“Mr. Chairman, did you know? In some villages, there’s a superstition where they make one person bear the misfortune of the entire village.”

“What a cruel and heartless superstition.”

“When people experience desperate situations, they tend to look for reasons in the unseen. During wartime, many people believed in superstitions and practiced astrology. When I was young, I witnessed innocent people dying because of this.”

Jacqueline remembered a boy laughing maniacally at the village entrance. In the dimly lit road, the boy held a dying person in his arms, laughing with wild eyes glowing blue like a beast. 

Frightened, Jacqueline couldn’t pass by, so she left a lump of dough made from hazelnuts and flour, begging to be allowed through, then ran away.

“Back then, I stupidly dropped my pouch of silver coins. If I hadn’t lost that money, I wouldn’t have suffered so much. When I realized I’d lost the money and went back, of course the pouch wasn’t there anymore. It seems like I’ve always done things that only benefit others, both then and now. I’m such a fool.”

After listening calmly to Jacqueline’s reminiscence, Carlson replied:

“I apologize.”

“Huh? Why are you apologizing to me, Chairman? That’s not what I meant…”

“If I had exposed the Everetts’ wrongdoings earlier, you wouldn’t have experienced such hardships. Other children’s childhoods would have been brighter too. Children’s suffering is the fault of adults. We’re responsible for creating such a world, whether directly or indirectly. So for the next generation, Miss Carroll, please become a better adult.”

“Do you think I can?”

“Absolutely. You handled Percy Friedman, after all.”

“Ah, right. He was quite the troublemaker.”

Throughout their car ride, Jacqueline and Carlson reminisced about and mourned the protagonist of the funeral.

* * *

After taking a leave of absence from school, Jacqueline wandered for a while before becoming a professional caregiver affiliated with the Veterans Association through Carlson’s introduction. 

Since her role was to help disabled veterans, she needed training at a specialized institution, where she completed the educational program with excellent grades.

The first patient assigned to Jacqueline after completing her volunteer training was an officer who couldn’t move his lower body.

The patient’s name was Percy Friedman.

During wartime, he had been a strategist known by the nickname “Devil’s Dog” for annihilating many enemies. An elite officer guaranteed promotion to commander at the young age of twenty-eight, he barely survived an explosion caused by his own mistake during the final battle.

Having lost his tight-knit camaraderie with fellow soldiers, youthful desires, and what would have been a promising future, he lived as a terminally ill man, burdening others until his death.

The weather was chilly due to the rain from the previous day. Jacqueline pulled her collar closer as she walked, looking around at the temple grounds colored with fallen leaves. 

Percy Friedman had always said his wish was to close his eyes in a season that was just cool enough to make cigarettes taste their best.

‘His wish came true.’

The funeral was conducted solemnly in the cathedral inside the temple. Seeing fewer mourners than expected, Jacqueline recalled conversations with the deceased, her lips involuntarily turning downward.

‘With all I’ve done, family and friends won’t come to my funeral. If anyone does show up, they’ll probably just come to spit on me.’

Having witnessed his misdeeds, Jacqueline thought this might be true. But now that the moment had arrived, she felt sad that so few people had come to see the deceased’s final journey.

‘You were a good person despite your rough language and behavior. You had strong willpower too.’

Most veterans die by suicide or drug overdose. But because Percy Friedman lived out his terminal diagnosis to the end of his natural lifespan, he could have a proper funeral, even if simplified.

‘Percy, if you had made a bad choice, you would have been buried without a funeral. Thank you for closing your eyes while I was by your side.’

It would have been deeply wounding if he had died like an old friend without even an epitaph. That’s why Jacqueline was grateful to Percy Friedman. For the first time, she experienced a proper farewell. 

It was a natural parting, neither selfish nor one-sided, a thank you between someone who had devoted herself and someone who had received that devotion.

As Percy Friedman had predicted, almost no immediate family or friends attended.

The priest swung a censer mixing frankincense and myrrh while calling Percy Friedman’s baptismal name. The mourners then sang the Paher requiem in unison.

Your child sleeps beneath the broom tree.

Going to your embrace, wider than the mountain’s girth and deeper than the river’s depth.

This soul, freed from its snare.

O God, receive it.

Rebuke the wicked and welcome the righteous with joy.

Standing among the mourners, Jacqueline watched Percy Friedman being buried. Before scattering soil, they threw red poppies onto the coffin, symbolizing the blood shed by soldiers. 

