ILIOTS 14

Chapter  14

The soldier listened to me silently. It was hard to read his eyes. I couldn’t tell whether he was pretending not to know I was lying or if he actually believed me, and it was almost enough to make me faint.

Then, he made a chilling suggestion.

“I’ll take you to where the food is.”

Startled, I shouted before I could even think.

“No!”

The soldier frowned slightly. Was he angry? Terrified, I couldn’t hide my emotions properly, making the situation worse.

“You can’t go outside. Please.”

“There’s nothing here. Everything has been confiscated for the revolution. There’s no reason for you to stay here any longer.”

“What if I follow you and find out who you really are? You could sell me off somewhere else.”

“I can show you my identification if you want.”

“Even so, I don’t want to go outside.”

Losing my composure was more dangerous than I had imagined. I couldn’t think properly. Words tumbled out before I could process them, excuses spilling like a flood. I needed to deceive him calmly—but it was all falling apart. I could feel him suspecting me.

He stared at me, as if trying to pierce through the truth in my mind, then lowered his voice.

“Tell me something. Are you Eloise Bismarck?”

The name I most didn’t want to hear slipped from his lips. Instinctively, I knew my life was over.

Saying “No, I don’t know anyone by that name” would be useless now. He wasn’t asking out of curiosity.

“…You knew from the start, didn’t you?”

He stood before me like an unyielding fortress. There was no escape. A deep fatigue washed over me, and I resigned myself to the situation.

My eyes fell on the gun hanging at his hip. Yes, I thought it would be better if he just killed me cleanly with that gun. There was nothing more I could do. I could only hope that he was a different kind of man than Count Bismarck.

The soldier, having confirmed the truth he wanted, asked pointless questions. He asked if I could play the piano. Was it me playing the piano in the next room? Was it true that my family had tried to starve me to death?

I began to feel angry. If he was going to kill me anyway, why so many questions? I decided there was no point in trying to please him. I snapped at him.

“What’s the point of telling you? I’m going to die anyway.”

The soldier simply stared at me. I felt like a trapped mouse under his gaze, and it made me upset. Most of all, I felt wronged. I had fought so hard to survive, and now I was going to die. The injustice was maddening.

As expected, he called his subordinates. I prepared myself to be dragged away.

But surprisingly, he lied about my identity.

“She’s just a wandering woman. I found her hiding in this house.”

I was confused. What? This man—wasn’t he part of the revolutionary army? Why lie to his comrades? I was Eloise Bismarck. I kept my mouth shut, unable to understand his intentions.

Even more, he handed me food. That day, I realized bread could smell so fragrant.

Anyway, I had an opportunity. One was to fill my stomach, the other was to think while eating. I nibbled on the oat bread, turning my mind quickly.

The soldier lied about my identity. That meant he had decided to spare me. Why would he want to save me? Perhaps he felt pity. Maybe I looked so shabby and miserable that no one would believe I was a noble.

Whether out of pity or not, I had succeeded in turning his heart. I couldn’t miss this chance. To survive, I had to prove I was worth saving.

I was very familiar with situations like this.

“Have you played the piano recently?”

He asked. Ah, yes. The piano. I had a piano. I knew I had a talent for playing it. It could be my shield, my weapon.

I had to ensure he never regretted sparing me.

Although he didn’t explicitly ask me to play, I stood up. My body, which felt close to collapsing, regained strength. There was no time to waste. I had to survive.

I could feel the soldier following me. Every hair on my body bristled as I reacted to his every move. Calm down, Eloise. You’re good at the piano. Just do as you always have. If you make him captivated by your playing, that will be enough.

Sitting in front of the piano, I realized it had been quite some time since I last played. I decided to trust myself and placed both hands on the keys.

While playing, I focused solely on the music. I tried to forget the soldier’s presence, imagining an audience listening in the dark. It made my mind feel lighter.

My playing gradually regained its rhythm.

The soldier waited silently until I finished. There was no sound, only a quiet stillness, which allowed me to concentrate even more.

The music, once at its peak, slowly ebbed, and I pressed the final key. Sweat had broken out on me without my realizing it. Was he still listening? I turned my head.

He stood in the same spot, contemplative. At least, he didn’t look like he wanted to kill me, which reassured me a little.

“Did they teach you piano?”

He asked. His voice sounded somewhat odd to me.

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe it.”

He muttered to himself. Looking at my frail body barely covered by my blouse and my scars, he sighed, closed his eyes, and stepped toward me.

He reached for me. I flinched, expecting him to grab my arm. But instead of pulling me, he extended his hand. I offered my right hand, a habit from my noble upbringing.

I thought he might mock me. A ragged girl wanting to be treated like a lady. But he didn’t. He treated me like a true lady.

The soldier bent slightly and kissed the back of my hand. Then, he looked me in the eye, very closely.

In his gaze, I found favor. My playing had worked. I should have felt happy, but my body trembled despite my will.

Without a word, the soldier turned and left. The sound of the door closing echoed, and his footsteps gradually faded.

I had survived.

It should have been a joyful moment…

Tears streamed down my face. Sitting at the piano, I cried out loud. The emotions I had suppressed, fearing to provoke him, poured out. I hastily wiped my tears, but once released, they didn’t stop easily.

I had been terrified the entire time. When he asked my name, stared at me, listened to my playing, and kissed the back of my hand…

All those moments had been frightening. I was a noble girl in custody, and he was a soldier with a gun.

I survived, and yet my relief shattered me. I wasn’t afraid of Johann Meyer, nor my father, but he was different.

Because he could have killed me at any moment.

And yet, he showed mercy.

My life dangled by the tips of his fingers.

It’s okay. It’s okay, Eloise. He liked you. You survived. That’s all that matters.

I repeated this to myself and wiped my tears.

I hoped never to see him again.

The soldier returned not long after. I thought he had changed his mind this time. But, contrary to my expectations, he pulled a sandwich from his bag and offered it to me.

I accepted it, still wondering what he was thinking. Did he have some ulterior motive? I suspected soldiers always had hidden intentions. My father had taught me this. That damned Johann Meyer, too.

The soldier simply watched me eat. As if seeing someone eat a sandwich for the first time. His gaze was too plain and neutral to be a sinister plot. Still, I didn’t trust him.

The more he treated me well, the more distrustful I became. Whatever his motives, I diligently ate the food he gave me. I had to conserve my strength.

I kept saying “thank you” like a foolish girl. Pretending to be kind and pitiful was my specialty. I deliberately smiled foolishly in front of him and nodded at everything he said.

Whatever his intentions, he liked me, and ordinary people would accept my silly act without question.

I had to keep him liking me.

He was still a figure of fear, and I had no choice but to cling to his acts of kindness.

Thus continued the visits of Giles Hessen, the revolutionary officer.

I began to wonder if his “sinister plan” was actually just to fatten me up. He only ever brought food and watched me eat it.

Was he into charity? Some people liked helping the poor while enjoying themselves. Was Giles one of those? Or did he find it amusing to watch me eat? I was hungry, so I had devoured the food.

Moreover, he stared at me as if something terrible would happen if I didn’t eat properly. Did he realize I nearly choked on more than one occasion?

Giles’ visits had become predictable. I prayed I wouldn’t have to see that awful uniform again, yet he persistently returned. Each time, I pretended to be glad.

That day, too, I did the same.