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Chapter 16: But You Don't Know, Mister—You've Lost Your Memory

Garren needed to prepare for when Janice asked what kind of person her mother was.

But Garren's inadequate mind still hadn't produced any information, and in his narrow field of view, the only person who knew anything about Chloe was Fernando.

So what could he do? He'd have to squeeze Fernando dry!

And as a result, Fernando finally procured a portrait of Chloe.

"There really is no photo. I had a hard time getting even this."

"Then where did you get this?"

If squeezing yields a portrait, maybe squeezing a little more would yield a photo?

Garren narrowed his eyes at Fernando. Fernando recoiled and shouted:

"I barely got this too, I swear! Do you know what I had to do to get this? I even went to Nicolas—that ice-cold bastard!"

Recalling their classmate, a master of fine-line portraiture famous for his god-given memory, Garren seemed to grudgingly accept how the portrait had been obtained.

But only for a moment.

"What's the big deal about visiting one classmate? But why did that bastard Nikki draw this portrait in the first place?"

He was glad to have the portrait, but the idea that some strange man had secretly drawn a portrait of the mother of his child really didn't sit well with him.

Even while refusing to acknowledge Janice as his daughter, Garren didn't like someone drawing a portrait of "his woman." Watching him shoot jealousy and murderous intent at Nikki, Fernando shouted in irritation:

"I asked him to draw it! I did! Because I needed it!"

To save his classmate's life, Fernando reluctantly confessed a memory he'd rather forget.

Nicolas had asked why he needed Chloe's portrait. Fernando said it was because he missed an old friend.

―If you miss her that much, see her in person, not a portrait.

―...She's dead.

When Fernando asked him to just draw a portrait without asking further questions, Nicolas looked at him with a peculiar gaze.

―Hmm.

After a small sigh, Nicolas promised to draw the portrait.

A few days later, Nicolas handed over the portrait, looking at Fernando with pity. He added a comment not to dwell too much on past love.

Nicolas seemed to think Fernando had been in unrequited love with Chloe—and that was apparently why he was still unmarried.

Suddenly cast as the hero of a forbidden love, Fernando felt utterly wronged. But unable to explain all the complicated circumstances, he swallowed his frustration.

Fernando summarized his sad dark history and confessed it. He also added a pinch of grievance—that Garren really owed him for this.

But Garren, whether he heard it or not, only registered the fact that he wouldn't have to kill his classmate. With a much lighter heart, he gazed at the portrait.

"...Well, she's attractive."

He wasn't sure what Fernando was ranting about, but the woman in the portrait wasn't bad at all.

He was insensitive to women and broke out in hives just from touching them, but his ability to judge beauty hadn't been compromised.

Chloe had a fairly pretty appearance. And if she looked anything like this portrait, she had a peculiar charm.

Not as a man or a woman, but as a person—she seemed attractive.

Until now, Garren had thought Janice resembled him. Apart from the red hair, he thought she was a perfect spitting image of him.

That was what everyone, including the old couple, unanimously said.

But looking at this portrait, Janice's eyes seemed to resemble Chloe's more than Garren's. Her upturned eye corners seemed to reflect Chloe's personality.

"Janice's eyes are quite sharply upturned..."

Garren muttered to himself.

He looked at the portrait, finding points of resemblance to Janice one by one. And as he did, he suddenly grew curious—what kind of person was Chloe?

Since Janice was born, it seemed he hadn't broken out in hives when touching Chloe—so what made that woman so special?

Garren wanted to think about it more. Without listening to Fernando's reply, he picked up the portrait and stood.

"I'm leaving."

"Why are you taking the portrait?"

"It's mine."

At Garren's brazen words, Fernando was speechless. True, he'd asked for it on Garren's behalf—but still, how could anyone be so shameless!

"I'm not giving it to you!"

"What are you going to do with it?"

Fernando was being petty, and Garren looked at him with suspicion.

His eyes were just like those of a man looking at a cheating bastard who'd fallen into forbidden love with his friend's wife.

Suddenly cast as the object of jealousy, Fernando was humiliated, wronged, and furious. Why on earth did I ever become friends with that bastard!

"Take it, you bastard!"

As he took it, Fernando added that he shouldn't even think about coming to his house anymore, voicing his hurt feelings.

Whether he heard or not, Garren grabbed the portrait and hurried home.

---

Sometimes she was depressed, sometimes she was fine.

When she thought of her adoptive parents, she felt low, guilty, and sad. But when she saw her grandparents trying so hard to make her smile, Janice felt she had to pretend to be okay.

