Julija

At that moment, the question barked at him, in its small and putrid voice, torturing the back of his mind. What are you to her?

The echoes magnified as he stared at her white eyes. She was talking to him about the day she had—she taught basic first aid skills to a group of children who wished to know about a career in the military. "They were young, really young. The youngest of them was just fourteen years old, can you imagine that? I was astonished at first that there were children that small who were already interested in joining the war."

"Ah, yes. I've heard about some landlords who really put an effort to send their children to academies that will prepare them for war."

"They weren't exactly children of the nobles, Lord Weller. Some of them said that their parents worked in the fields. The main reason why they want to join the war is to get some money for their families." As she said this, she shook her head slowly, as if she re-imagined the faces she saw that day, with mud and sweat on their faces and nothing in their mouths. "It's just saddening that somebody brainwashed these children to want to fight for the income, without explaining to them that they're most likely going to take lives out there when the time comes."

Konrart couldn't say anything to that. Julia sighed as a follow-up to her thoughts. That was like her, all right. She never hesitated to feel sorrow for anyone, not even for people that she'd only met for the first time.

Blind as she was, she turned her face to look at him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be making comments like that, especially not in front of a warrior like you," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he replied. He had a calming smile on his face. "Your thoughts are heavy, so you shouldn't keep them to yourself."

She smiled and said, "Thank you." All throughout their conversation(and actually, most of their conversations out on this balcony, the stars above glowing grey, the cool evening air pressing on their faces), her soft hand closed on his. She did this to everyone she speaks to, Konrart knew, but all the same he had to force himself to remove all undertones from this gesture. "You know, you should smile more often, Lord Weller. It calms people down," she said.

A chill ran down his spine. His finger twitched under her hand, contrary to his volition, and it generated a small laugh from her.

"Don't worry, I'm really blind." All the same, she closed her eyes, as if to prove that as of the moment, she didn't see anything.

He laughed softly. "Whatever you say. Sometimes, though, you seem to be lying."

"When you're in the dark most of the time, you just learn on how to pick up these sorts of things… But yes, I'll admit it to you, Lord Weller. Sometimes, I do lie."

"Everybody lies, I guess," he replied, but he was still surprised to hear this kind of confession from Julia.

"I lie about not seeing, sometimes," she confessed. Her blank eyes were focused on his now. "But the truth is, sometimes I see more things than people with vision."

"What kinds of things do you see?" he asked innocently.

"The truth," she said with an ironic smile on her face.

And at that moment, Konrart felt, with full force, the small pause that his half-human heart makes before it beats again.

What am I to her? Again, that unforgiving question plagued him, but only for those few, strange, hypnotic moments that occupy the time between wakefulness and sleep. After it was a hazy dream, with meaningless images and empty words.

It's dangerous to describe dreams. By their very nature, they don't make sense. Faces tended to melt with each other. Gravity never followed the proper rules. Voices didn't sound the same. And there wasn't ever just one thing happening. Konrart didn't understand anything going on, and frankly, he wasn't interested in anything that was happening.

He thought, there must be a way to break through these walls. So as easily as he closed his eyes, he broke the barriers of his thought. All he had to do was to touch the silvery substance at the corners of his dreams and watched them turn to liquid. Gently, like a waterfall, his dream fell around him in a puddle.

After that, there was nothing around him but silvery spheres of light floating from a distance. Instinctively, he knew which sphere to approach—his very bones told him that this is where you're supposed to go—and he knew that he wasn't going to get lost.

As he drew closer and closer, this light invaded all of his vision; first there were big blurry dots of colour, and then it was black. But like a TV set coming to life, his surroundings gradually formed distinguishable shapes, sounds, sensations.

He was standing in the middle of a garden. Around him were green bushes and white flowers, and beautiful trees with sickle-shaped leaves that drooped sleepily towards the grass. He was facing a white wall with enormous, ornate black windows, and inside he saw intricate interior designs, white and beige, illuminated by a calm orange firelight.

He realized that he was in the garden outside the Wincott Mansion.

As he stared inside one of the rooms of the mansion, he noticed shadows farther within move. There was a small, white figure moving about vaguely inside. As if he had a camera, Konrart willed his vision to zoom in.

What he saw made him tremble.

There was Julia von Wincott, standing in front of a mirror, brushing her hair. Her eyes were wide open and focused. There wasn't the usual paleness in her irises, but the chilling blue that was the same shade as the deep ocean. It was as if she could see.

But that wasn't exactly why Konrart's hands were shaking violently at his sides. It was because of the whiteness of Julia's naked body. Zoomed in this closely, he could see her exposed neck, shoulders, breasts, navel… Curves that human and demon eyes weren't supposed to see. And the way she moved about in that mystery room, it was as if she didn't care who saw her. Or perhaps she couldn't care, because in that world, she was the only one with vision, while everyone else was blind.

Konrart felt that familiar writhe inside him again. He wouldn't be surprised if he looked down on his stomach and found it knotted beyond repair.

"Lord Weller? What are you doing here?"

The voice came from his right. Konrart made an effort, really, to recognize this voice, to turn his head and look at the person asking him the question. But the vision at the window was so ravishing that he couldn't take his eyes away from it.