With this, Percy Friedman returned to dust. As his body returned to earth accompanied by the mournful requiem played by the military band, people dispersed without lingering, leaving no trace of sorrow.

Carlson spoke with regret:

“This seems rather shabby for the final journey of a decorated soldier, doesn’t it?”

“Percy said it would be like this. But I see his unit members didn’t come either, even though we placed obituary notices in the newspapers multiple times.”

“They must have had their reasons.”

“You think so? Still, I feel disappointed.”

Carlson smiled slightly seeing Jacqueline defend Percy Friedman.

“I remember when you two first met.”

“Please forget that. I wasn’t myself then. And Percy was like a five-year-old who had missed his socialization period.”

“Pfft!”

Carlson nearly burst out laughing when Jacqueline sharply criticized Percy Friedman with a sad face. He barely managed to contain himself, considering his social position and honor.

“Anyway, it was a miracle that Friedman opened his heart to you, Miss Carroll.”

“I’m not sure if that should be called rapport… Honestly, my actions compromised the dignity of a volunteer.”

“Puhah! Haha… Ahem.”

Percy Friedman had used his terminal condition to torment people. 

The volunteers assigned to him wanted to scold him for crossing the line, but they couldn’t bring themselves to genuinely get angry at a sick person, so they endured silently until they couldn’t take it anymore, then visited Mrs. Medwin to cry their hearts out.

Most volunteers who dealt with Percy Friedman submitted resignation letters, claiming it wasn’t their path.

The volunteer killer, the volunteer’s bane. Percy Friedman’s notoriety eventually reached the volunteer training center, to the point where the busy Mrs. Medwin had to deal with him personally.

Due to their wartime connection, Percy Friedman at least didn’t mistreat Mrs. Medwin. Not that he was particularly well-behaved either. Things were so bad that even the compassionate Mrs. Medwin lamented that he was like a tantrum-throwing child.

Jacqueline couldn’t forget the looks she received when she volunteered to care for Percy Friedman.

“They asked if I was going to die. Did they think I volunteered to die? It just happened that the working hours suited me. But when I got there, I understood why so many people had tried to stop me. Swearing and informal speech were basic, and he even sexually harassed me with his words. Even Saint Agnes, armed with sacrifice and devotion, would have lost her patience seeing Percy Friedman’s behavior.”

Jacqueline too lost her composure due to his misbehavior and, though she shouldn’t have, responded in kind. 

When he cursed, she cursed back; when he threw a chamber pot, she threw a flower vase; when he sexually harassed her with words, she responded with similar but slightly more polite language.

Doing this, she eventually felt Percy Friedman’s knotted heart begin to unravel. He had been acting out because he had nowhere to vent his frustrations about living a terminal life with paralyzed limbs.

Jacqueline understood his feelings to some extent and helped him release his anger by arguing with him and letting him vent as he wished. The more Jacqueline used rough language, the more Percy Friedman secretly enjoyed it.

“Percy just had a rough personality. His nature wasn’t bad at all. He needed someone who would get angry with him and keep him company. Who could do that? A compassionate volunteer with a noble sense of duty? The proper Mrs. Medwin? That’s why I did it.”

“Sometimes one scolding is more effective than a thousand gentle consolations. Hmm… In Miss Carroll’s case, should we consider it a deviation?”

“Thank you for viewing it merely as a deviation. Still, I think I showed Mrs. Medwin something truly unseemly.”

Just then, Mrs. Medwin walked toward the two of them. Seeing her, Jacqueline covered her flushed face with the veil attached to her fascinator.

Carlson greeted Mrs. Medwin politely and asked after her husband.

“Sharon, it’s been a while. But… Harry didn’t come?”

“No, he was originally planning to attend the funeral, but apparently his conference schedule changed suddenly.”

“That friend of mine is still living a busy life, I see.”

“Eugene, aren’t you the busiest among the club members? I worry you might lose your health.”

“I’m fulfilled and happy in proportion to how busy I am.”

“Learn a lot from Eugene. And, Miss Carroll.”

Mrs. Medwin took Jacqueline’s hand and looked at her with kind eyes.

“Thank you for being with Percy in his final moments.”

“I should thank you for trusting someone so inadequate.”

Mrs. Medwin embraced Jacqueline and whispered a secret that only she knew.

“Percy wrote a letter for you. Read it later.”