Mess 154

154.

‘But is this really something to get that upset about?’

It was one thing to worry about Seraphie’s anger, but Orkis couldn’t help questioning whether these two living together was truly a matter that warranted such a reaction.

‘It’s not even our business.’

The fact that the man who had conned Seraphie and behaved so rudely was now being supported by her wasn’t pleasant, even for Orkis.

But even so, if the two of them had ended up together, that was their own affair.

‘…Worry?’

He had a vague idea of why Seraphie was reacting so sensitively.

Perhaps seeing that woman almost subjected to violence by her lover, and then choosing to stay with him, was too stark a mirror of Seraphie’s own past.

“…”

Once he reached that thought, he realized just as naturally that he, too, had no right to say anything.

The taste in his mouth grew bitter, and his stomach, uneasy.

“You two, seriously!”

At that moment, Seraphie raised her voice.

“I went through all that trouble to break you apart, and yet you’re back together the moment my back is turned! Is marriage some kind of child’s game for you? What do you think my heart is, to be tossed around like that? If you’re going to get back together and play house, the least you could’ve done was pay me a courtesy call!”

“…”

Was all this outrage out of concern after all?

Orkis almost wanted to laugh at his myopic seriousness a moment ago.

The truth was, Seraphie was simply annoyed that the pair who’d caused her such distress were now living happily together.

But knowing she wasn’t still tormented by the past, Orkis felt relieved.

“My lady.”

It was only after Seraphie’s storm had subsided that Aydal spoke.

“It’s been a long time. I apologize I haven’t been in touch.”

“Yeah, well.”

Seraphie replied, her face less than friendly.

“Let’s get to the point.”

“I’m still painting, and my wife is five months pregnant.”

“You two should just drop de—!”

Seraphie barely stopped herself in time, pressing her lips together before she could blurt out something she’d regret—no matter how annoyed, she couldn’t say that to a pregnant woman.

“Hoo…”

She breathed out, reining in her irritation.

“…Glad to see you’re doing well.”

That, at least, was honest.

Aydal seemed like a completely different person now. The malice and venom were gone; a peaceful air surrounded him.

The same was true of the woman at his side.

“By the way, your name was…?”

“Triss. Please call me Tris.”

At last, after a year, Seraphie learned the name of the would-be con artist.

“How long have you two been living together?”

“We moved in together a month after you began sponsoring me. We registered our marriage two months ago.”

“That couldn’t have been an easy decision.”

Seraphie looked at Tris as she spoke.

It was a remark for her sake. After all, Aydal had once raised a hand in violence against her. For Seraphie, living with someone like that was utterly unthinkable.

Hadn’t she fought tooth and nail to drive out her own father?

‘Is that really possible?’

Can people truly change?

Seraphie was genuinely curious.

“…It wasn’t an easy choice,”

Tris seemed to sense Seraphie’s question and answered on her own.

“…”

Seraphie’s gaze dropped involuntarily. She couldn’t help but notice how gently Tris’s arms cradled her belly.

“It’s not because I got pregnant.”

Tris spoke, her voice trembling.

“A-after what happened…”

Tris, having been dismissed from the gallery, had prepared to leave the capital. She simply couldn’t face life here after what she’d done; the shame was too great.

But the night before her departure, Aydal came to her.

“He apologized for everything. He asked for just one more chance.”

“…”

But why, Seraphie wondered, did you agree?

Tris’s confession was sincere, but it didn’t resolve Seraphie’s doubts.

‘If my own father had shown up saying that, I’d have planted a shovel straight in his face.’

A true pushover, that one.

Seraphie was clicking her tongue in pity when—

“…That day,”

Aydal spoke hesitantly.

“The day you took me on as your sponsor, I had a lot of time to think. I realized just how arrogant and foolish I’d been.”

Even though he was being given a chance at last, Aydal hadn’t felt joy.

Instead, he’d been crushed by guilt, his once brazen pride now stabbing painfully at his conscience.

But truly, it was only that day he faced the pain he’d pretended not to feel.

Amid the rising tide of regret, a single face hovered in his mind.

His lover’s face, stricken with despair, moved him at last to action.

“I begged for her forgiveness and asked for just one more chance. Honestly, I thought it would be over even if she refused.”

“I was doubtful too,” Tris admitted, “but seeing how hard he tried, I accepted. But I warned him—if you ever hit me again, it’s truly over!”

The couple, for all their history, were now altogether affectionate. Their eyes met and smiled, and their hands sought each other unconsciously, fingers entwined.

“…”

The very person who’d brought them together, however, wore a face like she’d bitten into something sour.

