Murderous Lewellyn’s Candlelit Dinner - Chapter 1.2
Shavonne stopped breathing for a moment, or you could say in the blink of an eye.
For some reason, he felt uncomfortable. The body was so damaged that it was impossible to identify who it was, but that was not the reason for him to feel that way. That unpleasant feeling, a kind of…,
Shavonne gulped at the unpleasant sensation. He shook his head and tried to shake off the image of the corpse in front of him.
As always, the sun set and so, the new year arrived. New Years Day or not, Christmas or not, Shavonne still had to work. He had to examine whether his manuscript had any typos or government criticisms that should be censored.
In a letter written on a typewriter, he drew a symbol to divide the paragraph and wondered if the word “the blue-eyed rabbit” would offend the government authorities, and he heard a sound coming from the door.
Shavonne stared at the door. Who the fuck is it? The noise suddenly went silent as if they knew Shavonne was aware of it. Half an hour later, he heard it again. Shit. “Do not bother”. Should he put up a sign to calm them down? Shavonne came out of his house with a pencil and paper sign.
There was a note on the door. It was from the one who had been there.
『Happy new yeer!』
Shavonne, who was looking at the misspelled word ‘yeer’, tore off the note and put up a “Do Not Disturb” sign. After going back inside, Shavonne went back to the manuscript. Well, to be exact, he tried.
However, even after modifying it and changing a period to a comma, the problem was that he kept looking at the note while he wondered if there was a way to elegantly change the word to ‘rabbit’s butt’. It was no use breaking the paper and throwing it away.
In the end, Shavonne put down the pen. Fuck, I guess I have a disease about doing my job perfectly, he laughed bitterly at himself. Shavonne took the pieces of the note out of the trash and glued them back together, traced a line above the ‘new yeer’ and corrected it to the ‘new year’. Only then did he feel comfortable again.
He could hear the sound of someone knocking on the door. He went out but there was no one in the hall.
He heard it again. He went out but there was no one in the hall.
And he heard it again. He went out but there was still no one in the hall.
Shavonne discovered that there were three new notes under the 《Do not disturb》 sign. Each of the three notes said the following respectively.
『Bother. Bother. Bother.』
『Don’t you eat outside?』
『The New Years party is fun. Let’s go. 』
Once the deadline is up, I will have between 10 to 20 hours to live that I will use to watch and catch this “new” bastard. Shavonne gritted his teeth with determination.
But things did not go according to his plan, as is usual in the world. His encounters with the “new” bastard were not over.
-Deadline. One day. Early.
In other words,
– Let’s advance the deadline just one day before.
Shavonne’s schedule was ruined by a telegram sent by the editor-in-chief, William. He had a tight schedule, and he couldn’t live decently as the deadline was approaching.
The meal was filled with strong drinks and snacks, and when sleep was at its peak, he wrote “Anthea said: I love you.” and “Anthea said: Please, I want to go to sleep.”. Then, he went to sleep.
In his world, he only had typewriters, manuscripts, pens, and inks. Shavonne didn’t exist, and since he didn’t exist, it was only natural that Shavonne’s neighbors, friends, and boyfriend didn’t either.
Shavonne’s boyfriend didn’t seem to be satisfied with that.
“Shavonne, are you there? Shavonne!”
One night at nine. There was a thud outside the door, and soon someone knocked on the door of room 303. It was August Besch, Shavonne’s boyfriend with whom he had refused to talk to for two weeks. He didn’t know if he was there to end their situation… The snort was loud enough to be heard inside Shavonne’s house, the fierce knocks on the door without regard for Shavonne and his neighbors, and also the slightly abusive tone, seemed to have deepened their fight rather than ended it.
Dammit. Shavonne dropped the pen he was holding. Its ink splattered and left a mark. More furious than when editor-in-chief William telegraphed to him: “Let’s advance the deadline just one day before”, Shavonne stood up.
