Tensei Oujo wa Kyou mo Hata o Tatakioru

   *This is Border Patrol Commander, Ernst von Lieber’s point of view.

    Ah, it looks like we didn’t make it in time. 
    I got that impression from the housemaids’ reaction, but it didn’t immediately connect with how I felt. 
    It was as if the line connecting my body to my soul had been severed. Perhaps my instincts were trying to protect my mind, which, unlike my body, was incredibly fragile. 
    That was how irreplaceable Tiana was to me. 

    I dragged my feet towards Tiana’s bed-chamber. 
    My body was dull; I couldn’t move my arms and legs as I wished, and my vision was a blurry mess like someone had placed a veil over my eyes. Even the housemaids’ sobbing seemed distant to me. 

    I pulled the door handle and entered the room. 
    Tiana’s sweet scent and the smell of raunchy medicine lingered in the air. 

    Dazzling rays of the sun perforated through the lacy curtains, turning the rabbit and squirrel dolls lined up on the east window sill into shadow puppets. 
    The number of dried flowers and potpourri that the maids had arranged for Tiana to enjoy during the winter had increased yet again. 
    An unfinished flower embroidery sat on the bedside table, along with a book and a bookmark left in it. 

    These were scenes of a person’s daily life. There was not a single trace of doubt that a new, ordinary day was about to begin. 
    And yet, there was one thing missing from this display of such familiar scenery. 

    My beloved wife laid quietly in a large canopy bed. 
    Only her soul was lost. 

“Tiana.” 

    I stepped forward and called out to her. 

“Tiana… Tinny.” 

    I called her again and again, but a response never came. 
    I tried to shake her thin shoulders in vain but stopped myself. This freakishly honest body of mine told me it was scared to even touch her. 

“Tinny…” 

    My wandering hand ended up grabbing the back of a chair that was sitting next to the bed. 
    I pulled it back a little and sat down. The slender wooden chair squeaked in protest. 

    I watched as the pale light through the curtains lit up parts of Tinny’s face. Her skin, pure white as fresh snow, danced in it. Combined with the silver sheen spread across the pillows, it seemed like she herself was glowing. 
    Her thin and slightly opened lips were devoid of colour, but apart from that, she was just as her usual self. 

    It was a cliched thought, but to me, she looked as if she was just taking a nap. 
    Perhaps that’s why it didn’t feel real. 

    I thought to myself that any second now, her eyes would slowly open, and she would depart from her slumber. Her violet pupils would reflect against mine, and with a smile, she would welcome me home. I dreamt up such illusions. 

    So much so that I’d lost track of the time. 
    As I sat in my chair looking at her, a quiet voice called out to me. 

“Sir.” 

    Though I did not even turn around, someone came to stand beside me. 
    I couldn’t be bothered to lift up my face and only turned my eyes towards them. It was one of Tinny’s housemaids. The plump maid, who was now in her fifties, always had a soft smile on her face. Tinny was very fond of her. But today, she reminded me of a wilted flower. Her eyes were red and she had a pale complexion. 

“Please take this. The lady had entrusted me with it.” 

    The maid took out a white envelope and held it out for me.

“…From Tinny?” 

    I looked back and forth between the letter and the maid as she firmly nodded. 
    After I had taken it, she bowed and left the room. 

    A letter from Tinny, to me? 
    When did she write this? 

    …Could it be, she knew that she was about to die? 
    Was that why she left a message to her pathetic husband who wouldn’t be able to live without her? 

    Just imagining how she must have felt when she wrote it was unbearable. How scary it must have been. How painful it must have been. 

    I stared at the letter that was placed in my hand, afraid to open it. But I told myself that I won’t run away. 
    I dug my nails into the opening and easily undid the seal. 
    Inside were two folded sheets of white letters, one on top of the other. I took them out and unfolded them, carefully smoothing the creases with my hands.

    The beginning of the letter, written in flawlessly beautiful handwriting, read as follows: 

‘…To My Dearest Husband, Ernst.’ 

    I read it in Tinny’s voice instead of the usual rough one of my own. 
    I pictured her sitting in bed, occasionally glancing out the window as her pen glided across the paper. The letter changed from a seasonal greeting to one concerned for my health. She’d written that it’d been snowing non-stop for days on end, so this must’ve been written sometime before January. 

    As I read through, my eyes were glued to one sentence in particular. 

‘If you are reading this letter, then I am no longer with you in this world.’ 

    Ah, I knew it. Tinny already knew she was at death’s door. 
    Along with acceptance came a big wave of guilt that rested its weight against me. I couldn’t make Tinny happy. I couldn’t even fathom the immense fear of a continuously nearing death wearing away at her heart. 
    In the end, even after having stained my hands with evil deeds, I couldn’t manage to save her. What a half-assed fool I am, not being by her side in her last moments. 

