Chapter : 33
“I thought Sir Preston might be bored, so I came to keep him company.”
Jacqueline said this with a proud expression as she took over the long couch. Windsor’s lips curved slightly. A faint breath slipped between his teeth.
It looked, at a glance, like a smile.
He leaned back into the chair with his arms crossed. Jacqueline lay down, resting her head on her arm.
“……”
Silence settled again.
No—there wasn’t complete silence. Thunder still rumbled in the distance, rain poured down relentlessly, and Benjamin’s faint breathing could be heard.
And yet Windsor thought it was utterly quiet.
He wasn’t sleepy, but he slowly closed his eyes anyway, as if savoring the peace of the moment.
Night deepened along with the pouring rain. At some point, another steady breath blended into the noisy silence.
Windsor gently focused on that sound, pushing away everything else. Without realizing it, even his own breathing became regular.
The world’s noise could not break the calm inside the room.
***
His throat hurt.
His consciousness, sunk beneath sleep, slowly began to surface through the faint discomfort.
Realizing he was waking, Windsor slowly opened his eyes. His clear gaze looked nothing like someone who had just been asleep.
The room was dark, as if it were still the middle of the night. But Windsor knew it was 6 a.m.
No matter what time he went to bed, he always woke at six.
It was a habit formed after he joined the navy.
Even though summer was approaching, the darkness was thick—likely because of the rain that had fallen all night.
The sound of rain was gone now, but the clouds still hung low. It might rain all day again.
Was there anything important today?
As always, the moment he woke, Windsor recalled his schedule.
By 10 a.m., the asset manager would visit. At 11, a religious institution would come—likely to discuss donations. And in the afternoon…
Then—
“……”
All the detailed plans filling his mind vanished at once.
In their place was Jacqueline’s sleeping face.
Only then did last night return to him.
So she never went back to her room after all.
Jacqueline was curled tightly, breathing evenly in soft, steady rhythms.
Windsor observed her as if she were some unfamiliar creature of a different species.
Fear of thunder was something he could not understand. Fear of darkness, or talking to a teddy bear—those things did not exist in his world.
Pfft.
A faint laugh slipped out from between his teeth.
It was because he suddenly recalled her shameless expression as she closed the door and returned to the couch.
At that moment, he felt a sharp gaze on his cheek.
Windsor slowly turned his head.
A pair of wide, alert eyes met his.
Benjamin.
The boy had apparently been awake for a while, staring at him with sparkling eyes.
“Did you sleep well, Uncle?”
“Yes. Good morning.”
“Yes.”
Benjamin’s eyes turned shy. He buried his face briefly in Colin’s belly, then slowly lifted his head again.
He stared at Windsor.
As if questioning whether the smile he had just seen was real.
Windsor had stayed by the boy’s side through the entire stormy night.
It was a strange feeling.
Especially for Benjamin, who had always believed his uncle found him bothersome.
Maybe he doesn’t actually hate me? No way… he wouldn’t like me, would he?
At that moment, Windsor slowly stood up from the sofa.
Benjamin tilted his head up to look at him.
Windsor glanced down at the doll the boy was holding tightly.
His gaze was indifferent, but not cold.
“It’s time to get up.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Benjamin quickly sat up at the words. The movement made Jacqueline shift in her sleep, curling tighter.
Windsor glanced at her, then returned his gaze to Benjamin.
“You must be tired from last night’s banquet. You may rest a little longer.”
“…Yes.”
Benjamin tilted his head.
It sounded less like something meant for him, and more like it was directed at someone else.
Moreover, Windsor had always taught him to maintain a disciplined routine regardless of events the previous day.
So allowing him to oversleep felt entirely uncharacteristic.
“I’ll tell the maid to wake you in an hour.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Benjamin’s voice grew quieter as well.
Windsor, who had been walking toward the door, suddenly stopped.
He returned to the couch and removed his robe, placing it over Jacqueline.
