Summer Must Die - Chapter 62

“Aaargh!”

Late at night. A familiar scream echoed through the Bertrand mansion. Servants carrying lamps moved about busily.

“Master!”

“The young lady, again!”

Some ran to call Russell, some for wet towels, some rushed to Summer’s room.

Everyone was busy.

“It’s starting again.”

“She’s gone mad.”

Above the maids’ whispers, another piercing scream rang out.

Russell, who arrived immediately, dismissed everyone and entered Summer’s room alone.

“Aargh, ughh…! Huk!”

Summer was lying face down alone in the middle of the dark room.

Crying out in pain and tearing at her hair, she had a handful of her fine hair clutched in her hand.

What on earth had she seen, what was she seeing to be trembling in fear and pain like that? It was difficult for Russell to understand.

“Summer, it’s alright. Summer.”

“Ughh, it hurts, it hurts so much!”

“Summer, try to breathe slowly. Slowly.”

Russell quickly embraced Summer and patted her back. If it were a physical illness, they could show her to a doctor, but there was no developed method yet for curing illnesses of the mind.

Just in case, he had brought a doctor, but they said there was no problem. Except for being a bit malnourished from skipping meals often, she was fine.

“Please, please save me! Aagh, save me…!”

“Summer, it’s alright. Look at me. Summer, look at me.”

Just because it couldn’t be seen didn’t mean it wasn’t an illness. She was clearly in pain and writhing in agony.

Her wailing cries seemed as if they would tear apart even other people’s hearts.

After that day, Summer’s nightmares worsened. Rather than nightmares, it was closer to a kind of panic state.

When night came, Summer would cry and cry, trapped in the day she died.

As if being strangled, gasping for breath, Summer was slowly drowning in this world.

To Russell, Summer was a wound. A wound he couldn’t let go of. Even if the thorns pierced his skin and caused pain, he could never let go of the hand that embraced it.

“Please just kill me…”

“I told you that’s too cruel to say to me.”

“Huk, hic…”

As the seizure subsided, sobs followed. When even the sobbing stopped and only steady breathing could be heard, Russell silently swallowed a sigh.

Still, today it ended in just an hour. Compared to the beginning when she would scream to be killed for hours, it was remarkable progress.

“Do you hate this world that much?”

“……”

“Or has your death in that world become a great wound?”

“……”

“Sometimes I want to die just to understand you. To see if your pain is greater than the pain in my heart watching you try to die.”

“……”

“Summer, you won’t answer me. As always.”

But it doesn’t matter. She’s alive. Alive and in my arms.

Russell raised his head. Every day, Summer sat on the windowsill looking out. It was the scenery Summer saw every day. Nothing different.

At first, thinking she might fall to her death, he blocked the window. But that made her seizures worse. And then, she stabbed herself with the cutlery sent up to her room.

“……”

Strangely, Summer’s wounds had disappeared cleanly the next day. Summer laughed cynically, as if she had known that would happen, and tore off the wooden boards blocking the window herself.

After that, Russell also began to think that this world was somehow bizarre.

From seeing her wounds heal, and then the next day no one remembering that she had stabbed herself with a knife, Russell also began to feel the world was surreal.

“Have I gone mad?”

Or is the world strange?

I met a strange person. One who resembles midsummer. In this strange world, you who are even stranger than it.

“Summer.”

“……”

“Is this the kind of world you’ve been seeing all along?”

Russell’s low voice scattered like a sigh.

[This is the timeline separator]

“Summer. I heard you skipped your meal.”

The next day, Russell sought out Summer. Summer was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the fireplace.

Since she always sat on the windowsill, this was a very rare occurrence.

For three months, Summer had stubbornly sat only on the windowsill in this spacious room.

Summer’s eyes sharpened when she noticed Russell. She knows. It’s not Russell’s fault. But Summer had developed a slight resentment towards all beings in this world. For no reason.

“I’m not livestock that needs to be fattened up. I’ll eat when I’m hungry, don’t worry.”

“Summer.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“…Do you perhaps know how to read documents?”

“…Pardon?”

Summer’s eyes widened a bit innocently, as if Russell’s words were unexpected.

“I’ve been somewhat negligent in my duties lately. As a result, documents have piled up, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to return to work.”

“Return to work?”

“You haven’t forgotten, have you? You are my subordinate officer.”

“Ah.”

She had forgotten. Completely. Honestly, she just remembered now. Seeing Summer’s expression, Russell sat down in a chair with an indifferent attitude.

“I’m not so ill-natured as to suddenly thrust complicated work upon you.”

“Still,”

“It’s enough if you compare the numbers and check the changed parts.”

