Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 4 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

THE FIRST SILVER SUGAR

Anne woke up with the rising sun.

“Mithril Lid Pod! Get up, okay? Get up.”

Anne opened the curtains and roused Mithril from where he was buried under the blanket. With her finger, she nudged the tiny shoulder of the fairy born from a droplet of lake water, who was curled up in a ball asleep.

“What’s the fuss…Anne? Is it time for breakfast already? But…you’re not dressed yet, are you? If you’re going to tell me not to look until you’re done changing, just let me sleep…”

Mithril slowly woke up, yawned, and tried to crawl back under the covers.

“Wait, listen to me! Last night, I was able to see Challe!”

“You saw him?”

As she’d expected, Mithril looked up in surprise.

She had actually wanted to tell Mithril about it the night before, immediately upon returning to her room after parting from Challe. But she couldn’t bring herself to wake him when he was sleeping so comfortably, so she had waited until the morning.

“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went to look at one of the workrooms, and Challe appeared. When I told him I could save him by finishing this job properly, he said he would wait for me.”

Mithril pondered this information for a moment. “Wait. It’s him we’re talking about; I thought he would have said it was none of your business and to get out.” Then he exclaimed, “I know! Challe Fenn Challe must really be having a tough time with that woman! I bet he’s being subjected to some awful things in that woman’s chambers, stuff that we can’t even imagine!”

“What do you mean, things so awful that we can’t even imagine them?!”

“You dummy! We can’t imagine them, so they must be terrible!”

When he said that, Anne suddenly felt anxious.

“Now that you mention it, I did think Challe’s behavior was kind of strange. Like he was angry, but he kindly tied my ribbon for me.”

“Ohhh…poor Challe Fenn Challe!”

Mithril pressed his fingers against the inner corners of his eyes, then hopped right up.

“All right, let’s get to work, Anne. If that’s how it’s going to be, then let’s get this workshop back on track as soon as possible and free Challe Fenn Challe! I’ll give it my all, too!”

Mithril seemed to be burning with brotherly love for his fellow fairy. At his urging, Anne quickly changed clothes and went down to the dining room on the first floor. Orlando was already sitting at the dining table, silently moving his fork.

“Good morning, Mr. Langston. May I sit beside you?” Anne asked.

With a look, he indicated the seat farthest away from him.

“We have so much space. It will feel cramped, so please don’t sit so close.”

“…Okay.”

Feeling disappointed, Anne moved away from Orlando and sat.

There were fourteen chairs around the dining table. But only two humans and one small fairy were present. By rights, every seat ought to have been filled by candy crafters employed by the studio. That made the atmosphere around the splendid oak dining table feel even more desolate. Anne became even more acutely aware that the main studio of the Paige Workshop was truly in decline.

The one saving grace was that the dining room was nice and sunny. Even though the room was deserted, at least the place was bright.

As soon as Anne took her seat, a female fairy who did housework in the main house brought her breakfast and a cup of tea. The fairy’s hair was light orange. Anne knew there was supposed to be another fairy working in the main house, but she didn’t see them.

Anne picked up her fork and was about to eat some of the scrambled eggs, when—

—suddenly, Orlando spoke.

“Also—”

She raised her head and saw Orlando holding his teacup. But he was not looking at her.

“You don’t need to speak so politely to me. There’s no need for you to call me ‘mister.’ You can call me Orlando. That’s what you should do.”

“But in terms of age and experience—”

“Please be mindful of your position. You only need to use such niceties toward Glen and Elliott,” Orlando said sharply, then stood up. He continued:

“After breakfast, please report to the workroom. You are the head candy crafter.”

That was all he said before leaving the dining room. Mithril stuck his tongue out at Orlando’s retreating back.

“What’s his problem? Actin’ all high-and-mighty. ‘Be mindful of your position.’”

Anne smirked at Mithril mocking Orlando’s way of speaking.

“But he was right about everything he said, I guess,” Anne responded.

“Oh, you’re up early, Anne.”

Elliott emerged from Glen’s room. He entered the dining room with a grin once he saw Anne. He was holding two or three letters and a sheaf of papers with writing on them.

“Good morning. You’re up early yourself, Mr. Collins.”

“Well, I am the proxy maestro, after all. Every morning, I’ve got to ask Glen about the tasks for the day, then carry out the maestro’s duties. In fact, I’ll be out until the evening doing just that. Apparently, there has been some disagreement among some of our subsidiary studios, you see, and I’ve got to go mediate. And right after that, I have to go to the Crafters Guild in Millsfield. I won’t be able to touch a grain of silver sugar today,” Elliott grumbled, then sat next to Anne, as if it was the most natural place to sit.

“To the guild? You have some business there?”

Guilds are associations of merchants or craftspeople. There are guilds in every provincial capital. All sorts of artisans and merchants join them, from candy crafters and ceramists to blacksmiths. Once a crafter joins a guild, they can expect certain benefits, such as the ability to share transportation with those from different occupations and introductions to potential customers. Sometimes, they even help arbitrate disputes between different occupational groups or lend money.

“Uh-huh. Our application to extend the deadline on our debt repayment.”

“Debt?! How much?”

“About ten thousand cress, to guarantee the land the Paige Workshop sits on.”

“T-t-t-ten thousand cress?!”

With that amount, they could probably cover a year’s worth of wages for every candy crafter in a place as big as the main studio of the Radcliffe Workshop.

