Into The Rose Garden

Vol. 5 ITRG Volume 5 Chapter 7

A report came back with a much improved revenue structure: the unrecognized financial problem was completely solved, and Teiwind’s assets were set to grow without any special investment. Enclosed was another card with the same time frame as last time.

“What a one-sided notification, he’s really acting as he wishes.”

Aeroc wasn’t much of a social butterfly himself, but as the prestigious Count of Teiwind, he received many invitations and had a long list of committees and other charitable endeavours to attend to. Even when he wasn’t out and about, he had letters to answer, new books to read for intellectual pursuits, exhibitions to attend, soirées to attend, and many other things to keep him busy. And yet, that man was ignoring this important part of his schedule. It was as if none of Aeroc’s other schedules mattered, and the Count of Teiwind should only care about that man.

Aeroc flipped through his diary, where he kept track of important events and tasks.

“I have an important appointment that day, after all.”

Aeroc snorted as he spotted a delightful marker. It was the day he would visit the art gallery. A new painting by an up-and-coming artist he’d been eyeing had arrived, the museum director had told him. He’d promised to show it to Aeroc before it went on display to the public, and in that process, he’d be able to buy it before anyone else, so he tended to attend these kinds of previews. If he had other important commitments, Aeroc could delay his visit to the museum by a day or two.

“But why should I?”

In terms of importance, that man was no more important than the dust that settled on a painting. It wasn’t the museum director who needed to reschedule, it was the rude man.

Aeroc was about to write a reply saying that he had a prior commitment that day and they could reschedule for another day, but then he realized why he should bother with polite coordination. A one-sided response was appropriate for a one-sided notification. Aeroc tore the paper, which began with a formal phrase, in two. After tossing it in the shredder, he decided to spend the day indulging in a somewhat sinister impulse.

His first stop was the art museum. Despite the haste with which he’d alerted his visit, the curator was impeccably polite and welcomed his most valuable client. The usual luxury private room was ready and waiting. Aeroc sank into a historic chair that had been used by countless art lovers in the past. He placed his silk hat on a table with a cigarette box and ashtray, and put his cane on the side.

“Let’s start quickly today.”

As he removed his gloves, he cast a glance at the curator. On his signal, a waiting museum staffer brought the paintings to him, one by one, and in an understated but respectful manner, the curator explained the artist and the background of the work.

“This is a romantic style of painting, showing…….”

The pleasure of petty revenge had changed slowly as time passed. As Aeroc’s impulsive anger wore off and he calmed down, he reevaluated the value of his actions. Instead of behaving like a mature adult, he was being too childish. It was so cowardly of him to take revenge like this towards the hated man. No matter how much he disliked Bendyke’s arrogance and disrespect, this form of retribution was unworthy of the Count of Teiwind. In fact, it would only make him feel worse.

“So, Count. How do you like this piece?”

“The art style is too strong and rough.”

He glanced at the work at the curator’s call, and he didn’t like what he saw: a haphazard painting of dark maroon and gray that looked like it belonged in someone’s bleak office.

“It seems that this person has some talent, but their overconfidence cancels out any remaining charm. I don’t like it at all.”

Aeroc poured out severe criticism. “That’s what I think, too,” the curator said, as if he’d been waiting for it, and quickly produced another piece.

As the appointed time approached, Aeroc lost his composure. He crossed and uncrossed his legs, tapping his index finger against the armrest of the chair. For some reason, the back of his neck felt cold, and goosebumps crawled across his skin for no apparent reason.

The curator, with whom he had a long-standing relationship of trust and a deep understanding of his favorite works, introduced him to several carefully selected pieces. But none of them caught Aeroc’s eye. Before the last piece was shown, he finally stood up. The appointment time was long overdue.

“That’s enough for today.”

“I apologize that we didn’t have anything to your liking, Count. I’ll see you again the next time we have something good.”

“No, don’t mind it too much. It’s my personal issue, not yours. I’ll stop by again next time.”

“I understand.”

The curator held the door open as Aeroc left with the silk hat and cane. The staff who had just brought in a new piece stepped to one side. As he placed the hat on his head, he glanced at the painting. It was a landscape depicting spring, with rich colors, warm, delicate brushstrokes, and, above all, the artist’s tender affection for his subject. He wanted to take a closer look, but now was not the time. Aeroc looked back at the painting again.

“I’ll come see that painting next time.”

“I understand.”

The curator politely led Aeroc out of the gallery.

Upon his return, Hugo greeted him at the front door, accepting Aeroc’s coat and announcing the arrival of his guest as expected.

“He’s been waiting for two hours, Sir. He said he has an appointment.”

Hugo, however, had never been forewarned of his appointment by his master. That was, of course, because Aeroc hadn’t told him anything. The competent butler had let the guest in, given that Bendyke was in his master’s employ and that they had been on personal terms as of recent.

“Good. Is he in the violet room?”

“No, Sir. He’s in the study.”

“In the study?”

“Yes.”

“He’s strangely fond of the study. Even though he doesn’t look like much of a reader.”

“Because the Count of Teiwind’s study is the envy of intellectuals not only in the capital, but throughout the empire.”

