"Marcus, do you have to play this damn snow during dinner?" Leon frowned.
"Do you know the Kame Hame Ha, Leon?" I asked back, watching the snowmelt drip through my fingers.
"What's that?"
"It's a white spherical energy ball formed by cupped hands, powerful enough to blow up this restaurant."
"That must be magic. But what you have in your hand is just a snowball. Please, throw it away and let's have a proper meal," Leon urged.
"A snowball," I looked at Leon, "Yes, indeed, it's just a snowball. But at this moment, it holds the same meaning as the Kame Hame Ha. It represents justice, it represents revenge."
I swung my arm with all my might. The snowball flew straight towards Alexander's head, leaving a blurry pale trail. Unfortunately, Alexander's dinner knife had just fallen to the floor, and he bent down to pick it up. The snowball grazed over Alexander's head and hit Philip's face, exploding on impact. I was so shocked I almost fell off my chair.
"Who threw that?!" Philip roared in uncontrollable anger, his booming voice shaking the rafters.
I quickly bent over my plate. "It's all your fault, Leon. You're the one who told me to throw the snowball and have a proper meal."
"Who threw that? Show yourself."
I nervously looked up to see Philip already standing up from his seat, wiping the frozen snow off his face. He was walking towards me.
Just as Philip was only ten steps away from me, a hollow, metallic sound suddenly rang out. "Sir, it was me who threw it, but it was not intentional," I heard someone say.
I looked in surprise at the speaker, realizing it was Napoleon.
Philip turned to Napoleon, his tightly pursed lips forming a snake-like smile. "Not intentional, huh."
"But I am still willing to accept the punishment," Napoleon said calmly.
"Very well," Philip crossed his arms, sounding extremely exhausted and annoyed. "I'll have you run 10 laps around the playground as punishment."
Ten laps! That was a terrifying number. I looked out the window, seeing the world covered in silver snowflakes drifting down. The snow was knee-deep, making it nearly impossible to walk, let alone run 10 laps around the playground.
After dinner, the students all returned to their respective dormitories. I lay in bed, gazing at the night scenery outside, silently grateful that the punishment was not mine. The snow outside was falling heavier and heavier, the moon slowly climbing up the dark sky, like eyes peeking through layers of snow curtains. Napoleon took the punishment in my place as a repayment of a favor, I thought gloomily.
I tossed and turned in bed, making it difficult for Leon, who slept on the bunk above me, to fall asleep as well.
"If you feel guilty, go outside and take a look," he said.
"It looks very cold outside. Can I go wrapped in a blanket?" I asked, staring at the foggy window.
"You can, or you can go out naked. It doesn't matter. It's already late at night, and there's no one outside."
"If my blanket gets wet from the snow, can I sleep with you?"
"You can, but I tend to kick around in my sleep. I might accidentally kick you off the bed."
I remained silent, quietly dressed myself, wrapped in a thick cloak, pulled up the hood, and put on the warmest gloves. Once everything was ready, I pushed open the door and stepped into the biting cold wind.
The snow on the road, trampled by the students, had turned into a slippery slush. The windows of the dormitory sparkled in the moonlight. Piles of snow were pushed against the walls, resembling small white hills. Snowflakes twirled and floated down, occasionally brushing against my cheeks.
In the midst of the swirling snow, a vague figure stood alone in front of the sycamore tree at the center of the playground. I struggled to walk over, shivering from the cold, the howling wind more merciless than a slave trader's whip. The figure in front of the sycamore tree was Napoleon. I stood behind her, calling her name. Hearing my voice, Napoleon slowly turned around.
She was crying!
I stood there, somewhat incredulous. But Napoleon was indeed crying, tears frozen on her cheeks, shimmering in the moonlight. I was speechless, and she remained silent too, even the wind quieted down. It was as if the whole world held its breath. The pale, silent snow fell softly from the cold, vast sky.
"Marcus," she called out dully after a while.
"I see," I found my voice again.
"My father passed away," Napoleon said, staring straight at me, her eyes empty, as if devoid of soul.
I didn't know what to say. No words could heal such a wound, could they? Yet there was Napoleon, standing there, waiting for some words of comfort from me. She was right there, just a few steps away, yet so far and unreachable, as if miles apart.
I stumbled forward, wading through the knee-deep snow, my boots creaking. Napoleon remained silent, not speaking, not avoiding, and quietly allowed me to embrace her. Heart-wrenching sobs emanated from the girl's chest.
In that moment, I knew what to say. It was a story my mother had told me a long time ago. Tears welled up in my eyes, too, without me realizing it.
Quietly, gently, I began to tell the story. "Once upon a time, a king summoned all the wise men in his kingdom to create a magical ring that would bring eternal happiness to its wearer. After several months, the magical ring was created. It was made of ordinary metal, dull and unremarkable. The ring's entire magic came from the inscription engraved on it: This too shall pass."
"This too shall pass," Napoleon repeated slowly.
"Yes! This too shall pass," I couldn't help but hold her tighter. She was warm and soft in my arms, exuding a sense of warmth, as if she would be hurt with just a slight touch, so delicate that it was hard to let go. "Everything is getting better, Napoleon. My father really liked you, and Philip is no longer as difficult towards you as before. Even the classmates have started to like you. Napoleon, we really are not your enemies."
"I am lonely too, but..."
I shivered and sneezed.
"Thank you, Marcus," Napoleon said softly. "Let's go back."
"Yes." I had done all I could to comfort a broken heart. Now, I really should consider myself. If I stayed for another ten minutes, I would surely freeze to death.
The journey back to the dormitory was as arduous as the one we had made. I reached out several times to help Napoleon traverse the snowdrifts, but she waved me off. She wanted to walk her own path alone, just as she had lived her life.
I accompanied Napoleon into her dorm room, where the light was dim. She fumbled in the dark to light a candle. I noticed that Alexander, who should have been on the lower bunk, was not there. Upon inquiry, I learned that he had slipped and sprained his ankle on the way back to the dormitory, and was now resting in the infirmary.
"It's karma," I blurted out.
"Karma?" Napoleon furrowed her brow.
Perhaps my expression was too Eastern, and she didn't understand. "It means there is a balance in the universe," I explained as I lay down on Alexander's bed. "I'll rest here for a while before heading back."
When Napoleon lay down on her own bed, I still didn't leave, my mind filled with swirling thoughts. Finally, feeling restless, I sat up on the bed. "Napoleon, what is your ultimate goal for the future? To liberate Corsica?"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "My homeland needs a savior, and I have no choice but to fulfill that duty."
If these words had come from anyone else, I would have dismissed them as mere teenage delusions. But this was Napoleon.
"Is that why you came to the French military academy?" I asked.
"No," Napoleon replied, "My father forced me to come. I always wanted to be a scientist."
I almost fell off the bed in shock. Then, somehow, I started to chuckle. Life truly is fickle and unpredictable. Hitler wanted to be an artist, but fate took a turn, and he became a murderous tyrant. Napoleon wanted to be a scientist, but his father chose a more challenging path for him, one that led to a crown at the end of the road.
"Do you find it funny?" Napoleon asked, her voice tinged with annoyance, thinking I was mocking her dream of becoming a scientist.
"Not at all." Suddenly reminded of "Code Geass," I asked, "Napoleon, do you know about Suzaku?"
From the top bunk, her voice sounded again. "A bird species living in the East?"
"No. He is a person," I replied. "When his country was invaded and annexed by aggressors, he neither felt sad nor angry, nor did he resist. Instead, he chose to join the enemy forces, dreaming of attaining a high position in the enemy nation to win equality and freedom for his oppressed compatriots."
"In the enemy nation to attain a high position," Napoleon said, "Did he succeed?"
"Yes."
"This Suzaku, is he a real person?"
"He is a character in a story," I had to admit.
Napoleon chuckled lightly, "Marcus, life is not like a story. And the idea of rescuing one's people by gaining power in an enemy nation can only happen in stories."
"Why do you say that?" Napoleon sat up from the bed, a hint of anger in her voice, her slender legs hanging in the air, drawing beautiful curves that captivated me unintentionally.
I took her ankle and helped her stand up from the bed. "Which accomplished scientist would reject a hypothesis before conducting an experiment?"
Napoleon fell silent for a moment. "Are you asking me to conduct this absurd experiment with my own life?"
"I will be by your side all the way. I swear, not as a soldier, but as an assistant to a scientist. Let's test whether Suzaku's path of saving the country can really work!" I found her hand in the darkness and held it gently. "We've posed the question, made the hypothesis, and designed the experiment. Since all is set, let's take the leap of faith and see this experiment of life through to the end!"