Satanas Chapter 10.2 - Side Story 1. The Way They Live

“Bell?”

Bell only pressed his lips together. The corners of his mouth, twisted up, struggled to regain composure.

“May God’s blessings be with you.”

Bang. With a curt farewell, he slammed the door in her face. The entire entrance shuddered. Heavy footsteps descended the creaking staircase. When Tadeo wasn’t pregnant, the stairs didn’t creak, but now they groaned with every step. Until the sound reached the final step, Bell didn’t look back.

“Bell, who was that?”

“Go inside. It’s nothing.”

His words, as always, didn’t match his heart. Knowing this was Tadeo’s only complaint, regret always followed after the fact. Bell still gripped the doorknob. Tadeo, approaching, stared at his hand.

The woman outside hadn’t left. Bell released the doorknob with a crushing grip. If he could make Tadeo turn away, that would be enough. The hand that left the knob wrapped around Tadeo’s shoulder. Then, a hand hidden in the robe’s sleeve emerged abruptly.

“Tadeo!”

He grabbed the still-warm doorknob. It was too late to stop the turning knob and the widening door. Facing the woman with tears streaming down her face, the priest’s expression held a faint anger.

Tadeo, glaring briefly at Bell, hid his swollen belly and crossed the threshold. “We’ll talk later.” With a determined look, Bell turned away, hands on hips. Listening to the woman’s plight, Tadeo smiled kindly, asking her to wait a moment, and stomped back up the stairs.

“How could you do that!”

Bursting through the stained-glass door, Tadeo shouted. Bell, following, shot back immediately.

“So you’re going to perform an exorcism now?”

“What else can I do? It’s urgent! She needs help!”

“In that state?”

Their argument echoed out to the entrance.

“What’s wrong with my state!”

Tadeo glanced toward the entrance and slammed the door. Bell had to suppress the urge to shout. Tadeo, struggling to breathe after climbing one flight of stairs, was determined to take on the task.

“If I have to hold a mirror to your face…!”

Two large hands gripped his shoulders as if to devour him, making Tadeo’s chest heave with a gasp. Before Bell’s threat finished, they stood before the full-length mirror in the bedroom.

“Do you see what you look like…?”

“Hng…”

The face leaning down to his ear burrowed into his neck. Tadeo tilted his head back but kept his gaze on his belly.

Three months wasn’t enough to adjust to such a massive change. His mountain-like belly made sitting or lying down exhausting. Walking even a little brought stabbing pain to his pelvis, and the weight made standing for five minutes impossible. Just last month, swallowing saliva triggered nausea.

Conception was a process of enduring, step by step.

“Bell. I know what you’re worried about.”

“If you know…! Please, just…”

Bell began to plead. He rested his forehead on Tadeo’s nape, where fine hair fell, and held him tightly from behind. His voice carried a crumpled, muffled weight. It was a first, and Tadeo couldn’t find the right words.

Where do I start to soothe and calm you?

“Bell, look at me.”

“Speak.”

“Bell, please. Look at me.”

The arms around his waist loosened and dropped. Bell turned fully, head angled away, avoiding eye contact. To correct that twisted angle, Tadeo closed the distance, reaching out with both hands.

If Bell’s hurt back, wounded by my reckless choice, seemed like any ordinary lover’s, would it lighten the mood… Bell, would you stay angry?

Tidying the hair over his shoulders, Tadeo’s head tilted to meet his gaze. Bell’s attempts to avoid it ended after two tries. The hand brushing hair behind his ear drew Bell’s eyes back, tracing a path through the air. To shorten that time, Tadeo pulled his face closer.

“It’s the last time, Bell. Really the last. Just checking. If the child is sick, we call a doctor and return. It’s not hard.”

“How many times have you said ‘last time’?”

“It’s really the last.”

“You can barely stand for a moment!”

“It’s a child, Bell. A child. We can’t turn away… We’re going to be parents.”

