Chapter 48
When I was very young, I stood alone in the corridor and observed the world in front of me.
The Tsushima family's courtyard was beautifully decorated, with water droplets dripping from the eaves, and a pond and black and white rockery a few steps away.
I don't know why, but even though I was only four or five years old or even younger at that time, there was no maid to take care of me, and I was left there all alone.
My senses were magnified. I could smell the pine nuts after the rain, see the reflection of water dripping from the eaves, and, oddly enough, smell water.
It's sweet but clean, covering up all other flavors.
I still remember the taste, and as time goes by, it becomes clearer and clearer, and I feel that no other taste can compare to it.
There's no need to say much about the stench, but I've started to dislike even the perfumes that ordinary people use. I feel suffocated when I smell it, no matter how big the brand they use is or how much money they spend.
Especially when I am not feeling well, any smell is a new type of torture to me. The aroma of food makes me nauseous, the smell of other people's sweat is amplified infinitely, and even the fragrance of flowers turns into needles piercing my forehead.
The only smell that I find acceptable so far is the smell of disinfectant.
Because there are very few people who use disinfectant as perfume, and I usually don’t get too close to others, so the presence of others is still tolerable for me.
Besides, my nose isn't that sensitive, and I only get so irritated when I'm sick.
Dazai Osamu has no smell because he often goes into the water, but there is a fishy smell that is difficult for ordinary people to understand.
It may be like the smell you smell when you breathe freely in flowing water, but water plants, small fish and shrimps also have a smell. This smell is the fishy smell on their bodies that has been diluted tens of thousands of times.
There is no smell unless you get close to it.
Mr. Verlaine must have been wearing very high-end perfume, because his scent made people feel comfortable and not disgusted by him. He was a qualified gentleman.
But the contrast to the perfume he chose was the look in his eyes, which, while equally natural, seemed to belittle me.
The combination of these two things made me clearly feel his superiority.
Although he didn't say anything, I could clearly hear him loudly announcing one thing to everyone here: Everyone here is equally despicable in my eyes.
Because everyone is equally weak in his eyes, no matter if they are people with special abilities, high-ranking officials, wealthy people, ordinary people... except for those who are at the same level as him, no one can last more than a few minutes in his hands.
But for some reason, he seemed to be lost in strange thoughts at this moment.
I pushed the piece of red wine cake that I hadn't eaten in front of him and said, "Ah, this is the cake that Chuuya-kun shared with me just now. My brother doesn't allow me to eat food with alcohol outside, so I can only watch with regret. If you don't mind, please help me solve it.
Because the cakes in this shop are my favorites. Their cream is not greasy, the cake base is processed differently according to the type, the fruits are freshly cut, and the chocolate is also very good..."
While I was talking eloquently about the store, Weilun looked at the red cake in front of him for a few seconds, then picked up a fork and started eating.
He seemed to be ignoring my explanation, so I gradually stopped.
"Actually, I hate Chuuya." He continued chewing the cake indifferently.
"Apart from the fact that I was jealous of his status and ability when he first came to Mafia, the most fundamental reason was probably him.
In my previous family, I was always the most ordinary child. There was always someone who played an instrument better than me, had higher grades than me, and worked harder than me. Although I was always working hard, there was always someone who was better than me.
Later I came to Yokohama and discovered Nakahara Chuuya by chance, and I envied him very much. ”
Verlaine still ignored me, as if he thought what I said was no different from the buzzing of flies that disturbed his enjoyment of his delicious food.
Maybe it was because of his attitude, my tone was exceptionally calm and my mood wasn't that bad.
“He is like a plant that grew in a very bad place. Whether it is a tree or a flower, it looks vigorous and full of vitality.
As for me, I am like something raised in a greenhouse. I am reserved, fragile, and always fall down in the wind. Although I am protected because of my breed, I am far inferior to the other guys.
Abandoned, ignored, and regarded as waste with insufficient potential..."
Verlaine rolled his eyes as if he thought a fly had landed on his bowl.
I lowered my eyes, not daring to look at him.
"I envy Nakahara Chuuya's fearless vitality and energy, as if the storms and winds were just a test for him. He is strong and resilient... This is what my father wants to see.
