Arcadia Chapter 2.4

“Life is something you live alone.”

For a moment, Michel’s cantankerous face flashed through his mind, but when he thought about it, their relationship was worse than that of strangers. Even when his son and daughter-in-law were alive, Michel never once held his grandson, and as soon as the funeral was over, he all but abandoned his young grandson and immersed himself in his research. They kept in touch out of a sense of obligation, but it was difficult to find any affection in it.

As a child, he had craved his grandmother’s love, but now, he neither felt a renewed sense of disappointment nor longed for affection. A family in name only. That was all it was.

The child, lying face down on his thigh, continued with a question that would have earned a curse had it been a stranger.

“Then are you lonely?”

Stunned by the unexpected question, Van shook his head from side to side.

“Not at all?”

“No.”

“Why do you get to decide that?”

Dia, who had cupped his chin in both hands, laughed along with Van, who burst out laughing in disbelief. Perhaps because it was a child saying it, it was not the least bit irritating. Van pulled Dia’s arm and hauled him up onto the bed. It just so happened that the thing he had prepared was on the bed.

“I have a present for you.”

“A present?”

“Because it’s Christmas.”

There was no magnificent tree or sparkling lights, but it wouldn’t be Christmas without a present. Thinking of it as a unique Christmas in its own way, he fumbled under the pillow and took out a small, plain box.

“Ta-da.”

He placed the box on his palm as if he were proposing and opened the lid. Dia looked back and forth between Van’s grinning face and the inside of the open box.

“This is something money can’t buy, but I’m giving it to you specially.”

Van, putting on a show of his generosity in a smooth-tongued way, took the object out of the box. A cold metal necklace was caught on his finger and hung down. The necklace, a clear gold like Dia’s hair, had a small locket on it for holding a picture or something of the sort. Van put the necklace around the neck of Dia, who was tilting his head, unsure of its purpose, and holding the chain short, fastened the clasp. The locket, now resting on the child’s collarbone, swayed.

“You can never take it off.”

After blinking for a long moment, Dia held the locket in both hands and brought it before his eyes, then carefully opened his mouth.

“Is this a present?”

“Yeah. With this, you can call me.”

“Really?”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. A friend had bought it, and he’d gotten it on the cheap and had just left it shoved away at home during his vacation, but it had turned up just in time while he was searching for a suitable gift. Its performance was uncertain, but given that it was difficult to even go out, it was pretty enough to be called a present, so that was that.

“I can come find you anywhere.”

When he lifted his chin confidently, Dia, who was wearing the brightest smile since coming out of the basement, hugged the location tracker disguised as a necklace tightly to his chest. As if he was so delighted with a necklace he wouldn’t even have a chance to show off to others after being locked up all this time, Dia rubbed his forehead against Van’s shoulder and stomped his feet, showing his happiness for all to see. Feeling the satisfaction of giving a gift, Van, who had been engrossed in Dia’s reaction, remembered something and pointed to the locket.

“Ah, and if you open that…”

“I have a present too.”

“Huh?”

His words cut off, Van listened closely to Dia, who was muttering with his lips.

“I want to give you one.”

The child said something quite admirable. Hmmph, Van snorted and patted Dia’s shoulder, which was beginning to show his bony frame. Evading difficult situations with a roguish attitude was Van’s specialty.

“Your existence itself is a gift.”

He’s well-behaved, smart, cute… a million dollars.

To push the word that made him smile just thinking about it down below his conscience, Van fiddled with the chain of the child’s necklace. It wouldn’t do for Dia to get scared and run away after he showed too much of his materialistic side.

Dia, who had been staring at the tight-lipped Van with an indescribable expression, lowered his long eyelashes and smiled.

“I see.”

Van, who did not miss the very small voice, played along nonchalantly and pulled the child onto his lap. He flopped straight back onto the bed and began to rub his face all over the soft hair, and the sound of pleasant laughter rang out. With Dia, who was fidgeting and wrapping his arms around his waist, held in his embrace, he unfolded his fist.

