CAR 38

The place they were headed was a cemetery.

A younger Quachi was holding a large armful of white lilies. Of course, they were not for the dead, but a sort of slab of meat to be thrown to the gravedigger, whose eyes shone like a wild beast’s. The lilies, with gold coins threaded onto each stem, were certainly more withered than when they had just left the mansion.

Quachi, clicking his tongue, shoved them into the arms of a young Dennis. Quachi smacked the head of Dennis, who had nearly dropped the bouquet, and rested his arm on the carriage windowsill.

‘He’s a troublesome fellow even after death.’

‘…’

‘I just can’t seem to calm my anger… Don’t you agree?’

Quachi, who had been repeatedly crossing and uncrossing his legs, finally began to shake both legs frivolously. He even chewed on his nails as he stared at the entrance of the cemetery. Soon, he looked down at Dennis’s two hands, which were wrapped tightly in bandages, and clicked his tongue once more.

Even his complaints were excessively threatening to Dennis. He almost wet himself.

‘He took out his own wife’s corpse, slit her stomach open, buried it inside, and stitched it up?’

Quachi, who had been obsessively tapping the windowsill, burst out into a dry laugh. It was only two days after Dennis, who had been in the closet, finally revealed the location of the key.

As soon as Dennis woke up, Quachi had pinched and scratched the young child, questioning him again about the truth of the matter. Every time Dennis nodded his head in fear, Quachi exploded with indignation.

‘A bastard who knows nothing of common sense, of good faith, or of respect for the dead… Just utterly base…!’

Quachi, having thrown a vase, glared at Dennis for a moment. Dennis, who had been swallowing his tears at the corner of the bed, had no choice but to meet his eyes. When he was angry, Quachi’s pupils would shrink and the corners of his eyes would turn red, making him look just like a clown. He pointed a finger at Dennis and shook the poor bed with both hands.

‘You will probably live under me, with my family!’

‘…’

‘Being cunning is a virtue. But… if you deceive me like your father, who was beaten to death by my shoe…’

Quachi picked up a piece of the broken bottle and threw it onto the bed. Staring at the sharply gleaming shard, Dennis curled up even more.

‘I’ll drain all the stupid blood from your body, and then, fill you with wine.’

That was what he had muttered just yesterday morning.

The impatient Quachi jumped down from the carriage. Dennis, clumsily hugging the bouquet with his two burned hands, followed him out as well. The main cemetery on the outskirts of the capital was, at a glance, not well-maintained. The gravedigger, who took off and put back on his worn hat toward them, naturally let his gaze linger on Dennis.

‘Some esteemed people have arrived.’

Quachi snatched the bouquet from Dennis and held it out to the gravedigger. Despite the unexpected floral offering to a living person, the gravedigger bowed his head as if he had expected it.

Presently, he returned to the rustic building presumed to be his dwelling and came out with a shovel. He handed one to the coachman and nonchalantly tucked the other under his arm.

‘Which grave shall I guide you to?’

Quachi kicked Dennis in the shin. Dennis, who had been standing there foolishly, tumbled down unsightly. He couldn’t get up for a while from having hit his knee on a stone, so the gravedigger helped him up.

The gravedigger opened his mouth and laughed. He had teeth missing here and there. To the young Dennis who was staring blankly at his sunken gums, the gravedigger asked again. Which, grave, shall, I, guide, you, to?

Three men and a boy surrounded the gravestone. The name of his mother was engraved on the tombstone of the grave they were digging up. Quachi was holding Dennis firmly, who was trying to run away from the scene.

Each time the dry, crumbling earth flew in all directions, Dennis felt the urge to vomit. It was because, like his mother, he was naturally weak-stomached. But Quachi shoved his five fingers into the boy’s mouth so that Dennis could not vomit in peace, leaving him no room at all.

Every time he felt nauseous, he had no choice but to swallow it back down. Looking down at the cheeks that puffed up and deflated, Quachi let out a sneer.

‘Take a good look.’

‘…’

‘At what your father, who deserves to be torn to shreds and killed… did to his beloved wife.’