As soon as he opened the door, August appeared.
“What. Why didn’t you call me when you were fine?
Don’t even think about making excuses that you are busy. Who is not busy? Do I look like I’m just being lazy?
Why are you holding the door so tightly? Is there someone inside?”
He was no longer in love. Shavonne was surprised because he thought he would be angry. His face was stiff and he spoke coldly. His thoughts were clear. The answer came to his head.
“If I speak with you, I won’t be good psychologically,” he added in a sarcastic tone.” like right now.”
“What?” August asked. The situation didn’t seem to make sense. Definitely. Shavonne didn’t like to fight, but it was the first time that he was as aggressive as he was right now. Shavonne didn’t care and continued.
“Even if you think it’s an excuse, I’m busy, and I’m going to be busy. I’m afraid you’re going to break inside like last summer, and I can’t bear you yelling at me like a baby or babbling that the house is a mess. That’s why the door is like this. I don’t want you to force me to have sex like last summer because then I’m going to hit rock bottom. Oh, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s very, very annoying to be tied up by your boyfriend. “
August’s young face witnessed a state of anger for a time. August lowered his eyebrows. Shavonne saw that he had a face that said ‘I look like a dead dog’. Of course, he now looks more like a bitch than a puppy.
Shavonne cut him off bluntly. Since his ‘poor thing’ strategy wasn’t going to help him, August returned to his usual look. A grumpy voice filtered through August’s lips.
“What’s wrong with you? If you keep acting like this, I’ll think you want to break up with me.”
“That is exactly what I want.”
Shavonne watched August’s face turn red, his lips clenched as if he was trying to say something, and he turned to leave the front of the house. The footsteps seemed to go down to the third floor, to the second floor, to the first floor, and then he couldn’t hear them anymore.
Only then did Shavonne, who was listening for August to leave, straightened his body and went back into his house. No, he was going to enter. If someone sitting on the apartment stairs hadn’t spoken to him, he actually would have.
“Your boyfriend? “
‘Someone’ spoke to him from the back of the stairs where August had disappeared. Shavonne stood up and didn’t go inside. Should I answer or not? When answering, Shavonne was hesitant to reveal that he was gay, but he decided to talk to him because if that person had been on the stairs of the apartment, he would have understood something of the relationship between Shavonne and August. Shavonne managed to shrug as if nothing had happened. He looked down.
He then thought the conversation would end, but he was wrong. He asked the wrong question again.
“Did he cheat on you?”
“Did you get a STD?”
“Did he sign a debt in your name?”
Shavonne looked directly at the speaker on the apartment stairs. He was a young man who could be in his 20s, with a face so beautiful that it was hard to believe that he lived on Ira Street, a slum.
If he were as handsome as he was, he wouldn’t stay here, but Shavonne suddenly saw something in his hands. What? Why do you have that here? Countless questions came to Shavonne’s mind.
There was an onion in his hands. It wasn’t just one, a picnic basket filled with peeled or unpeeled onions were next to him. How much had he peeled? His eyes were red as if he had cried.
Curious, Shavonne asked him about it instead of telling him that August hadn’t cheated on him, he didn’t have a venereal disease and he hadn’t left Shavonne a debt under his name, but that he was a bad boyfriend.
“Why are you peeling onions here?” He replied.
“Because my house would smell bad.” He smiled. “It’s disgusting when smells mix.”
The next day, he was sitting on the apartment stairs, with red eyes and peeling an onion, and the next day, he was sitting on the apartment stairs, with red eyes and peeling an onion. He was like this until the next day, the next day, and even until Shavonne’s manuscript deadline. He was sitting on the stairs of the apartment and peeling onions with red eyes. Of course, he knew it wasn’t because he was sad; it was simply due to the onions, but Shavonne felt that his eyes continued to bother him.
