a short distance. The nun who bloomed with a shy smile, and Bell who looked quite pleased. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since you smiled like that.

“You know what? She was the one who seduced me first.”

Bell suddenly opened his mouth, as if he had read his mind.

“Don’t talk about Rosa like that. That’s rude.”

“Don’t take her side in front of me.”

Bell retorted sternly at Tadeo’s words. His mood seemed to have returned to square one, and Tadeo, noticing this, had to shut his mouth.

“I was just stating the facts. You’re the one who can’t accept it.”

‘Stop thinking that everyone in the world is like you,’ Bell added, taking a sip of water. His piercing blue eyes were still clouded with fog. His lips parted as he brought the glass to them, his head tilting back, and his naturally downcast eyes simultaneously looked down on the other person. Tadeo avoided his gaze and forced an awkward smile.

“Stop it. If someone heard us, they’d misunderstand.”

“That would be fun. A priest being jealous of a nun.”

“…Bell.”

“Are you actually jealous?”

His gaze, which had been resting on the tablecloth hanging over the round edge of the table, returned to Bell. His jet-black pupils, shiny like a beetle’s carapace, were so dark that the boundary between the iris and the pupil was indistinguishable. The perfect black Tadeo possessed was as pure as the cassock he wore.

Bell had always had a mischievous side. Contrary to his beautiful appearance, his uninhibited way of speaking was often eccentric to an excessive degree. But Tadeo thought it was perfectly possible for him to be that way. To him, we might be insignificant beings, worth less than dust.

“Feeling a little better now that you’ve teased me?”

“No. Not at all.”

Tadeo asked as if resigned, and Bell replied, leaning back in his chair.

“We haven’t finished the conversation we started this morning.”

“Then let’s talk now.”

“It’s not time yet.”

It was an incomprehensible statement. What isn’t the time for. Tadeo, at a loss for words, just moved his lips. The space between his eyebrows gradually narrowed, and a small furrow formed above them.

“Your food has arrived.”

If the ordered dishes had not arrived just then, it would have been difficult to ventilate this awkward atmosphere. Tadeo pushed the plate with the golden-fried potatoes and white codfish slightly toward Bell.

“Don’t just drink alcohol. It’ll ruin your stomach.”

It was a mother-like nag, but he knew better than anyone that Bell would not listen.

“What’s in your pocket. A letter?”

Bell asked as Tadeo put a golden-fried potato stick in his mouth and chewed.

“Ah.”

Tadeo put his hand into his cassock pocket and took out a letter. This was a familiar occurrence by now. Lies did not work on Bell in the slightest. He saw through everything, and he knew everything. To the point where he sometimes wondered if he was a god, not an angel.

“It’s someone you know too. Father Peter.”

“The guy who took you to France?”

Tadeo nodded at Bell’s question and tore open the letter. Tadeo, having eaten a french fry, habitually sucked the saltiness off his fingers.

Inside the envelope was a single small postcard. It was a photo postcard depicting a Joseon woman wearing a skirt that revealed a slender waistline below a jeogori that came up to her chest, and holding a parasol.

“He says he’d like me to return to Joseon.”

On the back of the postcard, there were only two simple lines in a scrawled cursive.

“And that he hopes to see me soon.”

“Humans are selfish.”

Bell, who had already finished a glass of whiskey, said as he looked out the window.

“To say such things even though he knows what kind of humiliation you suffered in that country.”

Rumble. Was it a coincidence? The outside flashed once, and then the sound of thunder scratching the sky echoed gloomily. The gentlemen coming and going on the street opened their umbrellas as if it were a familiar occurrence, and those who could not began to run, holding still-dry newspaper extras over the crowns of their heads to shield them.

“What is with this weather… It hasn’t been sunny for that long.”

“It’s the perfect weather.”

The raindrops that had been falling drop by drop quickly grew stronger. The rain, falling in sheets, poured down without giving any respite. Watching it, Bell added a quiet monologue.

“Tragic, and dramatic.”