The forehead-to-forehead talk ended in resignation. It was inevitable. From the moment the door opened, Bell knew he couldn’t break Tadeo’s resolve. He just didn’t expect his mouth to be so silenced.

Bell closed his eyes, and Tadeo waited for them to open. Thank you for not pushing me away. A kiss on the bridge of his nose replaced those words. Over three months, the massive change wasn’t his alone.

“…Figure out how to hide that belly.”

Bell’s face, changing daily, had long shed its winter chill.

“Thank you, Bell.”

The blue ocean eyes hid beneath eyelids again, thanks to the lips meeting his. Even the moment his eyes closed, Bell couldn’t shake the feeling of being swayed by this child.

Silently turning, Bell thought he should alert Gabriel in advance, just in case.

🦇

The woman sat at a peeling round table, unaware of the stew boiling over. Her husband, glancing at the kitchen, sighed and stood. Patting his wife’s frayed shoulder, he lowered the flame.

Her hollow eyes fixed on a small chair at the table’s side. It was a child’s chair. They regained focus when a rusty hinge creaked.

Scrape. The chair scratched the floor. Tadeo, emerging from the room, pressed a finger to his lips, signaling the child was asleep.

“No reaction to the cross or to scripture.”

“What? Then that means…”

“Fortunately, no signs of possession. No symptoms at all.”

The couple, swallowing dryly, finally exhaled in relief.

The Lestrade couple, who adopted a girl who stabbed them, was a famous tale in London. Behind it was a priest’s story, and Tadeo, embarrassed by his heroic reputation, couldn’t lift his head.

Regardless, his return to London led to an invitation to lecture on demonology at the Church of England, leaving Archbishop John helpless. The downside was that most who came seeking help, hearing rumors, weren’t possessed.

“Don’t relax yet. Call a doctor immediately. This is a health issue.”

“Thank you, Father… Thank you so much…”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

Tadeo patted her shoulder, adding,

“Possession isn’t common. Exorcisms usually follow a doctor’s visit. Things have changed. Parish approvals are stricter…”

A dull sensation swirled in his lower abdomen. The faint pain, a sucking feeling, differed from past labor pains. Tadeo’s body stiffened, his expression frozen.

“Father? Are you alright?”

“Ah… It’s nothing. I’ll be going.”

It must be from focusing too much on hiding his belly. The labor pain came from fatigue after tension eased. Bell was waiting outside; no need for excessive worry. Open the door calmly, eat out with Bell, and sleep well—that’s all.

“Um… Father?”

His lower body grew wet rapidly. Tadeo stiffly moved his neck to look down. Lifting his cloak, he saw water dripping from his trousers. Drip, drip. He blinked, following the thin liquid. Then, a flood of dew poured out, tinged red, soaking his shoes.

“Ah… ahh…”

“Good heavens, Father!”

“If the water breaks first, it’s bad. Remember, it’s not like human birth. Labor will progress rapidly.” Gabriel’s words echoed in his mind. Tadeo clutched his belly, lips trembling, unable to speak in panic. Staring at his shaking legs, he slowly turned.

Bell was waiting outside, and as always, Tadeo called his name.

“Be, Bell…”

And you’ll burst through that door like light.

“Tadeo!”

Just like now.

Light poured through the open door, forming a wing’s illusion. The figure rushing in caught Tadeo in an embrace. Bell’s terrified face was unfamiliar. He was afraid for the first time.

Feeling pity, Tadeo held his hand instead of hugging him. Instead of burrowing into his arms, he filled the spaces between his fingers. With apologetic fingertips, he tightly interlaced their hands. My stubbornness made you anxious, Bell.

“My, belly… feels a bit weird…”

“Okay, let’s go, Jinha… Gabriel will come soon… Let’s go…”

“Yeah, yeah… Bell, hurry…”

Bell covered the hand clutching his chest. Slipping a hand behind his knees, he lifted him carefully, kissing his crown nestled against his neck. The swollen belly protruded from the torn cloak. The couple’s eyes widened.

