Define The Relationship Novel - Chapter 46

As they entered the room, Gordon quickly brought up the main topic. Karlyle was momentarily silent at this behavior, which was vastly different from their usual way of starting conversations with pleasantries or preamble.

Gordon led Karlyle to a table where tea was prepared and offered him a seat. Karlyle slowly opened his mouth.

“First, thank you for lending me your valuable time.”

Gordon waved his hand dismissively and sat down in a chair. Indeed, his unreserved actions were unlike the nobles Karlyle had observed.

“Although it’s a painting I collected, the fact that someone is looking for it piqued my interest. So you could say I also made time for my own enjoyment.”

Saying so, Gordon picked up his teacup. Karlyle, watching him silently, also picked up a small cup of milk and mixed it into his black tea. Gordon took a sip of tea and looked intently at Karlyle.

“As Lord Gordon mentioned, I was indeed looking for that piece. If you are willing to consider my proposal… please feel free to tell me what you desire.”

Gordon’s gaze shifted after hearing Karlyle’s words. His eyes, turned to the side, were fixed on the canvas hanging in the center of the wall lined with bookshelves. Karlyle realized, without needing any explanation, that it was the painting Ash had spoken of.

Ash had described the painting in great detail. The painting matched Ash’s description exactly. Purple and blue hues brightly intermingled and shone under the white moonlight.

The silhouette, obscured by shadows, felt vividly alive despite nothing being clearly revealed. A small, straight nose forming a rounded curve and faint, smiling lips were visible from the profile.

Karlyle had seen countless paintings. Among them were collections whose value surpassed imagination, and works that ordinary people would be lucky to see once in a lifetime. Yet, he had never felt anything truly heartfelt through a work of art.

But the painting before him held a certain poignancy that overwhelmed the viewer. One could feel that the painter loved the person in the painting almost to the point of worship. Karlyle couldn’t tell if he was feeling this emotion because the painting was truly excellent, or if it was a change stemming from his affection for Ash.

One thing was certain: whatever the reason, it was ultimately related to Ash. Karlyle had felt this way even on nights when he imagined things while watching movies about love, which he had never empathized with before.

“What do you think?”

Gordon, who had been gazing at the painting with him, asked. Karlyle paused, choosing his words amidst the unfamiliar yet poignant emotions welling up within him.

He had no artistic eloquence. He was skilled at accurately explaining situations, leading negotiations favorably, or sharply pointing out flaws, but he had no memory of expressing his inner feelings.

After much deliberation, one sentence finally emerged from Karlyle’s lips.

“…It is loved.”

Gordon then turned his gaze back to Karlyle. Karlyle was still looking at the painting.

“I feel that the person who painted this loved someone very much.”

To Karlyle, love had always been a fairy tale emotion. Something that existed to give hope and lessons, but was actually nowhere to be found. He had always thought this, regardless of how much he loved his family. The love described in literature and visual media was always intense and poignant, and Karlyle had never felt such emotions from his family.

But now he understood. All the words he had thought boring and cliché resonated. The testimonies about love, which he had felt were exaggerated and mixed with fiction, resonated deeply within his heart. Then something clicked.

His feelings for Ash were insufficient to be expressed merely as “liking.” This aching heart, which boiled like lava and repeatedly melted Karlyle several times a day, could not possibly be mere affection.

If humans had souls, if there truly were intangible emotions, then Karlyle’s soul must surely be entirely stained with the traces of Ash Jones.

Therefore, Karlyle Frost, the person, would no longer be the same person as he was before loving Ash Jones.

“Then, Mr. Frost, you are worthy of this painting.”

Gordon said. Karlyle finally tore his gaze from the painting and looked at Gordon with a slightly bewildered expression. Gordon was smiling.

“Mr. Whitewood’s work isn’t particularly outstanding in terms of technique or form, actually. However, there is one peculiar thing about it.”

Gordon stood up. With a hand that only a middle-aged man entering old age could show, imbued with deep regret for the passing years, Gordon caressed the edge of the frame.

“Only those who love deeply feel something when they look at this painting. Those who don’t feel no emotion from it.”

Gordon, who had been looking at it with very sad eyes, turned around. He gestured to Karlyle. Karlyle quietly stood up. The painting wasn’t very large. It was astonishing that such intense emotions could be contained within a canvas only about 15 inches long.

“Chagall once said that if there is a color that gives meaning to life and art, it is the color of love.”

His heart pounded. The more they talked, the more he missed Ash. Even after not seeing him for just a few hours, he missed the man as if it had been years.

Everything was Ash. The summer air, the scent of wine lingering in the air, the gaze that looked down at him slightly—in all these trivial and ordinary things, Karlyle associated Ash.

“That’s why I like this painting so much. Every time I see it, it reminds me of that time.”

Gordon smiled, saying something incomprehensible.

“If it’s a painting you like so much…”

Karlyle, suppressing his churning stomach, pointed out a detail in Gordon’s words that bothered him. Gordon shook his head.

“It seems it’s time to let it go.”

Saying that, Gordon looked at Karlyle kindly. No matter how he looked at him, the man didn’t seem like a typical noble. Even his grandfather, who had known Karlyle for a long time, had never looked at Karlyle this way.

“I have only one condition for transferring the painting. The price isn’t very important. This isn’t a very expensive piece. The artist didn’t want it to be.”

Karlyle looked at Gordon with an incomprehensible expression.

“It is only natural to pay its proper value.”

“The reward doesn’t always have to be monetary. At least not for me. I am not lacking in money. It’s an unfortunate reality, but those who have a lot can usually increase what they have with moderate effort. I grew up in such an environment, so I don’t value money.”

Karlyle was speechless. In reality, no one around Karlyle lacked money. Yet, they always took and lost much for greater wealth. Karlyle was no different, even if it wasn’t what he wanted.

“However, later, if there’s something I need to ask of you, how about you grant it? I won’t make unreasonable demands, Mr. Frost.”

“I wonder if that alone will be enough for you. Paying a price commensurate with the work’s value is a matter of courtesy and basic decency.”

“To me, this is a proper exchange. If it truly bothers you, then.”

Gordon said calmly. A leisurely silence quietly filled the space between them.

“You can tell me what the person you love is like, as a supplementary payment.”

“Pardon?”

“Stories about love always make good inspiration for artists.”

Come to think of it, Gordon had said he was very interested in art. He didn’t know exactly what he did, but according to the mansion’s servants, he tried various things.

Karlyle felt momentarily overwhelmed by Gordon’s question, which was as difficult as the previous one. However, it wasn’t an unpleasant sense of helplessness.

“Mr. Jones is…”

“Is that their name?”

Karlyle, who had unconsciously spoken Ash’s name, paused then nodded. Gordon smiled kindly. White hairs were visible mixed in his eyebrows, just like his streaked black hair. That made Gordon seem like a warmer person.

“What a wonderful name.”

Even though it was a compliment from someone who had never met Ash, Karlyle felt a flush of warmth, as if he had heard joyful news.

Thoughts gradually surfaced. Ash was difficult to define as one thing. He seemed gentle yet could be unrestrained, and ultimately, he was cruelly kind. Even the aspects of Ash that hurt Karlyle were simply good.

Because those were the elements that made up Ash Jones.

“Mr. Jones is… a very good person.”

The word “good” contained countless meanings. Karlyle liked Ash very much, and Ash was associated with all the good things Karlyle remembered. Therefore, Ash was literally a good person.

Gordon didn’t know if he understood it, but he smiled quietly as if he did.

“Then.”

A white hand, subtly etched with wrinkles, slowly removed the frame from the wall.

“Mr. Frost’s gift will surely be gladly received.”

Colors beautiful enough to hurt his eyes were handed to Karlyle. Karlyle slowly took the painting and silently looked down at it. After gazing at it for a long time, Karlyle raised his head. Karlyle’s eyes, gazing at Gordon, faintly revealed joy.

“Thank you… truly.”

And Gordon, as if he recognized it, smiled deeply on Karlyle’s behalf.

Giving someone a gift was undoubtedly a first. So many situations had been a first over the past two months that emphasizing it again felt humorous, but it was true nonetheless.

Of course, if taken literally, this wasn’t true. Even before he was sixteen, when he had his debutante ball, Karlyle would consult with his parents and choose appropriate gifts when visiting someone’s mansion.

He also prepared gifts in such a way when attending events or commemorative occasions. He exchanged various forms of gifts with business partners and countless people he interacted with for specific purposes.

However, if defining the act of giving a gift as truly giving something to someone with sincere intentions, then today would be the first time.

It was Saturday afternoon. He was scheduled to meet Ash around three o’clock. Since they started exchanging texts daily, their communication had become a little, just a little, more natural. Beyond setting meeting dates, small conversations flowed between them. Since the day he obtained the painting, Karlyle had debated several times a day whether to mention it beforehand via text.

There was an overflowing amount to ponder. From how to give Ash the painting, to what to say, what day would be best, what expression to make, whether that alone would be enough, and whether Ash would like it.

His head was so filled with miscellaneous thoughts that it was difficult to concentrate on work. He was more nervous than when he first faced the biggest contract of his life.

He recalled the time he started graduate school. At that time, Karlyle, already involved in his mother’s business and his father’s company, had to secure an important contract through a project to prove his abilities at the age of twenty-five. It felt just like that.