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Chapter 12
She spent the night in a dreadful mood.
The next morning, Scarlett went to the building next door, where she bought bread every day, to get some for Isaac.
As soon as she appeared, Liv, the baker’s daughter, ran out.
“Scarlett Crimson!”
Startled by her loud call, Scarlett’s eyes widened.
“The whole neighborhood will hear you.”
“What was that yesterday? Why were the navy here?”
“How do you know about that?”
“The navy’s carriage was parked in front of your clock shop. Everyone coming to the bakery this morning has been asking about it!”
Scarlett glanced over the loaves inside the glass display and said,
“It was nothing.”
“Nothing? Don’t tell me a thief broke into your shop?”
“No, not that… Give me a lot of apple cake and some of the bread with figs. You know my brother likes that.”
Scarlett tried to change the subject, but Liv pulled out three fig breads, placed them on a wooden board, and sliced them evenly as she pressed her again.
“So was it a thief or not?”
“…Ex-husband.”
“What? Ex-husband!”
At Liv’s shout, every customer in the bakery turned to look at them.
Scarlett’s face flushed red, and she smacked Liv’s arm.
“Keep your voice down!”
“How can I stay calm in this situation? Everyone’s been dying to ask about the captain but held themselves back.”
Liv, clearly seizing the opportunity, was about to bombard her with questions, but Scarlett waved to the shop owners standing farther away.
“Boss, Liv won’t give me my bread.”
“Oh dear, I can’t live with her. Sorry, Miss Scarlett!”
Liv’s mother came over, packed the fig bread into a paper bag, slipped in some cream to spread on it, and before handing it over, asked quietly,
“So… your ex-husband came by?”
“Boss!”
“Oh, no! It’s just—I overheard….”
Scarlett sighed deeply, took the bread, and said,
“Next time, next time.”
But Liv shouted,
“What do you mean next time! Tell me right after you come back from the Crimsons!”
Pressed by her friend, Scarlett reluctantly agreed and left the shop. The merchants of 7th Street were all close-knit, and they were desperate to pry into Scarlett’s personal life.
Putting the cake box into her bicycle basket and placing the paper bag on top, she muttered,
“If only the bread didn’t taste so good.”
Then she climbed onto her bicycle and pedaled toward the Crimson house.
Isaac, sitting on the bed in the attic, fumbled for the papers the Dempelt family’s steward had left that morning.
When the door opened, he smiled.
“Scarlett.”
Scarlett laughed out loud at Isaac’s delighted face, since he could recognize every set of footsteps. She walked over brightly and asked,
“What’s that document?”
“I don’t really know. The steward said it was for you.”
Isaac handed it to her. Scarlett’s expression darkened as she checked it.
It was from Gregory Dempelt. Since Victor had learned of Scarlett’s ordeal in the monastery and her brush with death from fever, he claimed she had broken her vow of secrecy and demanded the return of the money she had received as compensation.
Scarlett’s face turned grave, but Isaac, unaware, only listened to the faint rustling of the papers.
He asked,
“What does it say?”
“Oh, just that I should sign to confirm I received the divorce settlement properly. I can’t exactly pretend I didn’t take it, right?”
“I see.”
Isaac nodded in acceptance.
Scarlett shoved the papers into her bag and pulled out the cake and bread.
“Let’s just eat this.”
“Okay.”
Isaac nodded and began to rise.
As he made his way toward the wooden table, Scarlett teased,
“You know, it’ll be a while before we can get our own place. So stop growing already.”
“Hm?”
He tilted his head, and she looked up at the ceiling.
“If you grow any taller, your head will hit the ceiling.”
“Really?”
“Crimson men are tall, but you’re especially tall.”
Isaac raised his hand and touched the ceiling, startled when it reached. Scarlett’s eyes widened.
“Isaac, don’t tell me you didn’t know you’d grown this much?”
“…I had no idea.”
“No way.”
“Since everyone’s always looked after me, I just felt small inside, I guess….”
Muttering as if to himself, he then put his arm around Scarlett’s shoulders. He touched his own shoulders with that same hand and fell silent, unable to speak.
Since it was always Scarlett who reached out first, she pulled on his forearm and said,
“Come on, sit. The fig—”
Before she could finish, the door suddenly burst open, and Arnold came in.
Barging in without permission, he shouted at Scarlett,
“So you said the shop was everything to you! And yet you hid the money you got from the divorce?”
He must have learned about it after the Dempelt people stirred things up.
Scarlett rushed over.
“Let’s talk outside—”
But Arnold suddenly seized her slender neck and slammed her against the wall.
“You don’t even know how to be grateful after being raised. This is the punishment for such a wicked heart.”
“S-sorry.”
As always, she didn’t even let out a groan, worried Isaac would be startled. She even softened her voice to sound almost playful, as though this was nothing unusual. It was the only way to ease Arnold’s temper and keep Isaac calm.
But Isaac tapped his cane on the floor and came forward, swinging his hand in the air until he caught Arnold’s arm.
“Arnold, what are you talking about?”
“She broke some promise, so the Dempelts are demanding the money back. And it’s a fortune! She lied, said she had nothing but the shop, and tricked you and me! Fine, I’ll let that go—but Isaac, you didn’t know either, right? How could she lie to her own brother like that?”
Arnold threatened Scarlett again, but Isaac pulled his arm away from her.
His grip was strong. Arnold realized with a dazed look that Isaac could overpower him with ease.
“I-Isaac, you….”
Isaac dragged him out of the room and, smiling, said,
“I’ll ask her myself.”
For the first time, Arnold realized that the supposedly meek Isaac, trapped in the attic, had nothing else to do but train his body.
Flustered, Arnold softened his tone.
“Isaac, don’t be fooled by this fox. You know we’re on your side.”
Isaac lifted his head and gave a slow smile.
“Of course. I’m on your side too.”
With that, he closed the door, leaned back against it, and asked Scarlett,
“How much did the medicine for my eyes cost?”
“Just a little.”
“How much is a little?”
“What does it matter? Let’s just eat the bread and cake.”
Isaac had often thought it would be better for Scarlett if he simply disappeared. Yet at the same time, he wondered if even his hollow presence was better than nothing for his poor sister.
On days like today, though, he wished the wind would just sweep him away. Even though he had been held hostage and forced into a life of servitude, she had always acted as if every act of violence left no scars at all—just to ease his heart a little.
If I didn’t exist, none of this would’ve happened.
Isaac thought his selfish desire to live had brought everything to this point.
He gripped Scarlett’s arm tightly as she tried to cut the cake. Her thin forearm fit easily into his hand. He had lived without realizing how big he had become—or how fragile she was.
He felt like a cuckoo bird, an intruder. He was so disgusted with himself, he could hardly bear it.
Scarlett looked at his twisted expression, and instead, brightened her voice.
“It wasn’t worth mentioning, but you’re worrying too much. It was just a misunderstanding. Don’t worry.”
She neatly sliced the cake, set it on plates, and even handed him the milk she had brought along.
“I’ll sort it out quickly, so don’t worry.”
Scarlett spoke in a voice full of confidence, trying to reassure Isaac.
