“Hey, you there.”
“……”
“Hey, pretty lady! And husband!”
Among the couple, Aiden was the first to react to the words “pretty lady,” breaking out of his momentary thoughts.
“Anje, I think he’s calling us.”
“Huh? Us?”
Anje belatedly turned her gaze toward the Francian painter who had approached them, speaking in clumsy Imperial language. The man, whose sleeves were smeared with paint, was waving his hands enthusiastically, calling them over.
“I’ll give you a good deal since the lady is pretty. One plus one.”
With his gestures, it became clear—he was offering to paint both of them for the price of one as a promotional tactic.
“What do you think?”
“I’m not sure.”
“The painter is crazy. Big discount, hurry, hurry.”
Whether he genuinely liked them as models or simply had too few customers, he was quite persistent.
After a brief moment of thought, Anje took Aiden’s arm and led him toward the street artist.
“Since we’re already here, why not ask him to paint us? We don’t have a portrait together yet.”
Anje had a portrait from the ducal estate, and Aiden had a childhood painting drawn by his mother, but that was all.
Normally, couples would commission a commemorative portrait for their wedding, but instead, they had experienced the latest innovation called “photography.”
The idea that simply standing still could make their image appear on paper was truly a fascinating technology.
“Shall we? Well then, let’s give it a try.”
The chair in front of the easel was a bit too small for them to sit together. After taking a seat first, Aiden, without a hint of embarrassment, pulled Anje onto his lap.
Startled, Anje smacked his shoulder. What was he thinking, doing this in public?
“Aiden!”
“We’re in a foreign country, so what does it matter? Besides, Francia is known for being passionate.”
True to his words, affectionate couples were commonly seen sticking close to each other on the streets.
Anje, who had been about to get up, stopped and simply glared at him.
“Still, you should’ve given me a warning, you fool.”
What was ‘fool’ in Francian again?
“Turn your face this way and smile. Good.”
Turning her head toward the man calling them, Anje tried hard to recall the Franchian words she had learned so long ago that she could barely remember them.
“Since we’re abroad, I should tease him in a foreign way.”
Thanks to that, waiting for the painting to be completed wasn’t all that boring.
The artist, having finished the painting, whistled and declared,
“Finished! A true masterpiece. Tips welcome!”
“Wow, it really is a masterpiece.”
Seeing the painting the artist flipped around, Anje widened her eyes in admiration.
She had wondered how he could be so confident, but the simple layering of colors over the sketch produced quite an impressive result.
Aiden, too, smiled with satisfaction.
“It really does look like us.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
While photos captured their likenesses realistically, the lack of color had always felt like a slight drawback.
As Aiden carefully examined how well the painting captured her strawberry-blond hair, he even considered commissioning a formal portrait.
“Here, this includes a tip. And… merci.”
The artist checked the banknotes Anje handed him, then gave them a thumbs-up before unleashing a rapid stream of Francian words.
Judging by the few words she could understand, it seemed to be a mix of gratitude and a blessing for the two of them.
“Go straight up that alley to the red brick house. Very delicious.”
As a bonus, he even recommended a good local restaurant. The couple nodded in acknowledgment, carefully taking their completed portrait before leaving.
Impatient as ever, Aiden barely walked a few steps before voicing his sudden thought.
“Anje, while we’re at it—”
“You want to commission a portrait?”
She had understood just by looking into his eyes. Aiden nodded eagerly, smiling in satisfaction. Anje returned a soft smile and agreed.
“Alright. Once our trip is over and we return, let’s visit the art dealer.”
The dealer they had met while selling Nancy’s painting would surely introduce them to a great artist.
But Aiden, not fully grasping her intention, asked,
“Why not commission one while we’re still here?”
There were many talented painters in the Albion Empire, but as the heart of the art world, Francia had even more exceptional ones.
Of course, commissioning a portrait while traveling would require at least a full day—perhaps even several—to pose as models.
Anje absentmindedly toyed with the brim of her hat before revealing her true thoughts.
“If we’re going to have one made, I want our home to be in the painting too.”
She envisioned them posing beneath the blooming peach trees, in front of a warmly lit fireplace in their kitchen, or on their peaceful back veranda.
She wanted to leave behind a memory for future generations, a reminder of how happy the Fitzroy couple had been in that place.
Aiden nodded enthusiastically but responded with a slightly misplaced remark.
“Ah, of course. We should include Pa-Pi-Pu in the painting too. I almost forgot!”