The butler, a man of great pride in the family he had served all his life, replied in an elegant tone. Aeroc walked briskly to the study. He doubted that Bendyke’s interest was the same of those commoners. He wanted to walk slowly towards the library, but it wasn’t working.

As he entered the library, he saw Bendyke’s back. The man sat on the couch, facing the window. White smoke wafted from the end of his left arm, which was draped over a comfortable leather-covered armrest. There was a cigarette between his index and middle finger. The highly addictive thing was half-burnt. The crystal ashtray on a nearby table already had several cigarette butts.

“You can’t smoke in the library. It can damage the books.”

“Oh, I see.”

Without turning around, Bendyke replied, but he didn’t stop smoking. Instead, he brought the cigarette to his mouth.

Sztttt.

The fine paper wrapped around the dried leaf powder let out a soft scream as it burned. Aeroc shortly felt sorry for making him wait, then he strode over to Bendyke, not bothering to hide his displeasure.

“Hi. Did you enjoy your outing?”

Bendyke greeted cheerfully, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. His eyes were not smiling at all, and the difference shook the air precariously. A thin wisp of smoke curled around Aeroc’s waist and he shuddered. Bendyke knew too well how to make his point without words.

It was an unfair accusation. Aeroc had tried to draw the clear line, saying that he was under no obligation to comply with one-sided notices, that he had a social role to fulfill as the head of a family with a long history, and that he could not accommodate the demands of a mere employee.

But Aeroc wasn’t prepared for what Bendyke was about to say. The man jerked his chin toward the stack of books on the table beside him.

“Those are interesting.”

His left hand, clutching a cigarette, passed over them. Aeroc felt bothered by how Bendyke didn’t mind the ash falling on the precious books. Aeroc picked up the books. Each one was his favorite book, which he had read many times over.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

It was an abomination to see him ask back as he pretended not to know. Bendyke had selected only Aeroc’s favorite books from the spacious library. He had obviously had help. Was it Hugo, perhaps? But Hugo was not one for small talk with guests. How did this man know, Aeroc wondered.

“You think it’s a coincidence that you chose only my favorite books?”

“You told me that yourself.”

Aeroc got tired of his joking response.

“If you don’t want to answer, just keep quiet, I’ve had enough of your deception and mockery.”

His tone of voice was cold, even to himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Bendyke added, “I’m serious.” His tone was comically sincere, which made it all the more exhilarating. Aeroc’s teeth chattered, and he flipped through the book he was holding so roughly that he nearly tore it apart.

“If I believed that, there would be no difference between me and an incompetent person.” Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs ɴovᴇl(ꜰ)ir(e).nᴇt

“Judging by your money sense, I’d say you’re pretty close to one.”

“…… That’s not what I meant.”

Aeroc snapped back, half a beat too late.

“Anyway, I see the Count in my dreams, every day.”

“Ha! As if harassing me wasn’t bad enough, you’re also calling me in my dreams. It’s just as bad as it sounds, treating me like I’m an incompetent person because I’m not good with money. I’m not curious at all, but please don’t one-sidedly summon me to a cold, dreary study full of ledgers. It is very much unpleasant.”

It was non logical, full of emotions. In being rational, there was no way he could win with this madman. When dealing with a madman, one needed the manners of a madman.

“I didn’t expect my dream to make you feel that unpleasant. You must be tired, I’ve been reflecting on my dreams for the past two hours.”

Aeroc didn’t mean it that way, but he didn’t feel like correcting the man. Bendyke flicked his nearly spent cigarette into the ashtray and pushed himself to his feet. There was none of the politeness that should be expected between a man of different statuses, between host and guest, between employer and employee.

“I’ll go back for today.”

His slow, lumbering movement to his feet was that of a savage beast. He buttoned his unbuttoned jacket. It looked like a hunting ritual.

Aeroc didn’t really believe Bendyke would be going back like this, doing ‘nothing’. Sure enough, Bendyke stalked toward Aeroc. And Aeroc had hoped Bedyke would do something out of his expectations this time too. Damn it.

The long fingers that had just held the cigarette tickled the nape of his neck and his hair. When Aeroc raised his gaze, the tarry, swampy eyes he met sent an unspoken warning. Slowly, a shade fell onto him. The bridge of a knife-like nose crept closer. Bendyke was going to kiss him.

Aeroc froze, stunned, and the other paused, too. The pressure of the momentary silence felt like it would crush his lungs at any moment.

The fingers stroking his neck shifted and rubbed against the protruding bone at the base of his neck. His spine jerked slightly. Bendyke’s lips hovered just above Aeroc’s nose. He hesitated slightly, then let out a short sigh and kissed his forehead. The scent was bitter and pungent. If it was a perfume, and if Aeroc were given the power to name it, he would call it ‘Amon’, the devil of gold and greed.

Aeroc was already exhausted from a half day spent in discomfort. This brief encounter with Bendyke had completely drained what little stamina he had left. His whole body was as tired as a soaked cotton ball.

Aeroc spent the rest of the evening reading to soothe his exhaustion. The next thing he knew, he was rubbing his forehead with his fingers. It felt like he had been burned by hot lips spitting sulfur. The tingling sensation came and went intermittently. That bothered him unbearably.

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