“Even with the loan, we had to sell off stock and liquidate quite a few things, you know.”

“But if Glen is the maestro of the Paige Workshop, isn’t he the head of the guild? The head of the guild is in debt?”

“The Crafters Guild here has three leaders. The maestro of the Paige Workshop has been one of those leaders for generations. The workshop has done favors for the guild, and the maestro three generations ago provided the capital for the guild’s founding. But by the time of the previous maestro, our cash flow was in trouble. Debt piled upon debt, and eventually, the land went up as collateral. If we can’t pay it back within the year, we’ll have to forfeit half our property.”

“Do you expect to be able to repay the money?” Anne asked, looking pale.

“Nope,” Elliott answered readily. But then he immediately flashed her a broad grin. “That’s why I’m going over there to negotiate, you see? But don’t let Glen catch wind of this, okay, Anne?”

“But he’s the maestro, so surely, Glen also knows about the debt, right?”

“Glen himself took out the loan, so he is aware of it. The thing I don’t want to let him find out about is the fact that the guild is pressuring us to repay them quick. Normally, the guild has a lot of faith in the descendants of the founders. They wouldn’t typically demand full repayment all of a sudden. But Glen is ill, and the future of the workshop is uncertain, which led the other two guild leaders to say some rash things out of fear of being stuck with an unrecoverable debt.”

“But if you haven’t got any money, how are you going to negotiate?”

“When you borrow money, you write up a contract, right? The terms of repayment are in the contract. So I can negotiate with the other parties by going word by word through what’s written there. I’ll come up with something.”

Elliott waved the bunch of papers in his hand, and just for a moment, there was a sharp glint in his eyes. But then he had on a playful grin and nudged Anne in the side with his elbow.

“Now, changing the subject, I was pretty convinced that I wouldn’t be seeing you this morning, Anne.”

“Why’s that? I’ve always been an early riser.”

“No matter how much of an early riser you are, I’m sure you didn’t get enough sleep because of your little rendezvous in the middle of the night, hmm?”

Anne was startled.

“You saw us?!”

“No, no, no, don’t worry. I didn’t see whatever you were doing inside the workroom. I just saw you from the window of the main house. I resisted going down to take a peek. Wasn’t I admirable? But the idea of a midnight tryst is quite tantalizing. Want to give it a try with me playing the lover’s role next time? My heart’s already thumping!”

“Absolutely not! I’m going to work!”

Anne had no interest in such a frivolous suitor.

She hurriedly finished her breakfast and stood up.

Mithril hopped onto her shoulder, and he yelled at Elliott, “You pervert! Get your head out of the gutter!”

Anne quickly left the dining room and could hear Elliott’s cheerful laugh behind her.

When she entered the workroom, the other candy crafters were already assembled. Well, there were only four of them.

Orlando and King were each at their own workbenches making sugar candy.

Nadir and Valentine were in a corner looking after some of the tools used to make sugar candy.

When Anne stepped into the workroom, all eyes landed on her.

Her first instinct was to flinch, but instead, she smiled and greeted them.

“Good morning.”

As usual, Orlando did not respond, but Nadir gave a casual wave.

“Good morning,” Valentine replied politely, giving an awkward smile.

“Hey,” King said, grinning.

But then Anne was lost again.

So? Now what should I do?

First, she needed to make sure that she knew exactly what tasks lay before her. It would probably be best to ask Orlando, the former head candy crafter. Then once she grasped the duties her role entailed, she knew she should give instructions to everybody.

Her thoughts made it that far before she realized she had messed up.

I should have been thinking ahead. I ought to have studied up on my new duties last night.

The four crafters had already gotten started working all on their own. They were probably continuing their tasks from the day before.

The problem was Anne. She had been given the position of head candy crafter, and today, she had to assign people jobs.

“Umm…for the time being, everyone, please keep working on what you were doing yesterday,” Anne said after some deliberation.

At these instructions, the four crafters raised their heads. They all nodded and answered with “Okay” or “Got it.” There were no complaints. But she could feel their disappointment in the air, as though they wanted to ask, Is that it?

Anne was disappointed in herself. “For the time being, everyone, please keep working on what you were doing yesterday.” Her first instructions as head candy crafter were unbelievably pathetic.

“What should I do, Anne?” Mithril cocked his head and asked from atop Anne’s shoulder.

She couldn’t think of anything. Truly, this was an utter disaster. Feeling defeated, Anne came up with a request.

“Could I ask you to…clean the workroom?”

“On it!”

Mithril hopped down from Anne’s shoulder, brimming with enthusiasm. She felt even worse.

She hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to issue instructions. She had vaguely anticipated it would be challenging, but the nature of that challenge was different from anything she had experienced before. She felt as if she’d been left with the impossible task of transforming a mass of air into a tangible shape.

Suddenly, she noticed someone’s eyes on her. Orlando was staring at her. He was probably irritated by her incompetence. Her face burned with shame. But she couldn’t avoid him. What Anne needed to do now was confirm the current status of their work.

She approached Orlando’s workbench and observed the sugar candy he was working on.

“What type of order are you currently making sugar candy for, Orlando?”

The piece was only about half-finished, but it was a candy sculpture of a horse with its forelegs raised fiercely in the air. The horse’s strong muscles and fluttering mane were rendered magnificently. Honestly, she was surprised.

He’s good.

Orlando added cold water to some silver sugar and answered her as he kneaded the mixture.

