“Mr. Barton, so you're saying that before you reached adulthood, you were drifting from place to place?”
Shad even produced a notebook, pretending to take notes. The "child" across the table nodded slightly.
“You could put it that way; it was truly an unforgettable experience. After I turned eighteen, my body officially transitioned from old age into prime. My frail physique became healthy, and I was able to support myself. During this time, I encountered many things—strange, eerie, and even inconceivable things... but let's not dwell on that. In short, my luck was decent, and I met some scholars who were willing to help me.”
Mr. Barton paused, leaning back slightly into the sofa. Shad focused his attention; there was a high probability that these so-called "scholars" were the [Truth Society].
“They taught me many things and allowed me to view this vast world from an entirely new perspective. Although I didn't agree with the beliefs and ideas of the vast majority of them—sometimes I even thought they were madmen...”
He raised an eyebrow, as if recalling something.
“But those scholars were indeed my benefactors; that much is beyond doubt.”
Shad nodded, pushing away the cat's outstretched paw with his left hand while his pen scratched across the pages of the notebook.
“Since you were with scholars, why didn't you become one yourself? Oh, sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that the profession of a scholar is highly respected.”
Mr. Barton shook his head with a bitter smile, an expression that only made his oversized face look more grotesque.
“Becoming a scholar requires qualifications. At most, I could only be considered an external affiliate.”
He sighed.
“In any case, with the help of those scholars, my condition improved significantly. I met them when I was twenty-five, and by the time I was thirty-two, the treatment began to take effect; the 'speed of my youth' slowed down noticeably. During this period, when my body had reached a state where I looked five or six years older than you, I met the love of my life.”
At this point, a smile finally touched the corners of his mouth.
“Oh? Could you tell me more about that part?”
Shad said with a smile, and Mr. Barton nodded.
“You wouldn't mind if I had a cigar, would you?”
Shad looked at his cat and nodded reluctantly.
“Please, feel free.”
He then scooped up the cat and held it in his arms, providing it with the safest breathing environment.
Mr. Barton pulled a cigar box from beneath the coffee table, used a specialized punch-style cigar cutter to clip both ends, lit it, and took a deep drag. The brass cigar cutter looked like a pocket watch; one could tell just by looking at it that it wasn't cheap.
“It happened in the City of Arts, Attek. I was asked by the scholars to do some work in that city. Because my daily work was leisurely, I would occasionally visit the Rhode Casino. It was the summer of 1845—yes, I remember it clearly. That summer was exceptionally hot; I even thought the metal pipes under the sun would melt. That summer, at the casino, I encountered a girl wearing a red dress.”
His tone was filled with the melancholy of reminiscence.
“A girl met at a casino?”
Shad asked, then shook his head.
“If this were a love story, there's a high probability it wouldn't be a comedy.”
Mr. Barton gave a self-deprecating laugh, his thick fingers clutching the cigar.
“True, but at that moment, with just one glance, I was captivated by her eyes. I don't know if it was a restlessness of the body or my lonely soul longing for love, but in short, I knew my heart had skipped a beat. It's a feeling that's hard to describe—seeing her once in a crowd and knowing she would be the love of my life.”
Shad offered no comment on this.
“And then comes the romantic part?”
“Yes, a very romantic story. I didn't approach her during our first meeting, but I saw her again later in the casino. She was selling things to people that wouldn't be suitable for your books. I plucked up the courage to invite her for a drink at a pub... a proper pub.”
Taking a puff of the cigar and then coughing, Mr. Barton seemed to have some issues with his lungs.
“Mr. Watson, I know how a gentleman of your upper-class background thinks—a girl appearing in a subterranean Rhode Casino wouldn't come from a respectable family. But what did that matter?”
He looked up at the ceiling.
“Pubs, restaurants, opera houses, small inns, our respective apartments, the great art galleries of the city, the Art Clock Tower in the center of town, the Gorus Racecourse outside the city... there are too many memories, far too many. To this day, I cannot forget the scene of her riding that chestnut pony, laughing heartily on the spring grasslands, nor can I forget sitting together on the lawn in the falling leaves of autumn, eating sandwiches and talking about life.
I didn't care about her past, and she didn't care about my identity. We spent three years together; those were probably the happiest three years of my life.”
The middle-aged man who looked like a child wore a genuine smile on his face.
“Following convention, the story has reached its turning point?”
“Yes, and the turning point is quite ridiculous.”
Joy Barton placed the cigar in the ashtray on the coffee table and looked at Shad.
“Mr. Watson, why don't you guess what happened next?”
“Hmm... the scholars transferred you away from Attek, and you had to leave your lover?”
“No, no. I was just a freelance external affiliate; I wouldn't receive such an order... I mean, request. And even if I were transferred, she could have come with me.”
Mr. Barton shook his head.
“Then, the girl discovered the secret of your reverse aging, and she couldn't accept it?”
“Not that either. In just three years, my appearance hadn't changed much. In fact, I had already told her about it.”
He looked at Shad.
“She didn't mind. Yes, not in the slightest. She was even willing to take care of me forever; even if I became an infant without thought or consciousness, she was willing to look after me.”
Mr. Barton closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
“No need to guess. Yes, no one could have guessed that fate would play such a joke—death came for her.”
“Death...”
Shad stopped his pen.
“I'm very sorry to hear that, but the cause of death was...”
The corner of Mr. Barton's mouth twitched.
“Going out on a rainy summer day, twisting her ankle in a puddle, falling, and breaking her neck... Fate always loves to play jokes, doesn't it?”
Shad took a deep breath.
“If this were a story, the ending would be absolutely terrible.”
“Yes. Sometimes I think I would have preferred it if she had been murdered, or died of a disease, or some other conspiracy I didn't know about. But it was truly an accident, a ridiculous accident... I can't even find anyone to hate or seek revenge against.”
“So, what happened after that?”
Shad asked.
Mr. Barton rested his chin in his hand. There was no sadness in his eyes, but rather an incomprehensible sense of loss.
“She had no parents or family, so I took charge of her funeral. Afterward, I traveled across the Old Continent with her ashes, fulfilling the things we had once hoped to achieve.
Mr. Watson, you asked me earlier about my attitude toward death. Although I gave a very optimistic view, that was only regarding my own death. I can calmly accept death descending upon me, but to this day, I still cannot accept her departure.”
He covered his mouth with his right hand and exhaled through his nose.
“All mortals must die; this world truly is fair. Three years ago, in the autumn of the General Calendar year 1850, I returned to Miborough and decided to stay here. The City of Arts is simply too heartbreaking; I fear I shall never go there again in my life.”
(End of Chapter)