Bastian

Of all the people in the wide world, Bastian was indeed the strangest man.
No matter how much she thought about it, that was the only conclusion Odette could draw. 

Bastian slowly approached the piano and stared at the music sheet in silence for a long stretch of time.
His sharp gaze was so serious that suggested he carried a deep knowledge of music and melodies.

“I left you a message asking you to go to bed first.
Did you not see it because you didn’t run into Dora?” Odette broke the oppressive silence by speaking up.

“I saw the message,” Bastian replied without looking up from the sheet music.

“Then why didn’t you follow it?” Odette asked, confused.

Bastian’s hand remained on the piano keys as he explained, “I just couldn’t sleep.”

After playing the white keys, Bastian shifted his focus to the black keys.
Finally, he turned his head to face Odette, revealing a slight smile on his lips.
The situation was unexpected for Odette; instead of being reprimanded for disrupting Bastian’s sleep routine, he seemed to be in an entirely different state of mind.

“I apologize,” Odette spoke up, feeling embarrassed.
“It took me longer than expected because I haven’t practiced enough, but I didn’t mean to cause you any inconvenience.
I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again next time.”

Bastian raised his eyebrows slightly in response to Odette’s apology before shifting his attention back to the sheet music.

Bastian looked up from the keyboard and directed his gaze towards the sheet music, pointing at it with his hand.
“Can you tell me what this is?” he asked Odette.

Odette inspected the music sheet and identified the symbol that Bastian was referring to.
“It’s a trill,” she replied calmly, despite the question being somewhat obscure.

“A trill?” Bastian repeated, the term sounding unfamiliar to him.

“Yes, a trill,” confirmed Odette, taking a step closer to the sheet music and studying the name of the musical notation next to the small note.

Bastian gazed down and observed Odette’s profile as she stood beside him in front of the piano.
“Is that the sound of waves I hear?” he asked her.

Odette looked at Bastian, her eyes widening in surprise.
Soon, she smiled in admiration.
“Are you talking about this section?” she asked, placing her hands on the keyboard and playing a trill.
The gentle, undulating melody stayed with Bastian long after it had ended.
“Trills are ornamental notes,” she explained.

“Ornamental?”

“Yes ornamental” repeated Odette, confirming Bastian’s understanding.
“The piano’s notes have a short duration,” she added, pressing a key to demonstrate.
Despite striking it with force, the sound quickly faded away.
“But if you want to prolong a note, you can do this.” Odette played the trill again, rapidly hitting the key before, the key next to it, and the one after that.
“I embellish it with the surrounding notes to keep this note going,” she explained, before stepping back from the piano.
“Would you like to give it a try?”

Bastian looked at Odette in surprise “Me?” he asked in disbelief.

Odette simply nodded calmly in response.
Despite feeling bewildered, Bastian slowly lifted his hand to the keyboard and attempted to mimic her technique.
However, the resulting sound was anything but calm and soothing – it was more akin to a tumultuous and turbulent wave.

As Bastian released the keyboard and burst out laughing, Odette responded with a formal round of applause.

“Actually, it’s not bad at all,” she offered, skillfully fibbing.
“I’d say it’s on par with my shooting abilities.” Odette had a knack for delivering gentle rejections.

Bastian’s chuckles elicited a soft smile from Odette, and for a brief moment, they shared a comfortable gaze.
However, their moment was abruptly interrupted by Margrethe’s intrusion.

Standing between them, Margrethe began growling at Bastian, causing the amazing atmosphere to dissipate.

“You can’t do that, Margrethe,” scolded Odette, feeling embarrassed by the dog’s behavior.
But Margrethe remained steadfast, baring her teeth warily at Bastian.

“I’m sorry,” Odette apologized.
“I think it’s because Meg is still afraid of you.”

With a sense of urgency, Odette diffused the situation by quickly scooping up Margrethe.
She refrained from voicing her hope that things would improve over time.
After all, there was no real need for Margrethe and Bastian to develop a closer relationship, and realizing this helped to declutter her previously cluttered mind.

As Odette pondered this, she wondered why Bastian had remained silent.
Throughout the day, her thoughts had been consumed with questions about his upcoming overseas assignment.
Time seemed to be slipping away all too quickly.

After Margrethe calmed down, there was a sudden enveloping of profound silence.
Fortunately, it didn’t seem like the previous disturbance had an effect on Bastian very much at all.

Odette, who was beginning to feel more relaxed, carefully set Margrethe down on the ground, and then began organizing the sheet music.
Her eyes wandered across to the item that had caught Bastian’s attention, but she didn’t give it any thought after that momentary fixation.

Trills had always appealed to Odette, particularly when she was young.
Back then, she found the way they prolonged a beautiful moment to be quite charming.
Looking back on it now, it seemed like such a naive impression to have.