Unfolding the tightly folded note, Van was confronted with a message that was hard to comprehend. The smile on his lips slowly faded.

Destroy this note immediately upon confirmation. In case of emergency, temporary rendezvous is the last Friday of every month. Secrecy is paramount!

The handwriting was a mess, unlike Michel’s, as if it had been written in a hurry, and as if he was that worried about something, the words “Secrecy is paramount” were underlined three times. The meaning was a complete mystery. If it was important enough to warrant an exclamation point, shouldn’t it have been written in the letter requesting the job, rather than behind a picture frame where it was less likely to be found? At the very least, he could have had the mechanical voice pass on the instructions…

Suddenly, the picture frame with the worn-out frame came into view. Could it be something that even the mechanical voice wasn’t supposed to know? Unable to fathom Michel’s intentions at all, Van pouted his lips and was about to crumple the note back up when he thought, “Ah, whatever,” and tore it into pieces, tossing them into the trash can that was scheduled to be emptied tomorrow.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear—just then, the cellphone in his pocket rang loudly. Startled at first, he then answered the phone with a sullen expression, and a mechanical voice that sounded like it was suppressing a great deal of anger came through.

— What are you doing right now?

“It’s my day off.”

He knew it wouldn’t fly, but he wanted to talk back anyway. Dia, who poked his head out from Van’s embrace, curious about the conversation, squirmed his way up and put his ear to the phone. Van, not particularly bothered by it, let the child be and continued the call while patting his straight back.

— Come down right now. And turn the camera back to how it was.

“Can’t I even just be upstairs?”

— No. Don’t go out recklessly. Not him, and not you.

He was worrying too much in a neighborhood where it was hard to see even a shadow of a person even if they did go out. Van looked down at his phone with a fed-up expression and whispered quietly to Dia.

“This bastard has a crappy personality, right?”

“Yeah.”

As Van pinched the cheek of Dia, who was nodding and smiling without even knowing what he was saying, the mechanical voice commanded firmly.

— I can hear everything. Go down.

“Yep. Understood.”

He replied sarcastically and made eye contact with Dia. Talking behind someone’s back was possible with just a look. As he lingered, exchanging glances with Dia, the demand to go down came once more. Replying that he would obey the command with a touch of sarcasm, Van helped Dia up—who was clutching the locket tightly in his small hand as if afraid of losing it—and stared at him intently.

How much would this child, whose growth was hard to gauge since they were together every single day, grow by tomorrow? In this painfully familiar room, where the corners untouched by the lighting were dyed dark now that it was past midnight, there was the picture frame containing the family photo, in which only one person now remained… and a child of unknown identity.

Van tugged on the necklace around the child’s neck. He gave Dia, who was pulled forward with a jerk, a light kiss on his round forehead and pulled back.

“Merry Christmas.”

When the day came to receive the rest of his pay a year from now, he hoped they would be able to part with a smile.

The inside of the bleak glass wall was filled with the soft cushions and thick blankets Van had brought, along with old toys that no one played with but he had brought for mood’s sake. Van, who used to come out of the glass enclosure at night to catch some sleep on a chair, now found himself sleeping by Dia’s side more often, and the number of movies they had watched together had grown to be more than they could count on all their fingers combined.

“Stand up straight. Back right against it.”

Van grabbed both arms of the child, who was tilting his head askew and being playful, and held him against the wall. He pushed his forehead to fix the back of his head in place and held a colored pencil upright in his remaining hand. After moving it back and forth three or four times over the child’s head, a pink line was left on the white wall. The moment he let go, Dia, who could now be called a child without any reservation, collapsed into his arms. Van, who caught Dia while sitting on the floor, glared at the wall with a look of distaste.

“Do you think this makes any sense?”

The highest of the dozens of lines etched on the wall was at a height that passed Van’s waist. That was Dia’s height when he was a whole two months old.

