A Difficult Conversation

On this night, Jorgen came to Dalia's house. "Where's Elaine?" he asked as soon as he entered.

"She's asleep," Dalia replied. "I put her to bed early."

"I wanted to talk to her about something. Another time, I guess."

"What did you want to say?"

"Elin plans to bring her back home."

Dalia looked at him and didn't say anything for a moment.

"Why don't you come in," she finally said.

They entered the living room. She sat beside him.

"I didn't expect him to make this decision so quickly," Dalia said.

"He's already started packing up the house."

"But he should be the one to talk to Elaine about it."

"He'll definitely come. I thought it's better to have a third party ask Elaine's opinion first. If her father makes this request directly, she'd probably say yes without much thought. Though I believe she wouldn't refuse... but some time for consideration is necessary."

"Do you think Elin will take good care of her?"

"He'll learn slowly. Learn to be a father."

Dalia looked down at her fingertips, then back at Jorgen. "So... have you found Panzi and cleared everything up?"

"We've mostly figured it out... we sent Panzi away, so he probably won't cause more trouble. We also found out some things about Elaine's mother, but I think it should be up to Elin to decide whether to reveal that. Anyway, he's determined to take care of his daughter, and there's no turning back for him."

"I don't think I need to know more. You came here just to ask Elaine's opinion, after all. I've only been her babysitter for a few days."

"That's not what I meant."

Almost as soon as he said it, Jorgen realized the clumsiness of his words. When someone subtly conveys emotional frustration, straightforward denial is not a solution. Rational and direct answers, in reality, often overlook the true purpose of the other person's words. He had understood this for a long time, but he never seemed to learn a better way to handle such situations.

"Elaine can still come over to play with you in the future. She'll be very happy to, I'm sure," he said.

"My home isn't a playground for children."

A clumsier attempt at mending the situation. After Dalia spoke, she turned her face to the side, her back straight. From her demeanor, Jorgen recalled how stubborn a woman she could be. This stubbornness had led her to make mistakes, getting involved in life-threatening troubles. While her current actions were far from that extreme, it wasn't what Jorgen had hoped for. He felt a sense of urgency, as he understood how precious taking care of Elaine was to Dalia, and he had inadvertently overlooked this during their earlier conversation. He was eager to reassure her, but the sense of urgency was winning, making him utter these words:

"Elaine can't stay with you forever."

This was not just clumsy; it was downright foolish, akin to saying to a defiant suspect, "You can't keep your secrets forever," or, "You can't escape the consequences." Dalia turned to look at Jorgen, a hint of sadness and disappointment glimmering in her eyes, which she was suppressing with all her might. Jorgen didn't know what else to say; he knew he was in the wrong but couldn't make amends. He secretly wished he could find the perfect words to comfort her, something natural and effective, but all he could do was this - Jorgen felt like a pebble trying to roll uphill. Years of interrogating suspects had made him accustomed to resolute and unfeeling expressions. Even when dealing with Dalia, he wasn't much different.

"Don't think I'm the only one who knows that," she said.

It seemed like they were heading towards an argument. Jorgen did have a way to cut the conversation short, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was well aware that most arguments were futile venting and that conflicted with his principle of producing results. But...

At that moment, a maid, who had heard the argument, appeared at the door, peering in cautiously. "Don't interfere. Go back to your room," Dalia told her. She added, "Is Elaine awake?" The maid replied, "She's still sleeping," and quickly left. The room suddenly grew very quiet. He looked at her, and their eyes locked for a moment. Dalia's once indifferent sadness transformed into a mix of understanding and disappointment, much like raindrops gathering unwillingly on a leaf's veins.

"I truly like Elaine," she wanted to tell Jorgen. She couldn't pinpoint the reasons, but she just did. Cute? Not really, she was too quiet for that. Well-behaved? Not quite; she had a streak of stubbornness and didn't follow every order without question. But she was capable and strong - however, listing a young girl's traits like this wasn't very meaningful. She was a child Dalia wanted to take care of, and personality traits didn't matter that much. Maybe, in the brief time they spent together, Dalia found the most pleasure in seeing Elaine's initial guarded look and attitude gradually relax. At first, she would complete tasks with full compliance, as if trying to please her host. She would go to bed when told or eat whatever was served. But recently, she would express her preferences: "I don't want to sleep yet," or "I don't want to eat this." She had learned to say this. It was like dealing with conflicts among adults, where the goal wasn't to blame each other, but to understand and tolerate one another, willingly processing each other's negative emotions.

Jorgen understood this well. This argument meant he could stay comfortably by her side without the need to confine himself within the boundaries of an investigator.

"I'd like to show you something. Come to my room," Dalia said.

Jorgen intended to say, "I'll wait here; you can fetch it," or, "I don't want to disturb your rest." But neither of these phrases left his mouth. As they went upstairs, Dalia said, "You don't have to walk quietly. That child sleeps soundly."

Once inside her room, Dalia went to her dressing table.

"Take a look at these," she pulled out five handmade fabric dolls from a drawer. They were tiny, each fitting three in Dalia's palm.

"What are these?" Jorgen moved beside her.

"Goat, boar, wind serpent, lizard, and... let me think... zebra?" She arranged them in front of the mirror, although it was challenging to balance them, so she leaned them against the smooth surface.

"I can't recognize them. Only the goat and boar look somewhat like them. You don't seem sure about this one either..." Jorgen picked up the fifth doll and felt it was a dog with an unnaturally large head. "A zebra?" He placed it back.

"These are all made by Elaine."

"She gave them to you?"

"One day she came to my room to play and left the first one, the goat, here. I asked if I could have it, and she agreed. Then, for several consecutive days, she put a new one here every day, without me noticing. I think she intended to give me more but didn't want to say it outright."

"You should tell her not to enter your bedroom without permission."

"I should. Of course, I didn't say it. Did you notice they became less like the animals she intended to make?"

"She rushed to give you finished ones?"

"No," Dalia turned to face Jorgen, closing the drawer behind her back with both hands. "For the last ones, she could only create them based on her imagination."

Jorgen could understand. Most of Elaine's life had been spent within the confines of the estate. During her journey to Stormwind City, it seemed that Parche had no intention of showing her the outside world.

"Tell Elaine not to keep her at home all the time. Take her out to play more. Of course, maybe I had a good life before the age of ten... I feel children at this age should see how rich the world is. When they grow up to be like us... maybe there won't be another chance."

"Maybe," Jorgen replied.

This marked the end of Elaine's discussion on this topic. She had accepted the facts but skipped the step of stating it directly, as if the argument had never happened. Jorgen looked into her eyes: smooth, yet not calm. Through the mirror, he also noticed her hands, which were initially held straight at her back, seemed to be slowly relaxing.

"Dalia, there's something I want to tell you."

"Is it important?"

"Yes, it is."

"Wait for a moment, then."

Jorgen watched her and waited for her to provide further explanation.

"Let me ask you a question first," she said.

"Go ahead."

Dalia almost imperceptibly shook her head, with a hint of hesitation and unease in her eyebrows, as if she was trying to suppress her feelings.

"Mardias has returned, hasn't he?"