As the number of bullets Anje used increased, her skills gradually improved. Although she missed the wooden blocks a few times, she generally hit her targets well.
“I think that’s enough practice for now.”
“I can still shoot more…”
As Aiden took the gun from her, he gestured for her to look at her hands. Her hands, tense from the unfamiliar stance and process, were trembling as soon as she let go of the gun.
“People often accumulate fatigue without realizing it when they shoot for the first time. If you push yourself too hard, you might get muscle aches, so let’s do it again next time.”
Anje shook her hands to relieve the tension and nodded.
“Okay. Next time, I want to hit a target that’s farther away.”
“I’ll make a practice target out of wooden blanks for you. Similar to what the trainees use.”
“That’s a great idea!”
Seeing her excitement made Aiden happy as well. Although he had been worried that the lesson might be too dangerous for her, he felt proud of how well she was learning.
“I’m glad you enjoyed such a challenging lesson.”
“It’s thanks to your excellent teaching. Thank you so much.”
Aiden stopped mid-step at her words of gratitude. When she realized he wasn’t following, she turned around.
“What is it?”
“Is there… anything else you want to say besides thank you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind… it’s nothing.”
He clamped his mouth shut, stopping himself from saying more. Hearing her thanks made him instinctively curious if there was any additional “thanks” forthcoming, such as the specific favor he had considered asking for if he won their earlier bet.
But on second thought, he realized that asking when she likely had no particular thoughts about it would make his kindness seem calculated. He quickly caught up to her with wide strides and then began walking slightly ahead of her.
“Huh? What were you going to say?”
Anje quickened her pace to keep up with him and asked.
“Nothing, really.”
His face, facing forward, seemed determined not to meet her gaze, or so it felt.
“What is it?”
“I said it’s nothing.”
Seeing the tips of his ears turn red under his tousled hair, Anje asked.
“Why are your ears red?”
He raised his hands to cover his ears.
“Shooting after a long time, it made me hot.”
“I shot more than you did, though.”
“I naturally have a lot of body heat.”
He strode ahead of her quickly, and she had to jog to keep up. Before she could speak again, he cut in.
“Let’s get inside and pop the corn we harvested today.”
“Oh, corn. I’m starting to get hungry, perfect timing.”
Having concentrated for so long, Anje felt a growing hunger and started imagining what dish they could make with the corn. Freshly popped popcorn with a sprinkle of salt…
“Don’t you think it would be good to coat it with something sweet instead of salt? Like caramel?”
“It would taste good, but cleaning up afterward would be a hassle.”
“That’s true. The pot and spatula would get sticky with caramel, and our hands too.”
Having made homemade caramel with Aiden a few times, Anje knew well the effort it took. Of course, the melt-in-your-mouth milk caramel was worth the effort, but still.
“Or we could add cheese. Anything with cheese on it tastes good.”
As they continued chatting about popcorn recipes, Aiden felt relieved that he had smoothly changed the topic. But just as he was beginning to let his guard down, she struck again with a sharp question.
“By the way, what were you going to wish for if you won the corn-picking competition earlier? I’m curious now.”
“……”
It felt almost as if she knew exactly what he didn’t want to talk about.
“I was going to… uh, ask for… that.”
“For what?”
“That thing… that I had in mind.”
Rummaging through his mind for a suitable request, he found himself blanking out in his flustered state. Ultimately, he failed to come up with a plausible excuse and gave up.
“I had something in mind, but I’ve forgotten.”
“Really? Well, let me know if you remember.”
Anje suggested in a cheerful tone.
“Since you taught me so well today, I’ll grant you one wish for free.”
He almost blurted out his true desire but bit his tongue to hold it back.
“I’ll let you know when I remember.”
Since a chance like this might not come again, he decided to save it for a critical moment.
Seeing his serious expression, Anje waggled her finger in warning.
“Nothing too difficult or impossible. If your wish isn’t reasonable, I’ll refuse it.”
Watching Anje head into the kitchen ahead of him, Aiden wondered to himself, ‘If I asked her to like me, not just the farm, would that be too difficult or impossible?’