    A mountain of self-abuse emanated from within. 
    But Tinny’s letter never tried to blame me, not even once. She merely wrote her worries for me and her concerns for my health. 

    Tinny, oh Tinny… My dear Tiana. 
    I want you to blame me. Please, don’t forgive this idiot who had made you suffer. 

    As if in prayer, I placed my hand on the next piece of the letter. 
    After taking a deep breath, I read the first line, and my eyes blinked. It must’ve taken me a few dozen seconds to process what was written. 

‘You’ve been reading this far with that grim look on your face, haven’t you?’ 
    So far, so good. But it was what came after that gave me some trouble. 

‘…But I wonder how you’d react if you knew this would’ve been the 20th letter I’ve written to you.’ 

    The 20th letter? 
    A farewell letter like this… is the 20th one? 

    As if she could sense my confusion, Tinny wrote on. 

‘I was told by the doctors that I would not live to see my adulthood, so I decided to write you a letter. It’s odd to say this myself, but the first letter I wrote when I thought I wouldn’t be able to see you again read like a tragic heroine story. When I came back to re-read it again, I was so embarrassed that I tore it up and asked Marriette to burn it with the fallen leaves.’ 

    Marriette was the maid who delivered the letters to me. 
    The words ‘fallen leaves’ derailed my thoughts slightly: it must’ve been written in early autumn. But I was still confused. I couldn’t keep up with the sudden change in tone of the second piece. 

‘I think I wrote the second letter calmly with a cool head, but I mostly wrote about a blizzard, so I tore that one up as well when it got warmer. It was when I finished the fifth letter that I realised: Why not just avoid writing about the weather altogether?’ 

    I couldn’t help but feel a bit of laughter bubbling in my throat at the fact that it took her five letters to notice. 
    Come to think of it, Tinny may look prim and proper, but she always had a bit of a loose end somewhere. 

    I remember the one time she baked sweets for me, she had mistaken the salt for the sugar, but I still ate it with a big smile on my face.  

‘But I’ve since purposefully stopped avoiding any talks about the season. Rather than trying to perfect my letters, it became a challenge to see how many letters I could tear up and throw away.’…? You never change and continue to do the most unexpected things, huh.” 

    She may seem innocent and pretty – like a snow nymph that melts away from a mere touch – but deep inside, she wasn’t a quiet noble lady, either. 
    Her heart was filled with curiosity and drive. If her body was able, she would have been a rampant tomboy who would refuse to stay rooted in one place. 

‘You’d think I’d easily run out of things to talk about seeing that I’m confined to the house. But don’t count me out that easily. Here, I have a lot of people who have my back. For example, during winter, the gardener decorates the windows with snow rabbits. In spring, the maids would arrange beautiful flowers in vases. When summer came, the stable boy would show me butterflies through the window, and in the fall, the cook would bake lovely sweets and chestnuts for me. The subjects are endless. There are so many things I wanted to tell you that it left me in quite a bind.’ 

    I could picture Tinny adorned with a soft smile that would catch the attention of any passer by. 
    The servants loved Tinny, who always had a flourishing smile on her face. And so every day seemed so much fun to Tinny. Even times when she didn’t feel well, or when she couldn’t muster the strength to even lift herself out of bed. That’s right, you’ve always laughed and smiled every single day, haven’t you? 
    Why did I ever think she would be writing of her suffering? 

    Did my guilt twist the facts before my eyes? 
    I was clouded over with regrets; for betraying my country, and for forcing Tinny on an unnatural lifestyle without asking what she wanted most. 

    Tinny had never been in despair. She was only trying her best to live her life. 
    The sentence, ‘This letter as well, will be torn up once the wildflowers are in bloom’ was enough proof. 

‘For the next one, instead of a forlorn farewell, I think I’ll write a love letter. This time, I’ll keep it safe…’

    I choked up reading up to this point. 
    My hands holding onto the letter trembled and, perhaps because I had subconsciously put strength into my hands, slightly crumpled the paper at its sides. 

‘When I am beside you as a full-fledged grandmother, I plan to give it to you then.’ 

    The moment I finished that sentence, I sobbed and cried, roaring like a wailing beast. 

“Tinny…! Tiana! Tiana…!!” 

    My tears fell onto the ink and blotted the letters. 
    Clutching them close to me, I reached out to Tinny. I grabbed her thin, snow-white hands with both of mine, and wept. 

    Tinny hadn’t given up on life. 
    This person next to me was doing her absolute best to live her life to the fullest. Just knowing this fact had saved me. 

    I’m glad I couldn’t make it in time. 
    I’m glad I no longer have to force a never-ending pain onto my beloved who was living the best moments of her life. 

    I pressed my head against her cold hands and kept on crying like a child.