Bailonz Street 13

Chapter 178. Merry Christmas

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve evening that I got a call from Lily.

―I’m sorry, Jane. Even my grandfather doesn’t know him. We thought he would.

I gave a subtle smile. Maybe because I hadn’t expected much, it didn’t hurt that badly.

“It’s okay. Liam isn’t exactly an uncommon name.”

―Was he Irish?

“I’m not sure. I only know he grew up by the coast and then lived in London.”

Ah, university. Cambridge. My thoughts unconsciously stretched there. I wonder if I could check the graduate records. I should go there after Christmas. But if he wasn’t there either, where should I look to piece together these broken clues?

Perhaps my voice sounded particularly dejected, because Lily spoke consolingly.

“I’m making you do too much.”

―It’s fine. You saved me, so this is the least I can do.

The call ended.

I was lying in my hotel room, flipping through the newspaper I hadn’t finished reading in the morning. Though I was looking for interesting news, there were only stories about everyday life. Citizens complaining about rising prices, a heroic teenager catching a pickpocket, a car thief crashing into a tree…

And again, I saw that advertisement. That strange phrase from yesterday. Today it even took up an entire page of the advertising section.

But something was different.

The text had changed from yesterday. One word had been added, one that felt both nostalgic and familiar.

[Flatmate wanted. Merry Christmas, madam.]

“Madam.”

I muttered that word over and over.

Why did it feel so familiar?

Madam. Merry Christmas. Flatmate. Madam, Merry Christmas…

And then a phrase I’d pushed to the corner of my memory brushed past me.

“…Merry Christmas, Miss Osmond.”

Words a man had muttered on the pedestrian bridge over the Thames.

It was around this time then too. Christmas Eve evening. The man and I were walking back late after roaming the streets looking for clues about a grave robbery case. I remember him smiling at me with his arms spread wide. The memory of his firm arms around my waist and broad chest when I ran into his embrace was as clear as if it happened yesterday. R̃Ἀ𐌽ꝋᛒĚ𝐒

How could I have lived forgetting this?

I was shocked once at how my mind had easily forgotten such an important memory, and shocked again at how memories came flooding back like a broken dam once the floodgates opened. The experience of faded memories being recolored and slowly coming back to life was both heartbreaking and lovely.

It was a crazy thought. That is, it couldn’t be possible. This man couldn’t possibly still be alive. That’s what my mind was saying. But my heart was crying out.

This must be him. Liam Moore was calling for me. It couldn’t be anyone else.

Even as I put down the newspaper, I felt slightly anxious.

‘Will Liam recognize me?’

Oddly enough… rather than “What if it’s not Liam?” I worried first about “What if he doesn’t recognize me?” I think at this point I was already certain of Liam Moore’s survival.

The thought that I might see him again made my heart race wildly. Like a dead heart coming back to life. I took a deep breath. Only then did my airways clear, and I felt like I could live. Until now, I’d been pretending to be normal just because everyone else was living, because I had family… not wanting to worry them. But now, finally, like coming up for air, I could breathe properly.

But the biggest problem was that I couldn’t remember exactly which bridge among London’s many bridges was the one I’d walked with Liam Moore. More than a hundred years had passed. The bridges looked different now from then, rebuilt several times and completely changed. Some bridges must have disappeared. All I could remember was that it was a “pedestrian bridge.”

I understand he likes riddles, but even at a time like this!

I immediately half-threw on my coat and rushed out of the hotel. Just like that, only grabbing my wallet and phone.

I wasn’t cold at all. My heart was racing.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Every bridge on the Thames!”

The taxi driver looked at me like I was crazy. But I didn’t care. I shouted.

“Just go! As fast as you can!”

* * *

I’d searched every bridge in central London. Only three remained: Blackfriars Bridge, Waterloo Bridge, and Golden Jubilee Bridge. I’d just come from checking Golden Jubilee after Westminster Bridge. Not much time left until midnight.

What if Liam isn’t here?

