After parting ways with the others, I found myself reluctant to head straight home.
The city had already slipped properly into evening. The sky was dark enough for the streetlamps to matter, yet there were still plenty of people moving through the cold with coats pulled tight and scarves wrapped around their necks. Warm light spilled from shop windows onto the pavement, pushing back against the chill. Carriages rattled over stone roads, their wheels sending brief echoes down narrow streets.
I tucked my hands deeper into my pockets and slowed my pace.
"I don't think I've stayed out this late in a while."
The thought drifted through my mind as I walked.
Then again, I had won.
Barely.
But a win was still a win.
A smile threatened to return as I remembered the final position on the board.
Thirty-two moves.
One mistake.
One overlooked pawn.
And suddenly everything had collapsed in my favour.
The memory sent a pleasant little shiver through me that had nothing to do with the weather.
It was ridiculous how happy that made me.
A bakery still had its doors open despite the hour, warm light spilling from the windows onto the street. Without thinking too hard about it, I stepped inside.
A bell chimed overhead.
The smell hit me immediately.
Bread. Warm flour. Butter. A faint trace of sugar.
The sort of smell capable of convincing a person they were hungry even when they weren't.
The woman behind the counter looked up from her work.
"What can I get for you?"
"A loaf of bread, please."
She nodded and disappeared briefly behind the display.
As I waited, my thoughts wandered again.
I wondered if Heiwa had received my letter yet.
The idea still made me strangely nervous.
Writing letters felt absurdly intimate compared to sending a message. A text disappeared into the endless stream of conversations people exchanged every day.
A letter travelled.
A letter crossed oceans.
A letter occupied physical space.
Someone held it.
Opened it.
Read it.
Maybe reread it.
Or maybe it was sitting somewhere untouched.
I didn't particularly like that possibility.
The thought made me straighten unconsciously.
A moment later, I accepted the loaf with a smile and stepped back outside.
Cold air greeted me immediately.
I adjusted my coat and continued walking.
The city remained lively despite the hour. Couples strolled together. Workers headed home. Street vendors packed away their goods beneath lantern light.
The world felt busy in a way that was comforting.
Everyone had somewhere to be.
For once, so did I.
I found myself glancing upward.
Clouds drifted lazily across the moon, the bright white circle appearing and disappearing behind them.
For a moment, it reminded me of a marshmallow slowly melting over a fire.
I snorted softly at the comparison.
Then my thoughts wandered somewhere less pleasant.
Would I still be alive when my own era arrived?
The question surfaced unexpectedly.
This world would eventually become mine.
Or perhaps mine had become this one.
The thought always left an unpleasant taste behind. It felt like standing in front of a mirror and wondering whether the reflection would still exist centuries later.
Or whether it had ever been separate at all.
I didn't like that line of thinking.
I exhaled and shoved the thought away.
There wasn't much point dwelling on it.
The carriage arrived shortly afterward.
I climbed inside and settled against the cushioned seat as the city began to roll past beyond the window.
The further we travelled, the quieter everything became.
Busy commercial streets gradually gave way to residential ones. Traffic thinned. Voices faded. Even the wind seemed gentler here.
I rested my head against the carriage wall.
My leg was still bouncing lightly.
The excitement refused to leave completely.
"I can't believe I won."
The words escaped as a whisper.
The game replayed endlessly in my head.
Every exchange.
Every mistake.
Every moment I thought I was doomed.
Ai had been ahead.
Objectively ahead.
Anyone with functioning eyes could see that.
Then she'd advanced that pawn.
One square.
Just one.
And suddenly the position cracked open.
I couldn't stop smiling.
Part of me didn't even want to.
Dinner began assembling itself in my imagination.
Egg sandwich.
Bread and butter.
Hot cocoa.
Simple.
Comforting.
Perfect.
The thought alone made me feel warmer.
Eventually the carriage turned onto a much quieter road, and the familiar sight of home appeared ahead. A few neighbouring houses still had lights glowing behind their curtains. Most were already settling in for the night.
The carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
The door opened.
"Ma'am."
I looked up to find the coachman already standing beside the carriage.
I climbed down carefully.
"Thank you as always, Mr Lim."
He gave a small nod.
"Not a problem."
His gaze briefly travelled toward the house and then along the quiet street.
A subtle check.
An old habit.
One that required no explanation.
I smiled.
For some reason, that tiny gesture always made the street feel safer.
"Good night. See you by the silver morning."