I don’t want to see…

The words merely swirled inside him. Quachi, for his part, had a deeply crumpled expression. It seemed it was not simply because the act of digging up someone else’s grave was immoral. Quachi had been murmuring the mother’s name since a while ago. The name of his mother, coming out through another person, felt truly unfamiliar.

Quachi, looking down at the pitch-black coffin, suppressed his anger as much as possible and commanded. Open it. Then he grabbed Dennis’s head firmly and held it in place so that he could not look away.

Inside the coffin lay, unexpectedly, two bodies. Although his mother had died several years ago, the body was neat, without decay. Looking down at it, Dennis suddenly realized.

The feet sticking out from the cramped coffin were a man’s. One body was barefoot, and the other was wearing work boots. That was not all. The barefoot corpse had no head. Next to the severed-neck corpse, someone Dennis knew well was sleeping with his eyes closed.

Realizing that they were Laurent and Sami, Dennis had a fit. The three men who had been surrounding him were long gone. In the cemetery, there was only Dennis, now a young man. Dennis reached out his arms to pull Sami out of the coffin.

But Sami was cold and stiff.

In the terrible nightmare, Dennis suddenly realized. Perhaps Sami was dead too.

🩰

What Dennis faced at the end of the long dream was a high ceiling. The room had been neglected for days, and the air was full of dust. Belying the fact that Quachi had called him a ‘rose with severe mysophobia’, Dennis too was in a slovenly state.

Quachi, Quachi… Dennis, mulling over his name, suddenly sat up. When he threw open the window, the startled birds flew away with a flutter at the creaking sound. The temperature was cool, and the day was overcast as always. Clouds were swirling toward the steeple as if in a vortex.

A chirping sound could be heard from somewhere. Lowering his gaze, he saw three or four baby birds crying on the right side of the windowsill. They were with the egg of a sibling that had not yet hatched.

Dennis, staring blankly at it, reached out his hand. He could feel warmth beyond the smooth texture that touched his fingertips.

Dennis had to meet the gatekeeper. When the students, whose semester had begun, flocked to Volle, it would be entirely his job to greet them and lock the school gates.

What could he bribe him with? Should he say that if he could just get out of here, he would give him his entire fortune, saved like a dog while rolling at Quachi’s feet? Introducing him to a nice woman? If he was a fucking pederast like Vittorio…

Dennis squeezed his hand. The smooth egg cracked, and his palm quickly became wet. He watched for a long time as the remnants of the broken egg fell to the ground.

First, he had to confirm with his own eyes that Quachi was dead. Before his flesh rotted and his bones were exposed…

And so, Dennis cleaned his room right then. Things like cards and documents with Dennis’s handwriting, with Dennis’s name entered, he tore into shreds and let them soak in the bathtub. After taking only a little money and a watch, he put on a thin coat unfitting for the season and left the room.

Dennis started running to the main gate. It was still dawn here, a time when everyone was asleep except for the laborers who roamed the campus like ghosts. Nevertheless, Dennis felt as if he were being chased by something. When he occasionally looked back, the countless windows felt like eyes staring at him.

It was quite a long way from the main building to the main gate. Dennis had to stop in the middle. It was the aftermath of being stuck in a cabinet all day. It felt as if his muscles were screaming.

The dry forest that draped alongside the sloping road was occasionally noisy. It seemed to be because of the wind. Dennis, who nearly tripped and fell badly on a stone, spat on the ground.

“Fuck, fuck…!”

The gatekeeper’s lodge was empty. It was a peculiar building with no door, only windows. He had seen the gatekeeper crawl in through the large window a few times. Dennis, holding his breath, circled around the lodge.

The gatekeeper was not here. Only dry leaves rustled past him with an eerie sound.

That meant there was no need to bribe him.

Dennis looked up at the elegant and lofty main gate, befitting Volle’s reputation. On either side of the main gate stood a bleak and long wall. The main gate was not locked. There’s a limit to how careless you can be…

But after pacing around the main gate, he found out that opening the door would be accompanied by a tremendous amount of noise. And so, Dennis decided to climb the wall instead.

Looking up at the wall, Dennis caught his breath. It was high, but not impossible to climb. It was when he placed both hands on the cold, rough wall. Dennis slammed his forehead into the wall first.

