Sugar Apple Fairytale - Volume 6 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

BACK TO WORK

Anne was sitting beside her bed, asleep, her upper body resting face down on top of the covers. In the bed slept Noah, the fairy who had waited fifteen long years for his master’s return. His breathing was calm and even. Through the power of sugar candy, Anne had been able to completely restore his life force before it faded away.

The room was wrapped in a chilly, hushed atmosphere. Bright beams of sunlight shone through the windowpanes and fell across the floor.

Anne and the others from the Paige Workshop had a lot of hard work ahead of them if they wanted to complete their sugar candy sculptures in time for the First Holy Festival. But Kat would be there to help, and that fact alone greatly reassured Anne, allowing her to relax enough to rest.

Anne was sound asleep, not even dreaming, when all of a sudden, her body was jerked backward by a strong force.

Someone was embracing her. The feeling of the fabric against her cheek and the fragrance of the person’s hair, like fresh vegetation, were both very familiar. It was Challe.

When she opened her bleary eyes, Challe’s silky black hair was there in front of her. It had all happened so abruptly that she wasn’t sure whether it was a dream or reality.

“…Huh…Challe?”

When she called Challe’s name, the arm reaching around her back squeezed her even tighter, and she felt Challe’s hot breath against the back of her neck. At that point, she knew it was no dream. As she gradually came to, the warm breath hitting her skin made her ears grow hot.

“Challe? What’s the matter?”

“I won’t give you away.”

There was tension in his voice. What’s more, Challe had his sword in his right hand. He was acting strange. This was the first time she had seen him so agitated. He was holding her tightly, almost clinging to her. As bewildered and embarrassed as she was, Anne was also worried.

“Challe?”

Just then, a scream echoed through the castle, startling Anne.

What was that?!

Challe’s grip on Anne slackened, and he lifted his head. He promptly stood up, his expression stern.

“Come on,” he commanded curtly, before grabbing Anne by the arm and pulling her to her feet.

“Challe?! What’s happened?” Anne asked.

But Challe didn’t answer. There was a fierce look in his eyes. Anne’s stomach tied itself in knots, and she felt a sudden swell of fear.

When they stepped out into the hallway, she heard Elliott’s voice. She couldn’t hear him well enough to tell exactly what he was saying, only that he was shouting and sounded upset.

Anne and Challe ran down the corridor, emerged into the lesser hall on the second floor of the castle, and looked down over the banister. The front door was open, and the entrance hall was brightly lit.

Anne gasped at what she saw there.

“Orlando?!”

The other candy crafters had come rushing out of the east-wing workshop and were now crowded around Orlando, who was crouching in the hall. Elliott looked pale as he tried to help Orlando to his feet.

King, Nadir, and Valentine were all standing stock-still. Even Mithril was silent, sitting atop Nadir’s shoulder.

Challe also paused for a moment before dashing down the stairs.

Anne rushed over to Orlando and swallowed a scream.

He was huddled on the ground, covering the left side of his face with one hand. Blood flowed through the gaps between his fingers, dripping down his chin and onto the floor. It spread across the stone below him, seeping along its cracks.

“Orlando!” Elliott cried, frantic. “Show it to us! Show us the wound!”

He put his arm around Orlando’s shoulders, trying to pull the other man’s hand away from his face. But Orlando merely groaned. He didn’t seem ready to let go.

Anne stared in shock at the vividly colored blood trickling down Orlando’s face. A chill ran down her spine.

Challe allowed the sword in his hand to vanish, then knelt on the other side of Orlando, across from Elliott.

“Elliott, call a doctor.”

Challe’s words seemed to snap Elliott out of his daze. He immediately turned around to face the other crafters.

“Call a doctor!”

Being shouted at seemed to bring the other crafters back to their senses, too. Valentine, his face still pale, spoke up.

“The Crafters Guild in Lewiston must know of a reliable doctor in the city. I’ll go fetch them!”

He was about to hurry off when King called out and stopped him.

“Wait, Valentine! I’ll get a horse so you can ride.”

King and Valentine ran out the front door.

Elliott seemed to have settled down a bit, and he started briskly handing out orders.

