MAC 03

Chapter: 03

Although it had been left vacant for several years, Patrick’s room was impeccably neat, as though it belonged to someone with an obsession for cleanliness.

An ordinary young nobleman would have relied on servants to keep his room clean, but Patrick was different.

He absolutely hated having anyone enter his personal space, so keeping his own room clean and organized himself was an ironclad rule.

After removing the covers he had placed over everything to keep out the dust, Patrick carefully lifted a heavy rectangular case onto the table.

He undid the brass buckles and opened the case. When he lifted away the thick velvet cloth, a Carl Zeiss microscope, carefully wrapped in layers, revealed its elegant form. This latest model, which embodied the finest optical technology in the world, had been Patrick Bennett’s gift to himself after completing his degree.

Beside the microscope, Patrick carefully placed a small glass vial. Inside was a handful of dried grass. It was the subject of Patrick Bennett’s research.

Though it looked insignificant at first glance, Patrick was prepared to devote his entire life to this handful of grass.

After gazing at the vial for a moment with a proud expression, Patrick set it down, took the newspaper tucked inside his briefcase, and unfolded it.

Faceless columnist ‘Mr. Greenleaf’ rumored to be a possible candidate for director of the Royal Museum of Natural History upon its grand reopening….

Who will be the new director of the Royal Museum of Natural History? In addition to Professor A and Dr. B, both established figures from the traditional bureaucracy, a new candidate has emerged. There is also speculation that ‘Mr. Greenleaf,’ who has gained popularity through years of work abroad, may be appointed….

Academic community divided over ‘Mr. Greenleaf,’ who has brought easy-to-understand biology to the entire nation. Concerns raised that fame alone should not qualify him for the directorship… The board dismisses the rumors, stating that ‘nothing has been decided.’

Society parties, marriage proposals, suitors. Even his father’s pleas had been forgotten in the distant recesses of his mind. His deep blue eyes sparkled with life as he alternated between reading the newspaper and looking at the ball invitation.

‘Mr. Greenleaf.’

He was an unidentified columnist who had remained active even while continuing his expeditions to remote regions for years, and his primary profession was known to be botany.

His columns, which conveyed biological knowledge in a witty, easy, and entertaining manner, had become quite popular with the public. Perhaps he really would become the new museum director.

Patrick hugged his well-worn notebook to his chest and dropped down onto the edge of the bed. It wasn’t certain yet, but what if he really got the chance to meet Mr. Greenleaf…?

Just thinking about it made his heart swell with excitement. How should he introduce himself? Would a confident introduction be better? Should he say, “I’m researching a new species of plant that could change the world”…?

I don’t know. I really don’t know.

Patrick flopped backward onto the bed. At the same moment, his body tilted and the pocket watch that had slipped from his pocket rolled away.

“Ah….”

He reached out, but the watch was just out of reach. Eventually, Patrick sat up and retrieved the pocket watch from beneath the bed.

Yet even afterward, Patrick’s eyes remained fixed on the darkness beneath the bed for a long time.

It was because of ‘that box.’

A large, black, rectangular paper box stubbornly held his attention.

If Mr. Greenleaf was a light in his life, then that coffin-like black box could be called the culprit that had dragged Patrick Bennett into hell.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and finally eighteen….

A turbulent period that had completely shaken Patrick Bennett’s adolescence, a cursed object that had sealed away all the joy, pain, love, and hatred of those years.

I really have to get rid of that damn box this time.

Patrick bit his lip as he glared at the box with burning eyes.

He had already destroyed that damn box countless times in his imagination. The problem was that whenever the time came to actually do it, he ended up opening the box instead.

While Patrick kept postponing the decision, the black box survived one crisis after another and remained beneath his bed for years.

A day became a week, then a month, then the seasons changed, until several years passed in the blink of an eye.

This time, I’ll throw it away.

Without thinking any further, Patrick grabbed the troublesome box and pulled it out. Now he was finally going to say goodbye to this cursed thing.

He had graduated from university, after all. It was time to leave no lingering attachments behind and move forward on the path of a true adult.

And to do that, he absolutely must not….

Patrick stared fiercely at the black box and clenched his lips. He must not lift the lid. He must not open it.

Absolutely… must not open it….

Patrick’s hand gripping the corner of the box trembled slightly. A familiar impulse began to torment him.

No. You idiot. Don’t open it. Don’t, I said.

The moment he opened the box and looked inside, it was obvious that this box would remain in his bedroom for another several years.

He had gone through the same thing countless times before. So he mustn’t open the lid… He mustn’t….

“Ah… damn it.”

Patrick’s hand, which had been struggling until the very last moment, moved instinctively. The brass hinges creaked as the black leather box opened its wide mouth.

“You idiot.”

Patrick even ground his teeth in frustration. Once again, he had failed to throw it away.

What filled the troublesome box were ‘letters,’ numbering easily in the hundreds. There were so many that hardly any gaps could be seen between them.

Patrick stared down at them in dismay, when suddenly he caught a familiar, faint fragrance and grimaced painfully.

Ah, damn it. That fragrant jasmine.

He had failed to get rid of the damn box again today. Realizing that the chance was gone, anger surged through him until he wanted to grind his teeth.

And yet, against his own will, Patrick’s fingers moved.

No matter how much he promised himself not to indulge in useless sentiment, he always ended up like this. Swept away by memories of the past, unable to help feeling a little sentimental.

Patrick ran his fingers along the edges of the tightly packed envelopes before randomly pulling one out.

He didn’t even need to open it. This green envelope, with its particularly crumpled corner, was one he had received in the early summer of his sixteenth year.

As far as he remembered, it had been June.

It was a letter written with such force that it seemed the pen had nearly pierced the paper, complaining bitterly about how late he had been in replying. Even running his fingers over the envelope, he could feel the raised texture where the paper had been pressed down by the pen nib. It was easy to tell just how angry she had been.

It began with, ‘You’re really being too much,’ and continued with one sulky complaint after another. Yet at the end, she had made a rather cute little complaint: ‘At least reply quickly. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to wait?’

Patrick pulled out another envelope.

He knew its contents just as clearly. This letter, marked by an ink stain on the front, had arrived in the winter of his seventeenth year. She had said she accidentally knocked over an ink bottle while hurriedly hiding the letter so her roommate wouldn’t discover it.

The letter was filled with talk about exams, shared anxieties about the future, and an adorable complaint about how troublesome it was that she liked too many things these days.

At the time, the girl’s dream had been to become a novelist. She was quite talented at drawing as well, and the letter even contained a confident declaration that she would draw the cover of her own novel.

Patrick even remembered the contents of the reply he had sent her. He vividly recalled teasing her by writing, ‘You only like dirty books, don’t you?’

All several hundred letters were like that.

No matter which envelope Patrick pulled from the box, he could remember every single detail of its contents.

There had simply been so many stories exchanged between them, from the time when their handwriting had been somewhat clumsy and rounded to when it gradually became more mature.

Maybe it was because they were young. What on earth did you and I have so much to say about? If I had known it would end like this, perhaps we would have been better off never exchanging letters in the first place….

“…Ha.”

Patrick put the letter back and let out a heavy sigh.

Considering that this entire letter affair was also what had driven him to throw himself obsessively into biology, Patrick Bennett had effectively given nearly half of his life to the person who had written these letters.

When will I finally be able to escape from you? Or perhaps I’ll never be able to escape you at all.