“This was commissioned by the maestro of a porcelain studio based in Millsfield. For his son’s birthday celebration.”

“Does his son like horses?”

“He might, or he might not. The son is one year old. No way to know.”

“But then why a horse?”

“We gave him suggestions and had him choose among them. On the form, he said a horse would do.”

“What was his reason for wanting a horse?”

When she raised that question, Orlando looked up. He shook his head slightly, then brushed aside the sections of hair that hung over his cheeks, as if he found them irritating. Then he frowned, looking annoyed.

“I never asked. Why would we need to know something like that? He said a horse was fine. I didn’t think we needed to inquire any further.”

“How can you ask me why? If you don’t know what the customer wants, you can’t make it, can you? Even if it’s the same horse, the feeling of it might be all wrong.”

“But I don’t think it’s right to indulge the customer and do everything they say. In order to invite good fortune, a candy crafter uses all their skills to make the sugar candy. If the crafter doesn’t make it the way they want to, then there’s no way they can produce something good, is there?”

Orlando was not criticizing Anne. She could tell that much from his puzzled expression. He simply could not understand Anne’s approach to making sugar candy.

The crafter makes it the way they want?

Until now, Anne had been making sugar candy for a living. She always listened to what her customers wanted and sold them candy that would satisfy their requests. She had always thought that was the way of things. In fact, even at the main studio of the Radcliffe Workshop, they had listened to all the details of a customer’s order and followed their wishes.

But Orlando had referred to that as “indulging the customer.” He had said that a candy crafter should use all their skills and make what they wanted to make. To a candy crafter, that was probably the most ideal form a job could take.

“Could I get on with my work? It’s irritating to have you stand there, so please back away.”

As if to say to stop bothering him, Orlando dipped his hands in cold water, then began kneading his silver sugar again.

This workshop is different from the Radcliffe Workshop. And I’m different, too.

As she watched Orlando’s hands work from a short distance away, Anne felt bewildered.

But this guy, he’s incredibly skilled.

Even though it didn’t look like Orlando was putting much power into kneading the silver sugar, it grew more lustrous before her eyes. It had the perfect sheen to depict the horse’s smooth muscles.

But the whole time that he was repeatedly kneading the sugar, the tips of his hair, which was tied in a high ponytail, brushed against his cheeks, and Orlando shook his head many times in irritation to brush the hair away.

“If it’s that much of a nuisance, why don’t you cut your hair?” Anne asked without thinking.

Orlando raised his head. “Be quiet. It’s my hair; I can wear it how I like,” he said, looking annoyed.

That seemed to put him in an even worse mood, so Anne hastily turned to look at King, who was standing at the workbench behind her.

He seemed to be making something with a flower motif. He had produced an array of subtle colors by mixing colored powders. Every shade was beautiful. And their combination formed a hue that was harmonious overall. The piece was rich in color and well-made.

“This is lovely, too. The colors are truly wonderful.”

She mumbled words of praise as she watched King’s hands move. When she did, King became flustered and jumped aside. His face was bright red. Anne was surprised by how red it was.

“What’s the matter?!”

“No, n-n-n-nothing. J-just a little close, aren’t you?!”

“Huh?! Was I that close?!”

Hearing King’s words, Anne got flustered, too.

“No, sorry. I just imagined it; I imagined it. That’s…that’s all it was!” King said, even more agitated than before.

King turned back to face his workbench, but his ears were bright red.

“King. What if we got Anne to dress like a guy?” Nadir said as he passed by carrying the tools he had been servicing.

The moment Nadir made the suggestion, King’s eyebrows shot up.

“I’d throttle you!”

Could he be…embarrassed?

King looked tough, but maybe he just wasn’t used to being around girls. Whenever Anne got close to him, he would suddenly start acting suspiciously.

“Um, Anne?”

Someone called her name from behind her back. When she turned around, Valentine was standing there with a slightly uncomfortable look on his face.

“I’ve finished maintenance on the tools, and I don’t have a candy sculpture of my own to work on. What should I do? Is there anything I can do to assist you?”

“Ah, I see. Um…Orlando, we don’t have any other orders at the moment?” Anne asked.

“No. Just these two.”

Orlando answered without even looking up. Two jobs were far too few for a main studio. It seemed there was a lack of orders as well as candy crafters.

“If there are only two jobs, then could I ask you to work together with either Orlando or King?”

“Work together?”

Valentine looked like he had just heard something unbelievable.

“That is Orlando’s job, and this one is King’s. I’m not getting involved.”

“Why not?!”

“Surely, I shouldn’t stick my hands in another person’s work?” Valentine said, as if that was common knowledge.

Anne was shocked. She was confused for a moment.

Have I made some sort of terrible misunderstanding?!

The strength of a studio was that it employed many candy crafters. Often for a large candy sculpture, one crafter was chosen as the project leader, and multiple other crafters contributed by working on their assigned part. In cases of works where the uniformity of the modeling was important, the leader would take charge of shaping everything, while several other crafters kneaded silver sugar and mixed colors. That way, work could progress far more quickly than if a single person completed the entire job.

Anne knew she wasn’t wrong about that. She had seen the way they worked at the Radcliffe Workshop.

But Valentine was saying that was wrong.

Which meant the main studio of the Paige Workshop was not typical. They had a unique methodology.

“So then everyone completes their assignments alone and how they wish?”

“We take responsibility for our own work. We are artists, after all.”

Valentine was smiling and brimming with confidence.

“But what does the head candy crafter do? What were you doing, Orlando?”

Anne had been under the impression that the head candy crafter was in charge of the other crafters to make sure that every job the studio accepted was completed efficiently and that every product was flawless and well-made.

But here, each crafter was making their own sugar candy the way they wanted to make it, not taking a hand in anyone else’s work. In which case, leadership was an impossibility. In fact, it was unnecessary.

Upset that he was being frequently interrupted, Orlando looked up without lifting his head.

“Silver sugar management. Receiving customers when they come to place orders. And the most important thing is making sure the sugar candies that each candy crafter creates will not bring shame to the main studio of the Paige Workshop.”

“And what do you do to ensure that?”

“If something looks bad, instruct them to fix it. To make it right. If it seems like a piece that won’t embarrass us, show it to Glen. If Glen says it’s good, you press the Paige Workshop seal onto the base. That’s your role. It’s an important responsibility, since instructing people to fix their work elevates the quality of their piece. Never let anything that would dishonor the name of the studio out into the world.”

Single jobs entrusted to individual candy crafters. From the artists’ perspectives, that must be satisfying.

And the jobs allowed the candy crafters to make whatever they personally wanted to make.

It was the most ideal job she could think of.

But why is it like this? Something’s not quite right here.

For some reason, Anne felt a little uncomfortable.

The candy crafters here were skilled. And they had pride in their work. The fact that such a studio was in decline was heartbreaking. Anne wondered why a place that produced such fine sugar candy was not better appreciated.

She suspected the answer had something to do with the discomfort that she was feeling.

Ultimately, Anne spent that entire day working with Nadir and Valentine, taking an inventory of the studio’s silver sugar reserves.

The strange thing was that the silver sugar stored at the Paige Workshop was of markedly better quality than the silver sugar Anne had gotten from the Radcliffe Workshop.

Until two days ago, the four crafters from the Paige Workshop had been working at the Sant Province branch of the Radcliffe Workshop, refining silver sugar.

The refining operation had finally finished, and they had returned with the barrels of silver sugar.

Due to their long absence, the main studio of the Paige Workshop was currently far behind schedule on the two orders they had contracted.

King and Orlando continued plugging away the whole day, hardly resting at all.

When the sun set, their work naturally came to an end.

Just like in the morning, the only people seated for dinner were Orlando, Anne, and Mithril. Orlando quickly withdrew to his room, so Anne sat at the spacious table alone with Mithril.

The main house was large and old. But it had a calmness to it, cultivated over the long years. It was a pleasant building to be in.

There were seven people living in the main house besides Anne and Mithril. But when the two ate their meals alone together in spite of that, she felt like she was a guest here.

Anne, who had always lived on the road, felt like a guest no matter where she was. This place was no exception.

The formal atmosphere made the house feel a little lonely. Anne had thought that once she started working as the new head candy crafter, she would be treated like the other crafters at the Paige Workshop. That thought was probably making her feel even lonelier.

The female fairy came out of the kitchen to clean up Orlando’s dishes.

She was about the same height as Anne, and though Anne didn’t know the fairy’s real age, she looked to be the same age as her in appearance. Her orange hair was soft and fluffy, and she had a kind face. Her clean cotton apron and floral-patterned dress suited her well, and she looked sweet.

“Say, um—”

For some reason or another, Anne was feeling lonely, so she called out to the fairy.

The fairy, who had been piling up the dishes, looked at her, surprised.

“—did I introduce myself yet? My name is Anne Halford. Nice to meet you.”

“Ah yes. I am Danna.”

“Danna, have you eaten dinner already? If not, would you like to eat with us here? There’s another fairy around, right? If I could ask you to invite them, too, we’ll have a merry table.”

After giving her a blank look, Danna shook her head, as if it was totally out of the question.

“No, I can’t do that. That is the dining table for candy crafters and members of the family.”

“But look, Mithril Lid Pod is eating with me. And you’re part of the same household, Danna, so doesn’t that make you like family?”

“I-it does not. Not in the least. That gentleman may be a fairy, but he is also a craftsman who helps you with your work. I am not a candy crafter, and I am a fairy, so I am not part of the family.”

Danna seemed flustered as she denied Anne’s assertion, then quickly tidied up the dishes and withdrew to the kitchen.

“Rejected. I didn’t think it would be so lonesome with everyone living in the same house.”

Anne hung her head dejectedly, and Mithril patted her hand to comfort her.

“Don’t take it personally. Most fairies would be shocked to be invited to eat a meal with a human. Most humans don’t eat with fairies, remember?”

Then they suddenly heard an explosion of laughter from the parlor. Anne looked up and saw Elliott entering the dining room as he removed his coat. He was roaring with laughter.

“What was all that? If you’re going to resort to making passes at the fairies, and the female ones at that, I’d rather you invite me to dinner, Anne.”

He draped the coat he had removed over the back of a chair and, still grinning, took a seat beside Anne.

“Were you lonely? How cute. Girls ought to be cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“I’m not making fun of you at all. I love those sorts of things about girls. So how were things today? Is the job going all right?”

Since he asked, she gave it some serious thought.

“The crafters make whatever they want to make. They each have their own responsibilities, and they each do their own jobs. Would you say those are the Paige Workshop’s convictions?”

