“Irene.”
“Yes?”
Before she went inside, Noel called out to her. Irene turned her head back, curiously.
“I have poor taste in art. So could you please stay beside , and explain?”
“Oh.”
At Noel’s unexpected reply, Irene blinked in response.
“Of course,” she nodded. “I am not very knowledgeable either, but…”
“That’s fine. Because, I am less.” Noel replied playfully.
Irene looked at him and burst into a fit of laughter.
Noel looked at her perplexed.
“Oh, you seem rather cheerful today.”
“Do I? Perhaps it’s due to the nice weather.”
Noel walked ahead; a gentle wind caressed his silver-grey hair. Irene stood behind him, and looked at his back, then took a big step towards Noel.
As it was indeed an exhibition held by the Duke, all the works on display were by renowned artists. When she saw the pieces that she had only seen in person in books, a sense of ecstasy stirred in Irene. She was deliriously happy, and openly admired the art.
“This piece is called ‘The Roar of Kerbel’. Kerbel committed a cri for the sake of his beloved, who he was very much enamoured with. He eventually is punished and sentenced to be the watchman of the gates of hell. He unwillingly kills himself and expresses his fury. If you are not familiar with the story, it appears to be a roaring monster. However, once you know the story, it no longer feels so terrifying. Kerbel’s regret for sinning for his lover, and yet his heart that is longing for his lover; his grief, misery, pain, suffering, sorrow, etc. It is a piece that allows you to feel many painful emotions.” Irene explained to Noel.
She looked at the artwork with complicated eyes. In the book, Irene was particularly interested in this artwork. The figure of Kerbel whilst guarding in front of the hot, isolated door, where flas rose without a single ray of sunlight.
Even when looking at the pictures in the book, Irene was drawn to this piece. It resonated with her.
Like .
Nobody knew, she was crying alone.
That deeply lonely figure of Kerbel...when she saw the painting she had only ever seen in books in real life, a complicated feeling arose. Therefore, her gaze lingered longer than on other works. Noel, who was listening patiently to Irene’s explanation, glanced at Irene when she had stopped talking and pursed her lips.
“Perhaps he t his lover.”
“Pardon?”
Irene suddenly glanced up at Noel’s words. He looked away from her and repeated, eyeing the painting.
“He must have been happy enough to forget the pain he had been through, having t his lover one last ti.”
“Ah…”
It was an unfounded statent.
But the way Noel had said it, it seed as if that were the case.
I feel happy.
Whenever she was with him, it felt like being in the presence of a cool and gentle breeze. Though in reality, there was no literal wind blowing, she still…
I feel at ease.
She felt so comfortable that she could not help but smile. It was as if he understood her heart.
I’m glad you’re here.
It was ti to appreciate the works of her favourite artists and to be one step closer to Noel. It was one of the few tis she had been happy since her birth. She wished it could continue like this…
“Sister.”
Irene stiffened at the low-pitched voice coming from behind her back. As if Noel had also heard the voice, the smile on his face hardened for a mont.
Irene could not look back. She did not want this happy mont to be broken. However, …
“Sister, it’s been a while.”
Why did unhappiness always co the mont happiness began?
Irene wanted to resent soone.
♔♔♔
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