"Young Mr. Lincoln, you've gotten quite a bit heavier," James said, holding the young man he'd once saved, his tone a little exaggerated.
"Willie, don't cling to Mr. Howlett. Come down now." Mrs. Mary called her son by his nickname, smiling, while holding back the youngest child, Thomas Lincoln, who was rushing toward James.
He watched the two children laughing and playing around Mrs. Lincoln. Seeing the love in Mary's eyes, he quietly made up his mind.
"Come on! James, Miss O'Hara, try this dessert. Last time James came over, it was because—haha, this time you absolutely have to try it." President Lincoln had nearly brought up the strange story from James's first visit to the White House, but decided it was better left unsaid.
After dinner, at the two young gentlemen's pleading, O'Hara went with Mrs. Lincoln to keep them company as they played. James and Lincoln exchanged sly smiles and took out their cigar cases.
"Try one of mine. Cabañas."
James picked one up and offered it to Lincoln. The president put away his plain wooden cigar case and accepted the cigar, looking somewhat surprised.
"These aren't easy to come by. Most of them are reserved for a few royal houses in Europe. Relations between America and Europe have been strained these past few years, so they're hard to get." Lincoln held it beneath his nose and inhaled. His creased face lit up with satisfaction as he expertly cut the cigar.
"The governor general's office in Canada sends me some every year, but I don't think they quite hit the mark. I'm planning to send someone to Cuba to secure a good piece of land and make some fine cigars. They won't be for sale."
James spoke as he lit his own cigar. He'd become extremely particular about their quality. Unlike cigarettes, which were inhaled into the lungs, cigars were mainly for savoring the taste and aroma. His unusual sense of smell made him an overly demanding judge, and anything less than the best simply wasn't good enough.
The president took a couple of puffs, then happily blew a smoke ring. "You capitalists certainly know how to enjoy yourselves. When you start making those fine cigars, don't forget to send me a couple of boxes to try."
"Don't worry. I'll take care of all the cigars you smoke each year from now on." James smiled, and the thought that had occurred to him earlier came back to mind.
"Hahaha, a little is enough. If I smoke too much, Mary will give me an earful." Lincoln cheerfully shared an amusing story about himself and Mary. He felt at ease with James, not only because of everything they'd been through together, but also because of James's easygoing, unconventional nature.
He paused, then changed the subject. "In about a year, the South will formally surrender. Only a few hardliners and token resistance remain. What are your thoughts on how things will develop after the war?"
"Capitalist industry will develop at breakneck speed, and the country's strength will rise rapidly. In a few decades, it'll be among the world's leading powers." James answered without hesitation, then continued, "For the next few decades, it won't matter who the president is. Things will move along with the tide. But after that, the world will face sweeping conflicts and upheaval."
James's words left Lincoln stunned. After a long silence, he finally spoke. "If those direct, profound predictions had come from a white-haired, wise professor at Oxford College, I could have accepted them. But you're so young, and you're making such certain predictions about how the world will develop over the next half century. It's a little frightening."
James shook his head and let out a breath, his meaning unclear. Looking at Lincoln, he said, "It's not hard to get the general picture. It's just the inevitable result of rising productivity. But what about you, Abraham? What do you plan to do after the Civil War ends?"
"All I can do is try to mend this country. A country cobbled together through colonization, immigration, and the buying and selling of people has far too many problems."
"You should think first about your own safety after the war. Abraham, if you stop here, you'll become one of the greatest presidents in this country's history. But if you really try to do those things... you need to understand what you'll face in your lifetime. Even for a long time afterward, people won't have much good to say about you."
James spoke to Lincoln with genuine concern. Every era had its own problems, and what President Lincoln was trying to do would put him at odds with the prevailing will of the entire world.
Lincoln shook his head and said lightly, "You're the one who told me that history will bear witness in the end."
"Then all right. I'll try to look after you," James said, as if joking.
The residents of Jacksonville suspected that God had abandoned them completely. They'd had more than a dozen people disappear from town lately, and now, a couple of days ago, everyone had heard that a "monster" as tall as a tower had shown up.
The sheriff and his men followed the route the so-called monster had taken and arrived at the "haunted house" that no one in town dared go near. Sheriff Red Stern had been skeptical, but after seeing what lay before him, he began to worry that he hadn't brought enough men or guns.
The so-called haunted house looked as though it had been shelled. The front door and the area around it showed signs of violent destruction. The door lay on the ground, and from outside, the house looked like a deep, dark cave.
There were several holes around the house that seemed to have been smashed from the inside. Roof boards and tiles jutted out at odd angles, and the whole place had partially sunk, as if its foundation had collapsed.
Most terrifying of all was the faint, rhythmic howling coming from deep inside the house.
It sounded like the low growl of a large predator. No one could tell what kind of beast it might be, but it had to be enormous. The growl carried a steady vibration that made the whole house tremble slightly, and it went on without stopping. It had been that way for three days.
In the three days since finding the place, Sheriff Stern hadn't slept well once. The haunted house's rumbling growls hadn't let up. He was fairly sure the unknown beast was asleep in there, and the sound was its snoring. The strange noise that seemed like grinding teeth only strengthened his belief.
For the safety of everyone in town, he had no choice but to post men there in shifts. They'd already forgotten the original report about a towering, monstrous man.
Suddenly, the air fell completely silent. The two officers, accustomed to the noise, didn't react at first. Then they whipped around to face the house. In the darkness, a shadow was slowly making its way outside.
Was it actually a person? A man so tall his head nearly touched the doorframe, with short, dark brown hair, a ragged beard, a broad face, thick brows, and deep-set eyes. His body was unnaturally broad, and his arms were extremely thick and long. There was something strange about his fingers, as though he were wearing something sharp.
The two men froze. Where was the beast? They didn't immediately connect the giant before them with the monster in the house. After all, however exaggerated the man's size, he was still human. Surely a human couldn't have been making that continuous, thunderous growl for days.
The giant's strides were long. While the two officers stood there stunned, he had already reached them. They strained to look up at him as he grinned and opened his mouth, revealing unusually long, thick canine teeth.
A strange thought suddenly surfaced in their minds: He looked hungry.
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