About Your Pride and My Prejudice

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Every season has its own unique scent. It’s hard to describe what scent it is, but it’s fun to be able to distinguish it clearly.

It seems that autumn has already arrived in Lunos, the capital of the Principality. It’s awkward to say that it’s chilly because the climate is so mild, but it definitely feels like summer is over.  This is especially true in the morning and evening. When I open the window, I can smell the clear autumn scent in the wind.

And writing in the autumn breeze seems to be one of the coolest things I can do.

[She missed Troy.

The withered flower has long since been thrown away. There was no way flowers could replace him in the first place. It was only because of her heartless longing that she occasionally looked intently at the wretched and withered petals, but all she wanted was Troy.

“You said you wouldn’t let me go…….”

The woman murmured in a hoarse voice.

“Where did you go without me?”

The seasons have changed, Troy. My favorite season has come. But winter will come soon. Shining moments always fly away quickly.

“Are you going to let me spend the winter without you?”

She felt uncontrollably sad at the thought of spending the winter without him. Troy, as white and cold as snow, was her winter.

The woman thought that if he didn’t come back, no matter how many times the year changed, there would be only three seasons that would repeat.]

Autumn is the season of blessing that brings abundance and comfort to people’s hearts. And the expressionless winter that follows mercilessly crushes the glorious harvest season.

Winter is a cruel season. And the time I loved Alan Leopold was always like a long winter night.

The journey of one sided love was always as cold and lonely as the hands and feet, and as dark as pitch darkness. But that didn’t mean that I was always curled up, sobbing or crying.

In the season when harsh winds and snow storms lurk outside the window, even a small amount of light and warmth feel affectionate and precious.

It is truly magical. My heart trembled with emotion at the slightest light that might be a personal, or a torture of hope. I would happily wander in a cold blizzard, with a feverish white breath, a red tipped nose, repeatedly adjusting my collar.

In retrospect, I guess it wasn’t just Alan Leopold that I loved. I loved all of him, the bitter sorrow I tasted while ill with a fever, the warmth of tears running down my cheeks, the kind words I gave to myself and my unripe youth, and even my clumsy sighs that melted in all those times.

And surprisingly, it still is.

“……I’ve never thought of it this way.”

I somehow felt like my head was clearing up. I even felt my heart moved. The fool Melissa, who is ordinary and has nothing, has embraced something so precious and beautiful in her heart. I’ve always thought that it’s the right thing to do to blame myself. 

“In fact, all those moments were precious, and nothing was worthless…….”

And the fact that I was in love even with such a good-for-nothing self was like the salvation of my heart.

I felt like I was about to cry, and I thought maybe I was the only one who could save myself. At least it won’t be like love.

Breathing in the rusty and gentle breeze from the distant sea, I was thinking this. Will I be able to receive this much pure and noble love from others, not myself?

I can’t say that what I loved was not him, but myself who loved him, or that I loved him to love myself. But I want to live with the young and clumsy me in my heart. As Troy did, willingly.

In fact, I like winter, which is beautiful but cruel, indifferent, white, black, and cold season. I think I like all the rhetoric one can put on this season. No wonder I jumped into the snowy street to get hit by the beautiful snowflakes with my whole body.

Of course, these are all stories after falling in love with a man who is like Winter. So I hope he comes back before winter comes.

You are my winter.

He doesn’t have to kiss my hands, cheeks and lips again. At that time, wearing a shabby dress and tiptoeing, sneaking peek over people’s shoulders seeing you who were shining. I don’t care if only that much distance is allowed. On a cold winter night, I can be as happy as a dream with that amount of light and warmth.

So, I want you to let me feel that magical feeling once again.

* * *

Like that, several suns and moons rose and set again.

I spent my time waiting for only one person, but trying not to let anyone know of that feeling.  Sandra would sometimes look at me with pitiful eyes, and it was immediately apparent when I looked in the mirror.

I didn’t know I was a person who could make this face. A face that is neither joy nor sorrow. There were contradictory emotions in my eyes, such as a certain ecstasy of sadness or hopeless joy.

In fact, I wasn’t just sad and desperate during the nights when I fell asleep using my bedclothes and pillows to wait. Indeed, colorful emotions came to me. That’s the season of autumn.

Of course there were beautiful ones. I sometimes see memories of the Sourne Kingdom or precious people in my dreams. There were several mornings when I woke up in tears, but each time, the emotions that filled my heart were clearly beautiful.

Of course, Alan Leopold has also come to my dreams a few times. There was a time when I didn’t know his scent and couldn’t smell anything from him in my dream, but now I can feel him quite vividly and specifically.

What kind of shape do his pupils have when I look at him up close that they were actually closer to the sea or the universe than to ice, and now I know how flawless his pale skin is, how his breath touches my skin, his lips are cold, but his tongue is hot.

Maybe that’s why, unlike before, where I realized at once that this was a dream when I faced Alan. It was not easy to tell if it was a dream or reality now even if he comes in my dream.

In my dreams, we always sat face-to-face eating, sometimes clinked our glasses, hugging each other silently, and sharing sincere kisses.

So I wrote when my longing for Alan came like a wave, oh, actually, there were countless moments like that, but when that emotion swept over me, I wrote with that as an inspiration.

But after the waves had grown as if they were going to swallow me, I had no choice but to put down my pen and go to sleep. In that case, there’s nothing I can do.

I had a lot of thoughts, so I couldn’t fall asleep easily, but Sandra helped me by making chamomile tea or preparing a warm bath. I don’t know how comforting her presence was to me.

When I came back from meeting Alan Leopold in my dream, everything became bearable again. For some time.

Resolving longing in this way is only a temporary measure, so naturally, it was not comparable to reality. In particular, the sense of loss when I woke up from my dream was so numb that I always thought I didn’t want to go through it again.

However, it was always quick for longing to grow in size like the ocean. Then I will end up in a situation where I will be drifting dangerously on top of it.

It became a set procedure to surrender helplessly, as if waving a white flag, and go to sleep. When I came back from meeting him in a dream, I was able to step on dry land again, and I lived for a few days again, relieved by the fact. In other words, it was a continuation of such a life.

Time passed like a river while I was writing words on the manuscript paper day after day, staring blankly at the garden trees outside the window turning red, and drawing the autumn of Sourne in my heart.

And one day, about a month after the beautiful man in the moonlight left me like the wind on a late summer night when a grass bug was crying.

“Miss.”

One day, exactly a month or two had passed, the butler knocked on my door.

“The young master is back.”

“Oh…!”

My heart dropped to my feet. At the same time, I felt nauseous and indescribably scared due to the tension that felt like my body was floating.

“He’s waiting.”

My winter is back. Like the white snow falling on an autumn night, without a sound.

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