Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 4 - Chapter 5.2

Bridget blinked in surprise when she heard that. But then she looked away again.

“I don’t want it.”

“I’m giving it to you. If you don’t like it, you can break it and throw it away.”

“There’s no way I can break a piece of sugar candy, can I?! So I won’t accept it. I absolutely won’t.”

Bridget slammed the door in Anne’s face.

“Fair enough,” Anne mumbled dejectedly.

But she pitied the poor little candy that had been waiting in her room for so long. She crouched by the side of the door, intending to leave it there. If Bridget didn’t want it, she could ask someone to dispose of it.

“What are you doing?”

There was a stifled voice from behind her. Startled, she stood back up, still holding the sugar candy, and turned around.

Standing in the dark corridor was Orlando. His gaze was locked on Anne’s hand. He was looking at the sugar candy sculpture of the little bird. But Anne’s gaze was drawn to Orlando’s hand as well. He was also holding a piece of candy, a sculpture of a cute little cat.

“That’s…candy.”

The moment the words came out of Anne’s mouth, Orlando looked down at the sculpture in his own hand regretfully. Then he grabbed Anne’s hand in a panic and quickly walked away, dragging her along. After passing through the dining room into the entryway, he shut the door behind them.

Only when they were out on the front porch did he finally let go of Anne’s hand.

“Orlando, what were you doing there?” Anne asked. “And what’s with that sugar candy?”

“I could ask the same of you; what were you doing?”

“I thought I would get Bridget to help me with reading the diary. I was going to give her this piece of candy as thanks, but she turned me down. I wanted her to at least take the candy, so I was going to leave it there.”

“You really are naive, aren’t you? There’s no way she’ll help you, and there’s no way she’ll accept that.”

“But you also made something for Bridget, didn’t you, Orlando?”

None of the people at the workshop cared much for Bridget. That’s what Anne had thought, so she was a little happy that she’d been mistaken.

“This is just an apology,” Orlando replied sullenly after seeing the look on Anne’s face.

“An apology? Did you do something so awful?” Anne asked.

Orlando was silent. It was the kind of silence that seemed to be his specialty.

The light of the waning moon faintly illuminated the dark grounds, allowing them to look out over the meadow full of rustling grass from the porch. The air was cold. The stars shone brightly. Anne’s hands and feet were immediately chilled.

She stood there patiently waiting for an answer. Orlando seemed to relent and began to speak.

“I’m the one who stole Challe’s wing and left it on Glen’s pillow,” he confessed. “This is an apology for that.”

“That was you?! Why—? I mean, how did you know about that place?! Bridget said it was a spot no one else knew about.”

“She just forgot.”

Orlando sighed.

“When she was little, I often played with her. She had shown me that spot and told me it was for hiding secret treasure. She was going to become a candy crafter in the future, and that made us comrades. So she said she wanted us to share this secret. She was cheerful and a good girl. Different from how she is now. Now Bridget is awful. Everything she does is intolerable. I get annoyed just looking at her. The way she treated Challe was no exception. That’s why I stole his wing and gave it to Glen.”

“Bridget wanted to become a candy crafter, right? Is it possible she changed because she wasn’t allowed to do that?”

Anne recalled Glen’s words to Bridget upon their first meeting. He had said that even if it was all right for Anne, Bridget, who was born the daughter of a maestro, could never become a candy crafter.

“I don’t understand the reason why I am allowed to work here, while it’s forbidden for the daughter of the maestro. Surely, she could train at her own family’s workshop without having to go through all the same troubles like I have? Glen just needs to approve of it, right?”

“That would be no problem if she spends her whole life working as a candy crafter exclusively for the Paige Workshop. But if the maestro’s child becomes a candy crafter, then he can’t disregard his heir and leave the workshop to someone else. In which case, could a woman become the maestro? Her job wouldn’t end at the workshop gates if she became maestro. She would have to go out into the world. She would have to play her cards well, so that the other factions would not look down upon the Paige Workshop. You worked at the Radcliffe Workshop; you should know. Do you think it would be easy for us to compete against other factions with a woman as our maestro?”

Within the world of candy crafters, women were treated poorly. Anne had experienced that herself…

Becoming maestro, inheriting the workshop, and keeping it going… That path would be fraught with difficulty, especially for a woman. Just thinking about it was enough to make Anne uncomfortable.

“If we can’t keep the main studio going, the faction will go extinct. All the subsidiary studios in the Paige Workshop will be without a faction and fall into hardship. That’s why, in order to ensure the survival of the workshop, we must choose the safest path. Glen’s avoiding the dangers that come with having a female maestro. And I’m sure that as a parent, he doesn’t want to burden his daughter with undue hardships.”

Why is it?

In her heart, Anne suddenly felt miserable, as if she had gotten drenched in a sudden downpour.

Why is it that so many things aren’t working out?

Glen loved his daughter, Bridget. For that very reason, he didn’t want her to suffer. When he thought about the workshop’s future, forcing Bridget to give up on the idea of becoming a candy crafter seemed like the best method.