Blue eyes turned to them, and the gazes that met flinched. Wet like London’s rainy streets, yet razor-sharp. Just before a curse-like warning, a devouring silence hung. The couple rushed forward.

“May God’s protection be with you, Father. Amen.”

The woman draped her coat over Tadeo, praying,

“We saw nothing. Don’t worry.”

Her husband gladly opened the door.

Something wet ran down Bell’s cheek. Only when it soaked his soft hair did he realize he was crying.

That day, Bell bowed to humans other than Tadeo for the first time.

🦇

Gabriel’s carriage arrived less than an hour after they returned home.

Bell knelt, holding Tadeo’s hand. Footsteps climbed the stairs, but he stayed steadfastly by his side.

“Bellred!”

An urgent voice called from the living room. Tadeo’s sweat-soaked hair was blacker than ever. After carefully brushing it aside and caressing his face, Bell left the bedroom.

The pain’s intervals shortened. Worse than the blinding labor pains was the fetus’s frantic kicking, tearing at his belly. Tadeo, gritting his teeth, looked away from his bulging stomach.

“How is he?”

Gabriel rushed in as the door opened. Faint groans drifted from behind Bell.

“The pain’s intense. Intervals are faster.”

“How frequent?”

“One minute.”

“Already?”

The glimpse through the door looked grim. Gabriel sighed, touching his forehead.

“It’ll… be okay…”

His comforting words slowed, seeing Bell’s ashen face. Noticing dried tear tracks on his statue-like cheeks, Gabriel’s eyes widened in shock, double-checking Bell’s face.

“What, he actually cried?”

Normally, he’d tease that face endlessly, but not now. Gabriel silently rolled up his sleeves, lips firmly shut.

“Fine. Teasing’s for later. I’ll get you good.”

He shot Bell a fierce look before entering.

“Brace yourself.”

Their shoulders collided, and Bell’s steps faltered against the closed door.

Bell stood dazed before the door for a long time.

🦇

Time passed. Countless groans and screams. Clenched eyes and fists gripped to breaking. A helplessness Bell had never felt emptied the ground beneath him.

The sky moved on, extinguishing blazing flames, but Bell alone, by the window, was trapped in a cycle.

For the first time, he prayed to God.

To the almighty being, toward a sanctity faintly recalled by a sinful fate. Each prayer, wished repeatedly, carried eons of weight. He feared that weight might lighten with his sins. He feared God might find him wanting and ignore him.

He feared God might take him instead of the child. If so… must I live again with the sound of withered grass crumbling?

Seawater shimmered in the blue eyes reflected in the window. His head, unable to bear original sin’s weight, kept bowing. Bell pressed his forehead to the glass, clasping trembling hands.

As his eyes watered again.

“Waaah!”

A baby’s cry erupted loudly.

Golden hair scattered in the window’s reflection. His body, turning like lightning, vanished from view. Beyond Kensington Gardens’ triangular roofs, the soot-darkened sky cleared. Dawn broke after a full night, at 5:26 AM.

New tear tracks carved the face entering the room. Bell struggled to keep his weakening legs from buckling. Taking one step, he met Tadeo’s eyes as Gabriel turned.

“Congratulations, Bellred.”

“….”

“You’re a father.”

In his blood-and-dew-stained arms lay a tiny life. The next steps came easier after the first. Rushing forward, Bell took in the swaddled baby.

Gabriel smiled brightly, handing over the new life. A moment where fear and responsibility outweighed joy. As his trembling hands shook, Tadeo softly called his name.

“Bell…”

That cracked voice sparked courage. Every moment felt new. The simple act of breathing felt miraculous. Though he’d closely witnessed the Creator’s work, only by holding the child did Bell truly grasp life’s mystery and awe.

Approaching the bed, Bell held the child in his arms, filling Tadeo’s side. In their seamless reunion, they burst into uncontrollable tears.

August 27. A day of unforgettable wonder.

🦇

Mrs. Morita said life is like walking a virgin road.

In October, with shorter days, late morning light filled the time, and Kensington Gardens’ old two-story house remained quiet.