Anje threw her head back and burst into laughter. She hadn’t even mentioned the “P” sound of Pa-Pi-Pu, yet he had preemptively said something she would have likely said herself. It was so amusing how he had started doing that at some point.
“You’re unexpectedly thoughtful today.”
“Well, I can read you just by looking into your eyes now.”
As they strolled along, browsing the displayed artworks, they joked about finding a painting of a person with a pig for reference.
Unfortunately, the closest they found was a painting of someone eating roast pork.
TL/N: LOL.
* * *
As the sky darkened, Anje and Aiden walked toward the restaurant introduced by the street artist earlier. It seemed to be quite popular, as it was already nearly full despite the early hour.
While waiting for the waiter to guide them to a table, Anje read the menu posted on the restaurant’s exterior wall.
“This is the first restaurant in Francia to develop an omelet.”
They had come without any prior information, yet it just so happened to be one of Anje’s favorite dishes. Aiden, pleased, praised the chef.
“He must be a chef who truly understands taste.”
“Exactly. And they have apple cider as a specialty item.”
“Shall we have a drink together?”
“Sounds good. Oh, but here, they don’t call it ‘cider’; it’s ‘cidre.’ We should be careful with our pronunciation when ordering.”
“Cird?”
“Cidre. It’s ‘cidre.’”
“Cid…”
Anje pointed at her lips with her index finger, guiding him to watch closely and imitate her pronunciation. Aiden stared intently at her fingertip, trying to pronounce it, but his scattered focus led him to keep failing.
She scolded him like a strict teacher disciplining a careless student.
“I told you to listen carefully to the pronunciation.”
“I am looking at your lips. How am I supposed to hear anything?”
“What did you just say? You little— Ah, I remember! T’es bête!”
Proudly, Anje shouted the phrase she had just recalled—”You’re a fool!”—repeating “bête, bête, bête” several times.
“Hmmm…”
After contemplating a way to get back at her, Aiden smirked leisurely. A deep dimple formed slowly on one of his cheeks.
Then, he leaned closer to his beloved wife’s shoulder and whispered something in a voice only she could hear.
“—”
TL/N; REALLY AUTHOR??!
His warm breath tickled her ear, and the words he uttered in Francia’s language were enough to make her blush instantly. Her face burned red up to her earlobes, and she jumped in place.
“W-Where on earth did you learn such things?!”
“I bought a book last time in the capital.”
It was a book he had secretly purchased while Anje had been too absorbed in a travel guide. It explained the latest popular Francia phrases with imperial language explanations, making it easy for a beginner like him to memorize.
He had, in particular, focused on the ‘courtship’ section.
Anje, still feeling the lingering sensation of his whisper against her ear, grumbled while rubbing at the spot.
“Tsk. I feel like I lost somehow.”
She had meant to tease him lightly but ended up getting caught off guard by his sudden counterattack.
“There’s no such thing as winning or losing between a married couple.”
“There is. Right here.”
Anje’s lips jutted out a foot then soon curved into a round arc. There were plenty of ways for her to make him flustered too, weren’t there?
Rising onto her tiptoes, she boldly wrapped her arms around Aiden’s neck.
“My beloved dar—”
“Ahem.”
A sudden, unfamiliar clearing of the throat behind Aiden made Anje yelp and hastily step away from him.
Peeking his head out from the entrance, the goatee-wearing waiter, who had promised to clear a table and guide them right away, was waiting. With an awkward smile, he had the look of someone who had been standing there for quite a while.
“P-Pardon.”
Flustered, Anje quickly linked arms with Aiden and followed the waiter into the restaurant.
Her face burned with embarrassment at the realization that she had been about to act so childishly in front of others.
Aiden, equally embarrassed, was also deeply curious about what Anje had been about to say.
“What were you going to say, Anje?”
“Shh, I’ll tell you later.”
“I’m so curious that I don’t think I’ll be able to swallow my omelet properly— Oh. Excuse me.”
An elderly woman in a wheelchair, accompanied by a middle-aged woman who seemed to be her caregiver, was coming out. Aiden held the door open for them to pass.
“Merci.”
The woman expressed her gratitude as she pushed the elderly man’s wheelchair forward.
When Aiden gestured to ask if they needed any assistance, she shook her head with a polite smile.
Just then, the old woman, who had appeared weak and lifeless, shifted her gaze toward Aiden. Perhaps it was the lighting from the restaurant’s entrance, but her once-dull eyes suddenly seemed to regain a glimmer of vitality.
* * * *
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