The small voice beside him whimpered and spoke again, with a weak tone of desperation. "Please, Lord Weller. You… you're not supposed to be in my dream…"

Julia, admiring herself in the mirror, laughed and pinned a white flower in her hair.

No, don't let me stop looking at her. "It's only a dream," he said in his defence.

"You know this isn't your dream," the voice behind him said. "And there are things that you're not allowed to do, not even in dreams…"

Guiltily, he closed his eyes. And when he did, he finally recognized the voice beside him. It was as if a part of him woke up, but not quite.

He turned to face the person speaking to him, the rightful owner of the dream. To his surprise, it was Julia—the Julia that he recognized in the waking world. Fully clothed in her white dress. An ocean-blue pendant lying between her shielded breasts.

Her face had on it an expression of shame and doubt. Her eyes were seeing and on the verge of tears.

Konrart breathed in deeply. He knelt in front of her in a gesture of apology. "Julia… I," he began.

She shook her head. "Lord Weller, please stand up. You're not sorry at all."

He froze.

"I mean…" Julia sighed wistfully, took both of his hands, and urged him up on his feet. "You came here with a purpose, didn't you? I suppose it's my fault for dreaming dreams like this," she said apologetically.

Konrart was looking at her now. It was supposed to be strange to face a Julia who could see your face, but he didn't feel shocked. "It's not… I mean, please don't blame yourself. I'm the one who doesn't belong here," he said.

She fell silent. Then, she turned to face the window. She stared at it for so long that Konrart felt compelled to look at the window again (even if it meant risking his sanity again).

The other Julia was still there; this time, she was looking at her exposed back, admiring it as if it were a canvas. Suddenly, she shrieked. It wasn't clear whether she was laughing, screaming, or cursing, but suddenly, objects flew in the air and shattered on the walls. Like a dancer, she twirled around the room. Broken ceramics sounded around her in a maddening rhythm.

"Julia," muttered Konrart under his breath. He looked down on the uninteresting patch of grass beneath his feet. He felt as if he were about to lose control.

More painful silence. And then, the Julia beside him said, "I'm sorry that you saw a part of me that didn't exist anymore. You must be so disappointed in me."

Being careful not to look at the window again, he faced her. "What do you mean?" was all he could ask.

Despite herself, she smiled as she shook her head. "I'm talking about her," she said, gesturing to her other self. "Those are parts of me that I've abandoned long ago."

"That's..."

Julia closed her eyes pensively. "Emotions. My self-centeredness. My fantasies. My anger. My sexual desire. My attachment for worldly things like beauty."

Absentmindedly, she twirled her odd-coloured lock of hair in between one hand's fingers. Konrart watched this with interest, noting to himself how soft and feathery her hair was.

"I've abandoned them just like that, Lord Weller. All I can do for her is to watch her from a distance, just like this. Sometimes, I regret trapping her in this world, but it's something irreversible." She sighed and gripped the lock of her hair tightly. "And so I don't feel anything for you. I know that's what you wanted to know. Why you're here," she said.

"I see." A heavy feeling in his throat emerged. He felt his intestines knot in interesting ways. "So… Lord von Grantz—"

"He's going to be my husband," she said. "And I do care for him."

"But…" That feeling in his throat worsened. A beast inside him wished to come out. He closed his eyes in an effort to control it.

Something cold touched his hand. It held him so gently and firmly—much like reins—that the beast inside calmed down.

"Lord Weller," she said.

Konrart opened his eyes and stared into hers. They were darker than ever. He saw his reflection in them. Behind him was the weightless shadow of the moon.

"If I were whole, you would be everything to me," she said. There was a sad smile on her face. "It's why I kind of regret sealing her up in a place like that."

Her hand gripped his more tightly. The force was so strong that Konrart felt his hands get heavier. But he's not complaining; it felt so nice, having her so close to him.

In response, his hand gripped hers more tightly as well. Instinctively, his other hand reached for her free hand as well. For a while, it felt like none of them wished to let go, but…

"It's time for me to go back to sleep," said Julia. She let go of his hands gently, somehow managing to escape from his moist grasp. And then before Konrart could say anything, she disappeared behind one of the sleepy-looking trees in the garden.

Rain fell.

He stared at his hands—the very hands that he used to grip her hands in a suffocating embrace. Water slid towards the centre of his palm and fell in a gentle waterfall from the sides of his hands. I shouldn't have let her go, he thought to himself.

All the same, he knew it was time for him to leave. He gave one last look at the mysterious window, as if to say, farewell—

And he touched the corner of the dream. An exit formed, and the dream shattered around him like glass—

But before it completely shattered around him, he saw the window burst open. Julia's white hands were reaching out to him. Wait—she screamed desperately, and was about to say something else—

He would have waited, but it was too late. After his exit, after he decided to go back to the waking world, there was nothing waiting for him but darkness.

- end -

Author's notes: That was weird.

I would like to say, in my defence, that the title is not a misspelling. Some of you may have heard of a character called Julija Primic, who is always related to discussions about unrequited love. (And unrequited love, after all, is one of the main points of this story.) Look her up on Wikipedia or something :)

Finally, I'd like to say that one part of this was inspired by one of the most significant parts of Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami. Ah, don't hit me on the head for being so darn unoriginal! I just wanted to write! D:

Thanks for reading!