“Nadir, Mithril Lid Pod, Anne: Go tell Danna and Hal to boil some water and ready some clean towels. And if we have disinfectant, ask them to get that, too. I’ll carry Orlando to his bed. Challe, you help me.”

Challe nodded, then turned a stern look on Anne.

“You aren’t going to help.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“I’ll explain later. Just don’t leave my side. Come with us.”

Challe and Elliott cradled Orlando’s body. As they lifted him, Orlando cried out in pain.

“Try to bear with it for now,” Elliott said soothingly. Then he and Challe proceeded to take the injured man to his room.

Nadir and Mithril both exchanged looks with Anne.

“What in the world happened here…?” Anne asked.

Nadir shook his head with a stiff expression. “No idea. Orlando went outside to take a break. Then we heard him scream, and when we ran to him, he was like that.”

“Challe Fenn Challe is acting strange, too,” Mithril said nervously. “Anne, just do as he says. Stay with him. As for the hot water, towels, and medicine—Nadir and I will manage.”

He was right—Challe was behaving unusually. There was an odd sense of urgency and tension about him.

Anne did as she was told and followed Elliott and Challe into Orlando’s room.

Orlando was lying down on the bed, still gritting his teeth and covering the left side of his face with his hand. Elliott, sitting on the edge of the bed, grabbed him by the wrist and talked to him in a gentle, soothing tone.

“Orlando. Let us see the wound.”

“…It hurts.” Orlando spoke the words as if squeezing them through his teeth. “My eye…it hurts.”

At this, Elliott’s face clouded with worry.

His eye?

For a candy crafter, one’s fingers were paramount. But one’s eyes were almost as important. If Orlando’s eye was injured, it would be a terrible tragedy.

“Who did this to you?” Challe asked, standing by his pillow.

Anne and Elliott looked at Challe in alarm. He seemed to think that Orlando’s injury hadn’t been an accident.

“It was him…the one we met on the highway, the red fairy.”

“What did you say?” Elliott scanned their surroundings.

Anne grew uneasy, too, glancing at the room’s door and windows in spite of herself.

“You can relax. I don’t feel his presence nearby.” Challe shook his head and frowned. “He was probably planning to catch me by surprise with a sneak attack. As he was following me into the castle, he happened to cross paths with Orlando. He must have decided that Orlando’s voice would alert me to his presence, so he injured him in retaliation before running off.”

“What’s going on?” Anne asked.

Why had the fairy appeared now? It was completely unexpected.

“So he was after you, Challe…?” Anne continued. “Did you see him outside? Why would the fairy from the road come to Hollyleaf Castle?”

If he still held a grudge against Challe for injuring him, he must be quite vindictive. Just thinking about it made Anne shudder. But then Challe told them something even more terrifying.

“He’s been here all along. The fairy who goes by the name of Gladys is the red fairy.”

Anne’s mind went blank. Then a shock of dread ran through her whole body. It was as though he’d just told her she was unknowingly holding a box containing a venomous snake.

The color drained from Elliott’s face, too. “That guy?”

When the three of them fell silent, Orlando gritted his teeth and spoke from where he lay on the bed.

“Elliott…”

The man turned around when his name was called, and Orlando used his free hand to grab Elliott’s.

“If that fairy is Gladys…then Bridget…”

“Oh no…!”

Elliott tried to stand, but Challe pushed him back with one hand.

“I’ll go look for her. You stay here with Orlando. Anne, come with me.”

Challe took Anne by the wrist, and they left the room.

As she jogged along, trying not to fall behind, Anne looked up at Challe’s face. Though he’d said there were no signs of the red fairy nearby, he was extremely agitated.

They traversed the corridor on the first floor of the west wing and emerged into the great hall. In the light streaming in through the huge, open door, Anne could clearly see the pool of blood left behind on the floor.

Nadir and Mithril were in the kitchen along with Danna and Hal. Anne could hear their voices and the sounds of them busily preparing towels and boiling water.

“He’s got his sights set on you,” Challe said, pulling Anne by the hand up the stairs from the great hall. “He’ll definitely attack again. He intends to capture you.”

“How do you know that?”

“From the very beginning, he’s wanted a Silver Sugar Master.”

“In that case, aren’t Mr. Collins and Glen in danger, too?!”

“He wants you. If he can get his hands on you, I’ll come to your rescue, and he knows it. So out of the three Silver Sugar Masters here, you’re the one he will target. He wants to use you as bait to lure me to him.”

“So Gladys isn’t just after a Silver Sugar Master, but you too, Challe?”

They crossed the lesser hall at the top of the stairs, and as they dashed up to the third floor, Challe nodded.

“Why you?” Anne asked. “Is he bitter because you injured him?”

“His true name is Lafalle Fenn Lafalle.”

Anne frowned when she heard that. “That name. It’s like yours.”

“Apparently, he was born in the same place that I was. He wants to make me his comrade.”

“Comrade? In what?”

“No idea.”

When they stepped into the west-wing corridor on the third floor, Challe stopped briefly. He gazed all the way down the hallway, as if looking for threats. Anne followed his lead and quickly checked their surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

However, the door to Gladys’s room was standing half-open.

Challe was still pulling Anne along by the hand as they approached the doorway. Together, they peeked into the room.

Anne immediately spotted Bridget lying face down on the floor near the window.

“Bridget?!”

Challe’s grip on her loosened, and Anne left him and ran over to Bridget. She then lifted the girl into her lap.

Bridget didn’t seem to be hurt, and her body was warm. She was alive. Relief washed over Anne.

“Bridget!” she called again.

Challe knelt down beside Anne.

After Anne called Bridget’s name several times, the other girl groaned quietly, her face contorting. Then she slowly opened her eyes. After staring into space for a few moments, she looked up at Anne.

“Bridget, are you all right?” Anne asked.

Finally, Bridget’s eyes were able to focus. She blinked repeatedly and began to speak.

“…Gladys… He stole the Silver Sugar Viscount’s sugar candy and ate it… He just took it, the candy meant for that little fairy. I…couldn’t stop him.”

Bridget lifted herself, shaking free of Anne’s arms, and sat up on the floor. Then she pointed to the window.

They looked over and saw only a fyffe board sitting on the wide sash.

Noah’s candy…

There is power in beautiful sugar candy. It extends fairies’ life spans and gives them strength. And now that splendid sugar candy sculpture had granted its power to a fairy who would deceive and attack humans.

“Gladys was after the sugar candy.” Bridget bit her lip and turned her gaze on Challe. “Catch him. Gladys said that I wasn’t even worth killing… Go. Catch him.”

“He fled.”

When Challe answered her, Bridget put both hands on the floor and hung her head, looking suddenly deflated.

“Are you injured?” Anne asked gently.

Bridget shook her head weakly.

They could hear the panicked voices of Nadir and the others coming from the first floor. “There’s no disinfectant,” someone said. And then: “Let’s prepare more towels.”

At the sound of their voices, Bridget raised her head.

“Did something happen?”

Given the exhaustion on her face and in her voice, it seemed unfair to give her another shock on top of everything else. Anne was at a loss for words. But—

“Orlando was attacked, and his left eye was injured,” Challe said.

“Challe! This is not the time.”

Flustered, Anne tried to cut him off, but Challe said coolly, “She’ll find out sooner or later. And she needs to know. The one who attacked him was Gladys. He’s the same fairy who has been attacking candy crafters along the highway.”

“Orlando’s eye…?”

Bridget looked shocked, and Challe nodded. She opened her mouth a little as if she was about to say something, but no sound came out.

“But it’s a relief that you weren’t injured, Bridget.”

Anne touched Bridget’s shoulder. But the other girl shook off her hand.

“Stop it! This is my… It’s all my fault!!”

She placed both hands back on the floor as her shoulders trembled.

Challe watched her silently. It didn’t seem like he blamed her, but he wasn’t going to do anything to intervene. He probably knew that his poor attempts at consoling her wouldn’t make any difference.

“…Bridget, you are the one who brought that fairy here. That is undeniable,” Anne responded quietly.

At her words, Bridget raised her head. Her tear-soaked face looked hurt.

Though she knew it was the truth, hearing another person confirm it was painful. But if Anne had tried to lie, that likely would have hurt even more.

“He tricked you, Bridget,” Anne continued, “tricked you into bringing him here. But you’re not the only one—everyone was fooled. It’s not your fault that you fell for his tricks. You’re not to blame for being deceived, and you’re not responsible for what happened.”

All they could do was accept the facts. But that didn’t mean they had to blame somebody for the situation. After all, depending on one’s viewpoint, blame could be pinned on anyone.

Bridget clearly believed that she was in the wrong for allowing Gladys to fool her.

But although Anne understood Bridget’s wounded heart as a fellow woman, she felt that she herself was to blame for not being able to do anything about it.

And from the perspective of someone else, Challe might seem to be in the wrong for failing to see through his opponent’s ruse after facing off against him once already.

Yet another might find fault with Glen and Elliott, blaming the situation on how they treated Bridget in the past.

“But ultimately, it’s my fault…!” Bridget exclaimed.

Anne grasped her tightly by the shoulders. “Please stop thinking that you’re to blame!”

Bridget seemed startled by Anne’s harsh tone and shut her mouth.

“Once you get in the habit of thinking that way,” Anne continued, “every time something happens, you’ll be looking for someone to blame. And you’ll want to criticize that person. But doing so won’t make anything better.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.” Bridget’s face twisted into a grimace. “If I can’t blame myself, what am I supposed to do?”

Anne didn’t have a clear answer for that. “I don’t know,” she said. “But perhaps you can start by thinking. If you feel like blaming yourself for how things are now, you could think about how we can improve the situation instead.”

“Think about it?”

“You’re much cleverer than someone like me, Bridget. If you think about it, I’m sure you’ll come up with an answer.”

Bridget’s stiff body started to relax, and her shoulders dropped.

“Bridget?”

Anne let go of her, and Bridget stood up unsteadily. For a moment, she stared absentmindedly into the distance. Then staggering forward, she walked out of the room. Her slender silhouette looked fragile and anxious.

I’m sure she’ll think of something. Anne wanted to believe in her. After all, Bridget told us about the sugar candy right away.

After Bridget opened her eyes, the first thing she had done was inform them about what happened to the sugar candy pieces.

She must have been upset that Lafalle had taken the candy for himself. Bridget felt true reverence toward works of sugar candy and wanted to protect them, so Lafalle’s actions had deeply frustrated her.

Anne was sure that someone with a heart like hers would be strong enough not to crumple under pressure.

Orlando had been cut vertically from just above his left eye down to his cheek. The doctor Valentine and King had summoned was skilled and quickly stitched up the wound, so the bleeding soon stopped.

But Orlando’s eyeball was damaged. The doctor told them that he would likely lose sight in his left eye.

Orlando’s mind seemed fogged by the pain, and he only nodded vaguely, even when confronted with this prognosis. Then he took the medicine he was given, and seeming to feel a little better, he slept.

When King, Valentine, and Nadir heard that Orlando would probably lose sight in one eye, the three of them appeared even more shocked than Orlando himself. The candy crafters, usually cheerful and boisterous, hardly said a word.

When afternoon came around, Anne and Mithril, as well as King, Valentine, and Nadir, gathered in the workroom on the second floor of the east wing, where they kept the millstones they were using to regrind their silver sugar.

Elliott had ordered the still-dazed candy crafters to assemble there.

Around the five millstones were little mountains of silver sugar, ground into a silky powder, as well as barrels they’d brought to put the powder in. This was the result of the crafters’ tireless work.

The expression on Elliott’s face seemed more somber than usual as he looked around at everything. Then he quietly began to speak.

“I’m just as worried about Orlando’s injury as all of you are. And I’m anxious that the red fairy may come after Anne.”

Challe had told the other crafters about the true identity and objectives of the fairy who had wounded Orlando.

The crafters had been openly furious with Bridget, who had brought the fairy into their midst, but their anger was momentary. They simply didn’t have time for such things.

Kat would be showing up soon to help. But just when they’d been thinking that the extra pair of hands would allow them to meet their deadline, Orlando had been taken out of the game.

Their disappointment was immense, coming on the heels of such hope.

Elliott must have understood that, so he spoke in the calmest tone he could muster.

