"All right, all right, I have to get rid of this painting immediately."
Mr. Bede tore the paper off the drawing board, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it into the nearby water glass, then stirred it vigorously with his fingers.
Piaget took a lighter from his pocket. With a click, a flame sprang up.
"Whoosh!"
Mr. Bede blew out the flame and said, "Of course I know burning it would be convenient, but do you know that leaving a smoky smell in the bedroom of a noblewoman obsessed with cleanliness would bring about the second-most terrifying consequence in the world?"
Piaget took out his cigarette case and drew out a cigarette.
"I wasn't going to burn it. I just wanted a smoke."
"Click!"
"Whoosh!"
Mr. Bede blew out the lighter again.
"The most terrifying consequence would come from smoking in here."
Piaget sighed and looked down at the cigarette case in his hand. It bore a Thunder Order God Church label.
"I want one. My head hurts so much."
Pain showed in Mr. Bede's eyes. He reached out and gently patted Piaget on the back. "Bear with it a little longer. You can smoke once we leave."
Piaget offered no further resistance. He silently put away his cigarette case, then lowered his head and covered his face with both hands.
"Mr. Bede, I feel so lost."
"I know."
"I often condemn myself for feeling this way. I shouldn't be like this, because everything I'm doing is for Linda. Every negative feeling I have makes me feel as though I'm gradually distancing myself from that love and betraying it. It torments me."
"Perhaps you should learn... learn patience and self-regulation."
Bede did not say the words "let go." If Piaget let go, what would he do?
His role was