Chapter 2
Eden had been painting from morning until late afternoon, and he only left his workshop when his uncle woke and called for him.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
His uncle asked as he prepared a late lunch. Eden quietly shook his head.
Without a regular work schedule or a comfortable home life, Eden’s daily life was a mess. Lately his insomnia had worsened, leaving him desperate for sound sleep. Every day was an endless stretch of frayed nerves. For the past few days, his uncle had struggled to make sure Eden ate proper meals, but with their finances turning dire, decent food for two was simply impossible. Eden grew more exhausted by the day, and his uncle’s seizures only grew worse.
“I was waiting for you to wake up so we could eat together, Uncle.”
“You should have eaten something. Even just a bite.”
“You had a bad fall last night. Are you feeling all right?”
Eden asked, brushing aside his uncle’s concern. His uncle gave a bitter smile.
Once the seizures began, they ate away at his memory. After the episodes, which could last for hours, his uncle would completely forget having wept and raved, as if none of it had ever happened. The woman’s name he had screamed so desperately was gone, and the terror in his eyes had vanished without a trace. No matter how much Eden pressed, desperate to help in some way, his uncle remembered nothing.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry…”
“It’s all right.”
Eden smiled warmly. It really was fine. His uncle was his only living kin, the man who had fed, sheltered, and cared for him, an orphan, since childhood. Though lately there had been many days when he genuinely wished he were dead, Eden was truly fine. Or rather, he was busy convincing himself of that, even if it felt like paying off a debt he could never fully clear.
“Oh, Nathan is coming by this evening to pick up the paintings. I’ll go get them while you make lunch.”
Eden headed back toward his workshop, unable to bear the growing tension. Lunch was only a few pieces of bread and some slices of cheese, so there was hardly anything to prepare and they could have eaten right away. But he feared that if he stayed at the table any longer with his nerves so frayed, sharp words would slip out. Eden sorted through the rack in the corner of the workshop where his finished paintings stood.
Because the price of paint had skyrocketed, he had managed only a few pieces this month. That was just how it was these days. Scraping by for a few months until their savings ran dry, selling paintings again, buying his uncle’s medicine, tightening their belts once more…
Eden sighed out of habit and weighed their remaining coins. He was utterly sick of crunching numbers dozens of times a day.
Eden gathered several paintings and stepped out into the living room.
“Eden, are you selling that one too, after all?”
His uncle’s eyes were fixed on a fairly large canvas.
“It’s fine. It’s might be a different size, but it’s still just another painting”
Eden loved painting on large canvases. In the past, when things were better, he would occasionally buy a large one and paint to his heart’s content, but these days he painted only on smaller canvases. He needed to sell them quickly to cover immediate expenses, and he could never save enough to buy the larger ones anyway. The fact that Eden had begun selling his larger canvases was proof of how dire their finances had become.
His uncle silently placed the toasted bread in front of Eden.
“It’s all right, Uncle. It’s just because the price of paint went up so suddenly.”
“Still, Eden…”
“Uncle, you know it’ll get better once winter passes.”
Eden gave a faint smile and took a bite of the warm bread. With so little prepared, the meal was over quickly.
* * *
After lunch, while Eden holed up in his workshop to paint, his uncle wrapped the paintings Eden had brought out in cloth. Not long after the sun set, a knock echoed through the house. When his uncle opened the door, a stout, jovial-looking man pulled him into a warm hug.
“How have you been?”
“Nathan, it’s been far too long.”
Nathan was an old friend his uncle had known since his days working in the imperial palace. As a merchant, he visited Eden’s home once every three months, taking a modest commission to sell the paintings for Eden, who couldn’t travel to the capital himself. But there was another reason Eden relied so heavily on Nathan. He was “the same kind” of person.
“How are you feeling? Last time I came, I didn’t even get to see you before I left, which was a shame. You’re taking your medicine properly, aren’t you?”
His uncle gave an awkward smile, as if Nathan’s question was difficult to answer, and merely fussed with the bundled paintings. Just then, Eden stepped out of the workshop and greeted Nathan.
“Hello, Nathan.”
“Hello, Eden. How have you been?”
“I’ve been well. You?”
