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Within my father’s lines, how few people must have been classified as
Among them, those classified as
To my father, it would probably be meaningless whether others praised him as a god or cursed him as a demon.
A bitter smile slightly different from before floated through my mind.
I didn’t regret apologizing to Nathan Colta, but… if it were my father, he wouldn’t have crumbled so much in the first place.
‘Those people were probably meaningless to Dad.’
How could I stop being obsessed with meaningless people like Dad?
My reflections gently guided my thoughts, and my father’s calm voice drew a conclusion.
“But if it concerns the children, I understand. Explain it to Eciel and ask her opinion. Maybe that would be acceptable.”
Eciel, who had been quietly watching next to us, suddenly looked up.
“Me? Why?”
A moment ago, a gloomy sentiment hovered in my heart. I looked anxiously at my younger sister.
‘… at her age now, would she understand if explained?’
My pessimistic thoughts remained unknown, as my father, who could not be aware of them, sent the painter away and opened his mouth calmly.
“Eciel, do you know why your portrait is so different from Claire’s?”
“Yes. Because I’m drawing the day Dad and I first met.”
Just thinking about it seemed exciting; vitality surged in the child’s voice. Even her little feet happily swung on the chair.
Mom chuckled slightly, and a smile appeared on Dad’s face too.
“We can vividly remember our first meeting now, but… as time goes by, we may forget. Very naturally.”
When Eciel nodded, Dad lowered his head slightly and met my sister’s gaze.
“I want to capture the first time I met you in a drawing before it’s too late.”
“But Dad, you could remember even without drawing, like Claire.”
I flinched.
It was an unexpected question, not necessarily a rebuttal.
Neither of the parents seemed to anticipate her pointing it out.
“Claire also remembers things even before she was born.”
Eciel said cheerfully.
“She knows what color the roof was where she spent our first week, where I put my favorite doll, and when I wore the clothes I have on. And Dad said Claire is like you, right?”
Dad responded quietly.
“That’s right. Claire is like me.”
Eciel’s innocent eyes were filled with curiosity.
“Then Dad remembers everything too, right?”
A soft smile slowly appeared on the man’s cold and dignified face.
A natural smile, as if flowers were blooming on a thousand-year-old snowy mountain and spring had come to the snowy field in the middle of winter.
“Yeah. I remember everything.”
“Then why?”
Instead of speaking for a moment, he looked around with gentle eyes at Mom, me, and Eciel.
People he had spread a soft and plushy blanket over within his cold and straight lines.
Then he answered.
“Because I cherish them greatly. I don’t just want to remember; I want to bring those memories back and look at them together as a reality, because I like them that much. That’s why I want to redraw those moments.”
His words were not difficult to understand.
The vocabulary, the meanings contained, the emotions implied—all were soft, clear, and gentle.
Eciel smiled back and nodded vigorously. It was a sign that she understood perfectly.
Dad continued his explanation.
“But Eciel, I’m fine with it, but you might feel embarrassed about this painting when you grow up.”
“Me?”
My younger sister widened her eyes.
“Yes. It’s a painting of when I first met you, but others might think differently. They might say I loved you too much and asked to draw you like a May fairy.”
The child’s head tilted slightly. She asked straightforwardly.
“If people don’t understand, can’t we just say it’s a painting of when we first met?”
Dad’s eyes sunk lightly.
I quietly held Eciel’s hand, waiting for her gaze to return to me.
Her green eyes met mine. Bright, young, and innocent.
“Eciel, let’s keep that as our secret for a lifetime.”
“Why?”
“It would be really sad for Dad if many people knew we didn’t live together.”
Surprised, Eciel quickly nodded. Mom gently stroked Dad’s cheek, as if consoling him.
Dad held Mom’s hand, which was passing by peacefully.
Grasping her slightly trembling hand and caressing it gently, Dad continued calmly.
“Anyway… so, when you grow up, you might feel embarrassed about this drawing. Because it’s a drawing of you as a May Fairy. And everyone else will think the same.”
Eciel held my hand, and Dad held Mom’s hand.
