Falling To Paradise

Anje picked up a few of the motifs he had crocheted and examined them closely before giving her assessment.

 

“You’re better at this than I am. The stitch spacing is uniform, and there are no loose or too-tight sections.”

 

Originally, Meg had introduced this crochet pattern to Anje, saying it was the latest trend in the village. Intrigued by the pretty design, Anje had dug out some needles and thread that had been lying dormant in the attic and gave it a try. However, since she wasn’t naturally inclined to enjoy needlework, she quickly abandoned it.

 

Aiden, who had picked up the crochet materials that were left lying around on the table, recalled memories of watching his mother over her shoulder and remembered the lessons exchanged between Meg and Anje. After a few trials and errors, he finally produced a respectable result.

 

“I’ve always thought you were good with your hands. You cook well, tend the fields beautifully… and you can twist rope incredibly fast, too.”

 

She sighed, remembering the mountain of rope he had made yesterday. The straw left over from threshing wheat had been left to dry in a sunny spot for a long time. She had wondered how he would deal with that large pile of dried straw, but he took a handful of straw, wedged it between his feet, and rubbed it vigorously with his hands. Anje had been shocked to see the long rope extending from his hands. He wasn’t just rubbing it; he was twisting it into a rope.

 

Anje, who had sat down next to him and tried to follow his lead, found she couldn’t match his speed or produce a rope as strong. Frustrated by the fact that she was losing to him, she had taken off her gloves and tried again, but the result was the same.

 

Hearing her dejected tone as she mentioned the rope, Aiden tried to cheer her up.

 

“Well, I’ve been doing all sorts of work since I was a child. Ah, and my mother was an artist… so maybe it’s genetic.”

 

“Oh, right, she was good at drawing. Did she receive any formal art education?”

 

Anje asked, recalling Nancy Dilton’s notebook. The flowers depicted in delicate watercolor on what seemed like an ordinary notebook were incredibly detailed and lifelike. Initially, Anje had dismissed them, thinking they were just drawings by a rural housewife. But the more she looked, the more she believed the artist must have had some formal training.

 

She wasn’t skilled at drawing herself, but she had grown up surrounded by expensive artworks.

 

“Yes, my grandfather owned a large farm in the north. I heard that, thanks to him, she was able to go abroad to study art.”

 

Aiden’s grandfather, who had lost his wife early, doted on his only daughter who looked just like her mother. When she insisted on learning to paint, he couldn’t refuse. He even went so far as to support her studying in a city known for its art—a very rare opportunity for a commoner, especially a woman.

 

“He must have been a kind man.”

 

Anje thought of the portrait hanging in the hallway. The deep wrinkles etched between the eyebrows and the stern mouth hinted at the hardships he must have endured, raising his daughter alone and taking care of his illegitimate grandson. But even within that strictness, there was a certain kindness that could be felt.

 

Perhaps that was why Anje felt a subtle sense of familiarity every time she looked at the portrait, as Aiden resembled him in some ways.

 

“Indeed. And your mother… what kind of person was she?”

 

Aiden also wanted to know about her family. The stories he had heard about Duke Glasster from the Emperor weren’t particularly positive, so he instead asked about the late duchess.

 

Anje’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

 

“Actually, this might sound strange, but I don’t really… know. She passed away from postpartum fever right after giving birth to me.”

 

She had always been in poor health, and after getting pregnant immediately upon marriage, she was bedridden. Naturally, she couldn’t participate much in social circles and didn’t make any new close friends in Albian. After her funeral, even the connections with her foreign relatives were severed.

 

Since her father, the Duke of Glaster, almost always had a mistress by his side, it was embarrassing to ask about her mother in his presence.

 

So the only traces of her mother that Anje could piece together were a few pieces of clothing and jewelry, a large portrait hanging on the wall, and the occasional stories the servants let slip.

 

“I only know that she was a very beautiful and elegant woman from Francia.”

 

And perhaps, that she missed her homeland dearly.

 

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have asked the chef to prepare dishes from her home country. She wouldn’t have asked for her only child to be named in her native language. And she wouldn’t have worn such a lonely-looking smile in her wedding portrait.

