TPCF 32

 Chapter 32

“Don’t. Just wipe it here.”
Anita dug into the breast pocket of her jacket, pulled out a handkerchief, and held it out to him. Without a word, he wiped his hands.

“Why did you come all the way to Aberdeen?”
Anita, not feeling much of an appetite, nibbled only at the corner of her sandwich as she asked. It was a question she’d been curious about for a long time, but never had the chance or the right moment to ask.

“Me?”
“Yeah. You originally said you were going to Leman, remember?”

Leman was famous for many things, but especially as the school that produced Owellin Jeff. Even Anita, who was utterly ignorant about art, had heard his name. He was such a famous painter that it was said he donated most of his earnings back to his alma mater, Leman.

Rutger knew this because he occasionally visited exhibitions to see Jeff’s works.

“And you were going to enroll in Leman too, weren’t you, Miss Rodel?”
Judging from his teasing tone, it didn’t seem like he had any intention of giving her a straight answer.

Of course, if someone asked whether she had ever considered applying to Leman, the answer would be yes. There was even a time when she’d made a crazy plan to “coincidentally” attend the same school as him.

It was your fault, she wanted to say. But she managed to keep her mouth shut.

She really hadn’t expected this. When she sent in her application to Aberdeen, she never imagined this would happen. She thought knowing Rutger would be something that stayed in her hometown, never to be picked up again.

With a gloomy look, Anita kept gnawing at her sandwich.

Should she ask him why he was suddenly acting so friendly today?

Fiddling with the sandwich wrapper, Anita snuck a glance at him. Rutger sat there with a carefree expression, impossible to read. His hands were empty—he’d already finished his sandwich.

As a naturally light eater, Anita hadn’t even finished hers. She tore up the rest into small pieces and tossed them to the pigeons. They were so plump from being overfed by tourists that they waddled rather than walked.

“Have you thought about what you’ll do after graduation?”
Hmm… Anita had never really thought that far ahead. Four years was still a long time, and she figured she could decide what to do after graduation when the time came.

“No. You?”
His gaze, which had been aimed at the sky, brushed over her briefly before drifting away again.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to wander around like a traveling theater troupe? I could paint portraits for passersby.”

Right at that moment, a shabby-looking man walked past them, carrying a bag shaped like a paint canister. With practiced ease, he began setting up his things in a corner of the square.

“Like that?”
“Yeah. You can’t do anything except study, so you’d just have to sit there next to me.”

“…Do I have to live like that too?”
Anita frowned as if she didn’t like the idea, but she wasn’t actually in a bad mood. It was stupid, but the fact that Rutger so casually spoke as if she’d be part of his future made her oddly pleased.

She knew all too well that everything he said was just empty talk. Vague promises, offhand comments—she shouldn’t fall for them.

Even if she was always included in the “future” he described, that didn’t make them lovers. Could there even be such a thing as sincerity in those promises?

Looking at the painter taking out his brushes and getting to work reminded her of her recent visit to Rutger’s studio. It still amazed her how he could create a likeness even more real than reality itself with just a few lines.

She wondered how that painting of his had turned out by now.

“That time—”
“Hm?”
“The one you were painting.”

Anita tried to sound as casual as possible. She didn’t want him to realize how much she had been thinking about that painting.

“Oh. Curious?”
“…Not really.”

She immediately regretted asking. The way he spoke—like someone who had just remembered something he’d completely forgotten—made her feel embarrassed.

“If you’re curious, come and see it.”
“Already finished?”

Last time, he’d told her to visit again to model for him, but it seemed like it was already done.

Maybe her thoughts were written all over her face, because Rutger suddenly gave an unexpected reply.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen your face for a day or two. I can paint it without looking.”
“…”

Well, thirteen years was no short time. She could probably draw his face with her eyes closed too.

Of course, since Anita was hopelessly in unrequited love, she wasn’t exactly objective about whether that was normal.

She decided not to overthink it. Maybe the reason he’d drawn her face more beautifully than in real life was his way of being considerate. Like how portrait artists often improved their clients’ looks for a fee.

The reason he’d chosen her face in the first place was probably along the same lines—familiar and easy.

Thinking that way made her feel strangely at ease.

“Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a few days now—”

Plop. Something cold landed on the crown of her head. Feeling uneasy, Anita raised a hand and touched her hair. It was damp.

The few drops of rain quickly turned into a heavy downpour. The painter sitting on the ground and the children playing ball had already vanished, as if they’d sensed it coming.

Shaa—
Rain poured down, sliding from her head to her neck, soaking into her clothes.

Plop.

Because of the heavy rain, she had her eyes narrowed to see, when suddenly something was placed over them, blocking her view entirely. She reached up and felt it—it seemed to be Rutger’s jacket.

Before she could shrug it off, his hand pressed down firmly on her head.

“What are you—”
“Just wear it.”
“…I can’t see where I’m going.”