“Yes. The three-hundred-year-old convictions of the Paige Workshop, and what Glen drills into his crafters, too.”

“I think it’s ideal.”

Frankly, Anne approved.

“I think it’s ideal for the crafters, absolutely. But I’m not happy with it.”

Elliott’s joking mood faded away instantly.

“Anne, are you saying you have a complaint about our three-hundred-year-old beliefs?”

“It’s not necessarily a complaint. It’s just, for some reason, I’m not satisfied.”

Anne did not understand why she felt so unsure, and she furrowed her brow.

Perhaps because he knew Anne harbored no ill will or hostility, Elliott shrugged.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” he said. “I am the one who brought you here with high expectations, after all.”

Then he smiled in a self-deprecating way. It was a little different from his usual frivolous smile.

“All of us are too close to Glen. We’re comfortable with our own way of doing things, and we don’t want to contradict him. But something is definitely wrong. That’s why I’ve got to run around every day trying to raise money. As a result, though I’m a Silver Sugar Master in name, the fact is I’ve hardly touched silver sugar in the past year. I know something is wrong, but I don’t know what it is.”

Anne felt like she was getting a glimpse of Elliott’s true face.

Glen Paige was probably an incredibly important person to Elliott. Come to think of it, the first time she had met King, he had said, “If Glen approves of you, I’ve got no objections.” Those were the words of someone who had full confidence in the man. Anne wondered what kind of figure Glen was to the candy crafters at the studio.

Elliott skillfully hid his true face, which she had briefly glimpsed, behind another frivolous expression.

“Well, you are the first silver sugar. You should try to do things your way.”

“I’ve been curious about that the whole time. What is ‘the first silver sugar’?”

“Oh, that’s right. It’s a phrase that’s not used outside the Paige Workshop. The first silver sugar is…”

A woman’s voice interrupted, cutting off Elliott as he was about to answer.

“When you refine silver sugar, you soak the sugar apples in cold water overnight. When you do, you add a handful of silver sugar to the water.”

Bridget slowly walked out of the darkness at the end of the corridor. Behind her was Challe.

Anne was aware that Challe had been living with Bridget. Even so, seeing it right before her eyes was hard to bear. Without meaning to, she looked away.

Bridget emerged into the light of the dining room and stood across from Anne with the dining table in between them.

Under the light, Bridget’s blond hair looked glossy and beautiful.

“The initial handful of silver sugar that you add to the cold water is called ‘the first silver sugar’ at the Paige Workshop. If you don’t add it, then no matter how long you steep your sugar apples, the bitterness will never come out.”

All candy crafters are aware that silver sugar is essential for getting the bitterness out of sugar apples. Nothing else can be substituted.

“It’s silver sugar that brings about change. So ‘the first silver sugar’ also means the same thing.”

Anne looked up at her as Bridget dispassionately explained the term. She thought Bridget was probably telling her the meaning of the phrase to be polite, but she couldn’t sense any affection in the other girl’s expression.

“I didn’t know the phrase had such a meaning. Thank you.”

Anne thanked her, but Bridget didn’t acknowledge it and continued to talk.

“But how did whoever first made silver sugar long ago make it in the first place? Without that initial handful, you can’t refine more silver sugar. But they couldn’t have had it from the beginning. And yet silver sugar exists. So the first fistful must have existed. But even then, without prior silver sugar, it couldn’t have been made.”

Anne was surprised.

“Oh yeah… That’s true, isn’t it…? So who…? Or rather, how…?”

Who was the first to make silver sugar? I’ve always been told that the fairies made it, but who among the fairies? And how?!

It was as if a strange door had suddenly opened in front of a familiar landscape.

Without that first fistful, silver sugar could not be refined. But the silver sugar in that initial handful also could not have come into this world without silver sugar. So exactly how did it first appear?

It was an incredible mystery. Maybe it was some kind of magic, or a miracle. Or a secret technique of the fairies that humans didn’t know about. Anne’s heart leaped in her chest just trying to imagine all this.

“That’s why ‘the first silver sugar’ also means something mysterious. Just because you’re unusual, people expect things from you. It’s not because they appreciate your abilities. What can you do for people like that?”

Bridget’s last comment was probably meant to be offensive. But it was so wordy that it lacked any real punch. Still, it was a nasty thing to say.

But Anne didn’t sense Bridget’s hostility at all. She was too excited by what she had just learned.

“That never occurred to me until now!”

“Right, so that’s why—”

“It’s so obvious if you really think about it, but I hadn’t until just now. Bridget, seriously, how did the person who refined the first silver sugar manage to do it?!”

Bridget looked shocked for a moment after Anne asked the question, as if she wasn’t sure what Anne had just said. But a second later, she flew into a rage.

“How could I possibly know?!”

Anne was startled by Bridget’s angry shout.

Ah…………she’s mad.

Of course she is. She probably thought I was making fun of her.

“I-I’m sorry. I just—”

Anne rushed to apologize, but behind Bridget’s back, Challe started chuckling.

Bridget’s face turned red, and she whirled around to face him.

“Don’t laugh!”

But Challe continued laughing. Then he said, suppressing a smile, “Seems like you aren’t very accustomed to coming up with insults. Quite the lady.”

Bridget turned even redder, all the way to her ears. When he saw that, Challe burst out laughing again. As red as she was, Bridget turned back around to Anne.

“I’m going to have dinner with Challe now,” she said. “We want to eat alone, so you need to leave the dining room. You too, Elliott.”

“Come on. That’s tyranny, isn’t it? I haven’t eaten yet, either. And on top of that, you’re going to allow a fairy, that’s not even a candy crafter, to dine at this table?”

Elliott quirked his eyebrows, and Bridget raised her voice.

“He may be a fairy, but I recognize Challe as a member of this household, so there’s no problem! This is my house! So you two should defer to me!”

Making Bridget any more upset was probably a bad idea. It was fine if her anger was directed toward Anne, but if she turned it toward Challe, that would be terrible.

In any case, Challe ignored Bridget’s order and continued chuckling.

“That’s fine,” Anne said. “We were finished eating anyway. Let’s go, Mithril Lid Pod.”

When Anne stood up, Elliott also rose and took his coat. He seemed exasperated. He headed toward the kitchen, probably to ask that his meal be taken up to his room. Anne left the dining room with him.

As she was leaving, she glanced behind her.

Challe had pulled out a chair for himself and was sitting there calmly. He was still smirking with amusement.

Bridget looked embarrassed, and her face was bright red.

She was allowing Challe to eat at the dining table, which had always been reserved for family members and candy crafters. Anne was glad to see Bridget treating Challe like a member of her family.

Bridget probably enjoyed eating alone with Challe. After all, Anne liked eating meals with him. But meals were even more fun when Mithril was there, too. At Kat’s shop, including Kat and Benjamin, they had dined with two humans and three fairies present.

Anne wondered if, unlike her, Bridget was satisfied with just Challe. She wondered if Bridget wasn’t lonely, eating with only one other person in a house where so many people lived. She couldn’t help but be concerned.

Anne hadn’t picked up on Bridget’s snide comments at all. Instead, she had gotten absorbed in the story of the first silver sugar. The whole thing was so funny, Challe couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Even with bright-red cheeks, Bridget was charming. She looked much cuter now than with her usual composed expression.

“Don’t laugh,” Bridget said again. Her face was still bright red.

Challe finally managed to stop. He propped his elbows on the table and held his chin in his hands. He looked up at Bridget, and for the first time, he felt like having a proper conversation with her.

“Let’s at least have meals with them,” he said. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I want to eat with you and only you,” Bridget replied.

“You say that, but you look awfully lonely.”

“I am not lonely!”

Bridget sat in a chair and turned away from him.

Perhaps she was angry that Anne hadn’t felt disheartened. Or maybe she felt pathetic because Challe had laughed at her.

After the meal, Bridget made several demands. She wanted Challe to comfort her and whined for him to fawn over her incessantly. He cradled her like a child, stroked her hair, and pretended like he wanted to be doing it the whole time.

Bridget continued giving orders, and it was nearly dawn by the time she fell asleep.

Challe was used to all the demands that humans made. At this point, none of them mattered much to him, but of course, he was tired. Even so, the scene outside caught his eye, and he stood by the window for a short while.

The sky behind the gentle slope of the hill was starting to turn light purple. Dawn was near.

Anne had not gone to the workroom that night. He had not felt her presence.

When he realized that, he was disappointed, and he smiled bitterly. Why was he worried about something like that? She was under the same roof, together with Mithril. She was in no danger and was living comfortably. He knew all that, so there was no need to be concerned.

But when they were apart like this, he wanted to see Anne’s face so badly, he could hardly stand it. He wanted to feel the soft sensation of her body close to his. That desire grew stronger.

Challe heard the front door of the main house opening. Then in the bluish light of dawn, he spotted Anne walking with her back straight and tall. She was properly clothed in her dress and had her hair done as well, and she was heading for the workroom.

Challe had no doubt that she had risen early and was planning to do some work.

He turned around to look at the bed behind him. Bridget was fast asleep. After making sure of that, he stepped outside through one of the sliding glass doors and proceeded toward the workroom.

Anne was standing motionlessly in the corner of the dim building.

She was looking down at two pieces of incomplete sugar candy. She had removed the protective cloths that had been placed over them and was examining them carefully with a pensive expression.

“Nothing interesting is going to happen, no matter how long you stare at them.”

When Challe spoke up from the doorway, Anne let out a small shriek and jumped. Once she saw that it was Challe, she placed her hand on her chest in relief.

“You scared me.”

When Anne was absorbed in her thoughts, she became inattentive to noises and movement around her. As a result, she was often so startled that she jumped.

When Challe approached her, Anne smiled. But then her expression immediately turned into a look of concern.

“Challe, was everything all right last night? With the way you were laughing, I bet Bridget got mad at you.”

“It was nothing serious.”

“Well, Mithril Lid Pod said that she’s been making you do all sorts of horrible things, the likes of which we can’t even imagine, and that it must be awful and unbearable. So you might be concerned about waiting for me to save you. Have you been suffering badly?”

“No. She’s just an ordinary girl, not some deviant. Don’t take Mithril’s ridiculous fantasies seriously,” he responded.

Then for some reason, Anne’s face flushed slightly red, and she bashfully averted her eyes.

“So then, um…with Bridget, are you, uh…getting along well?”

“We are not on friendly terms, but we’re getting along in our own way.”

When she heard that, Anne looked up at Challe in apparent surprise.

“Your own way? Your own way?! What way would that be?!”

“Shall I show you? In person?”

“N-no! You don’t need to! I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but I’ve got a bad feeling about it! Don’t show me!”

Having never even experienced a kiss, innocent Anne frantically rebuffed Challe’s little joke.

Then, though she looked embarrassed by it, she asked him one more time: “But, um…whatever it is, it’s not too terrible, is it?”

“No,” he answered flatly.

Anne finally seemed relieved. “As long as you’re not suffering, Challe, that’s good. I’ll work hard at my job, so just be patient.”

As she made that assertion, her words turned into white puffs of breath and dissolved into the darkness. Her white breaths were like her life force given form. Suddenly, he wondered: If he stole one of those white puffs with a kiss, in her surprise, would Anne run away or start crying?

“Challe? What is it?”

Apparently, he had been staring at her. He was startled and slightly flustered to hear her call his name.

What am I thinking?! Kiss the scarecrow?!

Until that moment, he had never once thought of doing something like that to anyone, except when he’d been ordered to do so or planned it ahead of time.

Concealing his inner turmoil, he shifted his gaze to the candy sculptures.

“It’s nothing. More importantly, is there something wrong with these?”

When he asked, Anne also turned back to the candies and made a troubled face.

“These are incredibly well-made, don’t you think? The crafters here, at least Orlando and King, are tremendously skilled. Yet even though they make things as fine as this, they get few orders. I wonder why that is? The crafters create what they want to make, which seems ideal, and yet…why is this workshop in such a state? It’s kind of frustrating. I want to do something about it, and I think I can manage, given how skilled these crafters are.”

Challe was sure that Anne had decided to work at the studio in order to help him. But once she was given a job, she became totally absorbed in it. She really sounded like she was a candy crafter of the Paige Workshop. She was an artist through and through. She lost herself in her work.

Challe thought Anne was a fool for being like that, but at the same time, he was relieved to see it.

No matter the situation, Anne was always the same old Anne.

“Challe!!”

Suddenly, they heard a shriek.

Both Anne and Challe turned toward the door simultaneously. Bridget was standing there in her nightclothes with the dim, dawning sky behind her. She had both hands clasped over her mouth, and her eyes were open wide. She looked hurt.

“I asked you not to see her,” she mumbled in a trembling voice.

She found me, Challe thought calmly.

He felt no fear or guilt. The color drained from Anne’s face. Challe automatically took a half step forward to protect her.

“Don’t get it wrong,” he answered quietly. “You didn’t ask me anything. You ordered me. I have no intention of following that order. You should punish me.”

“Don’t you care about my feelings at all?” Bridget asked in a tearful voice.

“You are my owner. You don’t need to consider my feelings. In the same way, I don’t need to consider my owner’s feelings, either.”

“No one, not a single person… No one ever thinks about my feelings! Fine then, I understand! I will punish you! I’ll punish you right away!”

Bridget ran off toward the main house.

“Wait, stop! Bridget, stop!”

Anne broke into a run and followed her.

“There’s no need! Don’t go!” Challe shouted.

Anne turned around and shook her head hard.

“I’ll get her to stop! I don’t want you to be punished!”

Anne ran out of the workroom.

“Busybody!”

He hated to do it, but Challe also gave chase.

Bridget ran up the front steps, around the terrace, and burst into her chambers.

Challe, who was chasing Anne, entered Bridget’s room at the same time as her.

Bridget was in the sitting room that served as an extension of her bedroom. There was a small hearth in there, and she was crouched in front of it. She stuck her hand in the back of the hearth, where the fire had gone out.

The night was starting to lift. The brightening sky was visible through the sliding glass doors.

The interior of the room was also getting brighter. Challe could see that there was a hole in the back wall of the hearth about the size of an average human’s face. The bricks that had been set in that hole were stacked in front of Bridget’s knees.

Bridget must have been hiding Challe’s wing there.

Anne ran up to Bridget, got down on her knees behind her, and pleaded with the girl.

“Please, Bridget. Stop!”

“Get back!”

Bridget pushed Anne’s shoulder. Anne lost her balance and fell backward. She used her hands to break her fall. Without hesitation, Bridget stuck both hands into the open hole. Her eyes widened.

“Gone?!”

Bridget groped around several times.

“Gone, gone?! How can that be?! Only I knew about this spot!”

Anne turned to look at Challe. He could see the question on her face, and he shook his head.

Challe had not known that Bridget had hidden his wing there, either.

Bridget took her hands out of the hole and flopped down on the floor.

“…How…?”

She hung her head and covered her face with both hands, then began crying quietly.

It disappeared?

For fairies, their wings are the source of their life force. If they are destroyed, the fairy loses their life. If they don’t know the whereabouts of their wings, they don’t even know whether their own life is in danger. Naturally, this makes them feel a dreadful sense of unease.

Anne stood up and walked over to Challe’s side. She looked unwell. She was probably unbearably worried.

“Challe, your wing is…gone?”

“Seems that way.”

The only thing he could do was frown.

All three of them were frozen in place. The sky brightened quickly, and the morning sun streamed into the room.

After a little while, there was a knock at the door.

“Bridget. Is Anne in there?”

The quiet voice seemed to belong to Orlando, one of the candy crafters living in the main house.

When she heard her name, Anne was startled and looked toward the opening door. Orlando briefly surveyed the situation in the room, then turned his gaze on Anne with an emotionless expression.

“I just got a message from the boy who delivers our milk. Very soon, the maestro of the Radcliffe Workshop and Keith Powell will be here.”

“Why would Mr. Radcliffe and Keith come here?” Anne asked.

“To visit Glen while he’s ill,” Orlando informed her indifferently. “You’ll also have to be there to receive them, so I’m letting you know.”

That was all Orlando said before turning his back to them. In a panic, Anne grabbed Orlando’s arm.

“Wait! That’s just— That’s out of the question right now. Can’t you see the situation we’re in?!”

“I see that you are in Bridget’s room and that Bridget is crying. And?”

Orlando seemed annoyed as he shook his arm free. Anne couldn’t believe his cold reaction.

“Challe’s wing has gone missing. That’s why Bridget is crying! Orlando, at least help calm Bridget down. Give her some mulled wine to drink or something. Then we have to go find Challe’s wing.”

Just then—

“Everything’s fine, Anne. There is no need to search for Challe’s wing.”

Elliott came strolling in from the direction of the dining room.

“You’re a real go-getter, Anne. Making a big fuss before dawn. I could hear your voices all throughout the house.”

He stood beside Orlando and peered around the room. “Oh no, you’re crying,” he said, looking at Bridget. “Shall I console you, my dear? Or maybe we should ask Challe?”

“Mr. Collins. What do you mean by saying that ‘there is no need to search for Challe’s wing’?”

Anne pressed him for an answer, and Elliott jokingly put both hands up in the air.

“Don’t make such a scary face; I said it was fine. Glen is holding on to Challe’s wing.”

Challe became suspicious when he heard those words.

Teary-eyed, Bridget also lifted her head in surprise. “Why does my father have it?!” she demanded. “This hiding place… I thought no one knew about it.”

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. Just before Bridget and the rest of you started kicking up all this fuss, we received notice that the group from Radcliffe was coming. Orlando and I went to wake Glen, and wouldn’t you know it, sitting right beside Glen’s pillow was that fairy’s wing.”

“Give it back! Give it back to me right now!”

Bridget suddenly stood up and dashed across the room. She pushed Anne out of the way, grabbed hold of Elliott’s shirt, and started shaking him.

“Bridget.”

They all heard a quiet voice come from behind Elliott’s back. Elliott and Orlando turned around in shock.

“Glen?! You mustn’t be out of bed!”

Orlando immediately moved to support Glen, who looked unstable.

“Father.”

Looking at her ill father, Bridget let go of Elliott and took several steps back.

While being supported by Orlando, Glen stared intensely at his daughter.

“Somebody left his wing by my pillow,” he said. “I have taken the wing into my keeping.”

“Who did? But that’s impossible. I was the only one who knew about that hiding spot.”

“It doesn’t matter who. I don’t know, either. But this is a good opportunity. I will hold on to that wing from now on. Whoever left it there must have wanted me to do so.”

“Why?! Father, you said it was all right until the wedding, didn’t you?!”

“Your behavior is intolerable. Even with fairies, there are limits to how we should handle them. Locking him in your room and not allowing him to have contact with anyone other than yourself is going too far. On top of that, you’ve been closing yourself off, too, and only spending time with the fairy. It’s like you’re obsessed with him.”

Glen’s breathing sounded labored, and his voice was faint. But the anger behind his words weighed more heavily than if he was shouting.

Bridget was standing stock-still, her face pallid. Glen tried to reason with her.

“Bridget, come to your senses. Whose daughter are you?”

Anne’s heart ached when she heard those words.

Glen is correct. But he’s being harsh.

He couldn’t show any sympathy toward Bridget’s behavior. Nevertheless, confiscating Challe’s wing in this fashion was cruel. No matter how clumsily she may have shown it, Bridget was in love with Challe. Glen’s decision seemed designed to gouge those feelings from her heart.

Bridget’s face twisted into a scowl.

“I don’t know… I don’t know whose daughter I am anymore! I don’t know!!” Bridget shouted, then ran into her bedroom so she wouldn’t have to hear any more.

Glen let out an exhausted sigh, then looked over at Challe reproachfully.

“I know this is not your fault, but you should be ashamed of yourself. Your appearance misleads people.”

Challe gave a cold smirk.

His expression of contempt for people who said selfish things was ruthless, and for that very reason, it had a beguiling quality to it that naturally attracted attention. The depths of his black eyes were unimaginably sharp and dark.

“Are you my master now?”

“I am. So I will give you an order. Attend to Bridget with moderation. There’s no need for you to respond to all her demands. However, you’re also not to behave in a way that will hurt her. Aside from that, you may do as you wish. And you are to stay in Anne’s room. You’ll go to work whenever she has need of your abilities as a fairy.”

After he said that, Glen turned his gaze on Anne.

“Anne, Mr. Radcliffe is coming. You are the head candy crafter. Go out and receive him along with Elliott.”

“Understood. But, Glen, Challe is…”

“That is what I have decided to do with him. Do you understand me? I’ve decided.”

Glen sounded intimidating. He was tacitly telling her not to defy the orders of her maestro.

Everyone treats Challe like an object. They pick up his wing and pass it from person to person.

No one seemed to care that they were playing with his life. Anne wondered what she could do to get them to understand. The cold rage that she could see in Challe’s eyes was justified, she thought.

Glen broke into a bitter smile.

“You truly are the first silver sugar, Anne. You bring about…all sorts of changes.”

The moment he finished speaking, Glen stumbled forward. Elliott rushed to join Orlando in supporting him.