Bailonz Street 13

“Um,” I replied, pulling out a chair untouched by Liam and sitting down. Dinner was already set. A plate, fork, and knife were placed at my seat as well. Liam must have done all this himself. His remarkable dexterity remained unchanged even in his twenties.

Liam glanced at the newspaper, asking indifferently, “Newspaper?”

“Any one will do,” I responded, checking the date on the newspaper. It was May 1863. I had travelled back eight years from 1871. So, Liam’s current age was…

“Twenty-two.”

My goodness. He’s really young. I was a bit taken aback, stabbing a bean with my fork. Looking at his young face in photos had been fun, but seeing him move and eat in front of me was unsettling. The reality of being in the past suddenly hit me.

Liam, having silently finished his meal, was now solving a crossword puzzle. Noticing my gaze, he raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

I asked cautiously, “You don’t eat broccoli?”

“…”

“Fussy eating is bad.”

Liam glared at me before burying himself back in the puzzle. Resigned, I began clearing the dishes.

This was quite different from the scene at 13 Bailonz Street. Back there, Liam would chat incessantly after dinner. It made me realise how different he was back then.

Or maybe… ‘Is he only like that with me?’

It was a plausible thought. Liam Moore was sharp with everyone. His brother described him as someone who viewed women as stone, but I believed he treated everyone like inanimate objects. I could now understand why his nickname was ‘Bastard.’

After a few more glances while tidying up, Liam sighed and said, “Stop staring.”

Quick to catch on. It’s scary.

“Thanks for the meal.”

“…”

I hurriedly put the dishes in the sink and swiftly exited the kitchen, feeling his eyes boring into my back.

＊ ＊ ＊

When I woke up, I was still in 1863. It wasn’t despairing. I thought of this as a gateway, a path to the real Liam.

However, Dylan’s head was telling me something else. I shouldn’t be wasting time; I needed to prepare.

Dylan’s body naturally dressed and packed, heading toward the library. A new fact popped into my head: ‘Cambridge has final exams in May.’ It was already May. Dylan’s head reminded me again: ‘I have to take the exams.’

This was bad. Dylan might remember what he learned, but I didn’t. Not only could I not recall the material, but even if I did, writing about it was another issue. I had never studied English law or its precedents!

The only laws I knew were from protesting Liam’s misdeeds at Scotland Yard. For example, obstruction of justice.

Dylan’s brain insisted, ‘Exam period.’

I wanted to scream at Dylan’s brain. Hey, you can’t let me ruin your grades. Snap out of it. I’ll give you control or whatever you want.

‘Hang in there.’

What? I never thought I could resent someone I met yesterday, but Dylan Vermilton made it possible.

Dylan wanted me to write his major exams proficiently. It was impossible. Even students who attended classes all year struggled with these exams. How could I get good grades?

Yet, I had no choice but to move as the body’s owner wished. So, I compromised by borrowing necessary books from the library, with Dylan’s faint consciousness correcting my hand when I picked the wrong ones.

As I piled the books, I suddenly heard a gasp. In the quiet library, such a sound was startling. I looked around to see who made it. A male student was staring at me wide-eyed.

All eyes in the library turned to me, accompanied by similar gasps.

Oh, right. People weren’t used to seeing Dylan like this. I quietly nodded and continued gathering books.

The stunned stares didn’t leave until I finished filling out the loan application.

“Sigh.”

Current Dylan had a straightened posture and a tidy haircut, which, while not as striking as Liam’s, gave a clean, decent impression. A smile would make him easily likeable.

The sunlight outside the library was warm in the late spring, a stark contrast to the students dragging themselves to the library. With the sun blinding my eyes, I lifted my head, feeling muddled.

“Vermilton.”

I opened my eyes.

Three steps down the stairs stood Liam Moore. He had his hands in his pockets, looking up at Dylan with a skewed expression.

I responded, “What’s up?”

“It would be wise to move.”

With that, Liam started walking away. He assumed I would follow. Of course, I would… but he walked briskly with his long legs, forcing me to run with my bursting bag in tow.

“Wait, Moore, slow down!”

He ignored me. I planned to tell thirty-year-old Liam how self-centred and mean he was. See if he cares.

Following Liam, I counted at least ten students who stared at me in surprise. Liam Moore, however, showed no surprise or curiosity, not even glancing at me, as if walking was all he knew.

“Hey, Moore!”

Out of breath, I shouted. Finally, Liam glanced back and stopped under a large tree. In the distance, there was a greenhouse-like glass building.

“Here.”

After all that walking, we stopped under a tree?

I dropped my heavy bag in annoyance, and Liam smirked.

“What are you?”

Straight to the point. His bluntness made me shudder.

“What do you mean? I’m Dylan Vermilton. Are you tired? Why are you talking nonsense?”

“No.”

Liam coldly cut me off, folding his arms. Sunlight through the leaves illuminated his frowning face.

“Dylan Vermilton doesn’t talk back like this.”

Oh, Dylan. Where did it all go wrong?

I explained, “I didn’t avoid it. I just couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t.”

“Where did you learn to judge people so freely?”

Liam raised an eyebrow.

Oops, too provocative.

“See? You’re not Dylan Vermilton.”

Liam stepped closer, pointing at my clothes.

“He’s ambidextrous, primarily using his left hand. But you used your right. Your left hand seemed clumsy. The direction you cut your bangs is different. Your tone, intonation, expression, and posture are all different. It’s obvious. Your claim isn’t credible.”

Now Liam had me cornered against the tree, looking down with his cold grey eyes.

“I won’t ask twice. Who are you?”

I sighed. If I had known this would happen, I would have avoided meeting Liam Moore.

But could I escape his suspicion? No. Once he started doubting, he’d dig until the truth came out.

I shrugged, meeting his eyes.

“Did Herschel teach you to threaten friends?”

“It’s not a threat, just an appropriate question. I have the insight to ask such things.”

“Fine. You’re insightful. Keep observing.”

I didn’t know why I was having a battle of wits with twenty-two-year-old Liam, but honestly, the situation was quite amusing.

When I suddenly started laughing, Liam looked at me like I was crazy, which made it even funnier.

After a while, I stopped laughing, clutching my stomach.

“Sorry, Liam, but we’ve met before. You know me.”

Probably.

Despite my explanation, Liam’s expression didn’t soften. His brows furrowed deeply.

“No, if we had, I’d remember your remarkable vocabulary.”

“Or maybe your memory’s bad?”

He squinted at me, as if trying to understand where this lunatic came from.

I bit my lip, then slowly spoke, looking him straight in the eye.

“I got lost again. I was looking for someone.”

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