As she closed the piano lid, Odette turned to face Bastian.
The day after their shooting lesson, he surprised her by gifting her with the rifle she had used for practice.
Although she initially declined, Bastian was persistent.
It was only later that Odette came to understand his insistence – he knew she would need it.

Maybe Bastian’s final gesture was to offer her a sense of security, and if that was the case, Odette was immensely appreciative.
She wished to hold onto that feeling and have a positive ending.
This was also the last gift she wanted to present to the man who had bestowed upon her more kindness and regard than anyone else in the world.

Odette broke into a soft smile as she took in the man who was absolutely unusual but still generous.
“The day is drawing to a close.
Let’s turn around and go back now.”

 

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

 

The letter arrived slightly after midday, just as the sun was casting its bright rays over the Ardenne’s Bay.
But inside the hostess’s bedroom, the thick curtains were drawn tightly, casting the room into darkness.
In that dimly lit, cave-like space where time seemed to stand still, Theodora Klauswitz lounged in a chair, idly swirling her glass.
In her other hand, she held a half-burnt pipe.

“Madam!” Susan exclaimed, letting out a sigh as she urgently addressed her mistress.
Theodora slowly turned her head to look at her maid, but her unfocused gaze gave away that she was already quite drunk.

Ever since it was revealed that Bastian Klauswitz had revoked her husband’s right to build railroads, scenes like this had been unfolding on a daily basis.
The servants felt as though they were walking on thin ice each day.

“Madam, Duke Dyssen has sent you a letter,” Susan stated, getting straight to the point.
She had received a visit from her sister, who was the Duke’s caretaker and wished to inform her of his recent activities.
Susan had expected her sister to prattle on about trivial matters, but this time the news seemed significant as it came in the form of a letter that could prove useful.

“A letter?” Theodora sat up straight in her long chair and eagerly reached for the envelope.
She carelessly tore it open and tossed it aside next to her empty wine glass.

Impatiently standing guard by the side of the chair, Susan listened to the sound of papers rustling and prayed that there would be at least one useful piece of information contained within.

Theodora Klauswitz was displeased with the sight of someone appearing helpless like a loser.
Susan fervently hoped that her beloved friend, who was also her master and sister, would recover soon and be able to open the curtains wide.

Despite having devoted herself to the man she loved and his family, Theodora felt that the outcome was a pitiful and futile one.

Putting aside the letter she was reading, Theodora ordered “turn off the music.”

As Susan rushed to the opposite side of the bedroom and switched off the power, Theodora got up from her seat and pulled the curtains open.

While putting on her partly removed dress, Theodora made her way to the window, holding the letter she had picked up from the table.
Susan observed her quietly.

As Theodora read the letter from the Duke of Dissen, her wrinkles seemed to deepen.
Her countenance was now frightfully solemn, and there was no hint of a helpless drunkard about her.

Eventually, Theodora looked away from the letter and fixed her bloodshot eyes on the mansion located across the sea.

As she turned her head back, Theodora burst out laughing – a triumphant laugh that Susan cherished.

 

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

 

“Can I take a vacation this weekend?”

When the meal was nearing its end, Odette posed an audacious question.

Bastian looked up, holding his teacup loosely, while Odette sat elegantly, waiting for his response.

“A vacation?” Bastian repeated.

“Yes.
If I don’t have any prior engagements, I would love to take a few days off,” replied Odette.

Bastian, questioning, asked “Did I ever promise you a vacation?”

Upon comprehending Bastian’s implication, Odette’s eyes narrowed.
“No, you didn’t, but… a regular employment contract should include vacation time.”

Bastian laughed in amazement, “It would, if I had signed a contract to employ a maid.” He noticed how his wife was becoming more skilled in the role of a servant with each passing day.
This ability could prove beneficial for her success as a governess, rather than just a tutor.

Odette nodded slightly, lost in thought,”I am aware that my contract is not like that.” She then offered a brief apology, saying, “I’m sorry if my request was challenging.”

After her apology, Odette continued to eat her meal casually.
Bastian was perplexed as to why she brought up the matter if it did not affect her in any way.

Bastian tried to recall any clues that might offer an explanation.
He remembered a particular morning that stood out from the rest.

Bastian woke up at his usual time and left Odette’s bedroom.
He headed to his room to freshen up, shave and prepare for work.
While he was getting ready, he heard a knock on the door.
It was Odette, who he called the “crappy astrologer.”

As usual, she had done an egg fortune-telling that predicted a day of success and determination as strong as a mountain.
Bastian was determined to discover Odette’s genuine emotions.

Bastian checked the time and without any delay, he addressed Odette, “Tell me, Odette.” She was finishing up the remaining eggs and coffee when she looked up in surprise.

Bastian, infused with a sense of authority, asked, “Is there a problem?” His inquiry permeated the quiet morning light.