Chapter 37

Asla, still puzzling over the mysterious Amelia, shifted her gaze toward the staircase in the corner of the art store.

“Are there items up there as well?”

“No, that’s the studio,” the shopkeeper replied.

“Studio?”

“Yes. It used to be my younger brother’s painting studio, but he moved to another city five years ago. There are still many unsold paintings left, so we kept it as it is. Occasionally, we rent it out to those in need of a workspace for a modest price.”

“I see…”

As she quietly looked toward the stairs, the shopkeeper smiled gently and stepped forward.

“Would you like to take a look?”

“Would that be alright?”

“Of course.”

Following the shopkeeper’s suggestion, Asla climbed the small staircase to the second-floor studio.

When she reached the top, her eyes widened in surprise.  

The space was open, with high ceilings, and the moment she stepped inside, a strange scent of dust mixed with oil paint hit her nose.  

She wrinkled her nose at a pungent smell she’d never encountered before, and the shopkeeper chuckled softly.

“That’s the scent of cleaning solution. It’s used to wash brushes after oil painting. You’ll get used to it soon.”

“…I see.”

She nodded and looked at the canvases lined up along the wall.  

Most were landscapes and portraits, seemingly left to dry.  

Wooden easels and small chairs were scattered around, and in one corner, wrapped-up paintings were stacked.  

Never having seen a painting studio before, Asla wandered around with wide eyes, taking in everything.  

The shopkeeper approached her.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“It’s fascinating.”

“Then, would you like to try painting here?”

“Right now?”

Asla asked, surprised. The shopkeeper answered cheerfully.

“Of course! Try oil painting. Don’t worry about making a mess—use the space freely. And please visit our store often.”

“I will.”

The shopkeeper laughed heartily and gave her a brief explanation of the studio.

“The sink is over there, and you can use any of the aprons hanging there. I’ll bring up the supplies you purchased earlier.”

“…Yes. The canvas, oil paints, palette, brushes, and knives.”

“Yes. I’ll also pick out anything else you might need and send them up.”

The shopkeeper gave her a quick introduction to oil painting—how to squeeze paint onto the palette, mix it with a knife, clean the brushes, and so on.  

Asla nodded with genuine eagerness, and he smiled warmly.

“You may be a beginner, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quickly. Feel it out while you paint. If you ever have questions, just come find me.”

Soon after he left, May and one of the hotel staff brought up the art supplies.  

May cautiously set everything down beside Asla and looked at her curiously.  

Her mistress looked unfamiliar while holding a painting apron, but it also seemed surprisingly fitting.

“Madam, are you hungry?”

“Oh, I’m alright. May, would you and the staff mind waiting in the lounge downstairs? Or maybe at the café across the street? I’d like to be alone for a bit.”

“But Madam, you haven’t had lunch…”

“May. If I get hungry, I’ll call for you right away. Please eat first. I’m really fine.”

At the clear dismissal, May reluctantly took a step back, reminding her, “You must call for us,” before heading back down.

Now alone in the studio, Asla put on the apron.  

Awkwardly tying the straps, she scooped paint onto the palette with a knife and picked up a brush.  

She stared at the blank canvas for a long moment before her hand finally moved.

“Oh…”

A glint of delight shimmered in her clear mint-green eyes.  

The shopkeeper was right.  

It was simple enough that even a child could do it, and more than anything—it was fun.

‘So this is what it’s like.’

As she painted light strokes across the canvas, Asla’s enjoyment grew until she completely lost track of time.  

Then, she glanced out the window at the setting sun and hesitated.

“Should I go back?”

Asla, who had been murmuring softly, shook her head.  

Enoch’s face came to mind, but her husband would be busy again today.  

She didn’t want to live her life staring only at Enoch in loneliness.  

Asla decided to continue the pleasant work and moved her brush.  

As dusk fell and the sun disappeared, the moon rose into the darkening evening.  

She was so deeply focused that she didn’t even notice the studio owner quietly coming up to leave a gas lamp behind.  

Immersed in painting while recalling the rose Enoch had given her, Asla suddenly lifted her head.  

“Hm?”  

Her eyes widened as she looked toward the small window in the studio wall.  

The sky had already turned pitch-black.  

Startled, Asla stood up, took off her apron, and hurried downstairs.  

“Oh no.”  

The studio was brightly lit, but a heavy silence hung in the air, as if no one was around.  

Feeling a little frightened, Asla cautiously looked around as she descended the stairs—  

When suddenly, a familiar deep voice echoed.  

“Asla.”  

A tall man straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall and stepped forward. Asla halted mid-step on the staircase.  

“So you finally found something you truly enjoy.”  

His voice held a hint of laughter, but somehow, it felt tinged with sorrow.  

It was Enoch.  

Asla stood frozen in surprise on the stairs as Enoch strode toward her and gently took her hand.  

She glanced around in confusion.  

“Where are May and… the studio owner?”  

“I sent them home.”  