That’s what Glen thought, precisely because he loved and wanted to protect someone precious to him. But because of that, Bridget’s dreams had been dashed. He didn’t do it out of malice. His love for her had caused things to become complicated.

The same was true for Challe, who had sold his freedom for Anne’s sake. But Anne had never wanted him to do such a thing. It was still extremely distressing, knowing that he had handed his wing over to someone else and put himself in a position of servitude.

In both cases, their intentions didn’t mesh well with reality. No one seemed to have figured out a way to reconcile such complicated feelings with reality. Anne wondered why there were always so many misunderstandings in the world.

Suddenly, she became aware of the weight in her hand. She casually looked down at it.

It was her sugar candy.

“That’s why we have sugar candy, isn’t it?”

Just then, she thought she heard a voice. She had imagined the little jade-colored bird in her hand whispering that to her.

Its whisper landed with a thud in her heart. She had been struggling to understand the feelings that had taken root inside her, but now everything was clear.

“That’s why, isn’t it?”

Since the world was full of conflict, there was nothing to do but hope. To put all her feelings into her work and hope good fortune would come. And though it was to a small degree, sugar candy had the power to do that.

“That’s why I’ve got to make it. That’s why I want to make it.”

Anne had been having doubts about her desire to make sugar candy ever since she had been awarded the royal medal.

Now the reason behind that desire showed itself.

Anne often felt powerless. That was exactly why she wanted to make candy. She felt like making candy was all she could do. So she wanted to continue doing it.

Silver Sugar Master was the title given to candy crafters who made the most beautiful sugar candy that would bring the greatest happiness. Amazing power dwelled in beautiful sugar candy. That was why Anne had wanted to become a Silver Sugar Master.

Precisely because she felt powerless on her own, she wanted to grasp the greatest power she could get her hands on.

Challe and Mithril were accompanying her now, in place of her deceased mother, Emma.

She also had people like Keith, Kat, and Hugh, who showed her generosity even though there was no reward in it for them.

She’d met the owner of the Weather Vane and the duke with sad eyes.

People she needed and loved, kind people, generous people, sad people. Every time she met someone, she’d unconsciously made a wish. A wish to protect them, be useful to them, and help them. That was why she wanted power.

She wanted to grasp the greatest power she could and use it for other people.

“You made that, right, Orlando?” Anne asked, looking over at the sugar candy in Orlando’s hand.

“……”

“For Bridget, was it?”

Even though he had cursed Bridget for being awful and had stolen Challe’s wing from her, Orlando had made this sugar candy. It might have been the product of simple guilt, but Anne felt somewhat relieved to know there was someone who was worried about Bridget at least.

Anne smirked at his silence.

Orlando was often silent. Perhaps because he didn’t want to lie or deceive anyone. If there was something that he didn’t want to openly admit, his only choice was to remain quiet.

“Orlando, you seem to like strong motifs with a lot of impact, don’t you? The horse sculpture was like that, and you said a sculpture of the Ancestor King would express strength. But that little kitten is round and cute. I like it better than the horse. Even if it wasn’t what you wanted to make, it’s beautifully crafted. We can make even lovelier things when they’re for others rather than ourselves.”

Orlando’s eyes widened at Anne’s words.

“Crafting for others…?”

Anne was surprised when he answered with a question.

“Ah…I see.”

In Anne’s experience, when she wanted to make something for somebody else, she was more inventive, more focused, and more concerned about the end product than when she made something for herself.

It was the doctrine of the Paige Workshop that candy crafters should make the things that they wanted to make.

Make the things that they want to make.

But the truth wrapped up in that simple precept may have gotten lost over the course of the workshop’s long history.

Taking the words at face value, they were likely to be interpreted to mean that candy crafters should only create the kinds of candies they desired. But Anne wondered if the real meaning behind the words was: make the things that you want to make for others.

She wondered if the idea had gotten twisted little by little over the years because of self-confidence, history, and arrogance.

As a result, the sugar candies of the Paige Workshop had ceased to win peoples’ hearts.

Candy artisans crafted because they wanted to make things for others. Not just for their own self-satisfaction.

“Orlando. Let’s give these sugar candies of ours to Bridget. After all, we made them for her.”

“Bridget will never accept them. The best we can do is leave them outside her door.”

“Right. That will do. Let’s do that. And hey, Orlando? Let’s think about our sugar candy sculpture for the Selection one more time with everyone. Not about what we ourselves want to sculpt—but rather about what would make the people we love happy when they go to the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell to worship during the First Holy Festival and see our sugar candy. Let’s think about that. Won’t we feel driven to create, thinking about what would make those people happy?”

Orlando responded after a brief silence, “You might be right.”

The following morning, the early sun slowly peeked out from behind the hills and began to illuminate the sparkling fields, which were wet with dew. A thin mist rose into the air.