‘Am I being petty?’

Why did she feel so out of sorts?

Surely, this called for happiness. Both had atoned for their sins and were now living contentedly, as they supported each other.

Yet, Seraphie couldn’t bring herself to truly celebrate them.

‘No, my feelings are justified.’

She was no saint. These two people had left her with nothing but bad memories. Of course she couldn’t be pleased by their situation.

She glanced at Orkis. Noticing her gaze, Orkis paused to think and then offered her a brief, reassuring smile.

The meaning was clear.

‘It’s not strange.’

What you feel is only natural.

“…Aydal.”

Suppressing her irritation, Seraphie asked,

“Since then, you’ve never lost your temper and struck out, right?”

“Not once.”

“And you, Tris? Ever tried to deceive with your own petty schemes?”

“Never.”

“Good.”

Seraphie clapped her hands once.

“That’s all I care about.”

She decided then and there to lose interest in the wretched couple’s future.

“Aydal, your sponsorship term is almost over.”

At last, she raised the main subject, even if belatedly.

“We agreed: if your paintings weren’t sold through the gallery within a year, the sponsorship would end. Well, the year is just about up.”

“…”

Aydal swallowed and nodded, tense.

“But your works have only ever sold through auction, correct?”

“Yes.”

It turned out the gallery had been completely unaware that Aydal’s pieces were being auctioned.

While they’d identified the mysterious up-and-comer as the Painter of Darkness, only when the painting appeared in the square did they realize he was Aydal.

“You were the one who put your painting in the square, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re the one who told the gallery about it.”

“That’s right.”

“Why go through all that trouble?”

Seraphie leaned further back in her chair.

“You could stand on your own now…”

Aydal no longer needed Seraphie’s support. He was accomplished enough to draw the eye of the Duke of Felikia, and might even win even better sponsorship in the future.

So why create such a fuss in the square and announce himself to the world?

And why never sell his works outright through the gallery?

“…Do you want to keep my patronage?”

“…”

Aydal’s face flushed a deep red at her directness.

‘Who is this?’

Seraphie, caught off guard, was just as flustered.

Gone was the arrogant wretch who thought himself the world’s center, and in his place stood a shy, soft-spoken man.

“…”

And Orkis, for his part, looked openly displeased with Aydal.

“To be honest, yes.”

Aydal confessed directly.

“I don’t want anyone else’s sponsorship. I want to keep painting for you, my lady.”

“Why?”

“Because you made me into a person. You saved both me and my wife, gave us a chance at new lives. You’re our benefactor.”

Aydal’s gratitude was sincere—every word was honest, and his eyes shone with unwavering trust in Seraphie.

“…”

But Seraphie, hearing it, could only stare in baffled disbelief.

“I used to ignore my own shortcomings and blame the world for my failures. But it was all my narrowness and my mistake.”

Seraphie hadn’t planned to sponsor him, even without Tris’s intervention.

And yet, in the end, she had. She’d trusted his talent and given him a chance.

“I’ve never been more ashamed of myself.”

From that day forward, Aydal’s painting began to change.

At first, he couldn’t bring himself to pick up a brush. He was simply too ashamed to create.

He wandered the squares in search of understanding, read books he’d formerly ignored.

And at last, he began to see.

He saw the hidden side of life, previously invisible to him.

“And I painted what I saw.”

Naturally, his style changed too.

Completely different from before—unsettling, bizarre—yet Aydal was content. It reflected exactly what was inside him.

Still, he didn’t dare reveal it publicly under his own name.

He feared tarnishing the name of Seraphie, the benefactor who had only just begun to win recognition. To bring shame upon her would be unforgivable.

“So I relied on Tris for help.”

“From working at the gallery, I knew how to get works into the auctions.”

They hadn’t expected much—not at first. Even if the answer was rejection, they’d have accepted it with resignation.

But his paintings received more acclaim than expected, sold at high prices, and soon even earned a following among noble collectors.

“You don’t have to keep paying me.”

Aydal finally understood the way forward.

“What I want—what I humbly ask—is the right to reveal myself as an artist chosen by you, my lady. Please, allow me this.”

He pleaded sincerely.

“…”

Arms folded, Seraphie studied Aydal and Tris with a long, searching gaze.

“…If you truly wish for it.”

She gave a little shrug.

“I can’t see the harm.”

Orkis’s shoulders trembled slightly. He nearly laughed out loud at the sight of Seraphie’s lip twitching upward as she answered offhandedly.

“But first, one question.”

Turning to the bemused couple, Seraphie asked,

“How much did you make?”