Chapter Twenty: Farewell

Christmas had finally arrived.

On this day every year, people would pour into the streets, beating great drums and playing bagpipes, celebrating in their own unique way the peaceful passing of the old year and looking forward to a new year filled with equal tranquility and joy.

It was a festival laden with people’s beautiful hopes, whether or not those hopes would ever come true. For this reason, Christmas was also known as the Festival of Peace.

Yet this year, the Festival of Peace was destined to be anything but peaceful.

The urgent clatter of hooves shattered the calm of Leaf City, casting a shadow over the grand celebration about to unfold.

A large force of warriors from the Lord’s manor surged into action, while officials from the Department of Law and Administration took to the streets, their eyes fixed upon every suspicious outsider. Any boy around fourteen or fifteen years old would be detained and interrogated at length, while portraits of Xiu Iglaire were once again plastered across the city’s avenues and alleys. Knights strode the streets in groups, faces grim and murderous, and a pervasive sense of unease swept over the entire city.

The discordant air of violence diluted the festival’s joy, unsettling the hearts of every citizen.

People whispered anxiously:

“What on earth has happened? Why are there so many warriors in the streets?”

“I heard they’re hunting someone named Xiu Iglaire.”

“Oh my God, are you saying that nationally wanted criminal Xiu Iglaire has come to Leaf City?”

“It’s not impossible, is it?”

“That’s terrifying—he’s a murderer, isn’t he? I heard he tried to assassinate an important imperial official.”

“Who knows, but no matter what, this news is setting the whole city abuzz.”

“I’m more worried about Christmas. I just hope all those holiday sales and discounts won’t be canceled because of this.”

The noise outside could not disturb Xiu at all. At that moment, he was in his room, writing feverishly, until Clarice burst in, flustered.

“Fink,” Clarice called softly.

“One moment, almost done,” Xiu replied, writing even faster.

After penning his signature, he turned to Clarice. “What is it?”

“The Department of Law and Administration is everywhere outside, searching for Xiu Iglaire. Word is he’s arrived in Leaf City,” Clarice said urgently.

“What does that have to do with me?” Xiu shrugged.

“They’re detaining every boy around sixteen years old. You’d better not go out today,” Clarice said, meeting his gaze.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Clarice. The Brownie family has already invited me to their dinner, and I’ve accepted.”

“No, you mustn’t go!” Clarice cried. “They don’t mean well toward you!”

Xiu stopped her. “Clarice, today is a big day for you and the girls at Lanya. Why not go spend time with them, remind them what to watch out for? Don’t worry—I can take care of myself.”

“But…”

She didn’t finish. Instead, she grabbed Xiu’s arm, tears of worry already glimmering in her eyes.

Silence fell between them, tense and awkward.

After a moment’s thought, Xiu picked up a book he had written and placed it in Clarice’s hands.

“What’s this?” Clarice asked in surprise.

“A new script. No troupe can rely on a single play forever; you need new stories. After Turandot, there will be even more and better shows for you to perform. Once you leave Leaf City, you’ll see how vast the stage is, and how many people you have yet to win over.”

“But…I…”

Xiu gently covered her mouth. “Read it. You’ll find the answers you want inside.”

Clarice stared at him in shock.

He ran his hand through her hair, resting her gently against his shoulder, and spoke tenderly: “No one has ever truly realized how gentle and attentive you are, have they?… Thank you for everything you’ve done for me these past days.”

Clarice’s heart raced in confusion. She shook her head. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Clarice, you’re a clever person. I noticed that after our first intimate moment, you didn’t become closer to me like Daisy and Lanti did. Quite the opposite—you’ve grown more distant. I’ve observed that lately, you’re always the one who tidies my room. You clean so thoroughly, not even a single strand of hair is left.”

At those words, Clarice’s face turned ashen.

Xiu plucked a hair and held it up for her to see. There, at the root, shone a glint of gold.

Embracing her, he whispered, “Thank you. I know you’re only trying to protect me.”

“I…I just don’t know what to do,” Clarice sobbed, covering her mouth.

“That’s exactly why I never wanted to explain anything to you from the start. I didn’t want to influence your decisions… You know, Clarice, you really are a fool. I gave you a chance, but you let it go… You should have turned me in.”

“No.” Clarice clung to him. “I couldn’t.”

She lay in his arms, sobbing, while Xiu gently patted her back.

These days, she too had been caught in a struggle of pain and indecision. After realizing Xiu was in fact Xiu Iglaire, her reason told her again and again to go straight to the authorities and report him. But her heart told her things weren’t so simple: Xiu Iglaire was clearly not the crazed murderer described in the wanted posters.

How should she act? The question tormented her.

So, before making a decision, she chose instead to hide all evidence of Xiu’s presence as best she could.

She never expected that Xiu had long since noticed her behavior.

A woman in love, frightened by her own feelings, behaves in ways that are all too easy to notice.

Looking at the anxious Clarice, Xiu sighed. He pointed to the book he’d placed into her hands. “Read it out loud.”

Obediently, Clarice opened the script and read softly, “‘The Count of Monte Cristo’?”

“Yes. Strictly speaking, it isn’t a true play, just a story… I wrote it especially for you.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

Xiu explained gently, “It’s a story I heard as a child, but its background was too vast, so I modified it a little. It’s about a young man, persecuted, who spends long years in darkness, but finally escapes to freedom and rises up in revenge. Sounds rather clichéd, doesn’t it?”

“A young man who was persecuted…” Clarice repeated, pondering his words. She looked at Xiu. “What kind of persecution did he endure?”

Xiu answered slowly, “He was sent to an isolated island as a test subject. All that awaited him were endless labor and the constant threat of death.”

“Oh, God. And then?”

“As you know, he escaped.”

“And? Did anyone hunt him down?”

“If no one knew of his escape, then of course not. But if, before escaping, he took revenge and destroyed that wicked hell, then there would be many who pursued him.”

Clarice covered her mouth, finally understanding.

Xiu was telling her everything in his own way.

He then handed her several more scripts from the table. “That was just a story. These are real plays. Take a look—I think you’ll like them.”

Instinctively, Clarice flipped through one. “‘Carmen?’” she asked, looking up at Xiu.

“Yes,” Xiu smiled. “Carmen, Macbeth, and The Lady of the Camellias. I’ve written down all the best stories I know. I hope they’ll be of help to you.”

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Clarice asked urgently.

A woman’s intuition had caught the farewell in his words. She’d long known he planned to leave today, yet she still hoped he might change his mind.

Xiu kissed her gently on the lips. “You know I can’t stay here forever. It wouldn’t be good for you.”

“I’m not afraid…”

“Don’t say such nonsense,” Xiu interrupted, holding her close. “Don’t tell Daisy or Lanti. They couldn’t bear it. At least, not until after the performance is over.”

Clarice nodded silently.

Taking out the letter he’d just written, Xiu said, “Will you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

“In a few hours, the Brownie family’s carriage will come for me. I’ll attend their dinner before you all go to the theater. Once I’m in the carriage, give this letter to one of the Lord’s warriors near the inn.”

Clarice looked down. The letter was addressed, “To Lord Ablit, personally.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to, Clarice. Don’t ask anything. Promise me, whatever happens, don’t open this letter. If anyone asks, say you wrote it yourself. Trust me. If you trust me, do as I say.”

Clarice gazed at Xiu, biting her lip. “Yes, Fin… Fink, I trust you.”

As dusk approached, the Brownie family’s carriage indeed arrived at the inn.

The butler waited respectfully outside to welcome Xiu.

From the window, Xiu watched the patrols with a cold gaze. Warriors swarmed the streets, interrogating every boy who looked about fifteen or sixteen.

When a group of Lord’s warriors arrived at the inn, Xiu turned to Clarice. “After I leave, give the letter to the warriors at once. Then go to the theater and prepare for the performance. Understand?”

“I suppose you won’t be coming to see our show tonight, will you?”

Xiu gazed at her with deep affection. “No. Tonight, I have a far grander performance.”

As Xiu walked out of the inn, Clarice’s eyes brimmed with tears.

She noticed a commotion at the entrance. One of the warriors seemed intent on taking Xiu away for questioning, but the Brownie family’s people blocked his way.

Voices rose in argument, but Xiu’s face remained calm.

It wasn’t until the Brownie family repeatedly invoked their honor, vouching that their guest could not possibly be Xiu Iglaire, that the warriors reluctantly stepped aside.

As Xiu climbed into the carriage, he glanced up at Clarice in the window, and secretly gestured toward the warriors who had just argued with the Brownie family.

Clarice understood immediately.

As the carriage sped away, she hurried from the inn and approached the Lord’s warriors. “Sir, I have a very important letter for the Lord.”

“What letter?” one warrior asked absently.

Watching the carriage disappear down the street, Clarice softly replied, “I think…it’s about Xiu Iglaire, the one you’re searching for.”