“Challe has pledged to protect Anne from the fairy. So we’ll leave that to him.”

Elliott directed his gaze toward the corridor, visible though the room’s open door. Challe was leaning against a windowsill in the hallway, watching over them.

“Kat will soon be with us to help, but now he’ll simply be filling the gap left by Orlando. For the time being, we can’t expect any further assistance, so we’re limited to the crafters we have on hand and the time we have left.”

King, Valentine, and Nadir exchanged anxious looks.

“Can we do it?” Elliott asked. “Does everyone intend to go on? At the moment, we can still ask the Silver Sugar Viscount to lend us some silver sugar. It’ll put us at a disadvantage in next year’s Selection and probably won’t help the workshop’s reputation, but it’ll get us through our current predicament.”

It was true that such a move would solve some of their problems. But then they wouldn’t be making the best of the opportunity they had worked so hard to grasp.

At that year’s Selection, Anne had gotten a good idea of the abilities of each faction’s main workshop. As expected, the Mercury Workshop and the Radcliffe Workshop had both made excellent sugar candy sculptures. The Paige Workshop had only barely managed to win.

Taking that into account, if they entered the Selection at a disadvantage next year, their chances of winning would be incredibly low. It would probably be close to impossible.

They might overcome their immediate problems, but they would be driven into a corner.

Before Anne showed up at the Paige Workshop, Orlando had been its head crafter. Though Anne currently held that position, having Orlando around must have greatly boosted the other crafters’ morale, since they had relied on him for many years. Losing him from the team had to come as a great shock.

When Anne heard that Orlando would be blind in one eye, she, too, was taken aback. Even though there was nothing she could do to help him, it was all she could think about.

But we must work.

If they gave in now, then entering the Selection and winning it would have been meaningless.

Anne stood up straight, steeled herself, and raised her head.

“We’ll do it,” she declared.

Even Anne was anxious. She was on the verge of tears just thinking about what would happen if they couldn’t complete their work in time.

But Anne had been appointed head crafter in Orlando’s place. If she couldn’t do this in his stead, she wasn’t worthy of the title.

“We can absolutely do this,” she said again.

The three other candy crafters smiled slightly. Anne had been worried that her attempt at putting on a brave face hadn’t been very convincing. But even so, Nadir grinned back at her.

“…Mm… That’s right—we can do it.”

Nadir’s words seemed to give Valentine courage, and he smiled, too.

“Yeah,” he said. “If we have to rely on the Viscount to make it through this, the workshop hasn’t got much of a future.”

King broke into a broad grin. “If the head crafter wants to do it, then we’ll make it happen!”

Elliott looked relieved and put on his usual wry smile. “All right, then. I guess it’s back to work.”

After that, he started drying out the remaining silver sugar, and King, Valentine, and Nadir got back to grinding it into powder with the millstones.

Anne was physically weaker, and it was impossible for her to turn a millstone on her own. Instead, she would work on adding the finished sugar candy snowflakes to their conical towers.

Anne went down to the first floor with Mithril and into the room they had prepared for assembling the candy sculptures.

She laid out the crystal snowflakes on top of a cloth spread over the floor, so she could select them by size and color at a glance.

Kneeling in front of a round pedestal that was to hold one of the towers, she took several large snowflakes in hand and affixed them to the base, carefully setting them at oblique angles.

To make them stay, she used a softly kneaded paste of silver sugar, placed only where the crystals met the pedestal. Mithril kept her constantly supplied with the paste, scooping it out of a stone bowl. Anne then applied it with a tool like a slender branch, using it to glue the crystals to the pedestal in a way that wouldn’t be visible.

Will Orlando really lose sight in his left eye? Will he be able to keep working as a candy crafter?

Will we finish in time with so few helpers? We have to try, but…can we do it?

Will that fairy come back and attack us again? If someone else is hurt… I’m so scared…

Even as she worked, all sorts of thoughts ran through Anne’s mind, constantly distracting her.

Knowing she mustn’t lose focus, she smacked her cheeks lightly with both hands. Suddenly, she felt someone’s eyes on her.

The door to the room where Anne was working stood open, and in the hallway, leaning against a windowsill, was Challe. He was staring at her intently, keeping watch over her.