“Same as always. Could you help me load the paintings?”
Nathan read the fatigue lingering on Eden’s face, his expression suggesting he guessed there had been quite a battle today as well.
His uncle headed outside first with an armful of paintings, and Eden followed, carrying the largest piece. While his uncle carefully stacked the paintings in the cart hitched behind the carriage, Eden quietly stroked the edge of the canvas in his arms.
It hurt. Of course it hurt. Only after finishing the paintings meant for sale could he paint what he truly wanted, and he had barely managed to complete this precious piece by pouring his spare time into it bit by bit.
For some reason, he had felt that once this painting was done, his uncle’s condition and their finances would improve. But Eden’s painting was worth less than a cheap charm. The closer it came to completion, the worse things became.
In the end, the largest canvas, depicting a brilliantly colorful garden, was loaded onto one side of the cart. Eden brushed off his hands and let out a deep breath.
“Thank you as always, Nathan.”
When Eden turned around, Nathan was staring at the large canvas on the cart as well. Feeling his gaze, Nathan looked at him. The moment their eyes met, Eden wanted to crawl into a hole.
It was a look that reminded him once again just how pitiful his circumstances were. It was full of concern, but pity was still pity. It felt suffocating. If the painting had to be sold anyway, he just wanted it out of sight as soon as possible.
“Please take good care of them.”
Eden let his stiff expression soften into a smile, his exhaustion evident. Nathan said nothing more and handed him a small pouch of coins. As he took it, Eden’s face stiffened slightly once more. The pouch felt lighter than last time. The dread that, just maybe, they might not make it until Nathan’s next visit chilled the back of his neck.
“Things will get better once winter passes. I’ll be off now. Take care of yourself, my friend.”
Nathan climbed into the carriage, and Eden and his uncle stood in front of the house until it disappeared over the hill. Only after his uncle went back inside did Eden collapse to the ground.
It was a painting he had cherished too much to take out of the workshop. Afraid that his own gloom might taint it, he had never dared hang it in the living room, only propping it against a workshop wall to gaze at. If this was how he was going to sell it, he should have just shoved it into the corner like the other small paintings.
Eden had never resented his uncle for losing his memory after a seizure, but for once, he did. Rather, he wished someone, even if it wasn’t his uncle, would remember his suffering and make up for it. The poverty that ruthlessly stole even the smallest comfort was suffocating.
* * *
The moment Nathan left, Eden’s life became a living hell. To make up for the shortfall, he needed to produce as many paintings as possible before Nathan’s next visit, but his uncle’s condition only worsened. Far from finding time to paint, he couldn’t even manage the bare minimum of sleep.
He could count on one hand the times he had slept in a bed. Unable to keep his eyes open, he usually dozed off slumped in the worn-out workshop chair. On the rare occasions he could lie down in bed, Eden felt he wouldn’t mind dying like that, yet the thought of his uncle left all alone kept him from sleeping soundly. Night after night, he woke with a start from nightmares in which he was strangling his uncle.
It was an endless string of days where he barely managed to keep breathing.
Today, several weeks after Nathan’s departure, Eden spent his entire morning calming down his uncle, just like any other day. Normally he would head straight to the workshop, but today he had to go out to buy food and his uncle’s medicine. Eden hurried to get ready.
“Uncle, I’ll be back in a little while.”
Knowing his uncle wouldn’t hear him, Eden quietly said goodbye before stepping out.
Though most of Eden’s paintings were of flowers, trees, and gardens, he rarely went outside to look at such scenery. He spoke to the villagers only when buying supplies, so his sick uncle and Nathan were the only people he ever talked to.
Eden’s home was in a secluded area far from the capital, and while the local villagers were healthy and well-tanned, Eden was not. He could only leave the house on days like today, when his uncle was nearly out of medicine and had collapsed from exhaustion after a seizure. Even then, he would only buy food and medicine before hurrying back as if fleeing. This left his skin pitifully pale. The way it contrasted with his jet-black hair made him look almost like someone from the northern continent.
Although this southern kingdom was fairly warm even in winter, midwinter was still quite chilly, so Eden pulled his coat tight around him and headed for the market. Despite the cold, the market bustled with shoppers.