Summer felt a bit dazed. The proposal was so unexpected that Summer momentarily forgot her depression for the day.

“Then, I’ll come to work!”

Summer said resolutely, even clenching her fists as if she had made up her mind. Only then did Russell smile faintly and look down at the hand he had hidden under the table.

Red nail marks remained on his palm, which he had clenched tightly from tension. He had thought Summer would refuse. He had expected her to hurt him again with words sharp as glass shards.

Thank goodness. Really, thank goodness. With that feeling filling his chest tightly, his lips curved into a smile involuntarily.

“When should I start work?”

“Is after lunch today possible? For the attire, would you like to see the uniform the subordinate officers wear, if you’re uncomfortable?”

“There’s a uniform?”

“There is.”

Russell rang a bell to call a servant.

“You called, Master?”

“Bring a uniform here. One that would fit the young lady.”

“Yes, sir.”

Summer was in a slightly excited state. Worry about whether she could do well coexisted with the thrill of taking on a task.

“Summer?”

“Um, could I perhaps start right away?”

“That’s fine with me. Then I’ll have them prepare a light lunch and send it to the office.”

“Thank you!”

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying thank you?”

Russell said languidly, almost to himself, as he smiled. That vague feeling of speaking informally and that smile. In an instant, it took Summer back to that day when she visited the Bertrand mansion.

That day was summer, and the sunset was incredibly beautiful. And Russell shone even brighter beneath it.

“Russell.”

“Mm.”

That characteristic look of his, indifferent yet fully focused on the other person, as if he would listen to anything. That’s what makes people so confused.

Summer carefully sat down across from Russell and asked.

“What do you think will become of me, Russell? I mean, if I don’t die and keep living?”

“Well. I’m not a prophet, so.”

“……”

Knock knock, with the sound of knocking, the servant handed the uniform to Russell and left the room again.

“Let me know if it doesn’t fit after you try it on later.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Summer received the uniform Russell gave her. The uniform was a deep blue color, neat but quite stylish without any large decorations.

When she carefully stroked the fabric with her hand, it was soft. It seemed they used very high-quality fabric. It was like Russell to take good care of his subordinates.

Summer held the uniform up to her body slightly and nodded.

“I think it will fit.”

“Your current dress is fine too. Do whatever is comfortable.”

“Ah, I’ve wanted to try something like this on…”

“You might be begging me to let you quit in a few months.”

“Are you trying to scare me already?”

Summer asked with her eyes wide open. As if the person who had been screaming to be saved, no, to be killed, last night was a completely different person.

Russell quietly took in the sight of Summer sparkling in the sunlight. When night comes, he wouldn’t be able to see this Summer again.

“Hm?”

Summer tilted her head, seeing Russell silent. Only then did Russell stand up with his usual indifferent face.

“Well. The Bertrand duchy originally has quite a lot of work. Instead, the pay is twice that of other noble houses.”

“Ah, are you leaving?”

“As I said, there’s a lot of work piled up. Oh, just come down to the office when you’re ready.”

“I will.”

Russell, who was about to leave the room, suddenly turned around at the door.

“About the question earlier.”

“Yes?”

Summer was startled by the sudden topic. Russell sometimes felt strange when Summer acted normal, as if her mind had returned.

Always sitting on the windowsill like a dry, brittle fallen leaf, but very occasionally having conversations face to face with Russell like this.

At times like this, Russell secretly wished that the world would stop. Like now.

“The question about what would happen if you lived in this world.”

“That, I was being a bit emotional. Please forget it.”

Summer brushed her fallen hair behind her ear, averting her gaze as if embarrassed.

“I’m not a prophet, so I can’t see the future.”

“…Right. I was being a bit short-sighted,”

“Instead of a prophecy, if I were to express a wish, I’d like you to be by my side like this then too.”

“……”

“Like now. Eating meals together when the sun rises, having conversations, working.”

“……”

“I want to exchange frivolous words that we’ll forget the next day.”

Summer quietly gazed at the man before her eyes.

He was a man who had never once confessed to her, even while saying such confusing things.

A person who, despite having looks that could make anyone fall in love and outstanding abilities, was struggling with excessive work in order not to leave her side as she went mad.

He was a person who made her feel grateful, sorry, burdened, expectant, and then resigned. That was who Russell Bertrand was.

“Strange person.”

“No more than you.”

Russell burst into light laughter and left the room. Summer reached out her hand and caressed the empty air where Russell had disappeared.

Summer felt that the word ‘summer’ suited Russell Bertrand more than herself after all.

That’s why it was too hot to be by his side.