The memories that she pulled out and looked through in every free moment did not lose their brightness, becoming only clearer every day.
In memories that became more vivid over time, Tilia began to realize one thing after another.
With what heart he always looked at her.
Much later, she learned from a news article that raised the issue of holy water as a public issue.
That undiluted holy water can be used as a truth serum. That when used in excess of the required dosage, it can bring out secrets buried in the heart, secrets that one would like to forget.
So the words that Ilex Davenport said to her after inhaling the vapors of the holy water must have been his true feelings, which he hid. Feelings that he could only talk about after taking the truth serum.
It couldn't be any other way. Because then she was no different from a hedgehog covered with poisoned thorns. She was a poisonous guardian of her heart, desperately not allowing anyone to intrude.
That was probably all he could offer the girl who asked if the antidote was a contraceptive.
She also learned, much later, that sexual intercourse under the influence of holy water did not require contraception. That pregnancy is impossible due to artificially induced arousal.
What was Ilex thinking as he watched the girl drink the urgently obtained antidote, firmly believing that it was a contraceptive?
Why the hell did he like a man who treated him like trash like it was something natural?
In a dark room, all alone, when she closed her eyes, the words he whispered in her ear, caressing her, came back, tickling her whole body.
"Yes, I love you too."
It was hurtful to realize that the words she had dismissed as madness were actually true. Though at that moment she struggled, desperately wishing they were lies.
The more she returned to the memory fragments, the clearer their outlines became, revealing clues she had not noticed before.
Footsteps that slowed to match her pace. The way his eyes stole glances at her lips or the bridge of her nose, and the light lines he drew with his fingertips.
It was only when she stopped muttering that he was like a forest hidden in the fog, that she would never know the sincerity behind those elusive eyes, only then did everything become clear.
That love was hidden in those beautiful blue-gray eyes all this time.
That from the moment they met until the moment they parted, he never once looked at her other than with tenderness.
Why did what is now as clear as a well-polished window seem so cloudy then?
The first day in Ontario flashed before Tilia's eyes, looking with regret at the garden, shining like a symbol of spring.
Arriving in Ontario, Tilia, full of belated regret, first wrote him a letter.
Getting off the train, she hurried straight to the house he had told her about, and before she could unpack, she took paper and pen to write hastily.
[Thank you, I'm really sorry, and...]
She no longer remembers what exactly she wrote to fill the white paper with black ink.
All that remained was the vivid memory of her collapsing on the sofa in exhaustion, writing her name at the bottom of the page.
Her hair stuck to her sweat-drenched forehead as if she had a fever, and her fingertips trembled from gripping the pen too tightly.
The next day, waking up tired, without even washing her face, Tilia took the neatly folded letter to the post office with a tense face.
It was only after checking the address multiple times and looking at the contents multiple times that she could finally bring herself to send it. She checked so many times, so obsessively, that by the time she left the post office it was already evening.
Only then did Tilia feel her stomach growling and went into the first restaurant she came across.
She had not eaten anything all day, and now that she had eaten the clear, warm soup and filled her empty stomach, she began to tremble uncontrollably.
Her head kept turning towards the post office building, where her letter now lay. Her heart was already racing towards the day when he would send an answer.
A month passed, then two, and there was no response to the letter sent to Acansis.
Meanwhile, Tilia applied and went to interviews. She bought essentials and groceries and got to know the surrounding area. But even as she gradually adjusted to the daily routine, the mailbox remained silent.
Just in case, she sent another letter with the same content. That she was doing well, that she was perfectly settled in the house that he had found for her in a reliable area.
Maybe the mail coach overturned. Maybe her letter got lost. Although she sent it correctly, her anxiety caused her to continue sending more letters, each time adding minor details. Eventually, it became such a habit that she began writing and posting them as diary entries.
And then one day a white piece of paper finally appeared in the mailbox. My heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. She opened the letter, but it was not from the one she was so desperately waiting for.
At that moment, Tilia silently analyzed the part of herself that felt disappointed, even after receiving notification of acceptance for a position at the Ontario Consulate.
To her surprise, she wasn't even shocked by the change in her heart. She just felt uneasy.
Did something happen to Ilex? Is he sick?
All she could feel was concern for one person.
Even as she carefully took money out of the envelope Ilex had given her and bought clothes for work, Tilia could only think about him.
The thought that Ilex Davenport's feelings might have changed had never occurred to her. She couldn't even imagine this.
“You understand, right, Tilia? Until I come to find you... you will have to wait.”
Because the eyes that followed her, those eyes that again and again begged her to wait, spoke of unshakable love.
It was then that Tilia began buying newspapers that reported news from Acansis.
She regularly bought letter paper and collected news bulletins from Acansis in the hope of finding traces of him that were otherwise impossible to detect.
And then one day, when the boy selling newspapers greeted her friendly, finally the name of the man she had been waiting for appeared on the first page.
[ Ilex Davenport, second son of House Davenport, announces his engagement to Cecilia Clayton, eldest daughter of House Clayton!
The alliance between the two great houses of Acansis - the Duchy of Davenport and the Marquisate of Clayton - has been confirmed. The Marquis Clayton will be present at the new world exhibition, which will take place on the 3rd of this month in Edepfalz...]
As she held the paper in her hands, tracing the lavishly decorated story of their engagement, her hands trembled.
She remembered that at that time she had just been transferred to a new department and was having difficulty adapting. The day she read this article was one of those days when she wanted only one thing: to collapse into bed and sleep dead.
But as soon as she came home, the dream seemed to disappear.
Not that she wasn't tired. It was as if her entire body was being carried by a boulder, so heavy and exhausting that she could collapse at any moment.
But she couldn't bring herself to lie down on the bed or even take off her shoes and sit on the sofa. Tilia simply sat alone in the dining room chair, reading and re-reading a crumpled newspaper.
Engagement of Ilex Davenport and Cecilia Clayton. Ilex Davenport and Cecelia Clayton's engagement...
As if she were memorizing, she re-read the article again and again until, as if awakening from a dream, she suddenly jumped up, hurriedly took out her stationery and grabbed a pen.
Unlike her first letter, the contents of which she could no longer clearly remember, she could now write every word of this letter.
Although she tried her best to pretend it wasn't true, the white paper was filled with letters that were carved into her selfish heart, line by line.
[Honestly, Ilex, I was glad that you liked me. I hope you continue to like me, even now...]
Even after writing all this, Tilia struggled for a long time over the one most important sentence that she had not yet written. Her heart refused to turn into words. She broke out in a cold sweat and even sobbed slightly.
One thing is certain: this letter, its edges stained with moisture, contained more sincerity than any other she had ever sent.
[I want you to continue to love me. I really want this.]
With a sad face, Tilia sent a letter full of selfish confessions.
But even after a month, two months, there was still no answer.
Meanwhile, the seasons flowed like a river.
The winter of memories has passed, spring has come and gone, making people feel even more lonely. Summer passed, when the heat was especially oppressive, and autumn came and went, when everything around was dying.
And spring has come again.
In the rays of pouring sunlight, looking at the fully blossomed flowers that had never known winter, Tilia thought:
“How did I feel last spring?”
Two years ago, in the spring, news of the magnificent engagement ceremony of Ilex Davenport and Cecilia Clayton again appeared on the front page of the newspaper.
Only then did Tilia finally stop sending random letters, which had become something of a residual habit for her.
And, shedding tears, she moved to a new house.