The replaced carpet no longer bore milk stains. Dust that once flew like sand was gone, polished to a shine, and the stacked books were neatly arranged. The neglected fireplace was clean, and a small bear doll sat on the table once cluttered with empty bottles.

The small room’s door beside the bedroom opened. A cautious hand. During its opening and closing, soft breathing briefly sounded. The hand in a navy robe no longer held a glass.

Emerging into the living room, Bell took in every detail. He no longer gazed afar, like at a window with whiskey or wine. The sunlit window, the cozier wool carpet in its rays, and…

His gaze stopped at a new bookshelf tucked among old furniture.

“What’s there to think about? Just throw them all out.”

Last year, as Tadeo groaned sorting books, Bell had asked.

“These are all books you bought me, Bell.”

“….”

“Some are from Father Peter. And Father Antonio.”

Opening a faded book, Peter’s initials marked the inner flap. Tadeo gently rubbed it with his thumb.

“I can’t believe I left all this behind.”

“Yeah, you even left me behind.”

“Right. How could I do that?”

Tadeo nodded, smiling. The smile didn’t last, lingering like a mark.

“There’s nothing to throw out, Bell. Nothing.”

With that, the book closed.

He wanted to turn a room into a library. But one of two rooms had to be the baby’s. A proposal to move to a mansion with a study was vetoed by Tadeo’s insistence: “Unless we’re having a second, I’m not leaving this house.”

So, Bell had a new goal.

“Mmm… That tickles, Bell…”

Entering the bedroom, Tadeo was the first thing he saw, even buried in blankets. Bell could find him anywhere.

The body curled in blankets was as warm as a child’s. Rubbing against that skin, burying his nose, brought natural laughter. Kiss, kiss, kiss. Kissing down, Tadeo offered his neck without pushing away. That response always drove Bell wild.

Turning the sleeping body face-up, Bell climbed atop. Stroking the flat stomach, he rolled up the pajamas. As Bell slipped his head inside, Tadeo curled like a shrimp, laughing.

“Can’t I sleep more…?”

“You sleep. I’ll handle everything.”

“You’re such a pervert…”

The sleepy voice held no irritation. Barely opening his eyes, he lifted his hips to help remove his clothes. The rolled-up pajamas covered dry lips. Bell tucked them under his chin, like brushing hair aside, and Tadeo laughed again.

“You laugh so easily. Like a kid. You’d laugh at rolling leaves.”

“Why doesn’t Raphael laugh…?”

“Takes after me.”

“Wow… Only the bad traits.”

“You really think that?”

Tadeo couldn’t nod. Bell’s tongue grazed a nipple, stiffened by cool air.

“If Raphael wakes, we need to feed him…”

“Does your chest still hurt?”

“Mm, no…”

He firmly grasped the slightly twisting waist. He gently teased with the tip of his tongue before kissing. When Tadeo’s flushed lips parted, he clutched the sheets. The red mucosa enveloping the nipple and the grazing tongue were so soft that his heated face twisted into the pillow.

“Milk’s coming out.”

Tadeo’s eyes snapped open. The saliva-glistened nipple looked plump and swollen. As white droplets pooled and flowed, he began to squirm.

“Ah, stop! Don’t squeeze like that…!”

A white stream shot out, splashing Bell’s lips. Licking it, the taste was sweet with a slight fishiness. Seeing this, Tadeo let out a silent scream.

Last summer, he had sought advice from Mrs. Morita about breaastfeeding Raphael. She said the milk ducts needed to open, so Tadeo asked Bell to suckle every morning. Naturally, Bell considered it a windfall.

“It doesn’t soak my chest every morning anymore.”

“Ah… ah… that’s for our baby… hng…”

His pursed lips parted, exhaling heated breaths. Bell was now fully engulfing the breast, sucking greedily. A tingling sensation circled the areola. The milk was flowing. The rush of milk through the opened ducts was palpable.

