Home/I Didn't Want a Honeymoon Like This/ch44

Chapter 44

Was this really the director? He wasn't a ghost, was he?

Angelina scrutinized the figure before her with the eye of a gem appraiser.

His feet were firmly on the ground, and he had five fingers. Every time he blinked, wrinkles like mountain ranges rippled. Too detailed to be a ghost.

"I didn't think you'd actually come."

"We heard you were unwell, so we came to visit."

Alexei bowed politely. The director snorted.

"Spare me the lies and come in."

He doesn't look sick at all, does he?

She'd dismissed the ghost suspicion, but the suspicion that he'd lured them with a lie remained.

His motive: either he didn't want to share the ancient script knowledge, or he didn't know it himself. Maybe it was a ploy to extract labor.

Still, it didn't explain why he'd called them to his house.

"Your home is cozy and nice," Angelina said, looking around.

"No need to lie. I know it looks shabby."

Whether because he was unwell or not, the director's response was prickly. Not that he was exactly easy to call a good person even when healthy—he had a gentle expression and a kind way of speaking, but still.

After a clattering noise, the director emerged with a tray of refreshments.

The four sat down.

Tea with floating leaves and sugar-coated almonds. The bitter tea and sweet nuts complemented each other perfectly. Angelina admired it and continued the conversation.

"Why do you live in a place like this?"

"Why? Because I have no money."

"I heard you're a noble."

"Noble and rich aren't synonyms."

"Even if they're not synonyms, they're similar, aren't they?"

There were fallen nobles and new rich, but the majority of nobles being wealthy was an age-old truth. Above all, she'd never heard of a royal living in a remote wasteland in a commoner's house.

"I thought I had an endless spring, but I didn't. Money, in the end, runs out the more you spend."

Where had he poured all that money? He didn't seem to indulge in luxury, gambling, or entertainment.

Looking around, the place was filled with antiques. It felt like stepping into a second "Forest of Time" shop.

"Though they look humble, they're precious to me."

Collecting antiques to the point of draining his fortune—she hadn't realized he was so devoted to his hobby.

"Don't you have any other people?" Alexei asked.

"No. No woman would want an eccentric buried in a library."

"Servants or maids?"

"Not anymore. Since the maid who served me for years died of illness. At my age, I don't want to bring new people into the house."

The royal was even a solitary elder.

"Still, someone must be here… with cooking and horse care, it must require a lot of hands."

"I've adapted. Nothing feels inconvenient or difficult anymore. Moving around keeps me healthy."

The director boasted of his health secrets to his visitors.

"Moving your body is important, but your heart needs to move too. Alone, the heart doesn't stir. You need people."

"You're making this old man blush. The lady's words just moved my heart. I can't deny it."

The director laughed heartily. Then he asked,

"Lady, are you married?"

Why is the arrow aimed at me?

It was pure curiosity, not a loaded question, right?

Judging by his eyes, it was the former, but his unusually gentle tone made it feel like the latter.

What should I say?

Since the ceremony was never completed, she'd said they weren't married, so technically, she was still unmarried…

Just then, Alexei suddenly took her hand.

"She is."

"Hahaha. I see."

The director chuckled and raised his teacup.

"Don't glare like that. I can tell who she's married to."

"I'm sorry to interrupt your convalescence, but would you answer our questions now?"

The director nodded and pushed paper and pen toward them.

"Would you draw it again?"

It was time for the memory genius to step forward.

Franz reproduced the symbol from three days ago.

"Hm……"

Again, an ambiguous expression.

"Hm……"

It looked suspicious, too.

"This is…"

The three perked up their ears.

"It's not ancient script."

"Pardon?"

"There is no such ancient script."

Angelina stared at the teacup before her. Sensing the ominous atmosphere, the director chuckled.

"I've been thinking about it myself over the past few days, in case I was mistaken. I also looked through some materials."

"……"

"But as I thought, it's not. There is no such script."

"You should have said that from the beginning."

"I wasn't sure myself. But at least I've told you it's not ancient script, haven't I?"