The man, when he was peeling onions, used to see Shavonne and say, “Hey, it’s cold today. Good morning”, and turn his attention back to the onions, but each time Shavonne just looked at him nervously and responded with a “…Yes”
But one day, it was different. “Guten Morgen (Good morning)”
Shavonne asked the man who had greeted him in such a way, “Are you a masochist?”
He did it out of curiosity, he wanted to know why he peeled onions if they made him cry and why he did it in public places like the apartment stairs. The man smiled. It was a pretty smile that could only be described as brilliant.
“Something like that. Maybe.”
The next day, the situation was the same as the day before. The man greeted him with a: “Bonjour, monsieur (Good morning, sir).”
“Soak the onions in water, take them out and peel them. He coughed a little before adding, “Then… your eyes will stop being watery.”
The man smiled. This time, he was so beautiful that he could only be described as dazzling.
He was handsome. Shavonne kept his mouth shut deliberately so that the thought that came to his mind wouldn’t leave his mouth.
But the next day, the man was peeling onions in the same way. Shavonne, who was looking into the man’s eyes full of tears, ended up intervening.
“I told you to soak them in water, take them out and then peel them, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you told me so.”
Shavonne was annoyed that the man agreed.
“Then, why didn’t you do it?”
The man smiled. Like yesterday and the day before, it was a beaming smile that could only be described as brilliant.
“I didn’t say I would, did I?”
Wordlessly, Shavonne laughed. The man wasn’t smiling, but he raised his index finger and pointed to his face; his eyes to be exact.
“You have a weakness for tearful faces, Mr. Shavonne.”
The man nodded without hesitation. Shavonne was serious. He had never thought that he had a soft spot for tearful faces. Although he had to wonder if he was weak because he had an attractive face and whatever the truth was, he didn’t like the idea of a neighbor X talking about Shavonne’s personality.
In response, the man smiled with his eyes looking like a pair of full moons. He moved his lips and whispered silently.
Apparently, that’s what he was saying with his mouth.
Shavonne suddently felt uncomfortable for no reason. After returning to his house, he cleaned the room to get his mind off his complicated feelings, and Shavonne was curious as he sorted through the papers that had been scattered.
Has he ever told him his name?
Shavonne throw the question out of his mind after thinking that he must have simply heard someone else call him by his name. However, the uneasy feeling did not go away.
The next day, Shavonne filed a complaint to the apartment manager.
“When I try to go downstairs, my eyes hurt from the onions he peels, not to mention the smell.”
The manager was twirling a pen in his hand instead of looking at Shavonne’s face and responded unpleasantly.
“Maybe he has an onion fetish.”
Shavonne took the pen from the manager’s hand. Only then did he confront Shavonne (with a rather temperamental face).
“I don’t want to know what fetishes he has, and I don’t want to see him on the stairs in front of my house.” Shavonne said firmly.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll contact him.”
“Please don’t contact him, just solve the problem.”
The manager said that he would impose a fine. However, contacting him and giving him a fine did not solve the problem because the man paid the fine for receiving the notice and that was it. He even tipped the manager 3 ronas, but the man was still sitting on the stairs of the building and peeling onions like there were no problems, and Shavonne was getting tired. Whether he understood Shavonne’s feelings or not, what the management office said only fueled Shavonne’s anger.
“Would you like to report it again?”
Shavonne suppressed his desire to say “No, get fucked” to a simple “No.” Sons of bitches. They pretended they had a hen that laid golden eggs.
Shavonne kept spouting insults from his mouth.
One snowy day, the man greeted Shavonne when he came out. As always, the man had an onion in his hand and a picnic basket next to him.
“Buenos días (Good Morning)”.
Shavonne looked at the man and didn’t answer. He turned around and ignored him.
Ten days passed in which Shavonne didn’t acknowledged the man’s existence.
Until the day he got a mail. As he left his house with a coat over his pajamas, Shavonne suddenly didn’t see anyone on the apartment stairs.