Their gazes met.
The child who loved the May Fairy smiled brightly.
“Even so, I’ll be okay.”
I sighed quietly.
Yes, I thought it would be like this.
When Mom’s face frowned slightly, Dad spoke again.
“Eciel, you may not understand now, but….”
“No, I understand.”
The little face became all red.
“I mean, I like Dad too. Dad likes me so much that he wants to draw even though he can remember the first time he met me.”
Everyone looked at Eciel in surprise. Still, she remained confident and unwavering.
“I know I might feel embarrassed later. It’ll be okay though. Even then, my feelings of fondness for Dad will be greater than my feelings of shame. I love the moment I first met you as much as you do.”
Was I seeing Eciel too young and bright?
Or not… was Eciel, who judged only by the size of her feelings, being naiver than I thought, thinking that her fondness for Dad were greater than her shame?
I didn’t know the answer, but at least it brought my dad great happiness.
Dad’s once-cold face now radiated a warm light.
The joy that overflowed from his smooth face filled the air with happiness beyond imagination.
The child who brought forth such joy had an unabashed expression.
Suddenly, I realized.
‘I thought Eciel doesn’t seem to resemble Dad at all.’
In a way… Eciel possessed one of the biggest parts that made up Dad.
A solid subjectivity that first cared about the most important person to oneself and knew what was most important to oneself.
Transparent understanding that came only from someone who understood oneself better than anyone else.
Dad’s cold, straightforward lines firmly held their place in Eciel’s warm, soft, and friendly world.
Mom laughed with a hint of helplessness a few times and made a joking remark.
“Well then, Eciel, would you like to draw it like that? Like a May fairy?”
“Yes. When the painting is done, I’ll show it to Dad. I’ll ask if I really looked like this back then.”
When Eciel replied firmly, Dad smiled.
“Regardless of how the painting turns out, you’ll be a hundred times more like a fairy in my memory. That’s for sure.”
Upon hearing his affectionate voice, Eciel smiled broadly too.
… and so, the decision was made on who, when, and from whom the portrait would be drawn.
First, a rushed portrait of myself and Eciel. The family portrait would come after Dad and Mom’s schedules were sorted out.
The painter skillfully demonstrated his abilities, sending suspicious glances my way but proceeding confidently with his work.
He understood well, leading and comforting the easily distracted Eciel while sketching the basics. He sympathized with my struggles of having to endure long hours in elaborate and dignified attire that did not suit the season.
“Miss, you must be tired. Take a moment to have some water and rest.”
After receiving permission to relax briefly, Leanne approached, handing me water with concern.
Edna, who was wiping away the accumulated sweat, let out a sigh.
“It’s summer, and you’re drawing a portrait… Miss Eciel is still okay since her clothes are light.”
“It’s alright. Since Eciel is wearing light clothes for a reason.”
Leanne smiled at my dry response.
Perhaps she was already crafting a fantastic tale about the
It was certain.
But whether Leanne was fabricating a fantasy or not, I looked away, propping my chin on one hand.
‘I need to visit the temple soon….’
When should I go? More importantly, how should I go?
Astariol was usually as familiar to it as their own home. Yet, I didn’t even know I was an Astariol for nine years.
Moreover, due to Mom’s and the temple’s ill-fated relationship, we were currently not on good terms with the temple.
There was no way to go there because of our bad relationship, and I didn’t want to go secretly either.
‘I’m curious about the record of Astariol who were born as twins.’
I frowned slightly. Leanne looked at me and whispered softly.
“Miss, are you having a hard time?”
“It’s alright. I’m thinking of a different matter.”
Did she think those were empty words? Leanne hesitated before lowering her voice even further.
“Originally, I’m not going to tell you… Miss, please hold on a little longer.”
‘…. I wonder what Dad has prepared?’
That thought was both wrong and right.
The allocated time for drawing the portrait had ended, but something was waiting for me.
However, Dad wasn’t the one behind it. It wasn’t Mom either.
It was my younger sister, whom I had never suspected.