Chapter 30

The first thing Aneta did upon her return to the capital was to redecorate Elena’s room.

She refused any help and personally filled the space, except for moving the furniture.

The servants, instead of expressing their concern about their master’s eccentricity, chose to remain silent.

Everyone understood that this was something meaningful to her.

Isabel was the only one allowed to enter the room containing Elena’s belongings.

Watching Aneta, who couldn’t let go of someone already gone, Isabel couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

She couldn’t articulate her sympathy to her mistress because she had witnessed the long process of Aneta developing an attachment to her mother.

“It’s finally done.”

The last touch was a mirror filled with childhood memories.

Aneta took a step back, withdrawing her hand that had been tracing the delicate carvings.

The mirror no longer reflected the child laughing as she received her mother’s touch, nor the woman who had indulged that child’s whims.

It only reflected Aneta, who had grown from a child into a woman.

The emptiness that crept up from her toes made the empty space even more apparent.

“Shall I bring the portrait?”

“Please do.”

She feared it might get damaged. The portrait, saved until the very last moment, was hung on the wall opposite the mirror.

The mirror naturally reflected a different scene than before.
Aneta gazed endlessly at the reflection, longing for the moment when she and Elena could be captured together.

The cruelty of their inability to be together was palpable.

Though it was planned from the start, it couldn’t soothe the ache in her heart.

“It’s a good thing the layout is almost identical to the one in the estate.”

Aneta, barely managing to avert her gaze, slowly looked around the room. The palpable absence painfully pricked her heart.

“If only we had Mother’s paintings… it would have been better.”

She had recreated the space where her mother stayed exactly, but the spots for her and her paintings were empty.

She was saddened and upset by this realization.

The only consolation was that she had her mother’s necklace back.

Aneta reached for the necklace, which she hadn’t removed from her body since her return.

As she brought her hand to her neck, she felt the jeweled pendant. It was the same as the one in the portrait.

Aneta looked at the necklace over and over again. It made her longing for Elena even stronger.

Aneta felt the emptiness welling up from deep within her heart. There was only one way to fill that gaping void, even if momentarily.

“Isabel, prepare the carriage. I’m going to the gallery.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

After sending Isabel off, Aneta spent a long time standing in that spot.

As she disappeared, closing the door behind her, the room was filled with a strange silence, as if it had been waiting.

Momentarily, the space where she had stood twisted eerily. The burst of light that exploded from the gap shot straight towards the portrait.

In the place where the dazzling light, as if erasing everything, disappeared, only the same silence as before lingered alone.

***

“Aneta.”

Serce was the only person in the gallery who could call her by her full name, but today, it seemed, there was one more.

As Aneta entered and took her seat, she noticed Carlos rising from his chair.

“You finally came. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Finally? How long have you been here?”

“About three hours.”

“How did you know I would come here today?”

Since it was an impulsive decision, there was no time for words to escape. Aneta asked with a puzzled expression, and Carlos answered casually as if stating a well-known fact.

“This is your sanctuary, after all. I thought it was about time you came, so I rented the place for the day.”

“The whole place?”

“The whole place.”

Aneta was speechless as she watched him do something she had never experienced before. She couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t come.

“Though circumstances made it difficult for me to come until now, I’ve always wanted to visit this place.”

“Why?”

“So I could have more chances to talk to you.”

Again. Once more, his unwavering affection was showered upon her. Aneta found herself increasingly unable to adapt to his ever-bolder expressions.
The only difference was that she no longer felt the same resistance as before.

Had she slowly started to immerse herself in his relentless affection? Smiling weakly, Aneta placed her hand on top of Carlos’s outstretched one.

“Did you just sit here idly for three hours?”

“No. I made good use of the time. I looked around at the paintings here and even bought one.”

“Then, were you planning to wait in front?”

“Of course, I had to come in with you. That’s why I was waiting.”

He shook his head firmly, holding her hand tightly.

“Even though you’ve already seen it?”

“When I’m with you, I can’t focus on anything else, so I must look around beforehand. That way, I can concentrate on you instead of the paintings.”

Adding that she shouldn’t worry, Carlos led Aneta further inside.

“I’ve been waiting for you, My Lady.”

“It’s been a long time, Madam Lefevra.”

Walking down the familiar hallway with Carlos leading the way, Aneta exchanged a brief greeting with Madam Lefevra, who was waiting with a worried expression on her face.

Lefevra didn’t bother to mention Derek, and as always, she followed quietly behind.

Aside from Carlos’s presence beside her, nothing was out of the ordinary.