Reaching the entrance to Waterloo Bridge, I got out of the taxi. Though the fare was astronomical, thinking that I spent it to meet Liam Moore made it not feel wasteful at all. The taxi driver seemed puzzled by my rush but wished me luck.

If Liam wasn’t there when I arrived, I’d catch another taxi. And move to another bridge. We might have missed each other. Whether that advertisement was just a prank by some rich person with money to burn or not, I planned to thoroughly search every bridge in London again tonight.

It was 11:55 PM. The river wind felt like it would cut my cheeks. My body instinctively huddled up. It was very cold, and not a single person was crossing the bridge at this hour. Occasionally I saw vehicles passing, but almost no one was actually walking across the bridge.

I thought he couldn’t possibly be waiting here. Standing in a place like this all night would mean freezing to death. It wouldn’t be strange to see tomorrow morning’s news headline: “Man Found Frozen to Death on Waterloo Bridge on Christmas.”

‘In this cold? It’s madness.’

The problem is that man is someone who does mad things.

I wasn’t confident. Nothing could be certain, but something kept pulling at me. After hesitating a bit, I started running.

Until I reached the exact center of the bridge where we had stopped that day.

“…!”

And far away, I could see someone standing. The man’s clothes were so dark I mistook him for a streetlight shadow at first, but no. The white breath continuously puffing out proved he was human.

His shoulders were hunched against the cold so I couldn’t gauge his height, but he looked about Liam’s size.

It didn’t take long for doubt to turn to certainty. My steps naturally quickened. Soon I was running. I had to see his face.

Finally, he raised his head at the sound of footsteps. I saw black hair.

‘Could it be.’

Could it be!

And his gaze turned toward me.

How could I not know!

Those gray eyes, I had never once forgotten them. Even when I thought I was crazy and underwent therapy and counseling for a year, whenever I saw a gray sky, I couldn’t help but think of this man. That’s the kind of person he was.

Though he seemed very surprised, as soon as he saw me, he slowly started to smile. His eyes filled with warm affection, and joy hung from his lips.

Only then did I realize this impossible man had recognized me at a glance. The ‘how’ didn’t matter. Just having the person I loved here was enough for me.

I took a deep breath and called out.

“Liam Moore!”

“Jane…!”

This clever man. He really did recognize me.

The man running toward me with a bright smile slipped on some ice and stumbled. The sight of his long legs flailing was so endearing that I burst out laughing. And the next moment, I was in his arms.

It was him. Liam Moore. My lovely crybaby.

Our bodies pressed close together. The scent of cold winter air wafted strongly from his collar. I could feel his hands frozen from the cold. I rubbed his large, stiffened hands and blew warm breath on them. As I tried to somehow ease his coldness, Liam snorted and nuzzled his cheek against mine. His ice-cold cheek touched mine.

I couldn’t even guess how long he’d been waiting here. This foolish, lovely man had been enduring like this in the middle of the river in December London, taking the river wind with his whole body.

Why couldn’t he just say ‘This is Liam. If you see this, please call this number.’ What’s wrong with that? How can someone living in the 21st century be so analog!

“Are you stupid?”

“I knew you would come.”

“What if I hadn’t come?”

“You would have eventually. When you returned. I’ve waited for you here every day since the 21st century arrived. This little while is nothing.”

I muttered again.

“Aren’t you stupid…?”

Haha, Liam Moore laughed softly and kept kissing my cheeks. My forehead, cheeks, nose bridge, and finally my lips. After pressing his cold lips firmly like stamping a seal, he finally spoke.

“Merry Christmas, madam.”

Whether romantic or foolish.

In Liam Moore’s gray eyes before me, I could see my own brightly smiling face reflected. While rubbing his frozen cheeks, I nagged him for the first time in a long while.@@novelbin@@

“Listen, who puts up an advertisement like that these days? Are you trying to show off that you’re from the 19th century?”

“…So, won’t you accept your 19th century old man husband’s greeting?”

Ah. What more could I say? I playfully glared at the young man calling himself an old man.

I knew exactly what to say. As I always had, and always would.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

– End of “Bailonz Street 13” Main Story