Chapter 23 – Absinthe

Robert entered the kitchen of Hawthorn Mansion and brewed two cups of coffee. One was for Sasha, who was sitting in the drawing room. He also poured orange juice, which he’d bought from the café that morning, into a glass. Not knowing what the girl, now grown into a young woman, would want, he prepared both.

‘She might need sugar.’

Looking at the two steaming cups, he suddenly thought of sugar and opened the cabinet to get some.

“……”

An unexpected item was there. The mysterious emerald liquor, called the green fairy or the green devil. A half-empty bottle of absinthe.

* * *

Sasha asked if she could mix orange juice and coffee. It was a questionable experiment, but Robert didn’t stop her.

“How long has it been since you used the mansion’s atelier?”

When Robert returned to Manolie, the atelier was covered in dust. It was clear it hadn’t been used for a while. There were no new works in progress, only a few unfinished canvases left on the easel.

“Since last spring. Lately, I even wonder if Baron Pierre-Auguste might have the wrong idea about my skills. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be failing every competition.”

Sasha took a sip from her cup, where the orange juice and coffee layered above and below, and confessed gloomily. Last winter, Damien’s cousin returned to Manolie to have her baby. Her husband, a fairly renowned painter from Laurent, came with her and told Sasha her paintings were amateurish, suggesting she paint as a hobby after marriage.

“Maybe he’s right—I might not have any talent. If I had talent, I’d have been recognized at least once. Maybe it’s best to keep painting as just a hobby.”

After finishing, Sasha seemed troubled that she might be badmouthing the Barbeau family, so she added,

“But Damien comforted me, saying he liked my paintings better than his.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“He liked the painting but couldn’t tell if it was the sky or the sea. It’s not his fault. He’s just not that interested. Damien was probably just worried about my feelings.”

Her thin eyebrows drooped. Robert watched quietly and then spoke.

“So you turned to absinthe?”

Sasha drew a sharp breath. She felt as if time had stopped for a moment. But time hadn’t actually paused, and the man sitting with his arms crossed was waiting for an answer.

“Did you see it in the cabinet?”

She had thought Hawthorn Mansion was the only place she could hide things without anyone finding out. Robert hadn’t returned for years. But the man she thought she’d never see again suddenly came back and easily discovered the secret Sasha had hidden deep in the cabinet. She felt both resentful and vaguely happy about it. Sasha was swept up in these mixed feelings.

“Yes. Explain yourself.”

Robert acted like an interrogator, high-handed and stern. Sasha felt his attitude was unfair.

“Mr. Robert, I’m an adult. I don’t see why I should be scolded by you just for drinking.”

Robert smiled slyly at her rebuttal.

“I think you’re mistaken. I didn’t ask. I ordered.”

Sasha frowned immediately. The fine wrinkles on her nose showed her confusion.

“What gives you the right?”

“As the caretaker of this mansion, where you hid the absinthe.”

Robert, with a piercing look, warned Sasha again like a cold judge.

“I only allowed you the atelier, not the whole mansion for your use.”

He set down his coffee cup with a clatter on the saucer. Sasha, watching his reaction, apologized weakly.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He was right. She shouldn’t have hidden such things in someone else’s house. It was rude, and Sasha was embarrassed she hadn’t apologized first. But Robert wasn’t satisfied with just hearing those words.

“It would be better if you stopped.”

“You’re not really in a position to say that when you were uninterested enough not to visit for four years. I thought you would never come again.”

Robert sighed lightly. Whenever she said things like this, he looked troubled. Sasha knew what it meant. She was used to Mr. Robert pushing her away.

“I don’t come here to see you.”

“Oh, I know. You just come down for vacation, right?”

Sasha replied brightly, as if it didn’t bother her. A strange silence soon settled between them. Ever since meeting at the beach, if she let her guard down even a little, this happened. Time seemed to flow slowly, the air growing heavy.

“In Laurent, I’ve seen many painters addicted to absinthe. I don’t know what drew you to it, but it’s not something I’d recommend.”

“If there are people who get addicted, are there people who quit?”

In Sasha Vinoche’s transparent green eyes, Robert saw a fear he didn’t know.

“You’re not addicted. You don’t need to know about that.”

“But I’m curious. It can’t hurt to know ahead of time.”

How to quit addiction. Robert only knew one way—putting them in a psychiatric hospital. In recent years, excessive alcohol dependence was recognized as a pathological symptom, and people could hospitalize addicted family and friends.

Recently in Laurent, incidents caused by addicts had increased, and the rate of petty crimes became serious. The Queen ordered severe addicts to be forcibly committed for public safety.

Brissen’s psychiatric hospitals were still more like research facilities than treatment centers. Maybe there were some humane institutions, but Robert knew almost none. Wealthy patrons wanted patients kept in the hospital so they’d never return to society, and hospitals saw that as their mission.

Should he tell Sasha Vinoche about all that? Regardless of right or wrong, he did not want to. His decision did not take long.

“Either remove the cause of alcohol dependence, or find a stronger stimulus to replace it.”

“What is that?”

Robert stared at her without answering. Sasha lowered her head. Under the table, her gaze fell on their feet. Looking at her white sandals between his black shoes, she murmured,

“I’ll quit.”

Sasha looked out the window and stood up suddenly.

“I should leave soon if I want to get home before dinner. Sorry for disturbing your rest for so long.”

“Do as you like.”

Robert opened the door for her before she could. Before stepping out, Sasha turned back and smiled playfully.

“You can have what’s left in the cabinet. I’m quitting now.”

Before he could reply that he didn’t need it, Sasha was already running off into the distance. Robert, dumbfounded, stood crookedly, hand on his waist. A laugh escaped between his covered lips. He returned to the drawing room to tidy up the table. Condensation formed on the glass with orange remnants inside. Robert’s gaze lingered briefly on the rim, where her lips had touched. But he did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

‘Just like now.’

Robert casually collected the cups and set them in the kitchen. Then he took the absinthe bottle from the cabinet and headed for the garden.

Under the shade of a tree, he opened the cork. The green liquor shimmered with a sweet yet bitter aroma. Robert had never tasted absinthe. His mother believed any liquor not wine was no different from industrial alcohol, and due to Adelaide’s influence, Robert had never been interested in such drinks.

Sasha Vinoche and alcohol.

A situation he’d never imagined stirred something in him. For the first time, Robert was intrigued by the transparent green. Some desires only grew stronger if forcibly suppressed. So, letting things flow for a while wasn’t so bad. It was natural. As long as it didn’t turn into action, there was no problem.

Without hesitation, Robert poured the remaining liquor onto the lawn. Sweet anise scent and faint wormwood aroma drifted up.

“Terrible.”

Standing on the absinthe-soaked ground, he lit a cigar. The mixed scent of alcohol and tobacco was harsh. Immersed in smoke, his head felt heavy. Flicking the ash, Robert finished his thoughts. There was no need to complicate things. Even if unexpected desires arose, nothing would happen. As long as, in this feverish summer, he didn’t cross the line with that girl.