🦇

Soho, a short distance from Trafalgar Square, was a bustling district where one could feel the brilliant growth of Britain achieved through the Industrial Revolution. The dreary weather that had persisted since dawn finally burst forth, pouring down rain as if a dam had broken. Under the perforated sky, someone was running, stepping on the thick brick road of Soho.

It was Lestrade, who had failed to catch a carriage. Every time he stepped on the ground, droplets of collected water splashed up, soaking his trouser cuffs.

“Welcome home, honey.”

“The wind and rain were so strong, I got soaked even with an umbrella.”

“You look like a little London mouse soaked in water.”

His wife said with a laugh as she took his soaked overcoat. Their good marital relations were famous even at the London Police Department. The beautiful and generous Tory Lestrade. She was also a woman liked by all of Lestrade’s colleagues at work.

“That’s an insult, right?”

“It’s a compliment. It means you’re cute. Did you have dinner?”

“Yes, I ate before coming. All the trains to Liverpool are broken down, so only the coachmen were happy!”

The coachmen, whose livelihoods were cut off by the invention of the steam locomotive, had declared a general strike, but the occasional breakdowns of the steam locomotives sometimes created a huge demand.

“Honey, how is Manila. Is she okay?”

“She was so sweet. I changed her into a dress, and oh my, she was so beautiful. She ate so well without being picky, too.”

“You brought her out and fed her?”

“Of course. How can I lock a child in a room and have a meal? We should all enjoy it together. We even had tea time together.”

Lestrade, who was taking off his water-heavy jacket and unbuttoning his vest, jumped in surprise. His heart had completely sunk. It was a huge relief that nothing had happened, but if something had, there would be nothing more terrible.

“I’m glad nothing happened, but…. Manila is a special case right now. Father Tadeo also urged me again and again.”

“Nothing happened, so it’s fine. Now, hurry up and go wash up!”

“Alright, alright.”

Entering the bathroom, Lestrade untied the knot of the bath gown he was wearing. Hot water was still running from the tap. As clouds of steam quickly filled the entire bathroom, he was reminded of the intensely thick London fog.

Passing by the steamy mirror and catching a glimpse of his own face, he stood in front of the sink and examined his face from all angles. He had fallen into serious contemplation about his straggly beard.

“My beard grows too fast….”

He reached his arm toward the bathroom cabinet. It was to find the scissors for trimming his beard.

Rustle. Lestrade’s hand, about to open the bathroom cabinet door, froze. It was definitely the sound of a garment brushing against the floor. Hot water was still flowing from the tap, filling the bathtub. Lestrade, sensing an unfamiliar presence, slowly approached the bathtub and turned off the tap.

Squeak, squeak. The sound of the stiff, paint-peeled faucet turning echoed shrilly throughout the bathroom.

“…”

Lestrade held his breath and listened intently. Drip, drop. Every time a water droplet hanging from the end of the tap fell into the now-calm bathtub water, ripples spread.

“Tory?”

Rustle, rustle. The presence was now felt very close. The hallway, visible through the slightly ajar bathroom door, was dimly lit by the lamplight hanging on the wall. A shadow fell on the floor beyond the threshold, and Lestrade swallowed with a gulp.

“Tory, is that you?”

“Honey!”

“Whoa, you scared me!”

As he jumped in surprise, his plump jowls wobbled. The owner of the eerie presence was none other than Mrs. Lestrade. A face that suited the elegantly arranged bun on top of her head smiled brightly as she entered the bathroom. In Tory’s hand was a neatly folded towel.

“I forgot to put out a towel. I’ll just leave it here, okay?”

“Thanks. You’re the best.”

Tory, having placed the towel in the cabinet, closed the door and left. Phew. Lestrade let out a whistle-like sigh. Thinking his earlier behavior was foolish, he shook his head from side to side and wiped his forehead.

Slither. Again, he heard the sound of a dress hem brushing against the floor. Lestrade thought nothing of it and looked in the cabinet again, thinking of his wife who had entered wearing a dark red dress.

