When Anais recognized him and smiled brightly, the butler, startled, asked:
“Miss, do you know this gentleman?”
“Yes, he’s my guest.”
The butler had no idea that the man he had blocked was the same “Number 76” from the recent auction, the one they had been watching in awe.
Anais hurried down the remaining steps and instructed the butler to prepare tea.
“My goodness! So, you really are the owner of the salon!”
“I’m glad you came. This way, please.”
Anais led the way. Though there was a reception room not far from the lobby, she purposely climbed the stairs to show her first-time guest the newly renovated salon. It would be a lie to say she didn’t want to show off her efforts.
Her excitement grew even more due to the man’s reactions. He effortlessly noticed the details Anais had been especially proud of and showered her with praise. Yes, compliments made Anais dance with joy.
Her excitement reached its peak as they entered the third-floor hallway. This corridor was lined with recently acquired paintings, and Anais anticipated an even stronger reaction from the man.
“…”
However, for some reason, the man, who had been praising her work non-stop, suddenly fell silent. He couldn’t take his eyes off the paintings adorning the walls.
Anais was slightly taken aback by his abrupt shift in demeanor but assumed he was just as captivated by the paintings as she was.
“These paintings are…”
“Aren’t they amazing? They’re by an artist I support.”
“…I see.”
“I first encountered Arthur Giverny’s work last year.”
Anais went on, recounting how she had been captivated by one of Arthur Giverny’s paintings while selecting artwork for her salon, how she had eagerly awaited his subsequent works, and how, this year, she finally had the chance to acquire more of his paintings.
“When I heard from Mr. Poussin that Arthur Giverny had put down his brush, I was shocked.”
“Many painters fade away like that.”
“So, I asked a favor. Since Mr. Poussin travels across the continent, I told him if he ever met Arthur Giverny, he should pass on a message: please don’t ever give up painting.”
“…”
“And this is his latest work. I wonder… could my wish have reached him?”
She hadn’t expected a response. It was more of a soliloquy, spoken out of the deep emotion she felt over Giverny’s eventual return to painting.
But unexpectedly, there was a reply.
“It did reach him.”
“Sorry?”
The man finally turned his gaze from the painting and looked directly at Anais.
“Your wish, it reached him.”
“What do you mean…?”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. I am Arthur Giverny.”
“…!”
Anais’s eyes widened in surprise, blinking rapidly.
“You’re telling me you are Arthur Giverny?”
He wanted to become a great painter, one who could surpass even his grandfather.
But the world does not grant everyone the gift of excelling at what they love. Most people, at some point, must come to terms with the fact that their passions and their talents do not always align. Arthur had to pay for this realization with countless tears.
He had to accept that the realm of talent was one he could not reach. Cruelly so.
That’s what he believed. After all, the only person willing to buy his so-called mediocre works had been Poussin Green, a wandering art dealer. Arthur simply could not continue to defy his family’s disapproval any longer.
The news that one of his paintings had sold came long after he had already given up painting.
When Poussin returned from wandering the continent for half a year, Arthur didn’t believe what he heard.
“Your painting sold.”
“I’m telling you, congratulations.”
“…”
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
The painting had been sold in Barbier. Poussin recounted how a young noblewoman couldn’t tear her eyes away from the painting as soon as she saw it. Arthur chewed over that story again and again, even writing down her words of praise without omitting a single detail.
But to him, it had only been a fleeting incident, a moment of luck. Having already resolved to inherit the family business, Arthur decided to leave it as nothing more than a pleasant memory. That was enough for him.
Another six months passed.
Arthur deliberately distanced himself from his art supplies, choosing a path he detested rather than face the work he had abandoned. He had no desire to confront the reality of his failure until Poussin brought unexpected news after yet another journey.
“Her eyes were filled with tears as she asked me to tell you, if I ever met you, never to give up on your art.”
Knowing Poussin’s tendency to exaggerate, Arthur dismissed the part about the tears as a clear embellishment.
But the message from the unknown woman shook him to his core.
“She was waiting, Arthur Giverny. Waiting for your paintings.”
That alone was enough reason for him to pick up the brush again.
“From that day, all I could think about was you.”
As he began to paint again, preparing each piece to be sent to Barbier through Poussin, Arthur’s curiosity about Anais grew with every stroke of the brush.
When he found himself boarding a passenger ship bound for Barbier, he harbored a faint hope of possibly seeing her.
And once again, when he learned that she had not forgotten and sought out his paintings, Arthur made up his mind. He had to meet Anais Brienne.
He knew her name, and he had heard from Poussin about the salon she ran. But their chance encounter at Topi Park had been pure coincidence. Arthur often replayed that moment in his mind, wondering if his surprise upon hearing her name had been too obvious.
How could fate have brought them together like that?
If one could declare someone as their destiny, it would undoubtedly be her.
When he saw his paintings displayed in her salon, he felt a shiver run through him. It was overwhelming to see his work confidently showcased by someone else. The sight was both strange and deeply moving.
The amount of light, the arrangement, the angles, the context of the paintings—everything had been meticulously planned. This space, and her presence in it, had to be his destiny.
***
Anais offered Arthur some tea. Although she had felt a sense of familiarity with him from the start, knowing that he was the very artist she had supported made the connection feel even stronger.
“What an unexpected connection. I never thought I’d meet Giverny like this.”
“I was surprised too. I never imagined that the person who gave me the strength to keep going was you.”
Anais felt a bit self-conscious, recalling how she’d chattered away in front of the man who had actually painted the works. She scratched her cheek awkwardly, feeling her face warm with embarrassment.
“How long will you be staying in Barbier?”
“I’ve grown fond of this place… I’m thinking of staying a while.”
“There are so many beautiful places in Barbier. If you capture them in your paintings, I’m sure they’ll turn into wonderful masterpieces.”
“Could I ask for some recommendations on places to visit?”
“Of course! Anytime,” Anais said with a bright smile, and Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle in response. Then, suddenly, Anais remembered something from the auction—the moment when he won the bid for Dawn of Teatree by G. Miller.
“I saw you at the auction. You won the bid for Dawn of Teatree, didn’t you?”
“Ah, yes,” Arthur replied after taking a sip of tea.
“It was my first time bidding through a proxy, but I was lucky.”
“Your first time? You seemed like a pro!”
“Haha. Did I? I’m glad it looked that way.”
“The buyer must be thrilled. They’ll get to see that stunning painting every day.”
Arthur gazed at Anais for a moment. Resting his chin on his hand, he seemed lost in thought, occasionally letting a small smile play on his lips.
“Lady Brienne.”
“…Yes?”
“You mentioned you were planning to set up an art studio at the Anderson Brienne Salon, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Is there anything I could do to help?”