I have to concentrate.

She knew Challe was there to protect her, and that thought calmed her down a bit. She returned her attention to the task at hand.

After seeing Anne reach for some candy, Challe turned back toward the window, slightly relieved.

For a short while, Anne was free from distractions as she added crystals to the sculpture. She had just encircled the pedestal with snowflakes and breathed a sigh of relief, when Challe, who had been gazing out the corridor window, frowned.

“Anne, we have a visitor,” Challe called out, sounding vaguely displeased. “For you, probably.”

“A visitor?”

Having just gotten to a good stopping point, Anne stood up, walked over to Challe, and took a look out the window.

“Keith?”

She had no idea why he had come.

Just at the point where the road began to slope down the hill, she saw an aristocratic young man wearing an elegant knee-length jacket with a soft-looking tie around his neck. There was no question that it was Keith Powell, son of the former Silver Sugar Viscount. However, for some reason, he was standing in the shadows of the trees, as if to conceal himself.

He seemed to spot Anne through the window and started beckoning to her.

“He appeared over there a moment ago, and as soon as he saw me, he started trying to say something with hand gestures.”

Challe was right. For some reason, Keith was gesturing frantically. He repeatedly placed his index finger to his lips, as if urging them to keep quiet.

“I wonder what’s going on. Does he want us to come to him?” Anne tilted her head questioningly.

Mithril, who was riding on her shoulder, seemed suspicious. “Why won’t he come in through the front door?”

“He must have some reason for it, surely. Let’s go see.”

Challe, on guard against Lafalle, had apparently decided not to let Anne go anywhere on her own. As soon as she started walking, he followed her as a matter of course.

They went out the front door and cut across the garden. Then when they reached the hill road, Keith poked his face out from the shadows.

“Oh, I’m so glad you noticed me,” he said, greeting them with his usual gentle smile. “Thank you, Challe. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Looks like you got your freedom—that’s a relief. And, Anne and Mithril Lid Pod, you’re both looking well, too.”

“What’s the matter, Keith?” asked Anne. “What are you doing out here, when you could have come inside?”

Keith’s eyes darted about like he was concerned about their surroundings, and he motioned for Anne to follow him, leading her into a thicket that was difficult to see from the castle.

“The candy crafters here aren’t likely to welcome me, are they? So I refrained from going in. I shouldn’t have come at all, but I was worried.”

“Worried? About what?”

“Your silver sugar solidified, didn’t it? It caused a big uproar at the Radcliffe Workshop, as well. The Mercury Workshop collected silver sugar from their unaffected subsidiaries and are going ahead with their work on the reserve sculptures for the festival. The Paige Workshop doesn’t have that many subsidiaries, so I was expecting an order to come down from the Silver Sugar Viscount for the Radcliffe Workshop to lend you some sugar. But when there was no order, I wondered if the Paige Workshop was planning to regrind their sugar and use that.”

“You’re correct. We decided not to rely on the other workshops.”

When he heard that, Keith knit his brows in concern. “That’s absurd, Anne,” he said bitterly. “It would be reckless even if you had candy crafters to spare, but there are only six of you. You’ll be down to the wire just making the sculptures, surely. If you have to prepare your own silver sugar on top of that, there’s no way you’ll finish in time.”

“We’ll get it done. Very soon, Kat is coming to lend us a hand.”

“You really think Mr. Hingley will make that big of a difference? Anne, be rational. If you don’t complete the work, the Paige Workshop will go under. The faction will cease to exist. Getting help from the Silver Sugar Viscount to finish in time is the better option. You might be at a disadvantage in the Selection next year, but even so…”

Keith trailed off, then continued a bit hesitantly.

“I know I’m in no position to say something like this. I’m one of the reasons for the Paige Workshop’s decline, after all. But I don’t want to watch the faction where my father trained, the faction he loved, disappear.”

Keith must have slipped away from his own work in order to visit them. He had chosen to train with the Radcliffe Workshop rather than the Paige Workshop, but he still had respect and fondness for his father’s original faction.

That made Anne happy.

“Thank you, Keith. But I’ve already decided, together with Mr. Collins.”