Come to think of it, I didn’t get to say it. You look really good in that dress, honey.

“What did you forget again? You’re getting old too. We both have been forgetting things often lately. Right?”

“…”

“Oh, honey! By the way, where are the scissors for trimming my beard….”

Creeak. It would be a lie to say a chill did not run down his spine at the sound of the door opening. It was as unpleasant as the sound of fingernails scratching a steel plate, and that eeriness and unpleasantness soon coincided with a sinister premonition. Lestrade, who looked at the door, dropped the arm he had extended toward the cabinet. Beads of sweat were soaking his forehead.

“Oh, my God….”

Through the slowly opening door stood Manila, dressed in a white lace dress. Holding a pair of shaving scissors in one hand.

🦇

“Bell.”

Tadeo, who came out stumbling in an old gown, looked like someone who had been drinking. As if the pouring rain, like a midsummer monsoon, was not enough, the wind also blew, making the whole house feel chaotic. The sound of the downpour hitting the windowpanes was fierce, but the savagely howling wind was more dominant.

The window frames were weak, so the windowpanes trembled ceaselessly, and Tadeo, who had pulled the covers up over his head, ultimately failed to fall asleep.

“Can’t sleep?”

Bell, who was sitting at an angle in the armchair, just turned his propped-up head to look. In one of his hands was a bottle of wine. He, who had only emptied five glasses of whiskey throughout lunch, had not filled his stomach even as evening came. He had simply opened the cork of a new bottle of wine without responding to Tadeo’s nagging to please eat something.

“I told you not to drink black tea before bed.”

As Tadeo nodded while rubbing his eyes, Bell chided him in a soft voice.

“It’s not that. Warm up some milk for me.”

“If it’s not that…”

He stood up from his seat. The faint striped, indigo gown he wore shimmered every time it swayed. Through the open gown, his bare white body was revealed, like white porcelain glazed and fired. Embarrassed by his eyes being drawn instantly to the broad chest, Tadeo scratched his cheek.

“Is it because you’re scared?”

Bell asked, approaching with slow steps.

“Should I stay by your side?”

“…”

“Like when we were little.”

At those words, as Tadeo just moved his lips, Bell passed by with a plain smile. His hair, lighter than a feather, and the hem of his gown floated in the air where not a single breeze blew. It was a very leisurely and elegant movement, as if it had stretched time itself.

Tadeo sat on the sofa where Bell had been sitting. He propped up his legs and quietly watched his movements. As his focused gaze crossed and blurred, he quickly blinked his large eyes. When he rubbed his eyes and looked again, Bell was not in front of the roaring fireplace.

“Good thing I warmed it up in advance.”

As if he had come to his side in an instant, Bell was holding out a mug in his hand.

“You know, Bell.”

Tadeo, taking the mug, decided to say something else instead of a thank you.

“I’m sorry for being a fool and not remembering.”

Bell said nothing. Tadeo’s gaze, which had looked up, fell to the milk in the cup. He touched the rim of the hot mug with his fingertip and gave a bitter smile. We’ve lived together for so long, yet I have no idea what you’re thinking.

“It would have been better if you had at least taken your anger out on me until you felt better.”

“That’s the plan.”

What? Tadeo quickly lifted his head. Bell was wearing a smile.

Knock knock knock. Just then, there was a knocking sound on the door from downstairs.

“Is anyone home? Father Tadeo! Father, are you there?!”

“Go see.”

And even a nonchalant nod of his head. Tadeo was engulfed in the feeling that this exceptionally long morning was repeating itself.

Bell, actually, there’s something I couldn’t say either. I was so anxious. I was afraid you would disappear without a trace this morning. Along with that fog.

“Father Tadeo!”

If there was one difference from this morning, it was that the person urgently knocking on the door was not Lestrade. The graphite-colored eyes that were blankly taking in Bell’s form blinked. Tadeo roughly placed the mug he was holding on the cluttered table and shot up.