 

“You must miss her very much…”

 

“Ah, I don’t even remember her. She passed away so long ago. How could I miss someone like that?”

 

Anje waved her hand dismissively as if telling him not to be silly, but Aiden thought differently.

 

“Even if you don’t remember, the thought of ‘What kind of person were my parents? I wish I could meet them’ comes naturally, doesn’t it?”

 

Just as he had longed for the father whose name and face he didn’t even know from a very young age.

 

‘Why do I only have a mother and no father? Did my father abandon my mother? What kind of person is he, and what does he do?’

 

He had experienced his grandfather and mother’s expressions harden whenever he mentioned his father, so he never asked.

 

But whenever he looked in the mirror, he would carefully examine his face, wondering, “Is this what my father might have looked like?”

 

That deep-rooted curiosity eventually led him to take the cherished seal, kept securely in a safe, and head to the capital after his grandfather’s sudden passing.

 

It was a suspicious gold medal that somehow looked luxurious. Beneath the several roses embossed on the surface, there were words written in an ancient language that he couldn’t read.

 

Young Aiden, still just a boy, simply wanted to understand what it meant. He harbored a faint but pure hope that it might provide a clue to finding his father.

 

‘That caused quite a commotion.’

 

He had almost been dragged to prison for the ‘crime of possessing imperial property,’ but an official, who made an arbitrary judgment based on the color of his hair and eyes, sent him to the imperial palace instead.

 

There, he met a man who resembled him but was visibly unwell. A man who reached out with trembling hands, eyes brimming with tears—the former emperor.

 

A sickly man who, after feeling his face, embraced him with a grip that suggested he would never let go.

 

He never imagined that his simple and modest wish to meet his father would twist his life into such a complicated mess.

 

“…Yes, I suppose if the chance arises, I’d like to meet her.”

 

Anje’s voice, filled with longing, cut through his reverie.

 

Perhaps that day would come, after a long time, when they have both left this world.

 

Aiden wondered if he had brought up an unnecessary topic, so he shifted to something lighter.

 

“How is your running going these days?”

 

Anje, lost in her thoughts, nearly knocked over her chair as she stood up.

 

“H-How do you know about that?”

 

“Ah… I heard you going out early every morning.”

 

Had he made a mistake by mentioning it? Aiden, who had spoken casually, felt a bit embarrassed.

 

Anje’s face flushed for a moment before she sat back down. Though she was startled that he had noticed her slipping out quietly, she hadn’t done anything wrong.

 

The only reason she hadn’t mentioned it to him was that, like Aiden crocheting to resolve his inner conflicts, she, too, needed to move her body to calm her mind.

 

“…You have good ears.”

 

“Thanks to that, I was often assigned night watch duty in the military.”

 

Though his hearing was especially sensitive when it came to matters concerning her, he brushed it off and leaned toward her.

 

“Are your knees or ankles hurting at all?”

 

As always, he was full of concern. Anje scoffed.

 

“I’m not running that much to get hurt. I just run until I’m out of breath, then walk… something like that.”

 

It was only about thirty minutes or so, just circling around the house.

 

Still, she found some benefit in it.

 

“When I get up early and run, I feel refreshed.”

 

It was a different kind of refreshment than sweating through small daily tasks.

 

It reminded her of the times when she ran into the woods to avoid Aiden or when she held the reins of a horse and increased its speed.

 

Her heart raced, sweat poured, and she became acutely aware of her breathing—inhale, exhale.

 

She focused on movements of her body and the contours of the terrain she had never been conscious of before, feeling as though she was getting closer to a world she hadn’t known.

 

Running like that allowed her to forget her worries and concerns for a moment. She could run away from her negative thoughts and stuffy feelings to somewhere far away.

“Running is good for building stamina. If you keep it up, you’ll be able to run longer and longer.”

 

Not knowing why she had started running, Aiden was simply pleased that she had taken up something healthy for her body. To avoid showing a bitter smile, Anje pressed her lips together.

 

‘It’s all because of you that I started running in distress.’

 

* * * *

 

If you want to support the Translator, Translator’s Ko-Fi: