London Bridge Is Broken Down

"London Bridge is broken down, Broken down, broken down.
London Bridge is broken down, My fair lady."

"Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay will wash away,
Build it up with bricks and mortar,
Bricks and mortar will not stay,
Build it up with iron and steel,
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Build it up with silver and gold,
Silver and gold will be stolen away,

Set a man to watch all night,
watch all night, watch all night,
Set a man to watch all night,
My fair lady."

"......Wouldn't that be nice? My fair lady."

It makes such a rough running sound that He thought the wheels were going to fall off.
Due to the rattling vibrations, He couldn't tell which was up or down.
It took a long time to wake up. maybe.

Cannot distinguish whether this is reality or a pipe dream.

Difficulty opening eyelids. Nerves seem to be out of whack. Throbbing pain.
The back of his nose stings, his head hurts from the loud ringing in his ears, and his throat burns. Then his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach, legs, and feet. Hurt everywhere.

"......awake?"

He could'nt hear well, but that's what they told him.
(Gosh, gosh, his ears are ringing so loud!)

It was the voice of a man who had just been slurping nursery rhymes.
The man is a chillingly beautiful.
It was dimly lit and his eyes didn't open properly, but still understood.

―― Where are we?

Opened mouth to ask. But a coughing sound escaped from throat, and couldn't speak.

Still, the guy seemed to get the message. He answered bluntly, "We are on the ...... freight train."

―― Who are you ?

That's what wanted to ask next. But gave up, thinking that if couldn't speak, it would be futile to open mouth. Jaw also hurt, and just swallowing the saliva caused him to feel a sharp pain that made. Want to lash out.

"Your throat is burned. There's no way you can speak. Any ridiculous drink won't do that to you."

Was convinced. Unusual sore throat. He wonder if He swallowed a large amount of nails along with a deleterious drug.

"You still have a high fever......Hey, you hear me? I used up all the Essence of Dittany I had on hand. Arrangements have been made for you to pick up your mandrake at the next station.You don't have a choice, you have to be patient."

He's a beautiful man, but with a coarse, violent vibe. And yet his accent is beautiful RP.
Didn't understand half of what such a man was saying,

But that seems to be due to the fever, as it turns out.

As soon as He became aware of this, He suddenly felt a chill.
He felt hot, and He had a feeling of discomfort that He wanted to vomit everything in my stomach, including my organs.
He is rolled on the floor as if he were a bagworm (He's wrapped up in a blanket round him. This beautiful man probably doesn't know how to nurse a sick person.) In his current state, he can't even get into a good position to escape the nausea.

"Hey, grow up. You're a ...... wreck, dude."

Looks like. But why?

The man had a very mixed expression of bitterness, a mixture of anger, disgust, slight regret and the spice of dismay.
The distortion doesn't suit the arrogantly beautiful man's face, He think dimly.

―― Why am I here, why am I so battered, why am I being looked after by a man whose name I don't even know? Why can't I remember anything ―― not even my own name?
And why is the man in front of me not saying anything? There are so many things I don't understand, and I head aches more and more.

Where is this train going? Where does this man want to take me?
I feel like there were places I wanted to go and I just didn't want them to go anywhere.

I feel like I was holding on to a lament that I wanted to let go of if I couldn't do anything about it, couldn't help it, and couldn't shout it out.
Where have I left my grief?
Left alone and sunk in a cold, lonely and terrible place.

Or did such feelings not exist from the beginning?
It felt strange, like a gaping, empty hole.

Why did the beautiful man sing London Bridge? He couldn't possibly keep an eye on it all night.
I'm sure he found a number of things more important than keeping an eye on the bridge, and he didn't care about the bridge. Even if the bridge collapses. Even if it falls into the river and flows away. Even if it sinks to the bottom of the water.

It's too late now. It didn't matter now. After all, the bridge had already fallen!　It's over. It's over.
I wasn't your My Fair Lady. That's all there is to it.

Something indistinguishable from anger or despair burst at the bottom of my gut and disappeared.

This is the end of the story. Only the train keeps running.