Chapter 18
When Anita stood still without answering, the owner of the voice seemed unable to bear even that brief moment of silence and began to approach. The sound of clicking heels rang out. The half-open door was flung wide. Anita, awkwardly raising her hand in midair, locked eyes with the woman.
A beauty with long, chestnut-brown hair flowing down to her waist and rose-like cheeks—Lilliana, the woman who had seemed close to Rutger.
“Oh? I know you! You’re Anita, right?”
The sharp corners of her eyes instantly curved into a smile.
“Ah, yes.”
Lilliana eagerly grabbed Anita’s hand. Her overly friendly demeanor was more unsettling than welcoming. Anita subtly pulled her firmly-gripped hand away.
“But what brings you here? And alone, at that.”
“Alone? I was—”
Now that she thought about it, things had been unusually quiet behind her for a while. Anita glanced back. The man who had been chatting noisily just moments ago was gone without a trace. In his place remained only a thick stack of papers.
“What are those papers doing on the floor?”
Lilliana pointed to the bundle with a puzzled look. Anita, her lips slightly parted, decided in the end to protect Edmund’s secret. She felt a kind of kinship with him—after all, both of them were running away: Edmund from Lilliana, and she from Rutger.
Even if the reality behind those situations was quite the opposite.
“I got a cramp in my arm while carrying them, so I set them down for a moment.”
“Ah, I see.”
Lilliana nodded as if she understood.
“Who’s the recipient? Rutger?”
Lilliana probably didn’t notice, but Anita’s shoulder flinched slightly.
“No. It’s for Professor Chapman, I heard.”
“Just leave them there. I’m sure someone will come back for them.”
Judging from Lilliana’s indifferent tone, it was clear she didn’t care in the slightest whether those documents got trampled by passing feet.
Still, Anita hesitated. The stack had been given to her by Professor Evan himself, so she felt somewhat responsible. But in the end, she shook her head. She’d only become an errand girl because of Edmund, and besides, Professor Evan had told her to go to Building 4—that meant her job was done.
“Want to take a look around the studio while you’re here?”
Do people usually invite others to tour their studios like that?
Unfortunately, Anita had no experience with this kind of thing, so she couldn’t say for sure. Lilliana’s tone was so casual, and Anita was a little curious about the interior anyway, so she nodded.
Until the moment she stepped into the room, Anita thought she hoped Rutger wouldn’t be there. She worried it would be awkward if they met, and what if he misunderstood and thought she’d come just to see him?
But when she stepped inside and found the studio completely empty, she felt… disappointed. Despite herself, she realized she’d been hoping to see him.
Thick blackout curtains blocked out every trace of light, making the room feel almost chilly.
“What do you think?”
Lilliana asked with pride as she gestured to a canvas. Anita, after briefly glancing around the dim studio, walked over to where Lilliana stood. When she saw what Lilliana was pointing at, she lifted the corner of her mouth in a vague smile.
“It’s very… free-spirited.”
“Hm. You think so?”
“It has personality.”
To be honest, it was a very poorly drawn painting. But Anita couldn’t say that outright, so she gave a diplomatic response.
“See! Good-looking people always have a better aesthetic sense. Must be from looking in the mirror every day!”
“……”
“What? No one’s ever told you you’re pretty before?”
“That’s just something people say out of politeness, isn’t it? It would be rude to insult a stranger’s appearance.”
“Hm, I don’t think so…”
Lilliana trailed off, then shook her head lightly.
“Anyway. That jerk Rutger mocks me every time. Says even a sleepy three-year-old could do better than this.”
Harsh criticism was Rutger’s specialty. As someone who had lived next door to him for over ten years, Anita had become immune to it—but Lilliana clearly hadn’t.
No matter how blunt someone’s personality was, could he really talk like that to a woman he was interested in?
Anita’s thoughts, which had been drifting aimlessly, suddenly paused. She recalled something she’d only half-listened to—Edmund had said Lilliana was obsessed with him. The proof? He’d run away the moment he heard her voice.
Then could it be that Rutger was actually the one interested in her, not the other way around?
“I’ll be right back. Take your time looking around.”
At some point, Lilliana had made her way over to the door and was holding up the stack of papers Anita had brought. Before Anita could stop her, Lilliana disappeared.
“Wait…”
Was it really okay to leave a guest here alone like this?
Now left by herself in unfamiliar surroundings, Anita shifted awkwardly, her eyes darting around. She avoided eye contact with a glaring statue and let her gaze wander aimlessly—until it landed on an easel tucked into a corner of the room.
Unlike the other easels, which were arranged in a circle around a central table, this one stood alone in the back.
Anita knew full well that looking at someone else’s work without permission was rude. But for some reason, she couldn’t take her eyes off it. Finally, curiosity got the better of her. She glanced around and approached the easel.
“Huh?”
On the white canvas was a portrait of a young girl, who looked to be in her teens. Something about it felt strangely familiar—the straight, uncurled hair, the eyebrows slightly longer than the eyes.
“This is…”
Anita stared at the painting for a long time before finally realizing who it was.
The subject of the portrait was herself—Anita Rodel, a few years younger than she was now.
Which meant the artist must be… Rutger.
The way he saw her, and the way she saw herself, were clearly very different. The hair and eyebrows resembled her own, but the vitality in the eyes and the small smile at the corner of the mouth were things Anita had never seen in herself.
The Anita Rodel in the painting was more beautiful than the real one.
It wasn’t painted in colors, but sketched in black pencil. Still, Anita could feel an inexplicable warmth radiating from the drawing.