“Don’t drink it all… it’s for the baby…”

Through his fingers, Bell’s crown was visible. But he kept sucking like a parched beast. The hands pressing his eyes began clawing at the headboard and pillow. Unconsciously, Tadeo’s hips bucked.

“Hm?”

Then, a faint kitten-like cry sounded.

“What.”

“I heard something just now.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Bell replied firmly, moving to latch again, but Tadeo pushed his golden crown away.

“No, really.”

“No, I said…”

“Waaah!”

His spreading legs snapped shut.

“Raphael’s awake.”

Tadeo yanked down his rolled-up pajamas. His alert face returned to its pale calm, as if nothing happened. With that, he bolted out of the room.

“….”

Bell’s mouth felt rough. The pressed pillow, crumpled blankets, and chaotic bed left him staring blankly at the wall. The sheets still held warmth, with traces of their presence.

Nothing could replace Tadeo. That would always be true. To Bell, Tadeo was still first, the priority. Did Tadeo feel the same? Bell couldn’t answer confidently.

Brushing back fallen hair, he rose. His twisted lips quickly relaxed, and a faint smile appeared as he left the room. Peeking into the baby’s room, he saw Tadeo patting Raphael’s tiny back.

“Shh, he’s still half-asleep.”

Tadeo turned, showing the baby’s face. His drowsy eyes were puffy. That’s another thing he got from you. Bell nodded, quietly closing the door.

Now he could answer confidently. He wasn’t Tadeo’s priority anymore. But being outranked by their one-year-old didn’t feel bad. Perhaps he was learning happiness, he thought.

🦇

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Raphael, waddling, plopped by the fireplace to warm himself. Bell, watching quietly, instinctively turned.

“Bell!”

Winter neared Christmas. Snow fell outside, as if celebrating baby Jesus early.

“I’m heading to the publisher!”

“Got a call?”

“Yeah. Things look good.”

Tadeo burst through the door, white breath puffing out. He waved a wax-sealed letter, face flushed. Forgetting to brush snow from his hair, he dashed to the room. Bell’s gaze followed.

“Take care of Raphael.”

After bustling about, Tadeo emerged in a thick coat. Bell nodded, pretending to read. The door opened but didn’t close. No creak of wooden stairs followed. Bell, flipping a page, looked up.

“I’ll be back.”

A shadow fell over the yellowed page. Tadeo was beside him. Lips touched his cheek, fine hair tickling his temple. It was light, but the warmth would linger until Tadeo returned. Bell wanted to grab that retreating face and kiss deeply, but he suppressed it by turning an unread page.

Time passed, and much changed. Bell wasn’t immune. He knew his current self was laughable. Being called a demon now was absurd. Was that even fitting?

But one thing was clear: Bell liked his changes. They aligned with an ordinary life.

“Oh, right. Mrs. Morita made baby food this morning. Feed him that!”

“Don’t worry, go.”

Bell smiled, nodding. Tadeo kissed Raphael before leaving. The stained-glass window showed a fading shadow. As the door opened, Bell closed his book and stood. His black shoes headed to the window.

Through fallen black hair, flushed cheeks appeared. Bell leaned closer. Tadeo’s hair, tousled by the breeze, swayed. Blue eyes, watching closely, flinched as Tadeo looked up, as if expecting to be seen.

Bell waved naturally, before Tadeo could.

“Mamma…?”

The face in the window turned. A chubby arm, tied like a rubber band, appeared. The tiny hand tugging Bell’s trouser leg was fern-like, the head barely reaching his shin, half the small body.

Bell took the hand, meeting Raphael’s eyes.

“Not mamma, daddy.”

“Maam, ma.”

“No, daddy. Say it. Da-ddy.”

When Raphael was in the womb, Bell hoped he’d resemble Tadeo—smiling easily, expressive, showing human beauty.

His tangled, nest-like black hair was Tadeo’s, but the sharp eyes and dawn-sky pupils were unmistakably Bell’s. Until this summer, facing that mirrored face felt uncanny.

“Mamma! Mamma!”

