~Chapter 5~
“My child, it’s all in the past now. Just a faint memory, nothing more.”
Jeffrey squeezed his daughter’s hand, desperate to cover up his shame.
“I really tried to live the best I could. I worked hard so you wouldn’t feel your mother’s absence, since she was always so frail. I swear, I did my best in my own way.”
Winter just stared blankly at her father’s wrinkled hands.
The studio, which usually felt like a calm place to talk, now felt suffocating and unbearable.
She forced herself to swallow the rising emotions.
Pulling her arm back from the table, she slipped her hand out of his grasp and pressed her lips tightly shut.
Today, she didn’t want to hear a single word more.
“Father, please stop.”
“Winter, I just wanted to…”
“Please, I’m begging you. Right now, I can’t hear any of it.”
Winter shook her head hard.
At her strong refusal, Jeffrey let his hand drop helplessly.
The silence between them was heavy, broken only by their uneven breathing.
His lips moved as if he wanted to say more, but with Winter avoiding his eyes, he no longer had the courage.
Now, there wasn’t even a decent excuse left for him to cling to. The best thing he could do was step back.
Pushing back his chair, Jeffrey’s voice came out muffled and shaky.
“Get some rest. I’ll stay at a place near the station tonight…”
With that, he walked out of the studio, his footsteps fading further away.
Winter didn’t turn to look.
She just buried her face into the desk, collapsing under the weight of it all.
The truth she had never wanted to face came crashing down all at once.
She had no idea where to even begin piecing back the broken trust.
She sat there alone for a long time before finally heading home late at night.
Tossing and turning till dawn, she left for the studio the next morning—only to find an envelope with her name slipped through the door.
It wasn’t hard to guess who had left it there so early.
As expected, the short note inside was from her father, who had already left Bartz.
Winter,I’m going back to Seres.
Congratulations on your first exhibition.
I hope everything goes well.
I know that no matter what I say now, it will only sound like an excuse.
I’m truly ashamed.
Winter lowered her head, standing frozen for a long time.
Her father had hurried back to Seres—as if he wanted to run as far away as possible from the uncomfortable truth.
***
Royal Academy of Arts – 200th Anniversary, “Night of the Artists”
Winter looked up at the huge banner hanging over the grand hall entrance.
The celebration of the Royal Academy’s founding was nothing short of extravagant.
Majestic music filled the hall supported by towering marble pillars.
Brilliant chandeliers sparkled above.
Long rows of wine glasses and polished silverware gleamed on the tables.
It all seemed to be for the artists, but the real stars were someone else.
This event was more for the King and the VIPs who had been specially invited by the palace.
Winter slipped off to a quiet corner, away from the nobles in their elegant outfits.
Her pale blue dress blended silently among the other painters.
“Where is the director?”
“Why?”
“He ordered everyone to attend. You’d think he’d at least show his face.”
Snippets of hushed conversations floated around as Winter checked the time.
The King’s speech wasn’t until 8:30, so there was still some waiting left.
For painters, this was an important chance.
Most of their clients were nobles, and tonight, many of the highest-ranking ones were here.
But Winter couldn’t focus on any of that.
The moment she had seen Eden Mayer’s name on the guest list, her heart hadn’t stopped pounding.
After what happened at the Mayer estate, she didn’t even know how to face him.
And with so many people in the enormous hall, she couldn’t even tell where he was.
So she shrank her shoulders and stayed quietly among the crowd.
The last thing she wanted was attention.
The atmosphere shifted when the King finally arrived.
“His Majesty the King is entering.”
The orchestra hushed as everyone bowed.
When they raised their heads, the gentle music resumed.
From her spot behind a marble pillar, Winter also looked over.
It was her first time seeing King Edward in person, even if only from afar, his white hair shining under the lights.
As he greeted the VIPs, Winter suddenly caught sight of another familiar face at the edge of her vision.
Golden hair that glowed under the chandeliers, sharp features, and blue eyes so deep they seemed to pull you in.
Her breath caught.
“Isn’t that the woman next to Duke Mayer? The one from the paper?”
“Oh, you’re right—that’s Violet Lindahl. Does this mean their wedding’s soon?”
“I heard the King arranged it himself. Maybe the date’s already set.”
“Shh! Not so loud.”
Whispers spread, and only then did Winter notice the woman standing beside Eden.
“…Ah.”
Her chest ached as if being crushed.
In her deep wine-colored dress, with striking black hair, Violet looked both glamorous and beautiful.
And at that very moment, she smiled brightly at Eden.
That radiant smile cut through Winter’s chest like a blade.
Even while standing in the same hall, the distance between her and Eden felt as vast and unbridgeable as reality itself.
The only reason she ended up closer to him at all was because the Academy’s director pulled the new artists forward.
“These are the young painters of our Academy. Some of them are holding their first exhibitions this year.”
It was a brief introduction—no need to bore a duke and a count’s daughter with a list of twenty names.
“The future of Bartz’s art world, I see. It’s a pleasure.”
Eden answered smoothly, and Violet followed with polite ease.
“I’ll be visiting the exhibitions soon myself. Congratulations, everyone.”
It was encouraging words for new artists. As thanks poured out around her, Winter finally lifted her head.
And in that instant—her eyes met Eden’s.
It felt like he had been looking at her all along.
Winter forgot even to look away.
She just stared back, trying to read him—but his face revealed nothing.
There were so many things she wanted to ask.
But here, in such a formal setting, Duke Mayer was untouchable.
Between them stood a wall, invisible but solid and high.
Then, the director eagerly pointed to the other side of the hall.
“Duke Mayer, Lady Lindahl, please—there’s a painting over there I specially prepared for you.”
Eden’s gaze slid away.
And just like that, it was over.
Winter’s eyes followed his retreating steps.
Her palms were sweaty, her nerves wasted on nothing more than a passing moment.
That was all their “meeting” amounted to—just a polite encounter among many at the party.
Winter stayed rooted where she was until the crowd dispersed.
In truth, she couldn’t move even a single step.
Because if she did, the tears threatening to fall might spill instantly.
“Winter, you always surprise me.”
“When we’re together, time just flies. Don’t you think so?”
Memories of his voice echoed in her head.
The warmth of his large hand, stained with paint, gently holding hers.
Their first kiss.
The soft whispers when they were alone.
She couldn’t believe any of it had been fake.
One memory returned vividly
That summer dawn, when Winter woke wrapped in his strong arms.
Even so early, Eden was already awake, brushing her messy hair back tenderly.
“When did you wake up?”
“A little while ago. Go back to sleep.”
His voice had been clear, not groggy at all.
When she buried her face against him again, his long arm drew her closer.
He patted her back gently.
“I should get to the studio early today,” she murmured.
“I’ll wake you up on time,” he replied with a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She remembered drifting back to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat right against her ear.
Those were the moments that made her heart flutter.
But when had Eden already decided on the end?
Was it after he learned the truth about her father?
Most likely.
And she… she hadn’t even noticed.
She couldn’t even pinpoint when it all had started to change.