“Has that man really given this serious thought?!”

It was unusual to hear Keith raise his voice.

“That’s pretty harsh, Keith.”

Both Keith and Anne were startled by the cheerful voice. Along with Mithril, they spun around in surprise. Challe seemed to have already sensed the newcomer and simply turned to glance in his direction.

Pushing his way through a bush behind Challe, Elliott emerged from the foliage.

“You could have come inside. There’s no need to hide in a place like this. I didn’t know you were so shy!”

Keith’s cheeks reddened slightly out of embarrassment. “I didn’t want you to know that I was here.”

“I had no idea you hated me so much. But if you didn’t want me to see you, you shouldn’t have been hopping up and down out here, trying to draw attention. I was up on the second floor and could see you perfectly well. In fact, I’m sure I spotted you before Anne on the first floor even knew you were here.” Elliott put his hands on his hips and stood in front of Keith, looking amused.

“I didn’t think you’d be on the second floor. I heard from the Silver Sugar Viscount that your workshop was on the first floor.”

Keith, sophisticated to the last, answered with a flat expression, trying to hide his displeasure. Unexpectedly, Elliott grinned, and Keith shifted his gaze around, looking bewildered.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked.

“You were worried about the Paige Workshop, weren’t you?”

“Is that so bad?”

“No,” Elliott replied. “If I had to say, it makes me happy. But I think hiding something like that is meaningless. Your generous feelings won’t reach anyone. All right, come on. We’ll welcome you in.”

Elliott took hold of Keith’s arm, spun around, and briskly walked off, pulling a flustered Keith behind him.

“Wait just a minute, please!” exclaimed Keith.

Anne rushed after them. “Mr. Collins, what are you planning to do with Keith?”

Elliott grinned. “I thought I’d have him take a look at how the Paige Workshop operates.”

“Huh?”

“Wait, please,” Keith insisted. “I went out of my way to make sure I wouldn’t upset anyone…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!”

It wasn’t clear what exactly was “fine” about any of this, but nevertheless, Elliott dragged Keith into the castle and up the main staircase to the second floor of the east wing. Once there, he stood him in front of the room with the millstones.

Having come that far, Keith seemed resigned to his fate. As flustered as he was, he didn’t fight it.

Keith had always believed that he had somehow betrayed the Paige Workshop. And though its candy crafters understood that he wasn’t a traitor, in emotional terms, they felt like Keith had abandoned them.

With both of those things in mind, Keith had approached the castle stealthily, trying not to be discovered. However, Elliott seemed determined to spoil his thoughtfulness.

The three men in the room turned their millstones with single-minded focus. They didn’t even seem to notice that Anne and the others had come to the doorway.

“Take a good look,” Elliott whispered into Keith’s ear. “When do you think they’ll notice you?”

Looking surprised, Keith followed the crafters’ movements with his eyes.

The strength of their motivation also reached Anne. Their great pride as artists was the source of their vigor. They never gave up and always worked to the very limit, doing everything they could. They didn’t like to rely on others, preferring to finish the job with their own skills.

Keith must have been able to understand that. To see their pride and passion.

Some time had passed, and the crafters still hadn’t noticed the people standing in the doorway.

Keith looked uncomfortably at Elliott, who winked back at him.

“We decided to do it on our own. And we believe we can.” With that, Elliott suddenly turned and shouted, “Hey, you guys!”

At the sound of his voice, the three crafters finally stopped grinding and looked toward the door.

Nadir and Valentine were surprised to see Keith standing there.

King cocked his head in confusion. “Oh, it’s you, Elliott. What’s going on?” he demanded. “And what’s with the kiddo?”

Valentine answered him with a bitter smile. “‘Kiddo’ is a bit rude, King. He’s the son of Edward Powell, the former Silver Sugar Viscount.”

King’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? The one I’ve heard so much about, eh? What’d you come here for?”

“I…,” Keith said, then hesitated.

Elliott stepped forward, interrupting him. “He knew what happened to our silver sugar, so he was worried and came to see how we were doing.”

Nadir looked at him, eyes wide. “Huh? Why were you worried about us?”