A fist clenched and opened before him. Bell, staring blankly at the raised arm, nodded knowingly and stood.

“Oh, you’re hungry… Alright, alright.”

“Oo, ooo… hee…”

The tiny lips, pursed tightly, curled up, as if praising Bell for understanding. That smile, more beautiful than any angel’s, pierced his heart.

Raphael began toddling. Bell, snapping out of his daze, grabbed his hand. Glancing at the window, he thought of Tadeo, relieved by Raphael’s rare smiles or cries.

“Gotta brag when he’s back.”

Muttering, Bell mimicked Raphael’s penguin-like waddle. His boots shuffled beside the baby’s padded legs.

Change isn’t grand. Ordinary life might be the grandest. Like a hard-earned happy ending. Savoring timely happiness was their greatest privilege.

Bell’s reflection vanished from the window. The snow blanketing Kensington Gardens’ roofs would soon cover London. Or perhaps it already had. The clear sky was pouring snow today.

🦇

A year passed. Last Christmas, when Gabriel visited Kensington Gardens with gifts for Raphael, Tadeo invited him for Easter. But Gabriel refused, saying, “Easter with a demon? Horrid.”

Today was Raphael’s second Easter.

“Coo, coo. Raphael, come here.”

Gabriel stormed into Kensington Gardens at ten sharp.

Bell greeted him with a scowl at the sound of the black carriage’s hooves. Gabriel ignored him like air, breezing past to the fireplace where Raphael flipped through a picture book.

“Ohh, ohh. Have you been good?”

Raphael gave Gabriel a blank stare but soon raised both arms to be held. Bell, seeing Gabriel’s enraptured face and Raphael’s expressionless one over his shoulder, grimaced.

In the kitchen, Tadeo poured tea. Bell approached, and Tadeo handed him a cup without sugar.

“Gabriel, tea okay?”

“Raphael, wanna see what I brought?”

“He’s not listening, is he?”

“Hm? What’d you say?”

Tadeo shook his head, placing saucers on a tray.

“Tell him to drink what’s given.”

Unable to stand it, Bell shouted toward the living room after a sip.

“Didn’t know he’d dote on kids like that.”

“Give it here. I’ll carry it.”

Bell stopped Tadeo from lifting the tray.

“I’m fine.”

The insincere words replaced a thank you. Biting his twitching lips, Tadeo handed over the tray, grabbing his own cup.

“Picked a name for the second? Just in case, I brought another bear doll.”

“That’s not for Raphael?”

“He doesn’t like those.”

Tadeo sat in an armchair. Bell leaned beside him. Gabriel’s bear doll wore a tiara and white lace dress. Raphael, glancing with his cold eyes, ignored it.

“Don’t even know if it’s a boy or girl yet?”

“Hm, I’d say a girl.”

Gabriel’s bold claim excited Tadeo, his cheeks flushing lightly.

“Bell, he says a girl.”

“Don’t believe him. Total nonsense.”

“Still, a girl would be nice. She’d be super cute.”

When one biscuit remained, Gabriel suddenly made a fuss.

“Where’d this come from? Doesn’t look a bit like his dad.”

He twisted, tickled, and flailed, unable to handle the cute round cheeks. Pinching them lightly, he rolled on the floor. Raphael, unfazed, turned a page.

“Hey, you better thank Tadeo for life.”

“You’re so blind, he’s my spitting image.”

“Don’t say that horror again.”

Tadeo bit the last biscuit. Crumbs fell onto his round belly, but he didn’t care. Ignoring their bickering was wiser than wasting energy. That was like missing life’s joy.

“Gabriel, we’re eating out later. Join us.”

“Nice. No morning sickness?”

“None at all.”

“Good.”

Gabriel, accepting readily, turned back to the fireplace.

Fingers brushing crumbs touched the teacup. Bell watched that hand. He knew, without looking, what Tadeo was pondering, what he hesitated over. Placing a hand on the shoulder in Mrs. Morita’s sweater, Tadeo’s black eyes met his.