He wished he could be more confident and boldly express his feelings. But having never experienced such emotions before, it wasn’t easy for him.
‘I can’t tell where the line is between what’s acceptable and what’s burdensome.’
A heavy sigh escaped his lips. The more he treasured her, the more cautious he became with his words and actions. Hadn’t she just recently said his kindness felt unfamiliar?
Additionally, there was another reason he couldn’t openly express his wish. He couldn’t envision a future where she liked him in the same way he liked her.
Did he even deserve to be loved by someone after being isolated from society for so long and haunted by his past? He couldn’t find a positive answer to this question.
“Aiden, what are you doing out there? Are you going to leave me to prepare dinner alone?”
“I’m coming now.”
Anyway, she was now calling him “Aiden” and inviting him to join her. Considering how she was when they first met, this was a remarkable development.
‘There’s plenty of time. Don’t rush it, take it slow.’
Suppressing his feelings that threatened to bubble up like popcorn, he headed toward the kitchen filled with warm light and the scent of butter.
* * *
This place, adorned with a chandelier so lavish it could hurt the eyes of onlookers, a crimson carpet imported from foreign lands, and books that are more for show than for reading, is the study of the Duke of Glasster. The man, sitting at his desk with his legs crossed, held a glass filled with red wine.
In front of him, an art dealer could not hide his nervousness, rubbing his palms together.
“Your Grace, let me explain the next piece to you.”
There was no response, but this was a usual occurrence. The art dealer signaled to his assistant to bring over the painting covered with a cloth.
“This is an early work by the painter Ver, whose name Your Grace might have heard multiple times. As you can see, it displays the bold brushstrokes characteristic of a newcomer—”
The Duke of Glasster waved his hand in the air. Understanding his intent, the butler spoke on his behalf.
“That’s enough. Show us the next piece.”
“Ah, yes. Understood.”
To think that he’s showing so many artworks without saying a word—what a rude man.
Though annoyed by the Duke’s attitude, the art dealer maintained his professional smile.
‘Despite everything, it’s still the Duke of Glasster.’
After the fall from grace of former Crown Prince Philip, people had been gossiping about Duke Glasster, calling him a toothless tiger and other such things. If he had succeeded in marrying his daughter into the imperial family as he had planned, he would have used this as an excuse to meddle in various businesses and wield power, but since he had failed, it was a huge loss of face.
Other dukes who had been suppressed by Duke Glasster were slowly starting to flex their muscles, and the pro-Prince William nobles were especially walking around with their shoulders held high.
However, this was just talk among the nobility. For the merchant, the more important question was whether he could afford to buy these paintings
“Next.”
The butler, reading the Duke’s expression, coldly ordered. Apparently, this piece didn’t please him either. After a brief but deep contemplation, the art dealer decided to present his trump card.
“How about this piece?”
“Ooh.”
The butler expressed his admiration at the seascape filling the large canvas. The Duke of Glasster tilted his head at a very slight angle.
The painting depicted a setting sun over a beach, warmly enveloping the fine sandy shore and the people strolling along it, evoking a sense of nostalgia. The art dealer smiled broadly as he explained.
“This is a work by a painter who was active for a few years in the Rodmandy region before ceasing to paint. They were not recognized at the time, but their works have recently gained popularity.”
Though the details were unclear, they had probably passed away. Sudden deaths were common among impoverished, unknown painters.
Ironically, this kind of supply disruption only made the value of the paintings they created soar even higher.
Duke Glasster stroked his beard, which had been neatly trimmed by his barber that morning, and asked,
“The painter’s name?”
He had a taste for beautiful things, whether it was a perfectly manicured rose garden or large, dazzling jewels. And, of course, that included mistresses.
Having collected various artworks over the years, the Duke had a keen eye for them. It was rare for an artist of this caliber to remain obscure.
The art dealer hesitated
for a moment, but then decided to answer, knowing that he would find out anyway.
“…The painter’s name is Nancy Dilton.”
* * * *
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