Chapter 6.5

It was already the final rehearsal. 

Edgar stood beside Natalie, observing her performance. She played through the sheet music without making a single mistake until the last page. 

Unlike the days when she repeatedly faltered and stopped, she now played smoothly toward the end. The melody produced by Natalie’s fingertips was clumsy but tender, soft and lovely. Thus, Edgar wished it would continue. 

He felt both admiration for the little lady who had achieved her goal and regret for the nearing end of the performance. 

Perhaps she could afford to make a mistake once. It was a selfish thought a piano teacher should never have. Instead of guiding her diligent fingertips toward the correct notes, he wished they would stray to the wrong keys. 

As the performance neared its conclusion, Edgar rubbed his lips with his fingertips, as if he were growing anxious. 

Finally, the performance ended without a single mistake. Natalie lifted her hands after pressing the final key and looked up at Edgar with a bright smile.

“I didn’t make a single mistake.”

The pride in her accomplishment sparkled in her lively eyes. Edgar hid his selfish thoughts well and returned her smile.

“Impressive, Natalie. The guests at the recital will be astonished, wondering who the brilliant pianist is.”

Natalie blushed at Edgar’s compliment, her cheeks turning pink as her fingertips brushed the keys.

“I hope I can do well tomorrow without making mistakes. I’m worried I might mess up because of nerves.”

Natalie’s smile faded as she imagined the intimidating audience filling the drawing room. Edgar lightly pressed a nearby key with his fingertip, breaking her unsettling thoughts. As the clear sound resonated, Natalie turned her gaze to Edgar.

“That won’t happen. There’s no need to worry about things that haven’t occurred yet. If you feel like you might make a mistake…”

Edgar looked steadily into her large, expectant eyes, as if she was waiting for her teacher’s solution. Natalie kept her eyes fixed on Edgar, like a student focused solely on their teacher. Edgar smiled at her innocent gaze.

“Look at me, just like you’re doing now. Think of it as practice. Don’t look at anyone else.”

Edgar glanced out the window. The evening sun was slowly setting, as if reluctant to leave. For the diligent student, there was nothing more to teach, so the lesson ended early. 

He could have made excuses to prolong the practice, but… Edgar straightened his posture, which had been leaning against the piano.

“Take a rest for today. Tomorrow is an important day.”

The lesson ended as seamlessly as the performance heading toward its conclusion.

“Yes. Thank you for coming today.”

Natalie bowed politely. Edgar lifted Natalie’s hand from the piano keys and gently kissed the back of her hand. 

Natalie flinched slightly but didn’t pull her hand away. Leaving the kiss on her hand as a farewell, Edgar departed. 

It was only after he reached the street outside the estate that he turned back. His gaze drifted toward Natalie’s room window, as if he had left something behind. 

He stared at the tightly shut window for a moment before abandoning the meaningless gesture. Without looking back again, he continued walking.

Evening was always busier than daytime. Like a theater that lights up at night, the true stage of social life began as the sun set—whether it was a grand ball, a gentlemen’s club, or a salon gathering famous figures. 

However, Edgar found the lively evenings spent chatting among people unfamiliar after just a few days. He had grown accustomed to the quiet evenings filled only with piano melodies, to the serene room where Natalie waited. 

Like a stray cat that had lost its place to stay, Edgar wandered aimlessly until someone’s shout stopped him.

“Hey, isn’t that Mr. Wharton? Mr. Wharton!”

Across the street stood a group of gentlemen. Their coats and canes, all similar in style, marked them unmistakably as “gentlemen.” One of them approached Edgar. 

As the man drew closer, Edgar tried to recall his memory. He remembered the face that had spoken to him at the ball—the same ball where he had first met Natalie. 

Had the man asked if I was interested in supporting emerging artists? Or had he suggested joining the club of art enthusiasts? 

As Edgar pieced together his memory, he recognized a familiar face among the gentlemen. Leonard Salinger stood among them, displaying a casual expression while engaging in polite conversation.

Before Edgar could focus on Leonard, the smiling face of the approaching man interrupted his view.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you by chance. You don’t seem busy this evening, do you?”

Edgar responded with a habitual smile.

“My plans suddenly opened up.”

“In that case, why not spend some time with us? Everyone would be delighted if you joined us.”

The moment Edgar felt his gaze meet Leonard’s from across the group, he raised the corners of his lips.

“Alright.”

As Edgar agreed, the man’s face lit up with joy. Edgar followed him, moving toward the group.

