Chapter 3. Dinner and Father

“…Also added carrots, celery, and garlic.”

Vovrek raised a piece of stewed beef with a tin fork, chewing thoughtfully as he looked at the elderly man in a neatly pressed suit, sitting upright.

“Mr. Spere did most of it. I only corrected a few steps.” The old man spoke again. The man beside him nodded—he, too, had red hair like Diletta.

“Since Elina left, we haven’t had a proper meal.” Ubeto Spere said.

“Nothing wrong with that. I don’t want to eat her fallen teeth.” Vovrek replied, and both he and Ubeto laughed. “What about you, Gillis? How long do you think you can keep serving this man?”

“Mr. Spere is my friend.” Gillis did not laugh. After swallowing his food, he spoke slowly. “Of course, I want this relationship to last as long as possible.”

“What do you think of the taste?” Ubeto turned toward Diletta, who was idly playing with her fork.

“It’s fine…” she answered absentmindedly.

“Your daughter still loves you too much.” Vovrek suddenly said, drawing her unhappy glance. She wanted to add something to her father, but Ubeto only smiled, patted her shoulder, and brushed it aside. Perhaps because she had been staring at Mr. Vovrek, he had said that—after all, no one liked eating under someone’s gaze.

Before long, Vovrek wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’d like to take some of your private time, Ubeto.” He stood. “To your room.”

Ubeto rose, and he and Vovrek left the table one after another. It was impossible not to notice Vovrek’s towering height. Beside them, Gillis was guiding and helping a young man clean the dishes. Diletta didn’t recognize the young man’s face—he must have just taken the job.

“Mm, that’s good. Please take these away.” Gillis cleaned the last scraps from a plate and stacked it on the tray. “You can boil water in that room.” Then he turned toward Diletta, who had already sat by the fire with a book.

“You should sit a little farther from the fire.” His voice softened. “What are you reading?”

Diletta scooted back, holding the book away from the flames. Gillis could see the yellowed, curled pages covered in dense writing. But she flipped quickly, showing the words weren’t her interest.

“These look strange.” She pointed at a faded illustration. “Where are its eyes?”

“They don’t need eyes to see.”

“Will I ever meet them?”

“If it’s this figure in the book, I believe not.” Gillis bent down, closed the book in her hands. The scarred cover bore the words “Saint Mo Record.” “Does your father allow you to read this?” He picked it up. Diletta nodded.

“You’re not old enough for this, Miss. It tells too much we cannot understand, and tries to teach knowledge people should come to slowly…” Gillis’s words faded into whispers, no longer clear to Diletta.

“It’s Father’s book. He reads it too.”

“That is true.” He held the book behind him.

Staring at the fire, Diletta recalled today’s forest—the crow, the clearing, the voice, the sleeping shadow.

“You went to Twin Gate Forest?” Gillis suddenly asked. Diletta gave no reply.

“Miss?”

“I’m not ‘Miss.’” Diletta hugged her knees, curling more comfortably in her chair.

“You came back dusty, leaves in your hair.” Gillis pulled another chair closer, sitting beside her. “They suited you well, but gave cause for concern.”

“Leaves don’t only grow in forests…”

“You’re right, of course, not only forests.” His tone stayed calm.

“…”

“Did you see anything interesting?”

“No…”

“There may be rare animals there.”

“Mm…I saw a very big crow. Its cry was strange, and its feathers…”

Their voices melted into the crackling of firewood. Time slowed, until Vovrek’s heavy steps echoed. He descended, bade farewell to the two by the fire, and left with a lantern.

“It’s late, Miss.” Gillis stood, speaking to the drowsy Diletta. “Go to bed.”

“Mm…”

Her father hadn’t asked her anything about today. If not today, maybe not tomorrow either?

Diletta climbed upstairs, changed into pajamas, and fell onto the bed where a cloth doll lay upon the clean sheets.

She would not see Little Black Shadow again. That girl must have come from outside the city, maybe with the crow.

But why had she come here, and for what?

Her silent eyes lingered in Diletta’s mind—their owner seemed not to need eyes to see.

Half-asleep, after who knew how long, she heard heavy footsteps—Vovrek had returned. She heard Father and Vovrek exchange brief words, then he left again. Something about the forest, about its sounds changing. Footsteps climbed the stairs—one her father’s, the other light, maybe a cat’s.

Sensing something, Diletta sat up, went to the door, and pushed it slightly open. She saw her father’s back as he opened his door—and the shadow behind him.

“Not asleep?”

Before she could speak, Gillis, carrying a lamp, greeted them. The old man pulled her door wider, while Ubeto’s door closed.

“I… Mr. Vovrek came back again?”

“Yes. Sorry, next time I’ll warn him not to make such noise during rest.”

“Uh, it’s fine…”

“That little girl was brought by him.” Gillis glanced at Ubeto’s door. “She’s a friend’s daughter… Mr. Vovrek met her while working.”

“…”

“He also said you brought her.”

“Mm.” Diletta nodded. Before she could say more, her father’s door opened again.

“Diletta.” Ubeto came to her room. “Good, you're still awake.”

The girl was beside him, hair tangled, covering her eyes, so Diletta dared not confirm her identity.

“This is Zerxi, more or less…a friend’s child.” Ubeto’s face was thoughtful. “Her family had troubles, so she came far to our town. I’ll arrange a proper place for her, but tonight she’ll stay here. What do you think?”

Diletta nodded. The day’s events swirled in her head.

“Treat her like your sister.” Ubeto patted her head. “Sleep well, Diletta.”

Back in bed, Diletta lay down again. Gillis lowered the lamp, placed the doll by her pillow, and pulled up her blanket.

“Mr. Vovrek said you must have found that child in the forest.”

“Mm…”

Was it that obvious?

“Don’t go alone into that forest, Miss. You don’t know what’s inside, nor the dangers deeper in.”

“…”

How much could Gillis know of Twin Gate Forest? She had never seen him leave East Wenmen.

“But you did well. You helped that child, even in the forest.” He left with the lamp. “Sweet dreams.”