Asla glanced at the watch on Enoch’s left wrist.  

It was already past 10 p.m.—a late hour.  

“I stayed far too long.”  

Just then, her legs suddenly gave out, and she staggered as if she couldn’t support herself.  

“Asla!”  

If Enoch hadn’t caught her quickly, she would have collapsed to the floor.  

Mortified, she scrambled to stand up, her face bright red.  

“S-Sorry.”  

“…Asla Ventus. No matter how much you enjoy it, you still need to eat.  If something like this happens again because you skipped a meal, I’ll lock you in a room and make you do nothing but eat.”  

“Locking me up and feeding me… That’s quite a rude thing to say.”  

Annoyed, Asla narrowed her eyes and glared at him, but Enoch didn’t flinch. His tone only grew firmer.  

“Your health comes first.”  

“…Fine.”  

Asla wanted to tell him that she’d fasted often for prayer since she was young, so missing one meal wasn’t a big deal to her.  

But Enoch was exuding such a grim aura that she chose to keep her mouth shut.  

‘He looks upset.’  

She said nothing more and quietly took his hand as they exited the studio.  

Looking up, she saw the pale moon high in the night sky.  

Remembering the position of the sun when she arrived, Asla was stunned, her mouth slightly agape.  

How many hours had she sat still in that spot without moving?  

Now that she thought of it, her shoulders and back ached and throbbed.  

It was a pain she hadn’t felt in a long time.  

It reminded her of her days as Princess Sherita, when she had to sit still in one position and pray all day.  

‘It’s been a while… and it really does hurt.’  

She unconsciously tapped her lower back with her fist, only to meet Enoch’s gaze.  

“Oh. I’m fine.”  

She quickly straightened her posture and tried to act casual, but Enoch’s expression was already contorted.  

“You’re not fine at all.”  

Enoch guided her into the carriage and climbed in after her without delay.  

He signaled the coachman to depart, then took a cushion from his seat and placed it behind Asla’s back.  

“Asla. As soon as we get home, eat and take a bath.”  

“Okay.”  

“Don’t just answer vaguely.”  

Asla looked at Enoch, who treated her like a child, and felt torn.  

It was frustrating and unfamiliar, yet his meticulous care warmed her heart.  

She leaned back comfortably against the cushion he had placed behind her.  

“I’ll have a masseuse called in as soon as your bath is done, so make sure to get a full-body massage.”  

“…A full-body massage?”

“They apply fragrant oil to your bare skin and loosen the tense muscles. It’s popular in the hot southeastern region. The hotels there have even scouted skilled masseuses from the southern archipelago.”

“You mean… completely naked?”

“Yes. Everything.”

When Asla flinched in alarm, the tight line of Enoch’s mouth finally relaxed, and he even gave a faint smile.

“There’s no need to be so wary. Once you try it, you’ll feel refreshed. You might even want to call them again.”

“I doubt that.”

Asla narrowed her eyes with a skeptical look. Letting someone apply oil to her bare body and relax her muscles?  

The fact that such a culture even existed made her realize just how narrow her world had been. She sighed softly.  

She hadn’t known that the Kingdom of Astra was famous for art, nor that there were countries renowned for nude massage therapy.  

With the rapid industrialization and the introduction of trains, cultural exchanges with distant countries had become more active, spreading new customs swiftly.  

Asla felt a sense of generational shift. She found herself envying how naturally Enoch adapted to this fast-changing world.

“There probably isn’t a country you haven’t been to. How far have you gone?”

“Market research is essential before investing. Still, there are plenty of places I haven’t seen yet.”

Thanks to the cushion Enoch had placed behind her, Asla could feel the pain in her lower back gradually easing.

“Enoch. Then have you been to the Kingdom of Astra?”

“I have. It’s a place with a lot of potential.”

“Why is that?”

“Well…”

Enoch was about to continue, but when he saw the sparkle in Asla’s eyes, he fell silent.  

Asla tilted her head slightly, puzzled by his sudden vagueness.  

Then, with a stiff expression, Enoch slowly asked: “Why do you ask about the Kingdom of Astra?”

“…No reason.”

As Asla trailed off, Enoch felt an inexplicable unease creeping in.  

He forced himself to suppress the anxious feeling.

“I knew you enjoyed painting… but I didn’t expect you to be this passionate about it. I’ll have to make sure your studio is set up properly in the new house we bought.”

“You already bought a house?”

Asla’s eyes widened in surprise, and Enoch nodded.

“I purchased it this morning. Renovations started this afternoon, so just wait a little longer. We’re moving at top speed.”

Though her body was weighed down by a deep fatigue that felt like a block of iron pressing on her shoulders, Asla’s heart fluttered with excitement.  

Not the Ventus estate—but a house that was truly theirs.

“Our house… then.”

“…Yes.”

A strange atmosphere settled inside the carriage.  

The feeling was awkward, ticklish, and unfamiliar. She didn’t know what to do with it.