The Case Files of Jeweler Richard: "Tsuki no Hikari" (Clair de Lune) Web Short Story Translation
I just read the short on Nanako Tsujimura's website here that was posted in May 2023. It's called つきのひかり which directly translates to "moonlight".
And just felt compelled to make a translation immediately, because it's just such a beautiful little piece.
Timeline-wise, it's probably set somewhen after volume 10 and before volume 11.
Suggested accompanied reading prior to it is the Extra Case "Moonstone's Affection". It's included in Seven Sea's English translation of volume 4. In Japanese it can be found in the ebook version of volume 4. (In print, it appears to have been in a booklet extra handed out as shop-exclusives.)
Moonstone is all about hilariously playing the classic line "The moon is beautiful" by Natsume Souseki, something that by now is so worn out it's probably as well as become a cliché already. Moonstone has Richard giving lectures criticizing how the line gets wholly divorced from its original context and sentiment, as well as giving ab abstract roundabout what it was supposed to be about. A feeling, a peaceful mood, he says, but there isn't so much elaboration on it rather than just implication yet.
I'm kind of shocked I didn't expect it to get back to it and with what's effectively an illustrious applied example essay in prose on the subject while at it, when the whole series is all about nuanced takes on variants and expressions of "love" and beauties already. But here we are.
I tried to imitate the translation style of the official English translation.
Clair de Lune
I was sleeping amidst flowers.
When I woke up, I confusedly wondered what happened. Flowers were blooming above my head. Flowers painted in a faint colour between red and orange. Probably red puppies. It was a completely different scenery from napping on my bed or the sofa. The sky expanded itself above the flowers. It was clearly outdoors.
And.
"Good Morning."
Richard.
The sky, the flowers and Richard.
While I was thinking that something about this was rather poetic, I bewilderedly rubbed my eyes. When I raised myself, leaves fell from my head.
A garden and a pond. An arched bridge. Ah.
"This is… Henry's new residence."
"Correct."
"It feels so impressionistic, erm, this is…"
"Giverny"
"…so that means France"
"Oui"
Right, Richard answered. Reality caught up as the details gradually came back.
I and Richard, we came to Europe a week ago in order to participate in a mineral show in Munich. Munich is in Germany. That was seven days ago. Afterwards I met Shimomura who was on a little trip to Austria and learned about Henry's new residence. Somehow he bought a new real estate and restored an old building and how about we dropped by. Somehow it was amazing, somehow it left a deep impression. Somehow a lot of somehow impressions. That was five days ago. After that I joined Richard again – of course bringing a Sachertorte with me – and we headed towards our business in France. It was just a small trip by air. That was four days ago. By Japanese standards, it cost only a domestic travel fare to get from Vienna to Marseille. Somehow I wound up making Bouillabaisse at a regular customer's place, three days ago. And two days ago we got a message from Henry.
He contacted us, because we were apparently nearby, asking us if we wouldn't come over to his new residence.
Richard was a bit perplexed, but honestly I was already in Europe Mode – basically the mindset about travelling through countries in an absurd speed. It usually felt like this on the continent – it was a sort of let's go somewhere!-tension. We've even talked about taking two days off and watch some soccer or such. But honestly, I and Richard, we were a bit tired. We didn't have the spirits to watch soccer and drink beer with cheers. Our physical stamina was doubtful to last as well. To do such a thing after working a week every consecutive day, it'd be difficult unless you were in your teens or your early twenties. We have both passed that age bracket already.
That being said, the place we've been invited to, had its own set of issues. Giverny. It's somewhat in the neighbourhood of Paris. By plane, it would be just a hop away, but from Marseille it's a five hours distance with the train. Of course, it was in the same country as Marseille but, somehow, like this, the place didn't exactly feel close. It seemed about as exhausting as the soccer watching plan.
But Richard said he wanted to go.
Prefixed with a reserved 'if that was all right'.
If that was the case, things were clear for me.
Let's go. I also want to go.
And that's what we did.
We rented a car at the airport and headed towards Giverny. Right upon arriving, a bunch of security staff looking people clad in black came for us and guided us with their black car.
The place they brought us to was a house surrounded with a garden and pond and looked straight out of a fairy tale. Flowers in all sorts of colours bloomed in abundance, boats floated above the deep pond and a gracefully arched bridge hung above it. However, this version of Seigi Nakata, who recently made strides in becoming more sophisticated, understood. It was a masterpiece of impressionism, this was a residence built with the concept of Monet's paintings in mind.