Keith stumbled over his answer. “Because…because the Paige Workshop was important to my father.”

King and Valentine exchanged looks, a touch of surprise on their faces.

“There, you see?” said Elliott. “No need to worry, right, Keith? Okay, let’s go. Sorry to interrupt, everyone. Continue with your work.”

Pushing Keith from behind, Elliott guided him into the lesser hall.

As Anne followed the two of them, she realized more or less what Elliott was trying to do. When she glanced over at Challe, who was walking beside her, he shrugged slightly, as if to express how bothersome all of it was.

Elliott came to a stop in the lesser hall. Then with a smile, he peered into Keith’s face.

“How about it?” he asked. “Still worried?”

After thinking for a moment, Keith replied, “Still worried.”

“Ouch. That hurts.” Elliott jokingly staggered back, but Keith remained serious.

“However…I want to believe that your candy crafters can make it happen.”

“That’s great. I’m glad you think so.”

“But you ought to find a way to recruit more workers.”

“We would have done that already if we could. How about it, Keith? Want to work here instead? You can put in your notice with Master Radcliffe. The fact is, we asked Kat to lend us a hand, but one of our crafters got injured. Now all Kat’s doing is taking his place. We’re in a bit of a bind.”

“I can’t. I’m a traitor. Because of my decision, the Paige Workshop…”

Elliott suddenly burst into jovial laughter. “Keith, you’re really full of yourself, huh?”

“What do you mean by that?” said Keith, looking annoyed.

“The Paige Workshop didn’t instantly go into decline because of one decision you made, okay?” Elliott answered gently. “Problems accumulated over time, and then rumors started about what happened with you. It’s our fault we weren’t able to pull it together. Then they all would’ve said, Keith’s an idiot for not joining the Paige Workshop! ”

Keith stared at him in amazement.

“While I’m at it,” Elliott continued, “did you think you would get special treatment here for being the son of the former Silver Sugar Viscount? That’s just more proof of how self-absorbed you are. Sorry, but the only people here who even knew Edward are me, Orlando, and Glen. And Orlando and I were just kids back then, so it didn’t really click that he’d become some big important guy. Our crafters rely solely on our own expertise working with sugar candy, so even if someone told us who you were, we’d just say, Oh, really? I mean, Master Radcliffe makes way more of a fuss over you, doesn’t he?”

The crafters of the Paige Workshop felt like Keith, who had chosen the Radcliffe Workshop, had given up on and abandoned them. But the truth was that Keith simply disliked the idea of following in his father’s footsteps. He still had affection for the Paige Workshop, and this was a good opportunity for him to let the other crafters know that.

And at the same time, it was a good chance for them to let Keith know that he didn’t need to feel guilty.

No doubt Elliott had already thought up a number of ways to turn things around for the workshop. He was still the best candidate to become its next maestro. He had the ability and the mindset for the job.

Surprised, Keith looked at Elliott for a few moments, then averted his gaze.

“With all due respect, Mr. Collins,” he said, “you’re a real jerk.”

“So I’m often told.”

Keith sighed softly and turned back to Anne.

“I’m sorry, Anne. This was none of my business.”

“Not at all. Don’t say that. I’m grateful you were worried about us. I’m glad.”

“If I find anyone who might be able to help you with your work, I’ll let you know.” Keith gave another courteous bow to Elliott. “I’m sorry for butting in. Please excuse me, Mr. Collins.”

“So how about it? You gonna come join us? I’m making you an offer here.”

“I can’t. I…I respect my father, and I want the Paige Workshop to survive, but I still hate the idea of copying him. I will not join the Paige Workshop.”

Keith wheeled around and quickly left the castle. Something about his retreat made him seem ashamed.

“Too bad! I got rejected,” Elliott said in a singsong voice as he watched Keith go.

Looking amused, he strolled back into the room where the other crafters were drying the silver sugar.

“I feel bad for that guy—Keith—getting bullied by Elliott,” said Mithril, sounding sincerely sympathetic.

Challe added to Mithril’s sentiment, saying, “Droopy Eyes knows what he’s doing. The boy didn’t stand a chance.”

Anne smiled wryly at the two fairies’ reactions. “You might be right.”