But I am not that kind of person. I am naturally sensitive and self-respecting. If someone spits while passing by, I will think too much about it. If someone accidentally glances at me, I will also interpret it maliciously.
If it weren’t for my brother, I wouldn’t even dare to leave the house.”
He finally lost his patience, put down his fork, rested his chin on his hand, tapped the table with his knuckles and said to me:
"Put aside your worthless self-esteem. I don't know why you are saying so much now, but in front of me, your sadness and sensitivity are all worthless.
What do you think of Chuuya? Is it important?
Forget about Chuuya, even I feel disgusted here, you self-righteous guy. There are so many people in the world, is there no one more miserable than you?
Treat your pain as a lottery ticket that can be consumed, and your insignificant life as the only topic of conversation. You think you are noble and lovable, but in fact, the listeners are dismissive of this and even think you are pretentious. "
"Oh, by the way, you just mentioned your brother, right? You must have guessed my identity, right? Your name is very high on the list your brother gave me."
…
The rain outside the window hit the glass "patter" and "patter". I turned my head and found that the street lights had been turned on, making the puddles on the ground sparkle.
But the shops are still busy as people tacitly believe that it is far from time to rest and are busy rushing around for tomorrow.
I tapped on the glass, imitating the sound of rain hitting glass.
"You will not kill me tonight."
"Oh?" He relaxed and leaned back against the cushion of the chair.
“I never considered my grief as a topic of conversation. To me, it was something that had already happened, something that had become an established fact and could not be changed or touched.
Speaking it out is like opening a wound, and when others hear it, their reaction is like rubbing salt into the wound. Whether it is sympathy or disgust like you, it only makes me feel how ridiculous I was before. "
He seemed stunned for a moment, but quickly responded, "So, why are you so sure that I won't kill you tonight?"
I heard his question, but I chose to bring up another matter. "A friend once said that I can easily see through others, just as I understand myself. Mr. Verlaine, do you think I am such a person?"
He frowned, as if he was dissatisfied with my rambling, so before he got angry, I waved my hand and spoke to him.
“I didn’t know if I was like that, so I started doing research on everyone who came into my life.
One time I was hiding in a garbage dump, waiting to see how people would react to a child who appeared in a garbage dump. I imagined countless possibilities, but at that moment, I looked at the narrow perspective in front of me and suddenly remembered my home. "
He became interested, leaning forward slightly and looking me straight in the face.
"A long time ago, someone told me that my home was like a garbage can, filled with garbage. And I happened to be in the garbage dump at that time, and I thought: Is this the world in the eyes of garbage?
So I used my existing perspective to observe everything in front of me more carefully: the dirty drains, the corners covered with spider webs, the dim lights, the flying flies...
Everything was like every other time I'd seen it—it was the end of the world, and it dawned on me that I was a piece of garbage."
"Hahahahaha..." He laughed happily. "This is a good story. Just for this story, I am willing to give you a little more time... Oh, yes, although I have always killed people as I please, I'm sorry, for me, Chuuya is the first priority.
So, you can wait and see, and wait for me to come and take your life one night."
"Let Nakahara Chuuya follow you" should be your first priority, right?
I complained in my heart with a blank expression, watching him take off his hat, perform a gentleman's salute and leave.
You weirdo, you look down on me from the bottom of your heart. Who are you showing this courtesy to? To yourself?
After he left, I continued to eat my cake, watch the rain, and listen to music, as if I was not affected by Verlaine at all. But only I knew how many boats were overturned by the turbulent waves in my heart.
Like I said, every time I tell someone about my past it's like I'm opening up my wounds just to see if they've healed.
Humans are addicted to this little pain and never get tired of it, repeating it over and over again.
The mango in the mango cake had become a bit dry and not tasty because it had been left for too long, so I put it aside and continued to eat the rest.
I was busy picking. This one was not good, that one was not good either, this one was still bitter... In the end, only some whipped cream was left to eat.
I solemnly cut a little bit of the cream and put it in my mouth. It was so bitter. Why was it so bitter? Wasn't there even a little bit of sweetness?
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