Then he stood there quietly, looking down at her.
After a moment, he reached out.
He gently brushed the hair scattered across her forehead behind her ear.
“!”
Benjamin gasped.
He stared wide-eyed, covering his mouth with both hands as if afraid he might scream.
It really must be a fairy!
Windsor turned and headed for the door again.
But just before leaving, he looked back.
“Benjamin.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
The boy straightened immediately, still tense.
“Thunder is merely an electrical discharge caused by atmospheric instability.”
Windsor seemed about to add that there was nothing to fear—but stopped.
Benjamin nodded.
“…Yes. I know. Mr. Robinson taught us in science class.”
“Good.”
With that, Windsor left the room.
Click.
The door closed softly.
Only then did Benjamin exhale, slowly crawling back under the blanket.
He still wasn’t sure what exactly had just happened.
But Jacqueline’s breathing was steady, and Colin’s soft body felt warm.
Soon, Benjamin drifted back to sleep.
A long-awaited sleep tasted sweeter than chocolate.
***
Benjamin’s eyes widened as he looked at Jacqueline wearing an apron.
She quickly gave instructions to Betty, who had just entered.
“Today we’re painting that wall, so move the chairs to the other side, Betty.”
“…Yes, miss.”
Betty’s perfectly composed expression wavered slightly, but she recovered quickly and moved the chairs aside.
Jacqueline walked up to the exposed ivory wall and squeezed paint onto her palette.
Pffft.
A soft airless sound escaped.
Benjamin followed her with sparkling eyes.
When he was with Jacqueline, something fun always happened. That was why he liked his fairy-like teacher.
“Today, I’m going to restore my honor.”
Jacqueline murmured dramatically, gripping her brush like a weapon.
She turned to Benjamin.
“We’re going to move away from Fauvism and return to realism. Realism means depicting people and objects as they truly are—capturing facial expressions, wrinkles, and muscle movement in detail and vividness.”
“Yes, Teacher Somerset.”
Benjamin nodded enthusiastically.
Jacqueline turned back to the empty wall.
“Let’s paint the myths of the continent here.”
“The myths of the continent?”
“Do you know them?”
“Of course. Uncle bought me the complete collection for my birthday last year.”
“Ah… right.”
Jacqueline’s eyes narrowed slightly as she shrugged.
“I’ll paint the birth of the gods. Benjamin, you paint the war of the gods next to me.”
“…Yes, Teacher Somerset.”
It seemed more difficult, but Benjamin nodded without complaint.
He would have eaten spoiled cake if she asked.
“Let’s begin.”
“Yes, Teacher Somerset!”
They began painting with serious determination.
Even while working, Jacqueline continued talking.
“There’s a reason myths of the continent are such popular birthday gifts. They appear everywhere in daily life—even outside temple ceilings or ancient carvings. Most households own at least one item related to mythology.”
“Yes, Teacher Somerset.”
Benjamin answered absently, focused on his painting.
The war of the gods required far more attention than the birth of the gods.
Expressions, dynamic muscles, different weapons—he tried to recreate everything from the book.
“The gods of the continent are very human-like. They fall in love, feel jealousy, and even betray each other. That’s why artists can add so much imagination to their works.”
“Yes, Teacher Somerset.”
“You know, it’s one of the most beloved subjects for painters. Even after thousands of years, works about mythology are still being created. To truly enjoy them, it helps to understand the myths.”
“Yes, Teacher Somerset.”
“…Are you even listening, Benjamin?”
“Yes, Teacher Somerset.”
Jacqueline glanced sideways at him suspiciously.
Something felt off—his answers lacked spirit.
Then she seemed to understand, and said kindly,
“You don’t have to rush, Benjamin. I told you, you’re quite talented for your age. It’s just that I’m so exceptional that comparison is…”
“Five-legged dogs don’t seem to be Benjamin’s drawing.”
A flat voice came from behind them.