To My First Love, With Regret - 121

—There’s no need to open it. You already know what I’m going to say.

The moment she gripped the envelope, an auditory hallucination of Ethan whispering coldly began to swirl in her ears.

—The play is over, Eve. I know everything. That you’re Leclerc, that you have the audacity to try and throw me in prison, and even where you’re planning to run.

This would be the sentence announcing her ruin. Holding her breath, Eve tore the seal of the envelope with trembling fingers. Rippp. The sound of tearing paper sliced through the room like a scream.

With the heart of a prisoner standing at the gallows, she unfolded the stationery. And the moment she read the first sentence, Eve’s eyes froze as if nailed to the spot.

—…What is this?

It wasn’t the sentence she had expected. Upon the paper, a completely different topic—one she hadn’t even imagined—seemed to mock the terrified Eve.

—…An engagement?

For the past few days, Eve had been acting, pretending to favorably consider Ethan’s proposal to hide her intent to flee. Ethan had fallen for the act completely. He didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that Eve would accept.

This letter was the proof. It was a polite request addressed to ‘Leclerc,’ asking for a painting of a gift to be presented to his fiancée.

—Ha, I can’t believe this…. Why am I your fiancée?

It was a relief that Ethan had been totally deceived, but she couldn’t help but resent his arrogant attitude, deciding the nature of their relationship all on his own. This letter was mere kindling, better off crumpled up and thrown into the fireplace immediately. Nevertheless, her gaze didn’t stop, following the sentences down the page.

It was because the painting Ethan wanted had piqued Eve’s curiosity.

—…Paint the two people in the photos side-by-side on the same canvas?

She pulled out the two enclosed photos. They captured a worn scrap of paper torn from the corner of a sketchbook. As if the front and back had been photographed separately, a boy was drawn on one side, and a girl on the other.

The pencil lines were clumsy and crude, lacking any refinement, yet the depiction was detailed and accurate. Thanks to that, Eve recognized them instantly. That the boy and girl were Ethan and herself in their younger days.

Who on earth drew us, and when?

—You drew it, Eve.

She could almost hear Ethan’s voice, laced with a smile. According to his request, the portraits in the photos were torn from a childhood sketchbook that Eve had completely forgotten.

As for the reason Ethan had kept a doodle that even the artist couldn’t remember….

I have been in love since then.

A fate where we were as close as a single sheet of paper, yet trapped in different worlds—the front and the back—never able to meet. That was her and I.

From that day on, I had only one dream. To one day cross that wall and stand on the same page as her, looking at the same place from the same height.

I finally defied fate and crossed that wall. But the joy of meeting her eye-to-eye was brief; I foolishly made the misjudgment of abandoning my dream.

Now, I intend to reclaim that dream—to reclaim her.

I earnestly entreat you to help me with the tip of your brush, so that I may deliver this confession to my first love: a plea to return to our purest days.

Thud.

Unable to bear the weight, a teardrop finally traced a path down Eve’s cheek and fell onto Ethan’s letter. Of all places, it landed right on the words he seemed to have written with emphasized pressure.

Let’s go back

The wet ink began to bleed into a dark smudge. Rather than being erased, the distorted letters grew bolder, etched into her mind like Ethan’s desperate cry, pleading for her not to leave.

—Ethan….

A wet answer escaped through Eve’s trembling lips.

—We’ve already come too far to go back.

Over the next few days, Eve finished the sketches for her escape. On the other hand, she couldn’t shake the requested painting from her mind.

Even on the way back to Cliffhaven to prepare for her departure, Eve looked back endlessly at their innocent days. When she did, her memories followed one after another like the cars of this train, tracing the trajectory of the past thirty years to reach the present.

From childhood friends who kept the line of social status, to lovers who crossed that line and gave themselves to one another, and finally to enemies trampling each other to claim their own share.

She hadn’t realized it as a child. That their end would result in such a tragedy.

Just how did we end up like this?

Eve threw the question at the empty canvas. She had stopped by the studio at Hotel La Mer to settle her affairs, but she simply sat before the easel without moving, staring at the canvas in front of her.

A white canvas, untainted by anything.

It’s just like us back then.