Crumbs clung to the lips looking up. Wiping them with his thumb, Bell nodded toward the fireplace. Blink, blink. Tadeo’s slow lashes shot up, and he whipped toward the fireplace.

“Gabriel, I’m writing Bell’s story. Can I include you?”

He finally voiced his hesitation. Biting his lower lip, he awaited an answer. Gabriel, staring at the fire, slowly turned. Bell stood crookedly, ready to retort if refused.

“What?”

“Uh… is that okay?”

The timid voice asked again. Gabriel blinked, deliberately pausing. Bell, knowing he’d agree, nudged with his chin.

“Just say yes already.”

Gabriel restrained his middle finger from twitching on the carpet.

“Why not? I love that stuff.”

Tadeo inwardly cheered at the approval. Jumping up, he shouted, “Let’s get fish and chips!” Raphael, reaching for another book, looked at him. But Bell and Gabriel’s faces hardened.

Gabriel glanced at Bell, clearly saying, “You need to show him the world’s delicacies.”

🦇

“Got everything?”

“Yes.”

Rain seemed imminent. The gravel path smelled of dried fruit. Raphael, fresh from a tailor fitting, stopped at Bell’s sight. His height now reached Bell’s waist.

His pale, leaden skin and deep blue eyes were undeniably Bell’s.

“Angela. Angela…?”

His steady gaze scanned around. Angela, who left first, was gone. His head stopped at the back of the square.

“Angela!”

Bell, taking Raphael’s load, ran. Angela pressed her nose to a toy shop window. Much shorter than Raphael, the six-year-old stood on tiptoes in ivory shoes. Her thick blonde hair, down to her waist, looked white under the shop’s lights.

“Daddy, this bear is so cute.”

Stepping back, she looked up at Bell. Her delicate features held chubby cheeks. A low nose and round nostrils gave an exotic charm, reminiscent of someone.

Her black eyes, thick brows, and long, round-when-wide eyes were Tadeo’s mirror image.

“How many times did I say not to wander off?”

“Sorry, Daddy…”

“Not mad. Worried. Got it?”

Bell handed her the bear she’d left. In a white lace dress and wine-red coat, Angela nodded glumly.

“Daddy, I want this bear.”

“You have the same one at home. Stop asking for duplicates.”

Raphael, in a teal coat with a ribbon tie, approached. His sharp words and pursed lips seemed mature. He stuck to pomaded hair for a simple reason: he liked his unchildlike look and wanted to appear precocious. He knew what suited him and dressed accordingly.

“This one’s nose is round.”

“Don’t you have a round-nosed one?”

“Don’t call it round. It’s Roddy.”

Raphael was strict. His thick British accent matched, and when Angela was younger, his words often made her cry.

Clutching the bear, Angela retorted with a pout. Raphael, expressionless, opened his mouth for the next remark. Bell stepped in.

“Angela, Daddy’ll buy it. Okay?”

Her teary frown brightened. Burying her nose between the bear’s ears, she nodded, while Raphael sighed faintly behind.

“Daddy, it’s raining.”

“Here’s the umbrella. Cover Angela too.”

“Yes.”

Raindrops fell as they left the shop. Bell handed the umbrella, and Raphael covered Angela first. He didn’t not love his only sister. He cherished her deeply.

But Angela couldn’t know that. “Oppa hates me,” she’d confess nightly to Bell and Tadeo, who soothed her.

“Daddy, where’s Father?”

Raphael held Angela’s hand with his other. Bell pulled a brass pocket watch from his coat. The pendant-like watch’s chain still gleamed.

“Probably home by now.”

Clop, clop. Slow hooves rounded the corner. Four muzzled black horses appeared. The driverless carriage drew curious stares. It was Wittgen’s, returned by Gabriel.

It stopped before a Kensington Gardens house. The old house was rebuilt, funded entirely by Bell, to Mrs. Morita’s delight.

The carriage door opened, and Angela bounced in like a ping-pong ball. The interior was largely unchanged, but the ground floor had an open kitchen under the stairs, hoping Mrs. Morita could run a guesthouse after they left.

