TSHL 25

Chapter 25

Late at night, Nick sat alone inside the gallery.
The darkened space was filled with nothing but cold air. In the quiet dawn of Lorentia, not a single passerby could be seen. The silence was so complete it felt as though something could leap out from anywhere and devour him whole, and it wouldn’t seem strange at all.

Nick sat on the cold floor with his knees drawn up, staring at the wall.
His eyes were fixed on the paintings hanging there—
paintings said to have been drawn by his mother.

Moonlight slanted through the shop window, illuminating the canvases like a soft lamp.
…They were beautiful paintings.

That was what Nick thought.
Just as that stranger had said, the paintings that adorned the shop radiated a mysterious air.
He wasn’t someone who understood art, but even he could tell that much.

The technique still showed traces of inexperience, yet the emotion imbued in them rivaled that of any famous painter.
Thinking back, he realized he had unconsciously focused on his mother’s paintings from the very first moment he stepped into the gallery.

“……”
Had he done something wrong? Nick wondered.
He had only wanted to find his mother—to regain the woman he loved as his own.
He had wanted to accept her not as a “stepmother,” but as “Mother,” just as she had wished.
He never imagined she would be the one to let go of his hand first.

“Why should your stepmother spend her whole life serving a family she’s not even blood-related to?”
That’s what the stranger had said.
But to Nick, that was not something that could be so easily spoken of.

No matter how little blood they shared, Kasia was his mother now.
Seven years was not a short time—especially not for Nick.

Seven years ago, he had been a child.
Now, he was an adult. The span of years in which a boy could become a man.
And throughout that time, Kasia had been his mother.

It had been far too long a time to dismiss her as merely a stranger.
He could never let go of her so easily. Even now, he only wanted to treat her well—to live together as family, even if it was belated.

He wanted to put the desolation of the duke’s cold mansion behind them and start anew.
Would that be wrong? Too selfish of him? A misguided wish?

“Do you think you’re a son to her too? You’re not even the child she bore herself.”
“See? You don’t even know what your mother is good at, or what she likes. And you think you’re qualified to call yourself her son?”

The words stung. They pierced him straight through and stirred countless thoughts within him.
They left behind questions that refused to fade.

He thought he had sorted out his feelings over time—that he was ready to act.
But doubt was rising again in his chest.

Couldn’t they still be family, even without shared blood?
Couldn’t they still be mother and son?
If they didn’t know each other well before—couldn’t they begin now?
Or was it already too late? Was this relationship beyond repair?
Was he standing in the way of her future?

“It’s a natural-born talent. Her skill is far too great to be wasted hanging in a rural backwater gallery like this.”

“……”
Nick gazed up at the paintings.
They were so beautiful—it made him unbearably sad.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying in bed.

Ever since Nick had started staying in Lorentia, I had been letting him use part of my house.
Because he was the son of a noble family, I worried he might not sleep well otherwise.
So I’d given him my bed and taken the sofa instead.

Last night had been the same—
yet now, somehow, I was the one in bed.

When I went outside, I saw Nick sleeping soundly on the sofa.
…What on earth?

I tilted my head.
Had I, perhaps unconsciously, thought the sofa uncomfortable and moved him in my sleep?
Had I picked him up, laid him there, and crawled into bed myself?

I considered the possibility seriously but soon shook my head.
There was no way—I neither had the strength nor the build to lift Nick.
And I was not the type to be bothered by sleeping on a sofa for a few nights.

That could only mean… Nick had moved me.

“Nick, did you move me?”
I gently shook his shoulder. He didn’t stir, fast asleep.

“Nick, it’s time to go to work. Are you not getting up?”

It was already morning—if we were to go together, he should have been awake by now.
But still, there was no response.

After a few more tries, I looked at the boy sleeping as still as the dead and couldn’t help but smile.
…Had he finally tired himself out, after trying so hard these past few days to persuade me?

Completely relaxed, Nick was sleeping deeply, his body limp.
I felt a warm affection rise within me.

Nick’s features resembled Duke Hydrian’s, but his brown hair was Diana’s.
That brown hair reminded me of her—
I brushed it softly, gazing fondly at the lovely child.

Nick was such a beautiful boy.
Some might call him stubborn and reckless, but strangely, I had never disliked him.

“Sleep well, Nick.”

I rose to my feet.
It seemed I would have to go to work alone today.

At the gallery, I tied on my apron neatly and pulled the strings tight.
A morning without Nick felt unusually quiet and lonely.

Leaving the glass doors and windows wide open, I swept the floors while listening to the sparrows singing outside.
After checking the paintings and cleaning the frames, I prepared to open the shop.
Then I brewed a cup of coffee and sat on the terrace where the view was best.

Bathed in full morning sunlight, I took a sip of the perfectly brewed coffee.
“Ah, that’s right. I need to contact Michael.”

When should I reach out?
I’d said I’d contact him as soon as things settled, but since Nick had stayed much longer than expected, I hadn’t been able to.
Perhaps Michael was waiting for my letter.

Feeling guilty, I decided I should at least send a short message explaining the situation—
an apology for the delay, along with a polite account of what had happened.
Michael would surely understand.

Thinking of him, I couldn’t help but smile. Ah, I missed him already.
I was smiling to myself, lost in thought, when suddenly—

a shadow fell over me.
Tall and heavy. Ominous.

And somehow, I knew instantly that this was the shadow of my fate.

I looked up at the figure casting it, my smile slowly fading.
Standing before me, casting that shadow—

“You disappeared without a word… and here you were all along.”

“……!”

It was Duke Hydrian.

From the moment Nick had appeared, I had suspected this might happen.
That someday, Duke Hydrian would come looking for me.

But as the days passed and he never did,
I’d assumed he had peacefully signed the divorce papers.
Perhaps I had let my guard down.

Now we sat across from each other inside the shop.
Even now, it felt unreal that he was here.

He didn’t belong in a place like this.
He was a man suited to grandeur and brilliance.
This shop—and I—did not suit him.
Or rather, I had never belonged in his world.

He appeared calm.
His eyes roamed the gallery, as if taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

“So this is where you’ve been living?”

“It may look shabby, but it’s a comfortable enough home.”

“…It feels like a place that suits you,” he said.

“The coffee’s good too.”

Out of courtesy, he had taken a polite sip of the cup I’d offered him.
Then he set it down.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but it’s business hours, and I don’t have much time for long conversations.
So let’s skip the pleasantries and get to the point.”

“……”

“What brings you here, Your Grace?”

I truly was curious. Why had the Duke’s people started showing up again?
First Nick, and now him.
Before I left, neither had seemed the least bit troubled by my departure.

The only moments that lingered in memory were Nick’s bright smile at the coming-of-age banquet,
and the Duke’s brief words—You’ve worked hard all this time.
They had felt like mere formalities.

“Your Grace… are you here, like Nick, to persuade me to return to the Duke’s estate?”

“Nick,” he repeated quietly. “Come to think of it, where is that boy? Has he settled his heart?”

“So you’d already found my shop,” I said. “You just chose not to come.”

At that, the Duke looked at me for a long moment before replying:

“There are only two things in my life I’ve ever failed to find—the Third Prince, and the truth behind my wife’s death.”

“Nick doesn’t know,” I said quietly. “About Diana’s diary. He mentioned the contract, but not that.”

“I meant to tell him. But after you left, he was too agitated.
It wasn’t something light enough to speak of carelessly.”

“……”

“I let him leave the house on purpose,” he continued. “To give him time—to find you, and settle his heart.
Of course, that depended on you not refusing him.”

Then, with a low voice, he added:

“And you didn’t refuse.”

I looked at him for a moment—then sighed.