She didn't want to make those kind people sad. And in doing so, there were moments when she genuinely laughed.

She'd soon stiffen her face again, feeling guilty—but at those moments, Janice had truly laughed. This is how you grow numb, I suppose.

If only that Mister were here, I'd be too busy fighting to think about anything...

The sudden thought of Garren made Janice flinch.

Why on earth would I think of that bad-tempered Mister of all people!

But it was true. If Garren were here, she could have snarled and growled and shaken off all those miscellaneous thoughts.

Janice finally understood the usefulness of Garren—the man she'd once cursed as unrecyclable trash. But they say even dog dung is hard to find when you need it for medicine—and lately, Garren had been exceptionally busy.

Maybe by calling him dung-beetle, dung-beetle, he actually thought he was real dung...

Janice, crouched in front of the door, was grumbling and cursing the clueless Mister who wouldn't come even though she waited—when suddenly, someone grabbed her from under her arms and lifted her up.

"Aaah! Kidnapper!"

Janice shrieked and smacked the kidnapper with her hands.

Thwack, thwack, thwack—Janice energetically beat the kidnapper, who let out a pained cry.

"Ow! Ow! Janice! It's me! It's me!"

"Kidnapper! Kidnapper! Let me go!"

Janice frantically hit the kidnapper. People came rushing out of the mansion. Janice struggled toward them, crying for help.

"Your Grace!"

"Kidnapp—huh?"

At someone's call to the kidnapper, Janice stopped.

She looked at the kidnapper holding her. The face looked quite familiar. Come to think of it, the voice was familiar too.

Garren looked at Janice with a terrifying expression and asked:

"...You knew it was me and hit me on purpose, didn't you?"

"As if."

The answer flew out without passing through her brain. Oh my, what are you saying!

"..."

"..."

His face was red, and his hair was a mess as if rats had been chewing on it. Janice avoided Garren's eyes. Oh my, what lovely weather.

Why do I sense monsoon rain in spring? Janice stared at the dark sky. Seeing the clever little brat, Garren sighed.

At least one silver lining was that Janice had become calmer.

Garren set Janice down and waved his hand to dismiss the people.

They dispersed in twos and threes. Only the butler lingered, advising just in case:

"Just in case I should mention it, you must not hit the young lady. She's only seven. That's child abuse."

"Doesn't the butler know me?"

I know you all too well—that's the problem...

Garren told the butler to leave as well. After a moment's hesitation, the butler said to Janice:

"Young lady, if anything happens, scream loudly. Alright?"

"Yes!"

"Butler!"

Janice's cheerful, immediate answer and Garren's irritated shout burst out together.

"Heh heh, old age just brings more worries. Young lady, be sure to scream. Promise!"

The butler lectured Janice on preventing child abuse until the very moment he disappeared, and Garren lamented how he'd ended up in such a situation.

And at that moment, he noticed the brat staring at him with wide, questioning eyes.

"What. What is it."

"That's what I should be asking. You're the one who touched me when I was just sitting there, Mister."

"Ah!"

Garren let out a low exclamation. Come to think of it, he had come looking for Janice.

"Ahem!"

Belatedly remembering his purpose, Garren cleared his throat and glanced at Janice.

The whole family was worried because the child seemed listless. Janice pretended otherwise, but the adults could see it.

The strength behind her unrestrained beating didn't seem to show that her heartache had affected her body—but regardless, Garren wanted Janice to smile.

He wasn't expecting a bright "thank you" with a hug and a kiss, but if she offered, he wouldn't refuse.

"...Why are you looking at me like that? You're making me nervous."

Garren grinned toward the air. Seeing that, Janice made a disgusted face.

Retract what I said earlier. Garren seemed like the kind of person you'd prefer to see less and less.

They say you avoid dung not because it's frightening, but because it's dirty. He was already bad-tempered—if he went mentally ill too, who would clean up the mess!

Just as Janice was slowly backing away—

"Huh? Why are you over there?"

"...Just because."

The person she absolutely did not want to get close to strode toward her. He scooped her up.

She was debating whether to scream or not when Garren said:

"You said you were curious about your mother, right?"

"...?"

"Your birth mother."

"Ah!"

She remembered that after talking endlessly about her adoptive parents, she'd tacked on that one question. But why is this Mister bringing it up now? Janice wore a blank expression.

"What? Not curious anymore?"

"No, I am curious. But you don't know, Mister. You've lost your memory."

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