Back then, when no sin or lie had touched them, they were as dazzlingly pure as that blank sheet—so just what had been so cruelly painted over them to bring them to this current, miserable state?

Driven by impulse, Eve picked up a brush. She decided to apply color to this innocent backdrop and recreate them as they were today. She would layer the records of the past thirty years, during which their pure white had been contaminated.

This would be Evelyn Sherwood’s answer to the proposal Ethan Fairchild had sent, and her first commissioned work as Leclerc.

But it would certainly not be the painting he had requested.

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By the time she painted the final record over the canvas, the sun of the day she had promised to depart had risen and was looking down at Eve.

That morning, she used a key to open a bedroom door and stepped inside. Naturally, she skipped the knock. The occupant of this room would currently be tied down somewhere far away from this cliff at the southeastern edge of the land.

Ethan likely didn’t know. He didn’t know that the reason the high command had requisitioned him wasn’t because he was an outstanding soldier, but because he was a dangerous criminal under investigation.

Under the guise of a mission, the military had isolated him in a trap to secretly and thoroughly unearth his crimes, while simultaneously buying Eve the time she needed to escape.

Where should I put this?

Holding the wrapped canvas, she looked around the room. It had been a long time since she’d been in here, and even when she’d had the chance, she’d never had the composure to look around slowly. Because of that, she only today solved the mystery of ‘where the heads of the Sherwood scoundrels, father and son, had disappeared to.’

So, they were here.

The pair of skulls sitting side-by-side on the windowsill had been relegated to ashtrays, stained here and there with soot and ash. Eve frowned at Ethan’s persistent malice—insulting his enemies even after death, as if killing them hadn’t been enough to satisfy his rage.

Yet, mockingly, she felt a simultaneous impulse to spit on those same kin who had tormented her even in life. In the end, she had no choice but to admit it.

You and I… the concentration of the venom we carry is the same.

After some deliberation, the spot Eve chose was beneath the painting of a lighthouse hanging on the wall. She carefully set the canvas down and placed the letter she had prepared on top of it. Having finished her task, she slowly raised her head and stared at the painting on the wall.

Will you understand this painting now? That what was contained here wasn’t your story, but mine.

Eve shared one last look with her ten-year-old self, then turned and left the room without a hint of regret.

Her next destination was Tony’s room. Perhaps he was still packing, as a half-empty suitcase lay wide open. Standing before it, the boy was surrounded by a pile of Christmas presents he’d only had for a few days, agonizing over which ones to take.

However, there was one gift he tucked into the bag without a moment’s hesitation.

—Since our country’s officer uniforms are so cool, I want to show them to my friends abroad, and I can wear it as formal dress too….

—Let’s leave that behind. You won’t get much use out of it.

It was an excuse. In truth, she simply hated the thought of being reminded of Ethan every time she saw those clothes.

But compared to the child’s firm ‘reason for taking it,’ her own ‘argument for leaving it’ was nothing more than petty, flimsy stubbornness. Eve eventually surrendered, and a triumphant Tony gallantly tossed his next toy right on top of it.

—I’m taking this too.

Even the detective set? Eve laughed as if she had no choice, though she couldn’t help but chime in.

—At this rate, the plane will be too heavy and you won’t be able to get on.

—Gasp, no way! I’m going too!

Startled by Eve’s playful threat, Tony quickly pulled out two model airplane boxes he had been trying to shove into the suitcase.

A child who had spent every day looking up at the sky from the ground had finally seized the chance to reach those distant heights. He couldn’t risk losing the moment he’d fulfill his wish of his first flight just for the sake of some toys.

Of course, she hid the real reason for the flight from Tony. She simply gave him the plausible excuse that this land was too dangerous, so they were taking refuge in a safe place until the war ended.

One might expect a child to whine about leaving his familiar hometown, but instead, he had surprised Eve by being unable to hide his excitement.

—This is the first time you and I, Eve, are going on a trip just the two of us.

Faced with the boy’s sparkling eyes—eyes that seemed happy for that fact alone—Eve had been choked up with a sudden surge of guilt and gratitude, unable to speak.

—Right… from now on, let’s go away together often.

However, the boy who said he liked it because it was just her, immediately followed up with a wistful question.

—Isn’t Ethan coming too?