Damian knew the address by heart, as the letters between him and Lentry circulated for months until it became lodged in his memory like an inscription on stone.
However, three months passed during which he did not write a response to her letter.
The address was also underlined in the last letter I sent him in February, but now it is late March...
Has anything changed in between?
Damian got up from the train seat, burdened by these concerns.
"Eidenfallen!
Next stop is Eidenfallen!"
The station attendant shouted at the top of his voice, and Damian glanced at the sign that bore the name of the town 'Eidenvalen', and then descended.
A strange feeling came over him as he realized that he had truly reached Eidenfallen.
Paul had given him a ticket to the capital of Estarica called Nehiru, but he did not go there, but changed the train in one of the central cities until he ended up in this rural town.
That is, he came from Lev straight to Edenvalen.
He could have settled first in the capital, taken up residence and rest for a few days, and then set off for Edenvalen, but his heart did not obey him.
He was eager to arrive as soon as possible.
And so he entered the town...but,
'Perhaps they would repel me if I suddenly knocked on their door without warning?'
His chest suddenly tightened, and his heart pounded with anxiety.
'Do you think I look shabby?
I fixed my hair a few days ago, so it's okay.
Yes!
But what should I say about my hand?
Did I have the right to come after preparing an artificial hand?...'
He was about to give up on the whole matter and go back to Nehiro where he came from, but the mere thought of Lintree being close to him made him impatient.
His initial enthusiasm diminished, but he quickened his steps and left the station.
The town, as it was described to him, was small and modest; The station is very simple, and the outside view fills the eye with nothing but expansive fields.
At the station door, a horse-drawn carriage stood waiting.
There is no tram or modern transportation in such a place, and vehicles are the only means.
Damian had no choice but to approach her.
As soon as he approached, the driver who was napping in his seat noticed, so he straightened up and asked him:
“Where are you headed, sir?”
Damian hesitated for a moment, then said:
“I want to go to the mansion on Vilbosca Street, number fourteen.”
The driver furrowed his eyebrows and said:
"Number fourteen in Vilbosca?
And why is there?"
There was a suspicious tone of surprise in his question, as if he was blaming him for simply going to that place.
After a moment of silence, Damian replied:
“I'm going to visit a friend.”
The driver said:
"A friend?
Who is he?"
Damian became increasingly annoyed by this man; What does he have to do with details that do not concern him?
Isn't it enough to get him where he asked?
He said coldly:
“Do I have to tell you all of this?
Leave it alone, I will wait for another carriage.”
He had barely turned his back when the driver started running:
"No, no!
I didn't mean to offend.
I just wanted to know: Are you going and you know what's going on there?"
"What do you mean?"
The driver shook his head with a sigh and said:
“You don't seem to know.
The truth is, no one lives there.”
"What are you saying?"
“A great fire broke out a short time ago, and the house burned to the ground.
The owner of the house was killed along with one of the maids, and his daughter was seriously injured and was transferred to the capital hospital.”
Damian's face froze like stone.
"… What?"
The driver said:
“I see from your response that you have no knowledge of the news.”
Damian replied, shaking his head in astonishment.
"When was that?"
The man said after thinking:
"Maybe three weeks ago, or so."
This was while Damien himself was still in the hospital recovering from his wounds.
He thought that the interruption of Lintry's letters was because he was lying in his sick bed...
In fact, he had asked Paul to erase any letter that came in his name so that it would not reach him, if only that was the reason.
But for it to suddenly be like this?
Damian felt as if the blood had been drained from his veins.
The driver asked eagerly:
“You said that the daughter of the home was transferred to the capital hospital!
So... how is she?!
Is she fine?!
Is she...
Mrs.
Lentry?”
The man furrowed his brow and said:
"What?
Lintree?
What are you talking about?"
"Huh?"
“I see you mean that your friend is called Lintree.
But Lintree was only a servant in the house, not the master’s daughter.”
"What?!"
"Yes, you seem to have misunderstood it.
If you mean Lyntree the maid, she is dead."
Damian's mind stood paralyzed; His brain didn't process the word.
His mouth remained open, then he muttered:
“So… who was the owner of the palace?
Who was its owner?”
“He is Baron Lloyd Penbrick.”
Damian said with foolish amazement:
“Ulysses Lentry?”
The driver replied with contempt:
“Rather, Lintree is their maid, as I told you.”
“So what is the name of the baron’s daughter?”
“Her name is Sera Benbrick.”
That was a name Damian had never heard before.
His face turned pale as he pressed his head with his palm, while the driver described the situation coldly:
“The bottom line is that there were three people who lived in the house: Baron Lloyd Benbrick, his daughter Sera, and a maid named Lintree.
Sera was transferred to the capital hospital, and the other two were killed.
That’s all.”
Damian became more confused and confused.
Who was he writing to then?
With Sera, the Baron's daughter?
Or with the maid Lintree?
Was the Lintree he knew lying when she attributed to herself a status that was not hers?
But why?
He quickly says angrily:
“Anyway...would you take me to the house itself?
I should see it with my own eyes.”
The driver said hesitantly:
“If you insist... so be it.”
The carriage set off carrying Damian, and he was immersed in a whirlpool of thoughts.
'Why?' Why lie?
If Sera was the author of the letters, why did she name herself after her maid?
If the maid was the author of the letters, why did she claim to be the baron's daughter?'
"Here we are."
The carriage stopped in front of black ruins, the remains of the burned palace.
Damian came down, looking shocked.
"Oh, my God…"
All that remains of the palace is the ruins.
The ceiling has collapsed, the second floor is about to collapse, and the whole appearance is like a charred dead body.
Damian took hesitant steps towards the house.
The driver behind him shouted:
“Look!
The house was in a remote place, and the townspeople did not realize the fire until it was too late, so they did not provide any help...
Hey!
Beware!
The place is dangerous!”
However, Damian pushed the broken door and entered.
The interior was in ruins with no known features, no trace of the furniture, nor the appearance of the rooms.
The second floor was more dilapidated, so he did not dare to climb it.
After he went around inside, he came out to the driver while he was sitting and asked him in a hoarse voice:
“Here… isn’t the mayor’s son called Green?”
The driver looked at him surprised:
"Strange!
You don't know the conditions of the house, and then you know this?
Do you know him?"
Damien said:
“We don’t know each other, but… can I meet him?”
The man replied with a shake of his head:
"Not here.
He left the village a long time ago to learn a trade in the port city."
This was mentioned in Lintree's letters themselves.
Damian sat in despair, like a puppet with the strings cut off.
However, his stubbornness did not leave him, so he said:
“Then can you direct me to the mayor himself?
He is the one who knows best what is going on here.”
The driver said:
"Maybe he's at home...
I don't know.
Come on, I'll go up.
I'll take you to him."
Damian gave the crumbling palace one last look, then climbed into the carriage.
---
I feel sad for him