He didn’t disturb Ana and merely matched his steps with hers, seemingly present yet absent.

Aneta repeatedly slowed her pace and stopped, taking in each painting – landscapes, portraits, and even abstract works she couldn’t comprehend. As she looked at each one, mentally cataloging the names of the patrons, one painting caught her eye.

Nothing else stuck in her mind, including the artist’s name. Aneta didn’t even realize that everything in her mind was being wiped clean.

“Aneta?”

Aneta’s face went white as she hurried to her feet, not hearing Carlos’s call as if she were possessed by something as if she had found something she shouldn’t have seen.

The painting before her bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother,’s so much so that it was almost identical.

As Aneta let out a thin gasp, Carlos quickly approached and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He felt uneasy without doing so.

His heart pounded as she looked like she might collapse at any moment.

Feeling his unease spreading throughout her body, Ana finally snapped back to reality.

“Lefevra”

Grabbing Carlos’ arms wrapped around her, Ana called out to Lefevra, who was just as surprised as Carlos but dutifully responded to the call.

“Yes, My Lady. What is it?”

Suddenly addressed, the startled Lefevra, sensing something amiss, dutifully responded.

“Who painted that picture?”

“Ah, that… it’s by an artist named ‘Ellen.’ Though the artist is male, the painting strangely caught my eye, so I brought it in. Is there a problem?”

“Ellen…”

The name of someone unknown escaped Ana’s mouth like a sigh.

Ellen. The moment she heard the name, her heart fluttered with dizziness. Ana clenched and unclenched her stiff hands repeatedly as if her blood wasn’t flowing properly.

A painter with a name similar to Elena’s nickname, with a similar style.

‘Could this be a coincidence?’

As the sudden question darkened her mind, Aneta instinctively shook her head. Something within her was stirring, trying to distort the truth.

This must be a coincidence. Even setting aside the gender difference, which has precedents, Elena is already dead.

Aneta repeatedly reminded herself of Elena’s death, which she had witnessed with her own eyes.

Then, whatever was stirring inside her, as if reminding her of something, subsided.

Aneta could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

‘Yes, it’s just a coincidence.’

As she expelled a breath with an improved complexion, Carlos, who had been firmly supporting her back, asked.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

A gasp escaped Aneta’s lips as she nodded in affirmation. Realizing belatedly that she had been holding his arm, she withdrew her hand and apologized.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Carlos gently continued to massage her back, holding her hand with a reassuring grip despite its smallness compared to his own.

“It must have hurt.”

Carlos expressed concern, taking on the responsibility of saying what she needed to say.

“Can you tell me why you suddenly looked like that?”

“…I was just surprised because the painting’s style resembled my mother’s quite a bit. Don’t worry about it.”

Carlos wore a somewhat doubtful expression but refrained from pressing further. The only thing evident in his sharp gaze was a lingering sense of disappointment.

“I’ll buy that painting. But, Lefevra, I have a favor to ask. Can you help me with something?”

“Anything, just say the word. I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

Eager to repay the favor she had received, Lefevra waited for Aneta to speak with a serious face.

“First, I want you to find out the whereabouts of the artist who painted that picture.”

Although Aneta would send someone to the guild as soon as she returned, it seemed prudent to also ask Lefevra, who had a wide network of contacts.

“All right, I’ll let you know in a letter as soon as I get the information.”

“Thank you.”

“Not at all, My Lady. Compared to what you’ve done for us, this is but a drop in the bucket.”

Silently listening to the conversation, Carlos had been debating, as he always had, whether he should offer to help with whatever she intended to do. But in the end, those words never left his mouth.

Somehow, it just didn’t feel right to offer his assistance.

Aneta and Carlos left the gallery, each carrying different emotions. Aneta, unable to focus on the remaining paintings, wore a vacant expression even after boarding the carriage.

The very first thing to be destroyed in the blaze after Elena’s eyes closed was her paintings.

Aneta blinked her numb eyes, recalling memories of the past.

Dozens of paintings were engulfed in flames. The laughter of women echoed cheerfully. Amidst the chaos, her father’s voice echoed, jubilantly exclaiming that it was finally time to clear away the useless things.

She remembered watching helplessly as the paintings lost their color, hidden away while tears flowed incessantly, painting her twisted face with agony.

The fear of being discovered by them. She couldn’t turn away, even as she covered her mouth with both hands and cried silently as if witnessing Elena’s dying moments.

The helplessness and self-loathing from back then resurfaced, choking her.

Aneta trembled with anguish, closing her eyes. The laughter of those people still echoed vividly in her ears.