The director smiled calmly.

Angelina had to exercise superhuman patience not to grab the teacup.

"If it's not ancient script, then what is it?" Alexei, more rational than Angelina, asked.

"It's probably not script at all. Maybe arbitrary symbols or marks."

Arbitrary symbols or marks… The flippant answer made Angelina finally grip the teacup. When she glared coldly, the director cleared his throat.

"I am convalescing."

"……"

"Instead, I'll give you a gift."

"Are you compensating us with a single gift for all that?"

Angelina shot back sarcastically.

"As I said, everything here is precious. Whatever you choose, I'll give it to you, so feel free to pick."

"So you mean anything here?"

Alexei asked.

Right. The Crown Prince did like old things—objects that endured with their inherent character. Still, being compensated for their trouble with his personal indulgence wasn't exactly fair.

Angelina's anger flared, but she held back. Even if she objected, the director seemed unlikely to offer any other reward. So whether it was an antique or a replica, she'd just take what was given.

"Of course."

Alexei took something from the bookshelf behind the director's chair.

"Give me this."

It wasn't a book. It didn't even look like an antique. While she wondered why he'd chosen it, the director's face grew heavy.

"Do you know what's inside?"

"No."

"Then why did you choose it?"

"I can tell you value it. Isn't a gift meant to be something you cherish?"

"I agree, but I can't give you that."

"You said anything."

"I'm sorry. That wasn't true."

The director looked very troubled. Yet Alexei stood stubbornly holding it. Resigned, the director confessed.

"That's correspondence between me and Lord Lyon."

"You two were friends?" Franz asked, startled.

The director smiled without answering. It was a yes.

Choosing correspondence with a friend—no wonder the director refused.

But Alexei's face showed neither surprise nor any intention of backing down.

The director widened his eyes and asked,

"Did you notice?"

"I saw a relic here that I'd seen in books. You've been collecting artifacts lost from museums."

It must have cost considerable time and money, but the director hadn't given up. Doing what no one else would do was solely out of loyalty and friendship.

"How did you know it was a letter?"

"I wasn't sure it was a letter. I guessed it was some record related to Lord Lyon. It seemed odd that it was kept in an easily accessible place yet wrapped in multiple layers—I could sense the desire to keep it close while treasuring it."

"Even knowing that, you asked for it?"

"Because whatever you gave, I knew you'd match its value."

The director laughed.

"Remarkable insight. But I'm not sure anything else is as precious to me as this."

"You must have been close. That's a considerable volume of correspondence."

Alexei said, holding the weighty bundle of letters.

"We were close, and my friend loved to quiz me. He often sent puzzles and instructions through letters."

"May I see them?" Alexei asked.

"Why the letters?"

"I'm a fan."

Alexei smiled.

"In that case, I'll allow it. The room next door is empty—you can read them there."

"Thank you."

Alexei nodded and left the room.

"Then we'll take our leave—"

"You two stay here."

Why?

"It's been a while since I've had visitors. Keep an old man company."

She felt like a zoo animal, but she stayed still.

Silence fell.

"By the way, what are you two to each other?"

Just people who met by chance.

"We're friends," Angelina answered with a straight face.

"For now, you say."

"Forever friends."

"Ah… difficult, but possible. As long as one is dense and the other endures."

"That's not it."

"There's no more entertaining spectacle than watching a love triangle."

The director stroked his beard.

"Though it can end in tragedy—duels and death."

The director was lost in his own world. Imagining scenarios was fine, but she didn't want to be the subject of them.

Under the table, Angelina nudged Franz.

Say something.

What am I supposed to say?

Anything.

You do it.

Is that how it's going to be?

Despite their picturesque smiles, a silent struggle was going on under the table. Their feet pressed harder against each other. The director, sensing something strange, tilted his head.

Since we're caught anyway—

Angelina kicked Franz's foot hard. His body lurched forward, then snapped back like a tumbler toy.

"I-I'll draw you a portrait."

Back   Next