A faint chuckle escaped him.
"Good night, Miss Victoria."
The carriage rolled away shortly afterward, its sound gradually fading into the night.
I remained outside for a moment, feeling the cold brush lightly against my cheeks.
Then I finally headed inside.
The moment the door shut behind me, warmth wrapped around me like a blanket.
I let out a long breath.
Home.
The simple thought carried surprising weight.
More than it should have.
I slipped off my shoes and stretched. My shoulders popped. My back complained.
I ignored it.
Mostly.
"Do I prepare dinner first or take a bath first?"
The question felt strangely important.
I stood in the hallway considering both options.
A warm meal sounded wonderful.
A bath sounded equally wonderful.
I stared at the ceiling.
Neither option seemed capable of losing.
Unfortunately, my body chose for me.
A yawn arrived with enough force to nearly dislocate my jaw.
I blinked several times.
Sleep.
Sleep was rapidly becoming a problem.
I groaned.
"Fine."
Bath first.
Skipping a bath before bed felt vaguely criminal.
I headed toward the bathroom.
Steam soon filled the room, and the moment I sank into the bathtub, every muscle in my body loosened. Hot water wrapped around me, the warmth almost unreal after the cold outside.
I sank deeper.
A content sigh escaped me.
The silence settled comfortably around the room.
Then a dangerous realization occurred.
I could theoretically eat dinner in the bathtub.
I stared at the ceiling.
The idea had merit.
Significant merit.
My mind immediately suggested wine.
"That only counts if wine is dinner."
My mind argued back that it absolutely could.
I disagreed.
Firmly.
Tonight deserved better.
Eventually I dragged myself out of the water.
The cool air immediately protested the decision.
I almost climbed back in.
Almost.
After drying off and changing into comfortable clothes, I headed toward my room. As I passed through the hallway, my eyes landed on another door.
Miss Alvie's.
I paused briefly.
The hallway remained silent.
No movement.
No sound.
I stared for a second longer.
"She could at least write me."
The complaint escaped automatically.
The silence that followed felt a little too complete.
Then I continued walking.
Dinner came together quickly.
Bread.
Butter.
Cocoa.
Eggs.
Nothing elaborate.
Nothing fancy.
Exactly what I wanted.
I sat comfortably and ate while the events of the day replayed themselves yet again. The chess match refused to leave my thoughts.
Every few bites, I found myself reconstructing positions.
Evaluating moves.
Second-guessing decisions.
Then remembering that I had won anyway.
Which improved every analysis considerably.
"Thirty-two moves."
I spoke through a mouthful of bread.
The statement felt important enough to say aloud.
The cocoa was warm. The butter melted into the bread. The eggs were simple and satisfying.
By the time I finished eating, I felt entirely at peace.
"Dinner was perfect in its simplicity."
I paused.
"Simple in its perfection."
The review seemed fair.
I nodded to myself.
Then laughed because I was apparently reviewing my own meals now.
The dishes still needed washing.
Unfortunately.
I carried everything to the sink.
Water splashed softly against ceramic.
Outside, the night continued settling over the city. An occasional carriage rolled by. Somewhere farther down the street, a distant door closed.
The ordinary sounds felt pleasant.
Grounding.
The sort of thing you only noticed when you finally had time to.
A yawn interrupted me again.
This one was worse.
I hurried.
Plates were cleaned.
Cups were dried.
Everything returned to its proper place.
The moment the kitchen was presentable, I surrendered.
The bedroom was dark except for pale moonlight spilling through the window. Silver light stretched across the floorboards.
I crossed the room without ceremony.
Without dignity.
Without hesitation.
Then collapsed onto the bed.
The mattress welcomed me immediately.
I melted into it.
Every remaining thought began to slow.
The blanket felt warm.
The pillow felt impossibly soft.
Sleep waited only moments away.
Still, one final memory surfaced.
Ai standing beside the chessboard.
Demanding a rematch.
I smiled into the pillow.
"What did I want for winning again?"
I thought about it.
Then remembered.
A laugh escaped me.
The image alone was worth another victory.
"I'll tell her to wear a French maid outfit."
The words came out half-mumbled, half-buried by fabric.
That would go over terribly.
Which somehow made it funnier.
Outside, rain finally began tapping against the window.
Soft at first.
Then steadier.
A gentle rhythm against glass.
The sound followed me downward as consciousness faded.
And before long, there was nothing left but rain and sleep.