Henry showed up looking like Snufkin coming out of a Moomin house – a security staff personnel was behind him like a matter of course – and welcomed us with a smile. Piano suit him, but at that moment I learned that an apron suit him as well. Not an apron for painting, but the sort for cooking. With a light brown one hanging down his head, he looked like an ordinary, a bit too skinny man.
"Recently I've been doing all sorts of things. Working, pastimes. This place is for recreation. It's very good for a change of pace."
'Work' meant the Claremont family business, an 'insurance company for an insurance company', as well as several finance-related businesses, apparently. Jeffrey handled them until now, but lining up with his vacations, Henry took them over. Richard and I were mostly kept in the dark about it, but achievements of big companies could be checked on in the daily internet and from the looks of that, they were doing pretty well. And in order for continuously doing well in any sort of work, you needed to take a breather or get a change of pace from time to time.
For this purpose this place here in France was established.
Indeed, it seemed like a very good place for a change of pace.
Henry showed up this hyper gorgeous summer house – it had a combined kitchen and dining room, as well as a reception room with a grand piano in it, a jet spa bath, a huge cabin filled with supplies neighbouring an enormous garage and all kinds of other things – he personally treated us to nice fragranced tea as well as some not wholly uniformly shaped cookies he had just baked himself. It was a perfect reception and everything tasted very well.
That's why it was a little bit exhausting.
Henry was nervous throughout the whole reception. He was his usual self. You don't have to be all that nervous, Enrique is what Shimomura would always pester on about, but that was his special privilege. Neither I nor Richard had this sort of skill.
In the end, all three of us got tired in their own way.
Henry withdrew himself to the studio to be alone for a bit, Richard departed with the car to get some snacks for the evening and I…
I said I'd take another stroll around the garden.
I was looking down at the pond from the bushes on the loosely slanted slope.
I doozed off a bit.
It was early summer. When I looked at my wristwatch it was 3pm. I probably doozed off about 30 minutes at most. It was fine now with the sun all up, but if I doozed off until evening, I would certainly have caught a cold.
"… Thanks for waking me…. Uwah, there is dirt on my shirt."
"Fortunately, it's a washable shirt."
I laughed a haha. True, if it was a dress shirt, it would have been a tragedy. That's why I only wore such wear on special occasions, like being invited to some lakeside castle party. Sometimes there are such times through.
While I rubbed my eyes, Richard looked intensely at the garden. Or at the pink and yellow flowers behind my back. Or at me. Then he suddenly started talking.
"I understand a little bit how artists feel."
"Artists?… You mean impressionist ones?"
"There is no denying that your shape with flowers nestling around you is wealthy with elegance."
"Easy mode please."
"I somehow just got the feeling of wanting to draw a picture."
"… of me?"
"Of what else?"
How weird. The owner of features that millions of artists would want to paint was, somehow, saying he felt like drawing a picture of me.
But it also made me happy.
When I playfully tried to pose as Mona Lisa, Richard sighed and politely corrected me that that was from Da Vinci. Then he started a brief commentary over Monet, the master of impressionism. Listening to it in this garden that seemed like out of a painting of his, was enjoyable and beautiful, sometimes wistfully so.
Henry, Richard and I, we enjoyed a great number of France's famous items from the supermarket and small dishes à la carte. Pâté de Campagne or cheese were the apéritif. Riding a Japanese food boom wave of recent, even Kinpira burdock was available in square packages. There was sushi as well, but Richard, who was used to Ginza's sushi in Japan, didn't seem to itch for it. Henry made a bit of a disappointed face, as salmon rolls were a secret favourite of his.
After dinner Henry played the piano for us.
France's impressionism wasn't just limited to paintings. In music there are also various artists summed up under the genre. Debussy, who is famous even in Japan, is one of them.
What he played was "Clair de Lune".
It was music filled with peace and beauty.
Outside the window, a half moon was floating about. It was reflected in the pond, and flickered as if it was drawing the picturesque design of a mosaic of light.
I wondered if that was the 'impression' that artists remembered.
Not the real moon, but something like the shadow of the moon. Something that tingled your imagination, something that allowed for an in-between.
Like how I would associate the moon or ocean to Richard's beauty whenever I remembered it.
If that was the case, I felt like I understood a bit of what Richard had called 'elegance'.
It meant to 'love' something very much.
Very much.
The sounds of the piano carried on. Tomorrow's plane would depart at noon, but we had to return to Paris and return the rental car. It was about time to go to sleep. But I wanted to stay up a bit more. I wanted to look at the shadow of the moon.
The flickering golden light somehow resembled Richard's voice, when he was right by side when I woke up.
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(TL Time 116min+40m QC/formatting)
