Chapter 17: The Elusive Darling of Purburg

The rain had passed, and the skies above Purburg once again shimmered with the sun’s radiant glory.

Yuli, the silver-haired girl, once again donned her military uniform. Today, she had uncharacteristically chosen a blue and white, form-fitting military skirt.

Extending a leg, she carefully slipped on a pair of white stockings. As her toes curled, the delicate fabric stretched, tracing a perfect curve up her thigh.

Yuli stood before the mirror, scrutinizing her reflection. Only after confirming that her appearance was not as dismal as the previous day did she let out a breath of relief.

She then exited the mansion, heading straight for…

The nightclub.

Such an early destination might seem peculiar, as nightclubs typically only come alive with patrons after dusk.

During the day, one could scarcely expect to find anyone beyond those just emerging from a night of indulgence, preparing to depart.

Yet Yuli had arrived here with an almost desperate eagerness. She yearned to see Fran as soon as possible, unwilling to wait even a single moment longer, nor did she wish for him to wait for her.

So many untold stories still lingered on her tongue, so many words she longed to share with him.

Though no rendezvous had been set for today, she couldn’t shake the feeling that…

‘He would surely come, wouldn’t he?’ Yuli thought. ‘How could he possibly… not show up?’

Alas, Fran was nowhere to be found. Yuli scoured every private booth, every hushed corner of the bar, yet his presence remained elusive.

‘Perhaps I arrived too early?’

Yuli settled into an empty chair, resolving to wait with patient resolve.

‘When would he arrive?’

****

It wasn’t until evening, when Yuli was gently roused from her doze by a staff member, that she stirred.

She lifted her head, her gaze sweeping the surroundings in a daze, yet Fran’s figure remained absent.

‘What was happening…’

She caught a staff member’s arm, her questions tumbling out.

–Fran… you know, the beautiful, golden-haired boy in the black dress who was bumped by a thief yesterday. Did he not come in today?

–Hmm… The staff member pondered for a moment, appearing to struggle with identifying the person Yuli described from the establishment’s clientele.

After a brief pause, she shook her head. –I’m sorry, I can’t quite recall. Our establishment employs both regular staff and independent contractors who occasionally work here. If I don’t remember them, it likely means they don’t frequent the place.

–Doesn’t frequent the place?

Yuli nodded slowly, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. If he didn’t frequent the place, how exactly did Fran earn a living?

‘Or was he the type who would entertain for a single day, then indulge in leisure for two?’

‘I’ll try again tomorrow…’

For several days, the girl’s figure became a familiar sight, lingering at the nightclub, her heart growing increasingly restless.

Yet, Fran’s presence remained stubbornly absent.

‘Could it be… had she truly scared him away again, sending him fleeing back to his hometown?’

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

Yuli offered a wry smile. She decided against visiting the nightclub today; Fran, it seemed, no longer frequented the place anyway.

****

Fran’s strategy of ‘playing hard to get’ had, it seemed, encountered a slight hitch.

He had overplayed his hand, vanishing for several consecutive days.

Initially, he had kept tabs, noting Yuli’s daily pilgrimage to the nightclub, waiting for him. He had even secretly gloated, marveling at the foolish woman’s persistence.

He had kept her on tenterhooks for days. Then, one day, just as he decided it was time to make an appearance, Fran was utterly dumbfounded to discover… Yuli hadn’t shown up?

A pang of regret struck Fran. This shouldn’t have happened; he shouldn’t have strung Yuli along for so many days.

But then again…

‘If he hadn’t resorted to such tactics, how else could he make Yuli believe that without him by her side, she would never find peace?’

‘Moreover, if… if Yuli had already grown weary of this game of cat and mouse after just a few days, then…’

‘How could he possibly remain by her side, undercover, for the long haul?’

****

Yuli ambled through the streets of Purburg, her thoughts consumed by Fran’s whereabouts.

‘Perhaps he had returned to work at his old tavern?’

‘Or was he perhaps enjoying himself somewhere, carefree?’

‘Or perhaps… was he currently flirting with some Francian girl?’

A sigh escaped her lips.

Yuli felt a headache brewing. ‘Forget it,’ she decided. ‘Today… today I’ll just relax.’

Her nerves had been stretched taut for days, constantly searching for Fran.

It was high time she allowed herself some reprieve.

She purchased a ticket and, steeling herself against the curious, almost wary glances of the Francians around her, stepped into the opera house.

The hall was a vision of gold and splendor, with tiered seating and a grand red curtain concealing the stage.

Its magnificent design seemed crafted to host epics and the countless treasures born from human history. Yuli, like a child newly arrived in a grand city, gazed around in wide-eyed wonder.

Purburg’s opera house was truly grand, she mused. This place… it bore a striking resemblance to the interior of the building where their leader often delivered speeches.

She held her breath, pondering, ‘I wonder if Purburg’s own opera house is quite so magnificent?’

Alas, despite her noble birth, the Teutons seemed to hold little interest in such artistic pursuits. Any performances they did enjoy were typically tailored as entertainment for the troops.

Conversely, this newly conquered land possessed a distinctly romantic flair, boasting countless majestic architectural marvels and an ocean of literary and theatrical masterpieces.

‘Hmm… perhaps it’s time to immerse myself in this culture and cultivate my sensibilities?’

With that thought, Yuli located her seat and settled onto the plush red armchair.

As the audience steadily filed in, Yuli couldn’t help but notice the myriad glances cast her way: curiosity, apprehension, even outright disdain.

Yuli averted her gaze, choosing to ignore their stares. The seat beside her remained empty.

She crossed her arms, a wistful thought forming: ‘If only this seat beside me belonged to Fran…’

She longed for the golden-haired darling to be nestled beside her, sharing the experience of this opera.

Even though… as a foreigner, her Francian wasn’t perfect, and she might not understand everything, still, if Fran were just by her side…

****

Alas, even as the opera’s overture began, the seat beside Yuli remained vacant.

With a sigh of boredom, she turned her head, watching the grand red curtain slowly draw open.

A petite figure, previously crouching on stage, slowly rose. The child possessed a magnificent cascade of golden hair, and clutched a bouquet of fresh flowers…

Fr-Fran?

Yuli stared at the stage, utterly stunned. The young man slowly parted his lips, beginning a melodious prelude—

–In the lands beyond Purburg’s gates,

Within a humble Francian farm,

There once resided a woman, and her singular sheep.

Though her life was fraught with sorrow,

Her sheep, indeed, was an angel sent from the heavens above.

One day, the King’s tax collector journeyed to the countryside,

And to the approaching man, she declared,

–’Take what you will,’

–’But if naught remains, then naught remains to take;’

–’My heart is all I have left to give you.’

From that day forth, all came to know,

That this poor woman, upon her dying breath, still possessed her single sheep.

The sheep, an angel; the sheep, a bringer of hope.

Yet the sheep, by all accounts, bore the visage of a fiend?

At least, when she passed, she still possessed her sheep.

As the young man’s melodious voice gently faded, the lyrical prelude concluded, giving way to the stirring music of the first act.

Countless audience members held their breath, utterly immersed, ready to lose themselves in this grand drama, a temporary balm for their sorrows.

****

The curtain descended, marking the end of the grand performance.

Yuli had watched in a daze, barely comprehending the play’s narrative. Her grasp of Francian was already tenuous, and she had spent the entire time fixated solely on Fran.

Nevertheless, she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. From her vantage point, the stage was neither too distant nor too close—simply perfect for admiring the view.

As soon as the opera ended, she impatiently rose from her seat, intent on seeking out the young man who had captivated her attention throughout the entire performance.

–Fran, Fran—!