TSHL 20

Chapter 20

“Seven years ago, you looked so unshakable that I couldn’t stop you… or even help you.”
When Michael said that, I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at him. His expression was firm, resolute.

“But now… it’s different. This time, I’ll help you no matter what. I’m not leaving your side again.”
“……”
“So if you ever need me, just say so. Sometimes… forgetting is one way to heal.”

A quiet silence fell between us. I didn’t know how long it lasted before I smiled faintly and set my teacup down on the table.

“Thank you, Michael.”
“……”
“But I’m all right. I don’t need to erase my memories.”

Because I really was all right. In truth, I liked remembering Diana from time to time.
Meeting people connected to her, thinking back on her now and then—
It was like flipping through an old diary stored deep inside my memory.

It didn’t hurt anymore. I wasn’t trying to forget her; I just wanted to keep remembering.
I wanted to recall her as often as possible so that she wouldn’t fade from people’s minds.

“Michael, it’s already been seven years. It’s true that even for me, Diana’s become a fading memory.”
“……”
“Everything’s changed. I’ve changed too. Like you said—she’s gone, but the world keeps turning, almost cruelly so.”

He listened quietly as I continued, smiling softly.

“I just want to keep remembering her in my own way. Visiting the places we went together, flipping through photo albums so I don’t forget—revisiting those moments again and again. That’s the best I can do for her now.”
“……”
“So, no—I don’t want to erase my memories. I really don’t. It doesn’t hurt anymore just because she’s not here.”

That was what I told him. That he didn’t have to worry.
That everything I was doing was for Diana’s sake—that I was only trying to remember her.

Maybe, deep down, it was also a kind of defense I was giving myself. Though I didn’t realize it then.

Silence stretched again. Then, suddenly, his voice broke it—quiet, unexpected.

“How about we go on a date tomorrow?”

The words came out of nowhere, catching me completely off guard. I slowly turned to him.
Michael was smiling softly, though his expression held something I couldn’t quite read—maybe even a trace of sadness.

“If tomorrow doesn’t work, then the day after. Or the day after that. Whenever you want.”
“……”
“If you don’t want to forget, I won’t push you anymore. I never meant to pressure you.”
“……”
“But as I said—I’ll be here for you, always.”

He reached out his hand toward me.

“So from now on, let’s do everything together. We can talk about Diana if you want, or go out if you need a distraction. Whatever you want, let’s do it together.”

I looked at his hand. It was pale, gentle—so much like hers. I stared blankly at him.

“I’ll be by your side, Kasia.”
“……”

My chest swelled unexpectedly, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak.
After a while, I slowly reached out and took his hand—the one extended so tenderly toward me.

“…All right.”

A small answer slipped from my lips as I smiled softly. My heart felt full; I bit my lip before adding quietly:

“…Let’s do it tomorrow. And the day after, too. The dates.”
“Sure.”
“And the day after that.”
“Sounds good.”

We both burst into laughter. Our quiet laughter echoed softly through the room. Then Michael said,

“…Anything’s fine. Let’s do everything.”

He held my hand warmly.

“If we keep searching for new things that make your heart feel alive, one day you’ll realize you’re happy. I’ll help you find that happiness.”

We smiled at each other. The hand I held that day was so warm—
Just like the day, seven years ago, when he’d wept for me.
And like Diana’s hand from some distant memory, the one she had once reached out to me.

Michael stayed at the gallery for a few more minutes after that, chatting with me.
I showed him the painting I’d been working on, and he spent several minutes quietly admiring it, genuinely impressed.

We talked about all sorts of things, and before long, it was time for him to leave. As he stood up, he said,

“I’d like to stay longer, but I should get going.”

I rose to my feet as well.

“I had a good time today. I’ll come again tomorrow.”
“I enjoyed today too.”

Since the gallery would still be open tomorrow, we agreed to spend some time together again.
The thought of seeing him again made my heart beat a little faster—
Like colors were blooming in my heart, just as Arwin had once said about paintings.

As he headed for the door, he suddenly turned back.

“Oh, and Kasia.”
“Yes?”

I tilted my head curiously. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“I think you should be careful around that man from earlier.”
“Who?”
“The one named Arwin.”
“Oh.”

I smiled lightly.

“Why, because he’s the Third Prince?”
“…You knew?”

His eyes widened in surprise.
Michael, as the head of his noble house, had been to the Imperial Palace many times—of course he’d recognize Arwin’s face immediately.

I imagined how startled he must have been earlier and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You two really looked like strangers back there.”
“I know. It’s a long story how things ended up like that.”

I continued,

“At first, I thought he was just a regular customer. But then I found out he was the Third Prince.”
“…I see.”

Michael let out a short, disbelieving laugh—half amazed, half exasperated.

“…Does he know who you are?”
“Probably not. I doubt he recognizes my face, and I’ve never told him.”

Maybe one day I’d have to tell him—but not yet.
Because once our true identities came out, the friendship we had now might break.

I wanted to delay that moment for as long as possible.
And since I was also pretending not to know his identity, maybe he’d understand when he found out someday.

“To him, I’m just a close friend. A barista who makes his coffee every day.”

For some reason, just thinking about Arwin made a gentle smile spread across my face.
Maybe because, unlike how a prince should be, he was open and genuine—pure in a way that felt… familiar.

“Michael, if it’s not too much to ask… could you pretend you didn’t see him here?”
I looked at him earnestly.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it seems he doesn’t want to go back to the palace. I’d like to help him stay here a little longer.”

He fell silent for a moment. Then, finally, he nodded.

“…All right.”

He met my gaze and nodded again, smiling faintly.

“If it’s what you want, then of course.”

Meanwhile, Arwin was walking slowly down the street, his cloak drawn up over his head.
He had left the shop, but instead of going home, he found himself wandering the nearby streets over and over.

“…Ha.”

He stopped and let out a deep sigh.
Why had he done that earlier?

When he first saw the painting—the first one she’d ever colored—something inside him stirred, an emotion he couldn’t name.
He knew he had no right to ask, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from wondering who it was that had shaken her heart so deeply.

So he’d asked. Of course, she hadn’t told him.

But the moment Count Allison had walked into the shop, he’d understood.
Ah. It’s you.
You’re the one who left a mark on her heart.

And the worst part? He knew him. Michael Allison—the Count’s eldest son.
Michael would know him, too.

It was a deeply unsettling feeling—something he’d never experienced before.

Before their debutante balls, royal children were kept strictly hidden from the world, except for a few close noble families.
Families like the Allisons, or the House of Whydrian.
When Arwin was young, he’d known them by face.

Back then, seeing Michael’s face hadn’t meant anything to him. But today, somehow, it bothered him.
It was the same face—but for some reason, it felt unbearable.

And really, his appearance in that small countryside gallery was absurd in itself.
What kind of relationship did they have, that would bring a man like that all the way out here?
How could a common woman even meet a noble of his rank?
Did she… have some secret of her own?

But more than anything, the colors in her painting—the ones that seemed to blend with his image—stirred something indescribable inside him.
Like an unwelcome guest had suddenly appeared in a space he’d begun to treasure.

And the way her eyes lit up when she looked at him—eyes that Arwin had never seen her use before—
It sent a strange sense of despair through him.

So he’d left the shop, confused and restless.
But even now, he couldn’t bring himself to go home—
Because all he could think about was what might be happening inside that shop, where the two of them were still alone.