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Chapter 15
Scarlett’s childhood home, though taken from her, was still beautiful. That was thanks to her uncle, who managed it while freely spending his older brother and sister-in-law’s money.
When Scarlett stepped into the attic—the only place her uncle’s management didn’t reach—Isaac smiled.
“Looks like it worked out.”
“How do you know?”
“Your footsteps tell me.”
At his words, Scarlett gave a shy laugh and sat on the bed. She said cheerfully,
“Mm, it worked out. See? I told you it was just a misunderstanding.”
“Seems so.”
Isaac, looking more excited than Scarlett had expected, tried to rise in a rush.
But he moved too quickly, his body swaying, so Scarlett hurried to support him.
He smiled with all his strength, his face so much like his younger sister’s.
“Thank goodness.”
“Isaac?”
“Sorry.”
His voice trembled with relief.
“I’m really sorry…”
“What’s wrong, all of a sudden?”
Startled, Scarlett sat him back on the bed and studied his face. Isaac, too, was always forcing a cheerful smile in front of her.
In the dim light of the late hour, Scarlett looked closer and gasped.
“What happened to your face? Did you fall?”
“Ah, yeah.”
Isaac gave a gentle smile.
“Went outside for a bit.”
“That was dangerous… You must’ve felt stifled since I couldn’t walk with you today, huh?”
“Scarlett.”
His voice suddenly turned serious, making her pause. He continued,
“I think… I need to find some way to make money now.”
“What? No way. It’s dangerous. And I told you—when your sight comes back, then…”
“I think we’ve been scammed.”
His gentle yet firm words left Scarlett speechless.
Carefully reaching out, Isaac stroked her hair.
“I’m sorry. But it looks like there isn’t really any medicine that can bring back sight.”
“…Don’t say that. You will see again.”
Isaac knew her voice was trembling, but there was no helping it.
He couldn’t let his sister keep sacrificing herself for him. He didn’t want that false hope to keep eating away at her. He just couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt anymore—whether in body or heart.
With his kind face, Isaac gave a bright smile.
“I think I could handle physical work. Mr. Bowler suggested I try being a ferryman on Lake Seventh Street. You know, pulling the raft along with ropes.”
Mr. Bowler was the caretaker Scarlett had hired for Isaac. The good-natured man had stayed with him even three years after Scarlett’s marriage. Though she was grateful, the thought of her brother working pained Scarlett deeply.
Isaac mimed pulling on ropes as he continued,
“That’s what I’ll do. He even said he’d train one of the retired service dogs to go with me. He’s a really good man.”
“Crimson family members are supposed to make watches.”
“You can carry on that tradition.”
Scarlett finally dropped her head and began to cry. So Isaac laughed even louder on purpose.
“Scarlett, I’m so happy you’re my sister. I wish there could be moments when I’m happy to be your brother too. Even just for a little while. That’s why.”
Scarlett wept for a long time, then finally hugged him tight. Only then did she nod. It was still hard for her to wake from the dream.
The next dawn, Scarlett woke early to return home—before her uncle’s family could see her.
Whenever she stayed over, Isaac always made her take the bed and slept on the floor himself. At first, she had refused firmly, but since he now seemed healthy enough, she let him have his way and went to bed.
Now, she poked him to confirm he was asleep, applied medicine to his eyes, and whispered,
“Sorry, but I can’t give up.”
She gently brushed back his hair, rose, tied her headscarf, and left. She took the tram bound for the watch shop.
Seventh Street was close to the Crimson estate. Scarlett had chosen it because she couldn’t bear to live too far from Isaac.
Her wristwatch had an alarm that rang with the sound of clear glass clinking at five in the morning. It went off just after she stepped inside the shop.
Scarlett rekindled the fire, set up the grill, and took out the moka pot. While the coffee brewed, she placed yesterday’s frozen bread on the grill until it was lightly charred. Opening the butter lid, she found it frozen solid.
“All frozen, all of it.”
Muttering in complaint, she dug out the stiff butter that flaked like shavings and spread it on the bread. Then she poured the finished coffee into a cup and began eating. Suddenly, tears fell onto the table, and she wiped her eyes with her palm.
“I can’t live like this.”
She murmured.
She couldn’t forget Isaac’s gentle voice saying they’d probably been scammed.
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear someone calling her until a thud hit the window, startling her. She opened it to find the newspaper delivery girl waving.
Scarlett leaned out and shouted,
“Sorry, Julie! I was spacing out!”
“It’s fine!”
The girl tossed the newspaper neatly through the window.
“Today’s issue is fun, Miss Scarlett!”
“Thanks! I’ll read it right away!”
Chatting loudly and breathing in the crisp winter air lightened her mood.
She began reading while finishing her meal. The front page featured two famous singers publicly declaring their relationship.
Scarlett read their words carefully, one by one.
Other people’s love was a beautiful thing. Even more so when it came true.
To her, love was precious yet extreme. To call it love, one had to be ready to die for it. That was why, during the time she loved Victor Dempelte, she had always been ready to die in his place.
Perhaps that was exactly why Victor had hated her love so much.
Maybe he had found it repulsive. She had kept giving him gifts he never wanted. Maybe he had seen her like the obsessive fans singers sometimes mentioned in interviews. Either way, when she thought about it, Victor seemed more and more like the victim.
Flipping through the pages, she noticed an article tucked in a corner: the priest Delfio, who had killed three followers, was finally sentenced to execution.
Scarlett shuddered to think what might have happened if her husband hadn’t been Victor, or if he hadn’t told her to come find him after a hundred days.
Shaking off her thoughts, she set the paper aside, brought over the teapot, and brewed tea. Her hands had grown too cold to work on small parts. Even after warming the room as much as possible, she still had to wrap her fingers around steaming cups to thaw them.
Then a voice called from outside.
“Scarlett!”
It was Liv, her neighbor.
With a sigh, Scarlett opened the window. Liv urged her,
“Come over right now! I’ve got cherry danishes, your favorite!”
“I have to work.”
“If it were me, I’d come over instead of wasting time being stubborn!”
Liv lifted the basket of danishes temptingly, and Scarlett had no choice but to nod.
On the first floor, Andrei, who usually didn’t bother her during working hours, saw her coming down and asked,
“Where are you going?”
“Liv keeps calling me.”
“I can hear her shouting from here too. She’s teasing you for not making watches during work hours.”
“Andrei, I’m the boss. You’re the employee. Why do you keep trying to make me work?”
Andrei deliberately sighed.
“If this shop goes under, I’ll be unemployed too. Employees do have the right to make their boss work, you know.”
“And I have the right to work when I feel like it.”
“The right of a worker to receive steady pay outweighs that, boss.”
Andrei’s rights won out. Paying her employee came before her own freedom.
With a slightly sulky face, Scarlett buttoned up her coat.
“…I won’t be long.”
“If you stay out too long, I’m coming to get you.”
Ignoring his nagging, Scarlett headed out.
