Chapter 20: Nineteen

Theo wasn’t expecting the first person he would bump into the second he re-entered the dining car to coincidentally be the person he was looking for. In essence, Rasputina had caught him off guard. 

“There you are,” she spoke first, holding her flute of champagne close to her lips. “I’ve been searching all over the carriage. Where did you go?” 

He desperately wanted to know how the hell did the bratukha of his transform into this unrecognisable beauty standing before him. 

“I…” He accidentally met her striking vermillion-pink eyes, which had seemed to take on a dark allure that drew his very soul in. Almost instantly his words were lost on his tongue. 

“T—I mean, Mister Cath?” Anastasia’s angelic voice pulled his attention away from Rasputina and onto herself. At least his mind recognised that she was the Princess of the Empire, which snapped him out of his daze. 

“There’s something I need to ask you. Right now,” Theo said, inhaling sharply. “Come with me.” 

“What’s the urgent matter?” Rasputina asked, bewilderment filling her voice, though she allowed him to pull her along by her hand. Anastasia also followed after them, albeit hesitantly. 

They went through the connecting door to the second-class carriage, and Theo led them further into the pitch-dark vestibule. Rasputina’s hair visibly stood on end upon spotting the two silhouettes of Nightingale and Parthenope in the darkness. Perhaps the saying that women are able to sense other beautiful women in the vicinity has some truth to it after all, he wondered. 

“I’m back,” he said, stepping aside. “You can start explaining yourself—” 

“Who are you talking to?” Rasputina demanded, grabbing his arm with such force he nearly lost his balance. “I thought you were a sodomite?” 

“For Lord’s sake, bratukha!” Theo hissed, suppressing his yell at the last second. Calming down in the next moment, he took out his lighter and ignited it. The steady orange flame swiftly dispelled the darkness. 

She let out a gasp of surprise when the pale light revealed the silhouettes. “Miss Nightingale?” She glanced at the girl standing beside Nightingale. “And you are…” 

“Madame Parthenope Verney,” she replied courteously. “Though, I was born Parthenope Nightingale, Florence’s sister.”

“W-w-what are you two doing here?” Rasputina gestured wildly at Theo. “With him, of all people??” 

“What do you mean?” Nightingale said with a bemused smile. “I’ve known Fedya—the person you call ‘Theo’—for many years as my superior in the Evidenzbureau. Did he not tell you, Xavier?” 

Great, she just exposed him in one go. Theo could practically see the surprise flashing in Rasputina’s eyes, then confusion settling in, followed lastly by shock and anger. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes to brace himself. 

A tense second of silence passed. Then two, three, and four—

“What is the meaning of this, Theo?” Rasputina finally asked. But contrary to his expectations, her voice was perfectly calm and serene, like a person who knew that their time had come. 

Surprised, he opened his eyes again and stared at her. She pointedly looked away, but he caught a glistening tear roll down her cheek. She’s tearing up? W-wait, seriously? This bratukha, who has never once even acknowledged that his tear ducts existed, is now crying like a heartbroken maiden?? 

“Rasputina!” Anastasia rushed forward, nearly knocking his lighter out of his grip, and hugged the crying Saintess tightly. “Are you alright?” She turned to Theo and shot him a glare that conveyed as much killing intent as the Reaper. “What did you DO TO HER?!” 

Completely taken aback by the raw fury in her voice, he could only helplessly stutter, “I-I-I can explain…I-I will explain our entire ruse from the start, p-p-please don’t kill me…” 

Lord knows how far back he had to explain to appease the livid princess, so to err on the side of caution, Theo frantically revealed everything that had transpired from the very beginning—

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—how he had been wandering along the streets of the capital one winter night a year ago. It was cold, but not cold enough for snow yet, so there were still plenty of people out and about. 

Out of the probably hundreds of people shuffling along the gaslit cobblestone pavement, he just had to bump into a policeman. A policeman who was actually Xavier in disguise. He threatened to arrest Theo on the spot if he didn’t pay a fine of five doubloons. 

Theo unfortunately saw through the disguise in an instant. But amused by the conman’s boldness, he played along and gave him the money—money he had been planning to waste on booze anyway. 

Before he had the chance to slip away, Theo took hold of his shoulder firmly. “Bratukha,” he had said, “why are you doing this? Not afraid of getting caught?” 

The conman easily gave up, much to his surprise. “If you want your money back, I’ll give it back!” he pleaded desperately. “P-please don’t send me back to the gaol, Sir. Please, I beg you, I really beg for your mercy—” 

“It’s okay, I only meant to scare you,” he interrupted, unable to bear the conman’s wails any longer. “Sounds like you have it rough, bratukha. I don’t have much money on me left, but I can treat you to a warm dinner. How does that sound?” 

He had thought nothing of his invitation then. In the part of the Königreich where Theo was born, winter was especially harsh and unforgiving. It was common for entire villages to be isolated by the countless snowstorms that passed through. Everyone in a village would work together to build up a supply of food from their surplus harvest and get through the winter nights alive. If one village was in trouble, the other villages wouldn’t hesitate to send in assistance no matter what. Hence, he was even feeling guilty that all he could do for his bratukha was a simple dinner to last one night. 

“What’s your name, kind Sir?” the conman politely asked during their dinner. “I…I’ll repay this act of kindness one day, I promise.” 

Theo hadn’t been expecting a conman to be so respectful towards others. Surprised, he told him that he wasn’t seeking repayment by treating him to dinner. 

“No, my master has taught me that one must repay the kindness others have shown with gratitude,” he insisted. “I humbly request of you for your name, Sir.” 

“Uh, alright…my name is Fyodor Dostoevsky.” Realising that the conman couldn’t understand his name, he tried to introduce himself with an Empire-sounding name instead. “Theo. You can just call me Theo.” 

“I’m Xavier.” He paused, then tentatively asked, “don’t you have a family to attend to, Sir Theo? It’s fine to just leave, um, there’s no need to accompany me to this extent.” 

“My family is over in the Königreich,” Theo replied. “I’m…well, I was working here to send money back home, but I got into a dispute with my boss two years ago, and I’ve been unemployed till now.” 

It was actually a half-truth. He had flown into a blind rage after receiving news of his leutnant-rechnungsführer’s death and lashed out at his Evidenzbureau superiors—the men directly responsible for Nightingale’s botched mission to infiltrate Constantinople. That was more than enough to strip him of his rank, serve him a dishonourable discharge and revoke his citizenship. He had been effectively exiled from the Königreich and stranded in the Empire. 

The only saving grace was that he had a substantial amount of savings in the Empire’s bank…but only two years later and he had almost completely spent his life savings. 

“Theo, why didn’t you say that you’re unemployed earlier?” Xavier exclaimed, catching him off guard. “I’m unemployed too! Let’s team up and find work together, shall we?”

“H-huh, bratukha?” 

Before Theo had a chance to protest, Xavier had leaped to his feet in joy and shook his hand excitedly. “We can live in the same doss-house and share the rent together too! Isn’t that brilliant? I look forward to working with you, Theo!” 

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