VLA - Chapter 03
Violet Love Affair
Perhaps there was an important report to be made. There was a short delay after he called Ana. His concentration is truly amazing. In the meantime, calling her wasn't a common occurrence.
Perhaps Ana, who rarely expresses her personal preferences other than as a hostess, spoke as if she was criticizing her husband, so he might have been a little concerned. She answered calmly, turning her eyes back to her book.
"No. It can't be."
In fact, she had no regrets at all about her husband's unusual hobby. Although she was surprised that someone who had always been gentle could be obsessed with and enjoy such physical activity, she was indifferent, other than commenting that it seemed a little human.
It was surprising that she was so hooked that she didn't notice anything in two days.
However, even though her husband was away for two days, it did not cause much of a disruption to her life.
As a reward, she pretended to be happy to receive the high-quality fur that he had packed and handed to her, but in reality, it was just that. She loved oriental silk woven from silkworm thread and beautiful lace and embroidery made by hand, but she had no interest in animal skin.
There was silence for a moment. The couple was momentarily distracted by their own work. When Ana had turned two or three more pages, Garcia muttered.
"Thank goodness."
Soon they said nothing until they arrived at the mansion.
***
Being responsible and supervising the finances of a family and a mansion is not that hard on the outside. She thought that a lady was like a swan.
At first glance, it looks like it is swimming leisurely across the lake, gracefully picking out its white feathers, but this is possible because it has unsightly, struggling feet beneath the surface of the water.
Like the corset to create a thin and flowing waist, the Lady's maids carry parasols and hats like their lives to avoid seeing a single ray of sunlight for their fair skin, and her tired eyes as she carefully examines complicated budget documents.
Of course, the Tudor family was a huge family with over 300 years of history, so they had a separate budget manager, but she never neglected to supervise the family's money after joining the family. Gardens, parties, banquets, etc., as well as the work and employment of employees, are basic.
Even her husband, Garcia, who tended to be straightforward when it came to public matters such as business and work, tended to acknowledge her meticulous handling of work. In fact, she wasn't as smart as Garcia, but she was a hard worker. Her personality itself was due to her meticulousness and sense of responsibility in her work.
Now married for three years, she has become somewhat proficient. She reads the document, marks the parts she would like to ask the tax preparer, and then stretches out for a long time. Her eyes hurt a little. She told them to stop the tea so she could rest, and as she felt a bit drowsy, her nerves relaxed, and as soon as she looked at the garden beyond the window, an old memory came back to her.
"Read some books in moderation. I will throw away all my eyes."
"Are you reading something like that? It's good to play around at our age."
"Lady."
The hostess's direct maid, Ahn, was uncharacteristically absent-minded and did not respond, so she called her again. Only after a long time did the answer come back. Ana straightened her back and asked back in a clear voice as if asking when she had lost her mind.
"What's happened?"
"It's the painting I bought a month ago."
"Ah."
While Garcia's hobby was hunting, Ana's was collecting paintings and supporting artists. Her tastes and hobbies from her childhood continued even after marriage.
Ana felt homesick for a moment but came to her senses when she saw the maids quietly bowing their heads in front of her.
She found it funny that the sentiment that came up immediately after she had distracted herself for a moment. She smiled, straightened her expression, and opened her mouth.
"Okay. I said I wanted to meet the artist who painted that picture."
Among the many paintings that the monk brought, that painting immediately caught her eye. The deep blue sea, the emerald sky, and the only red girl on the blue screen. The girl and the sea in the painting were alive and breathing as if each brushstroke carried emotion and soul.
Ana, fascinated by a painting by an unknown artist, became unusually excited and strongly insisted on meeting him. Not only would she buy the painting, but she would also consider giving priority to, and even sponsoring his collection and future works. But the answer that came back was unexpected.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. That is..."
The painting broker awkwardly explained that the artist did not like meeting nobles. It was a reason she had never thought of.
It was often difficult for artists to freely engage in artistic activities without the support of a wealthy person. So, if you are an artist, you should dream of receiving support from nobles. The more solid the support, the higher the chance of spreading your wings.
Although it was difficult for her to accept it, she believed that since artists often have a way of thinking that is difficult for others to understand, there was a subtle reason or a philosophy of their own. Especially if you are a master who created such outstanding works. There must be something you're pursuing.
"I understand. Instead, please come to me at any time if you change your mind."
The monk bowed his head in apology and retreated. That was a week ago.
Ana frowned.
"The painter wants to meet me?"
Is he also hoping for financial support?
If that's the case, there's nothing worse. Ana doesn't know why his thoughts suddenly changed.
The name... Did he say Sigyn Noel?
Ana led the maids down the central stairs and toward the drawing room. She passed through elegant hallways with red carpets, ornate wallpaper, chandeliers, beautiful statues, and mahogany wall decorations, and arrived at a hall with a terrace overlooking a bright garden beyond an arched wall.
It was an old-fashioned drawing room with a portrait created to commemorate the marriage of the Marquis of Tudor and his wife. She said it was also her favorite space.
And a man was looking up at the portrait.
Ana stopped walking due to the unknown atmosphere he gave off. It wasn't a burn. He doesn't have that kind of stature.
He was much taller, and although his clothes were shabby, including a worn traveling cape, he didn't look that shabby, perhaps because of his stocky physique. The black curly hair sticking out from between the collars of the hood was shiny, like an untamed and free wild animal.
Perhaps, from the moment she laid eyes on that familiar yet unfamiliar back, or from the moment she smelled the strange air he gave off as he looked up endlessly at her portrait, or rather from the moment she entered the drawing room, she may have had an intuition.
The man turned around and looked at her.
Ah.
Her eyes open wide. She thought she took a step back, but she didn't. This is because her body was already stiff.
That face is revealed as it is under the bright light. The boy who smiled brightly overlapped the boy who had grown up and grown up. Dry, thirsty black eyes twinkled. Dry lips whispered silently.
"Ana."
Unbelievable. Why is he standing here, looking at her?
He was her first love.
***
Her first love came to her when she was fifteen, at a summer villa in the heat.
Her uncle brought in that boy because his eyes were so black that she didn't even realize it. Although she was a precocious and quiet girl, Ana at that age had a budding curiosity about the opposite sex and an immature liveliness.
Naturally, their eyes met and he quickly turned his head away. Everything from the bluntly downcast eyes to the hands that continued to run through his hair anxiously, to the pursed lips without even a single greeting, were reactions that went against the etiquette that Ana had learned.
Young Ana was embarrassed by the boy's reaction and just fiddled with the hem of her skirt. She felt embarrassed and embarrassed.
But perhaps it was only natural that their eyes met. Unlike Ana, who scanned her opponent out of the corner of her eye, that boy stared at her blatantly from the start.
"Say hello. He must be a cousin to you."
Black snow completely covered her vision again. Ana twitched her fingertips, which were covered by her skirt, as the boy's face faced her directly. A lightly tanned face, a stubborn mouth, and shadowy eyes. He was as good-looking as a boy, and he looked straight at her in a way that made people uncomfortable.
He said,
“Siasen.”
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