Shavonne looked at his pocket watch. It was ten in the morning. At that time, the man should be sitting on the stairs of the apartment building peeling onions, as if it were his job, since he used to do it from 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. There has never been a day that he hasn’t done it for three weeks. But…
“Where did he go?”
There was nobody there. Not to mention the human being, even the picnic basket containing onions was missing. A chill went through his neck. The thought of checking the mail faded.
It was ten minutes to ten. The man did not appear. It was half past ten. The man did not appear. It was ten minutes to eleven. The man did not appear.
Shavonne sat down on the stairs and waited for the man. Simply wanting to go to check the mail, Shavonne wore a coat over his pajamas and thus, was able to survive the cold of January (even though he was inside a building) thanks to the pajamas that Dr. Fawkes gave him three months ago. If the pajamas had been less than a millimeter thick, even one less, Shavonne wouldn’t have dared to wait for the man.
From wanting to wait until 10:10, he waited until 10:30, and then changed to wait for him until 10:50. At ten-fifty, he still hadn’t shown up. Shavonne squeezed his eyes shut and thought, Dammit. I will have to wait until eleven.
He didn’t even understand himself. He was just a neighbor, and he only knew his face. Also, he was making such a fuss over someone he ignored and wasn’t even friendly to him just because he had gotten used to it, but he couldn’t help it.
Like when to avoid stepping on the yellow blocks on the sidewalk. Like when the number of bottle caps was not the same. Like when he saw the ‘New Yeers’ typo instead of New Years. Shavonne got nervous for no reason.
TN: In Korea there are many yellow tactile surfaces on the sidewalk. The blind can guide themselves on the street following that.
He adjusted the collar around his neck. Since he was barely moving, he blew his breath on his palms to warm his hands. His hands were slowly losing its sense of touch.
It was around eleven in the morning, and ten minutes later, the man appeared with a picnic basket containing onions. At that moment, Shavonne was losing his senses not only in his hands and feet, but also in his face as well. If the man had appeared just five minutes later, he would have frozen to death.
“Dobré ráno (Hello). Mr. Shavonne has come to peel onions too? Or not?”
It was the first word the man said when he saw him.
“It is a good place. I’ve been sitting up and down the stairs, but there, where Mr. Shavonne is sitting, it’s the perfect place. “
The man looked at Shavonne’s outfit and seemed concerned. “Hey, Mr. Shavonne is going to freeze to death in that outfit. “
Shavonne wanted to ask him why he was late, but the man’s priority was to continue this conversation.
“If you want to kill yourself, a lonely place is better than here. Wild Riverside in McEwan Township is perfect. It’s only half a day train ride. If you have 8 ronas, you can rent a third class one.”
That person said smiling, while he recommended how to commit suicide, with a worried face. Shavonne responded with a serious face.
“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. I don’t want to die.”
Or so he tried to say… but his mouth was frozen, so he actually said:
“I’m zory, but ur wron. I don wan to die.”
The man looked at him pityingly.
“Do you want to wear this?”
Shavonne imagined a scene where the man took off his coat and put it on his shoulders behind him, but unfortunately, he was not referring to his coat. It was the pink tablecloth hanging on the picnic basket.
Shavonne had gotten so excited that he couldn’t even scold him. He could only let out some ‘haha’ powerlessly. Either because he didn’t notice Shavonne’s smile or pretended not to, the man said with a serious face.
“I just did it. It was a harder work than I thought. That’s why I was three hours later today.” And he added with a satisfied expression, “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
Shavonne couldn’t get any sleep that night. He rolled over in bed with the blanket over his head. Every time he turned around, the blanket made a little rustle.
“Shit. He is the one peeling onions on the stairs outside the apartment. So why is it like I’m being used to it?”
He didn’t know the answer.
Heyaaa! Between the translation and then the proofreading a lot of time passed lol, I’m sorry;;
Also, no idea how to write in “bad English” and there’s more later aaaa
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