“Ah, ack…!”

“Rat, rat, rat…”

“…”

“The cunning rat again, always, only when I’m asleep…”

Dennis tried desperately to keep his eyes wide open so as not to lose consciousness. Something wet trickled down the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t turn around because the back of his head was being held, but the two feet at his own feet were in old work shoes. It was the gatekeeper.

“Every time a bastard like you slips out, he…”

Cuts off my toes. The gatekeeper seemed half-mad. He grabbed the back of Dennis’s head and slammed him against the wall a couple more times.

Dennis, who almost bit his tongue, jabbed the gatekeeper’s solar plexus with his elbow. It must have been an effective blow, as the gatekeeper let out a groan.

It was when Dennis, having stomped on the foot of the gatekeeper who had mentioned toes, turned around to try and kick him. The gatekeeper let out an animal-like sound and pushed Dennis against the wall. Dennis, suddenly wedged between the wall and the gatekeeper’s heavy body, burst into a cough. It felt as if his limbs would be crushed.

“Stop! Don’t kill him!”

Someone’s familiar voice was heard. Dennis deliberately went limp, pretending to be unconscious. The gatekeeper, too, seemed quite surprised by ‘his’ arrival and hastily moved away from Dennis.

When they realize their opponent has lost consciousness, those who were committing violence tend to become momentarily lenient. The gatekeeper’s rough hand grabbed Dennis’s bangs. At that, a tongue-clicking sound was heard from the other side. It meant he was not pleased with the gatekeeper’s method of ‘transport’.

The gatekeeper lifted Dennis up, as if reluctant. The gatekeeper, who had slung him over his shoulder, limped up the slope. They gradually moved away from the main gate. Dennis had to manage his churning stomach while appropriately feigning unconsciousness.

“Rat.”

“…”

“I know you’re awake.”

The gatekeeper started talking to Dennis. Regardless, Dennis kept his limbs limp and focused on his acting.

“Foolish rat… You’ll be taken to the infirmary. You probably can’t even begin to imagine what kind of place that is.”

Infirmary… Dennis instinctively thought of Yan. His fingers, jaw, gaze, and hair part… everything about him made Dennis’s blood boil. And what about the disinfectant he’d splash on Dennis while treating him like filth.

The gatekeeper stopped walking for a moment. He bowed his head as if it were no big deal. It must have been that the man in front had pointed out the gatekeeper’s muttering. The gatekeeper readjusted Dennis.

“You’re going to die, die…”

“…”

“In that place, everyone either dies, or becomes a cripple, or a drooling idiot…”

The surroundings briefly darkened. It seemed they had entered indoors. The gatekeeper’s smell of sweat and his breathing were maddeningly annoying. To him, he was probably giving Dennis advice steeped in contempt, but… Suddenly, the gatekeeper carrying Dennis raised his head as if he had overlooked one thing.

“Except for him. He’s the exception. He…”

He what… Dennis asked, at least in his mind. At the sound of metal scraping, Dennis shivered in spite of himself. The gatekeeper’s muttering echoed louder than before. It seemed to be a basement, or a sealed place with no windows.

“He’s been like that since birth.”

The gatekeeper threw Dennis down as if to slam him. He had anticipated a collision with the ground and squeezed his eyes shut, but what met his back was an ordinary bed. He wanted to survey his surroundings at once, but he felt a gaze from in front of him.

“You pitiful thing…”

He did not want to hear such an insult from a fucking laborer who guarded a gate all year round and for his entire life. Dennis clenched his fists in spite of himself. The gatekeeper, who was staring blankly at the veins standing out on the back of Dennis’s hand, slowly left the place.

There was a pungent smell coming from somewhere. A faint heat as well. When Dennis opened his eyes, a dim light came into view. This was a basement.

His head, which had been hit by the gatekeeper, was still throbbing. The muscle aches were also severe, so it was not easy to get up at once. Since he was lying down anyway, Dennis just turned his head and looked around.

The door was made of iron bars, and the entrance was very far away. Instead of the musty smell unique to a basement, the smell of disinfectant stung his nose.