The mug, placed on the edge of the table, wobbled precariously. Bell watched it and brought the mouth of the wine bottle he was holding to his lips.

The thin body, running, crushing the carpet, disappeared beyond the stairs in an instant. The precariously perched mug finally falls to the floor. The splattered white milk slowly seeped into the dried rose-colored carpet.

Tadeo pulled up the gown that had slipped down his shoulder and pulled the front doorknob. The wind and rain that instantly blew in through the opened door clung to his face. The unexpected visitor was Lestrade’s daughter.

“What…. Goodness….”

Olivia was trembling, her face pale and wan from the cold.

“Father, please, please save my father…!”

The cream-colored nightgown dress with an olive flower print was soaked with rain, revealing her skin, and the hand that suddenly grabbed him was covered in blood.

“Bell! I have to go urgently!”

Tadeo, who had rushed up the stairs, said as he ran into the living room.

“What are you going to do.”

“Manila stabbed Inspector Lestrade with a knife. I have to do it, even if I’m alone.”

‘I have to do it, even if I’m alone. Even if I’m alone.’ 

Tadeo muttered like a madman. Bell, who was taking a sip of wine, looked at him, who was in a state of panic and fidgeting. There was blood on the gown he was wearing and his oatmeal-colored shirt, and the same was true for the hand that was clutching his hair and trembling.

“You? With what skills?”

The eyes that met his without complaint, even at the belittling words, were moist and reddish. The expression he made, looking on pitifully with his lips, as red as the rims of his eyes, pressed tightly shut, was quite a sight, so Bell decided to get up from his seat. He walked gracefully past the carpet stained with white milk.

“The Inspector and Mrs. Lestrade are alone. Manila is still in that house.”

It was a voice spoken as calmly as possible, but its end was trembling. Bell still looked at him with an expressionless face, and Tadeo grabbed Bell’s hand abruptly.

“Help me, Bell….”

Then, Tadeo. What will you do for me.

Bell gently removed the hand that was clinging to him as if he were a lifeline. As he raised his large hand that stretched out coolly, it covered Tadeo’s entire face. The hand, brought close enough to devour him, soon brushed past his soft black hair and went down.

It seemed as if he was grasping both shoulders, but then he took the hem of the flowing red gown in his hand. And as he pulled the gown off his shoulders, he whispered in his ear.

“What are you doing. Hurry up and get dressed.”

🦇

In the middle of a night with pouring rain, a three-wheeled car that had left Kensington Gardens was racing at full speed. Olivia said that as soon as she ran out of the house, she was lucky enough to meet her neighbor, Mr. Bergent, who was parking. It was not an easy task for him to catch a carriage in London today, which was suffering from a traffic crisis due to the breakdown of the steam locomotive to Liverpool.

“Damn it! This piece of junk!”

Bergent pushed the speed as much as he could, but there was no way the Motorwagen, which was no different from a carriage with just a gasoline engine, could go any faster. Bergent, soaked to the bone with rain, slammed the steering wheel and got angry. Olivia was trembling with cold and fear.

The car, having entered Covent Garden, went straight ahead and stopped in front of a small mansion. The three people, including Olivia, jumped out of the car, and Bergent shouted that he would go get a doctor.

The three people, who had set foot in the garden touched by Mrs. Lestrade’s hand, held their breath. Lightly, but quickly, they stepped on the soaked, muddy ground. By the time Olivia opened the mansion door, Tadeo, who had become like a drowned rat, entered.

“Bell…?”

He had been so focused on following in front that he had no mind to check behind him. By the time he checked behind him belatedly, Bell was not to be seen. At the sudden disappearance of Bell, Tadeo stopped in his tracks and hurriedly looked outside.

The pouring rain hit his face. The rainwater that collected on his eyelashes dripped into his eyeballs. But he didn’t care and his eyes darted around distractedly. He looked for Bell as if he himself had become a lost child. But not even a single strand of golden hair could be found anywhere.