Anne headed to the workroom with Mithril. She was carrying a bundle of papers in her hand. They were notes that she had made the previous night with Orlando and Valentine about the accounts regarding the Selections that they had found in the diaries.

The other four candy crafters had already assembled in the workroom.

Somehow or other, Anne had managed to finish reading the two volumes from the previous maestro by herself over the course of the night. All that remained was the one written in the old language, but Challe had gone through that one and made notes for her. Anne struggled with the archaic language, but a little past midnight, Challe came to the dining room and finished reading it with ease. At first, Anne was surprised, but when she gave it some thought, she remembered Challe had been born more than a hundred years ago. Many of the words were familiar to him.

Anne was lacking sleep, and her head was a little fuzzy, but she felt refreshed.

She gathered the other four candy crafters around a single workbench and set their notes down on top of it.

“Yesterday, I had you read through the diaries and pick out any accounts pertaining to the Selection. I’m sure you know this since you were doing the reading, but the system was apparently created because the type of sugar candies that the Paige Workshop wanted to make frequently clashed with the opinions of the clergy in the state church. That caused trouble. Because the church wanted the right to choose which pieces it would accept, it sought approval from the monarch and developed this system.”

When he heard that, King looked unhappy. “So does that mean that we have to make a candy sculpture that will curry favor with the clergy at the state church?” he asked.

Anne grinned. “Not even a little. Let’s make something that we all want to make. If we don’t, we won’t be able to craft anything good, will we? Isn’t that the three-hundred-year-old conviction of the Paige Workshop?”

In response to her words, Valentine, King, and Nadir looked around at one another. They hadn’t expected Anne to understand their beliefs. Only Orlando nodded slightly.

“Our participation in this year’s Selection is something that Glen decided on,” Anne continued. “He broke his own rule because he wants to save the workshop. If we fail, we all know it will bring shame upon us. So we need to make our candy for Glen’s sake and for the continuation of this workshop.

“There is no need to curry favor with the church. Instead, we will work for Glen. We’ll craft something to make him happy,” she announced slowly, looking at everyone’s faces in turn.

Nadir smiled bitterly. “I wonder if Glen will be happy to see what we come up with, though? I’ve gotten praise for how well-made my candies are, but you know, I have never thought Glen was truly pleased with them.”

“So wouldn’t you be that much happier if we pleased him?”

“That would make me happy. If it’s something I can create, I’d like to.”

“Then let’s go ahead and do it. We’ll make it together. Think of something that Glen would pray for in the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell so that good fortune will visit the Paige Workshop. Something that Glen will say is beautiful. Something that he will like, and that he will feel proud to see decorating the altar of the church.”

A sugar candy sculpture to offer at the solemn ceremony for welcoming the new year, one that would invite happiness. Something that Glen would feel proud of when he saw it in the sanctuary of the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell.

Sugar candy that was made not for their own self-satisfaction but to invite joy for someone else.

If they could create something like that, Anne had no doubt the church would approve of their candy. And that was what the clergy would see at the ceremony. A work of sugar candy that enhanced the space, one that they could be proud of having made, and couldn’t possibly fail to win the hearts of the people. Even if it wasn’t a standard sugar candy sculpture, it wouldn’t matter.

There was no need to curry favor with the clergy and the state church. As long as Glen felt pride when he saw their piece, as long as he felt the genuineness of it and was pleased, that was enough.

Suddenly, King spoke. “The First Holy Festival, huh?” He had a distant look in his eyes, like he was remembering something. “Glen always said it’s a good sign if snow falls on the night of the First Holy Festival. The snow turns everything pure white and leads us into a new world. And if it happens on the night of the First Holy Festival, everything feels solemn. I heard him say it so many times in the past. ‘I hope it snows. A new world will come,’ he’ll say.”

Anne recalled the sight of the Church of Saint Lewiston Bell covered in pure-white snow.

The whiter it was, the more it seemed to add to the solemnity of the sanctuary. Even the people of Lewiston who were fed up with snow had no complaints about it on the night of the First Holy Festival.

“Glen often made sugar candy sculptures depicting groves of evergreen trees covered in snow. It’s one of his favorite motifs. I’ve heard him say as much,” Orlando muttered. “He really loves it.”

Their sculpture didn’t have to be of saints or the Ancestor King. It didn’t have to be flowers that colorfully decorated their surroundings. If Glen loved snow and wished for a snowy First Holy Festival, then regardless of weather, they should make something that invoked the image of snow.

The candy crafters knew what Glen loved, so the best idea then was to make it.

Anne raised her head and looked around at everyone’s faces one more time for confirmation.

“In that case, let’s create some of that snow that Glen loves.”

Just then, they heard someone calling desperately for help in the distance.

They all turned in the direction of the voice, which gradually got closer, and they began to hear the words clearly.

“Help! Mr. Collins is in grave danger!!”

Startled by the shouting, the small birds in the eaves of the workroom abruptly ceased chirping.