***

The gentlemen’s space, adorned with mahogany chairs, deep red carpets, elegant furniture, and dim lighting, was always tranquil. Since the attendees valued moderation in both drinking and laughter, there was no risk of loud disturbances. 

Leonard leaned back against his chair, observing the excited gentlemen around him. Their voices grew louder, and their flushed cheeks suggested intoxication—not from alcohol but from the presence of an unfamiliar guest. 

Every comment seemed to include, “Mr. Wharton…” as one name dominated the conversation. The gentlemen’s gazes were fixed on the golden-haired man, whose presence stood out in the dim room.

They spoke of the plays at the Flavium Theater—how remarkable they were, the actors’ performances, the moving direction, and the profound value of the productions. Their exaggerated praise resembled bouquets of flowers offered to the theater’s beautiful owner. 

Whenever Edgar Wharton showed a gracious smile at their unfunny jokes, the gentlemen’s faces bloomed with laughter in return. The once orderly space was now filled with excited chatter and laughter. 

Leonard, however, remained detached from the commotion, quietly emptying his glass. The scene turned grown men into children, eager to befriend someone they admired. Edgar Wharton’s relaxed smile made the gentlemen act like restless boys. 

Edgar’s gaze shifted to Leonard. Under the faint light, his golden eyelashes flickered, giving his movements an air of leisure.

“Your glass is empty.”

At Edgar Wharton’s single remark, the gentlemen’s gazes all turned to Leonard. In the stillness, as if cold water had been poured over them, the ice in Leonard’s glass clinked softly as it melted. As Edgar had pointed out, the drink was empty, leaving only ice.

Edgar, redirecting the attention that had been on him toward Leonard, stood up from his seat.

“I can’t let my friend’s glass remain empty.”

Edgar’s steps carried him toward the table where the liquor bottle was placed. Meanwhile, Leonard uncomfortably endured the gazes directed at him.

My friend.

That single word ignited admiration in the gentlemen’s eyes. Leonard could see the envy in their gazes, filled with a man occupying a coveted position — “Edgar Wharton’s friend.” 

While such attention might have delighted a famous blond figure, Leonard did not welcome it. Avoiding the burden of the attention, he rose from his seat.

He stood beside Edgar in a spot where the light couldn’t reach. The stares following him burned against his back. Edgar, holding the liquor bottle, first filled Leonard’s glass.

“It’s good to see you after so long.”

Edgar spoke, his eyes softening into a gentle curve. There was an unfairness in seeing the smile, so coveted by those seated afar, directed at a silent audience. Leonard thought this as he gazed at Edgar.

“I thought something had happened since you were out of sight for a few days…”

Leonard brought the overflowing glass close to his lips.

“Glad to see you’re safe.”

Finishing his words, he took a sip. Edgar laughed. To Leonard, it felt like it had been a while since he last heard that cheerful laughter.

On the evening Edgar Wharton disappeared, people speculated about the reasons behind his absence. 

Was he ill? Troubled in spirit? Had the sun risen in the west?

“They say the Wharton family’s carriage has been coming and going from the Maron Barony every day.”

From that testimony, Leonard deduced the reason for Edgar’s disappearance.

Because of a new lover.

Lowering his glass, Leonard watched as Edgar filled his own glass. Edgar, his laughter still lingering, cast a glance at Leonard.

“It sounds like you missed me.”

The sweet words that flowed out were as tantalizing as his smile. The more dazzling a beautiful man, the more special those around him became. Whether as friends or lovers, they came to regard their position as a privilege.

Leonard, without replying, simply stared at Edgar, recalling one by one the women he had seen by Edgar’s side. Women who approached as if stepping into a trap, only to flee as if escaping.

Edgar accepted them as they approached and let them go as they departed. It was a life Leonard could not comprehend.

Why waste so much time meeting and parting with so many people when marriage wasn’t even the goal?

Was Edgar Wharton a hedonist or a philanthropist? 

Leonard was left wondering.

“Edgar Wharton doesn’t love anyone.”

Leonard recalled the reason for the breakup he had heard from one of Edgar’s former lovers.

“Think of actors on stage. They live for applause, not because they love the audience but because they love the clapping and cheering. And what about flowers?”

The captivating young lady complained, as if bored with the beautiful man she had once loved.

“Flowers can’t live without water, but they don’t love the rain. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

That enigmatic remark lingered in Leonard’s memory for a long time.

Whether people approached or left, Edgar Wharton remained the same. He still smiled beautifully, still spoke sweetly, and still made hearts ache.