“Back? Rain must’ve been tough.”

Tadeo, in a cardigan, turned from the window. He hugged Angela, who leapt into his arms, followed by Raphael.

“Father, Angela bought another identical bear.”

“Daddy said he’d buy it!”

“He bought it because you begged.”

Tadeo removed Angela’s coat. “Maybe stop buying them, Angela,” he said cautiously. Raphael shrugged pointedly, while Angela slumped, answering,

“Okay, Father.”

Soon after the kids ran to their room, Bell entered, hands full with a bouquet of daffodils.

“You went to Covent Garden?”

“There’s no better tailor.”

“That’s true.”

Tadeo nodded.

“How’d it go at the publisher?”

“Yeah. Seems like they liked it.”

“How so?”

“They’re getting a lot of hate.”

Tadeo crossed his arms, answering Bell’s question. Bell, still in his coat, pulled Tadeo into an embrace. The window reflected a pale face resting on small shoulders.

“Haha, that’s a good thing?”

“Of course. It’s good. They’re getting letters asking for the next story.”

“You finished it.”

“Yeah. They want a sequel.”

Bell’s swaying steps, as if dancing, stopped. The arms around Tadeo’s neck slid down to rest on the damp coat. Tadeo, eyes wide, pushed Bell’s chest and said,

“Are you serious?”

“Why not?”

“A sequel means our story now.”

“Right.”

“A priest getting pregnant and having a kid? No way.”

“You’ve already written everything.”

Bell replied, pulling Tadeo back into his arms. Though apart for just a few hours, it felt long, and their embrace lingered.

Tadeo reached for a drink after a while. Sipping low-alcohol dessert wine, he gazed at the window. The kids were asleep, and the house was quiet—a perfect time to savor freedom.

“I want to go to America soon.”

Bell, engrossed in a book, looked up from his temple-propped hand. Tadeo’s murmur lingered as mist on the window. Closing The Sign of Four, Bell unbuttoned his shirt and rose from the sofa. He’d taken a liking to detective novels, especially Sherlock Holmes.

“Weren’t you attached to London?”

“Hm… I am. Especially to Mrs. Morita.”

Their faces, side by side, reflected in the window. As fog crept over Kensington Gardens, coinciding with the start of their story, Tadeo slipped into a brief reverie.

“There are so many memories here, Bell.”

“Then why?”

“It’s the same in my homeland, Joseon.”

Wrapping his arms around Bell’s forearms, Tadeo tilted his head to nestle into his neck.

“What I mean is…”

“….”

“Wherever I’m with you, every minute, every second, memories pile up without pause.”

The wine glass in his hand tilted precariously. With a subtle glance from Bell, the near-spilling wine splashed up and settled back.

“Give me the glass. It’s dangerous.”

A large hand gently enveloped his, taking the glass. As Bell set it on the table, Tadeo rested his head on Bell’s chest, closing his eyes.

“It’s so exciting. Raphael, Angela, and…”

“….”

“Going to a new place with you, Bell.”

Bell’s face reflected in the window again, but Tadeo’s didn’t—he’d turned to face him.

Sleeves slid up, revealing arms that rose to cradle Bell’s head. Hands stroking hair aglow with the golden cityscape cupped his face. Foreheads met, Bell’s high nose splitting the view precisely.

“I love you, Bell.”

A blue moon rose in Tadeo’s glossy black eyes, outshining the red sunset sinking in the sky. The evening glow embracing distant peaks tinged his black hair brown at the tips.

No matter how often heard, those words tirelessly stirred Bell’s heart. His resolve to say it first was postponed again.

“I… love you too.”

Before kissing, he softly returned the confession.

Life’s moments, though frantically busy and seemingly endless, feel fleeting in retrospect. Mrs. Morita’s words, “Life is like walking a virgin road,” might mean just that.

As responsibilities grow, ways of living change. Loving those changes, feeling their preciousness—that’s how we live.

Forever, always.