Romeo and Rosaline - ✿ dusk blossoms ✿

Grandmother, do you know that there is a house at the end of the cliff beyond the mountain slope?

It’s a place I discovered by chance while walking through the forest following my father. The cabin is not as grand as a noble’s mansion, but it is spacious and cozy. The neatly built structure caught my attention, and I couldn’t resist going inside. I thought it was an empty house since it was so quiet and not long after the war had ended.

When I walked in the front door, there was a large living room, and on the left side, there was a framed picture of the ocean that was taller than I was, but when I looked closer, I realized it was moving.

Upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn’t a painting, but a window. It was a view of the sea outside the window.

It’s a sea that I see every day, but when viewed from a high place, its endless beauty captivated my gaze.

But here’s the problem.

As I stood there, staring out the window at the ocean crashing in the sun, like I was looking at my first love at the age of seven, I suddenly felt inspired. I took out the notebook I always carried with my bow. It’s my notebook for writing poetry.

Of course, Father hopes that I’ll become a hunter, but except for Father, everyone knows that I can’t even pull the bowstring properly, right? I have no talent. So please spare me the lectures about not being good at poetry either. My dream is to become a painter. Although I have no talent for painting either, there is a resemblance between poetry and painting.

Well, a man can dream, right?

Anyway, I took out the tightly wrapped charcoal and poured out my stolen heart to the sea. When I couldn’t think of appropriate adjectives, I drew them randomly. I made sure to sign every corner in preparation for them to be sold at a high price in the future, so I’ll give you a few sheets, Grandmother.

Unfortunately, I can’t give you many. Someone hit me on the head and disrupted my artistic activities!

When I turned around, there was a remarkably handsome but seemingly ill-tempered big man. It’s just like what my younger brother, who is bald, says every day, “Handsome men have bad tempers.” Unlike my younger brother, he was truly sculpted in appearance, but his gaze was so fierce that I almost wet myself.

“You’re carrying something that’s not allowed.”

Wow, even though I didn’t make a sound, the way he spoke was incredibly intimidating. In the midst of my fear, he snatched my bow and snapped it in half. Honestly, I was really surprised. That bow was made of sturdy deer antlers, carrying my father’s aspirations.

I thought I was done for, but it seems like my artwork caught his interest. After taking away my notebook, he sat down and stared at it for a while. He quickly flipped through the pages, furrowing his brow, mocking (that really angered me!), and occasionally reading a few lines before staring at me intently.

Almost an hour must have passed like that. After going through my entire notebook, he asked me.

“Did you write all of this?”

Most of them were transcriptions of poems by famous masters, but I lied and said yes, because his brother didn’t seem particularly literate, and I felt like I needed to be to survive.

Since I said that, he couldn’t refuse my offer. He said he had someone to exchange letters with, but it felt like the well was running dry from doing it every day.

So he thought about writing poetry, but it seemed like he had no talent for it. So he asked me to teach him how to write ‘well’ during this time.

There was no reason for him to refuse. Firstly, this place had the sea that inspired me, and surprisingly, that guy was incredibly good at cooking. As expected, when my stomach growled, he grumbled and served me potato soup, freshly baked bread, and perfectly cooked bacon. Oh my goodness, it was the best thing I had ever tasted.

Anyway, I went there every day for that guy. After a week, I finally learned that this scary, bad-tempered, empty-headed guy wanted to write poetry for his wife.

I thought I would fail. First of all, the pen was too small compared to his hand. He wrote on a piece of paper smaller than the palm of his hand, smaller than an ant, without showing me. He didn’t look like the type to be loved by a woman.

But now that I know he’s married, my curiosity has peaked.

I’m so, so curious about who this guy’s wife is. So, I, along with the children in our village who can’t stop loving Teacher Rosaline, asked her to discuss and ponder over his secret affair.

Teacher Rosaline had a surprised look on her face for a moment, then smiled and gave me advice.

“Why don’t you try reciting a poem that already exists without straining yourself? That alone should be enough to convey your feelings.”

I told Teacher Rosaline that I didn’t think he would ever do it out of pride. In response, she advised me not to be scared and to ask that man tomorrow. Despite knowing it wouldn’t work, I agreed to do it.

But something amazing happened. The next day, that man asked me to recommend good poems to him! I had no choice but to secretly hide near his house. I had to prove that Teacher Rosaline was truly a magician. My curiosity about the man vanished in an instant.

However, while waiting outside the house, I accidentally fell asleep. And then, I found out the truth I had been curious about all at once.

First, I found out who the man’s wife was.

Second, I realized that Teacher Rosaline was not a magician.

That’s right, the man’s wife was none other than Teacher Rosaline. Using my clever mind, I deduced that Teacher Rosaline didn’t perform any magic but rather carefully persuaded her husband after hearing my story.

But even though I knew the truth, I couldn’t leave. The most beautiful and kind-hearted Teacher Rosaline in the world couldn’t possibly have married that man, right?

There was a possibility that the man had enchanted Teacher Rosaline with some wicked magic.

But when I returned, all I heard was the man passionately reciting each and every word.

“Shall I compare you to a summer’s day? You are more lovely and more moderate: Harsh winds disturb the delicate buds of May, and summer doesn’t last long enough.”¹

Oh my goodness, I almost fainted right there. It was like gathering scattered flames to create a painting, such a thick and unskilled voice. I couldn’t believe that the voice sounded red without seeing it with my own eyes. He was someone who knew no words other than ‘Hey’ and ‘How pathetic.’

I was convinced it was a spell. So, I secretly watched them through a small crack in the window. Teacher Rosaline was sitting in a chair, and the brother was sitting on the floor, with his face pressed against her thigh, (like a big dog) looking up at her.

“All beautiful things eventually become less beautiful, either by the experiences of life or by the passing of time. But your eternal beauty won’t fade, nor lose any of its quality.”

He just picked out the important parts of the poem and said them. I thought the teacher would say something in response. But she just smiled and caressed his cheek. It was that smile that me and my friends loved the most.

“As long as there are people still alive to read poems this sonnet will live, and you will live in it, Romeo.”

The kind teacher continued the poem in the same manner as the brother, with slight modifications, and my brother smiled innocently.

That’s why I’ve been wandering alone outside for the past few weeks. So, Grandma, please tell Dad. Tell him that I have no intention of becoming a hunter.

To make a long story short, instead of drawing the ocean, I decided to draw two people, because they were more beautiful than the ocean, at least in my eyes.

Romeo and Rosaline, looking more ordinary than ever.

『Romeo and Rosaline』 END.

T/N: AAAAH I actually really liked this story. I wish it was longer tho. I think the writing, character and plot development, and pacing would all be better if this were one or two volumes longer… anyway, thank you for reading! let me know what you think~