“Makes seeense.”

A mellow voice, still with a trace of a lisp, mimicked the last word. Whenever he didn’t understand what was said or wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard, he always mimicked words like this. Van gently tousled Dia’s hair. The useless worry that if he kept growing this fast, he might become a white-haired old man by the time the contract ended, crossed his mind.

“Do your legs hurt?”

“No.”

Van lightly tapped the knees of Dia, who was leaning back against his chest and slumped over, then squeezed them firmly. It seemed like just yesterday that he was wiggling his short, chubby legs, but now, his long legs, extending from under his pants, rested right on Van’s shins.

Growing by leaps and bounds day by day, literally whooshing up, his body seemed to be built in such a way that he didn’t even have growing pains. As he tried to pull his hand away, slender fingers pulled his thumb and placed it on his own knee.

“I think they hurt.”

“Didn’t you say they didn’t?”

It was funny how he changed his words in a flash, and no sooner had he retorted than Dia started rubbing his head against the nape of Van’s neck.

“It’s because they really hurt. Please?”

The light-colored hair, now long enough to reach his shoulders, tickled his skin, making Van flinch. He pulled over the legs of Dia, who had become a master of acting cute.

“Oh, look at you. Thinking you can get away with being cute.”

Contrary to his chiding tone, his hands were already gently massaging the child’s calves. Van, making eye contact once with a grinning Dia, looked around the room, which had a childish feel to it compared to the child’s appearance.

Out-of-fashion robot toys and colorful stuffed dolls. They were all toys that were outside of Dia’s interest. It was Van who had brought them, feeling that the empty interior looked unnecessarily cold. It was understandable that the mechanical voice, which had contacted him around the new year, had scoffed. It was strange that contact had been cut off abruptly after that, but with no bizarre requests, his body, at least, was at ease.

After massaging for a bit, Van withdrew his hands and, feeling Dia’s steady gaze on him, raised an eyebrow. When he mouthed the word ‘what,’ Dia parted his plump lips.

“Van.”

Since he had thrown away all the clothes he wore at this age, he had been dressing the child in his own clothes lately, and the sleeves of the baggy sweater covered the child’s hands. With the child in his arms, he reached out and folded the sleeves a few times.

“Whaaat.”

“Does Van love me?”

The hand that had grabbed the other sleeve paused.

“Do you even know what that word means?”

A dry laugh escaped. He had been showing him nothing but romance movies, and Dia, who had built his vocabulary with the actors’ lines, used excessively sentimental language. It was likely a thoughtless remark, but he made a small resolution to pre-screen movies from now on. He had avoided action movies, only to have an unexpected problem pop up here.

The child, showing not the least bit intimidated by the ridicule, opened his mouth again and spouted more nonsense.

“I need Van.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Feed him, wash him, play with him—after sticking by his side and taking care of him all day, he would fall asleep as if passing out. The only comfort was that he didn’t have to put him to sleep, as Dia would always burrow into his arms on his own and fall asleep after Van had closed his eyes first. These days, he was becoming less of a babysitter and more of a slave.

“What are you going to do without me? You’re in big trouble.”

Feeling sorry for his own situation, he made a show of his efforts by emphasizing the words ‘big trouble,’ but Dia lowered his head and peeked his face out.

“Why would you be gone?”

Van, who was continuing to fold up the sleeve, glanced at the field-green eyes and then lowered his gaze.

“If there’s a meeting… there’s a time to part. Never mind.”

After neatly folding the sleeve, he grabbed the wrist that had slipped out from under it and gave it a shake.

“You’re so much work, anyway.”

Dia, who had grown too big to be carried around anymore, had accepted the fact that Van no longer held him like before, but in its place, his demands had increased. Most of them were not difficult to grant, so he was willingly accommodating them, but it was also true that he was worried. Van’s method of discipline was perfect for raising a spoiled child, to the point that any other person would have said something, but he really couldn’t help it.