Only then did Elian lower his guard and smile with a much more relaxed expression.
Lorenz’s eyes wavered briefly for a moment.
So he smiles like that too.
His blue eyes sparkled, emitting light with a smile that seemed both joyful and praising. The area below his eyes rose plumply, adding to the loveliness of his features, and his delicate lips—each wrinkle like a brushstroke intended by an artist—curved to reveal neat white teeth slightly.
It was only a soundless smile.
Lorenz felt dizzy as if standing on a boat meeting rough waves. Had that damn PRL level spiked again?
Around 7 PM.
The twilight left by the fading sun was spreading thickly from the west side of the mansion, from the direction of Central Park. The entire street rippled with red light. The cream-colored marble of Lockhart Mansion also seemed engulfed in flames.
Lorenz Lockhart, with one hand stuck in a pants pocket, placed his other hand on the center of Elian’s bicycle handlebar.
Then he tilted his face crookedly and looked at Elian.
“Then, will you have dinner together too?”
“……”
“I’ve been rejected twice, so this side has taken quite a blow.”
“Do you take a blow from my declining?”
Elian looked at Lorenz with a face still holding traces of laughter. He just stared at Elian silently without answering.
He thought it was like a child’s expression. A child openly revealing the anxiety of not wanting to be rejected.
Elian soon erased that thought.
The man before him was a flawless adult male no matter where you looked. The kind of adult male who, for his goals and gains, would meticulously calculate and skillfully pressure until he obtained what he wanted.
Perhaps this side is more dangerous than Joshua, who reveals what he wants directly and pesters.
At the end of the lengthening silence, Lorenz pressed once more.
“Are you going to refuse this time too? Won’t it work even if it’s the ‘owner’s order’?”
At his unexpected joke, Elian burst into laughter and shook his head. This time it was laughter with sound, not just a smile.
Lorenz followed with a chuckle.
It was a short, bland laugh, but it was definitely laughter.
They stole glances at each other’s laughter as if stealing, finding it unfamiliar. In the surging red waves of the sunset.
■
Standing in front of the wardrobe, Elian couldn’t quite make a decision.
In fact, there was nothing to agonize over—the number of clothes filling it was modest.
However, even though it was dinner within the mansion, it was a dinner formally invited by Lorenz Lockhart. He could guess it wouldn’t be a meal of meatloaf with mashed potatoes while drinking beer.
In the end, he chose a black shirt with black slacks. He thought it might look like attending a funeral, but he didn’t have any other clothes suitable for showing respect.
Lorenz had arrived at the dining room first. When Elian appeared, he stood up from his seat.
Lorenz never went around in loungewear within the mansion normally, but today’s outfit seemed a bit more formal.
After guiding Elian to his seat, he also sat in his chair and spread a napkin from under the table onto his lap. It was a signal that the meal was beginning. The employees quietly but efficiently served water and bread.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“We’re finally having a meal together. You’ll be remembered as the most difficult person I’ve ever succeeded in arranging a meal with, Mr. Bellotti.”
Seeing his face tinged with light laughter, it didn’t seem like sarcastic words. Elian also smiled awkwardly, saying it wasn’t intentional.
“Wearing that… your hair stands out more.”
At Lorenz’s words pointing to the all-black outfit, Elian looked down at his shirt.
“I didn’t bring that many clothes. As I was looking for something neat…”
“You said your home was in Brooklyn?”
“Yes.”
“If you need anything, bring it anytime. If you tell Margaret, she’ll prepare people and a car.”
“I will. Thank you.”
There wasn’t really any more luggage to bring, but he answered roughly to match the atmosphere.
“You like Italian food.”
“Ah… yes.”
“Margaret said so. It seems she prepared it with care, so enjoy it comfortably.”
“Thank you.”
The employee in charge of the kitchen approached and personally prepared champagne.
While the glass was being filled, Elian lightly placed his hand on the base of the glass according to etiquette.
Lorenz, who had been giving attention to those fingertips, spoke as if belatedly remembering, asking for understanding.
“I had them prepare several wines in advance that would suit the course. Should I have asked what kind of wine you like?”
“No. I’ll drink whatever you recommend.”
His late mother had also liked wine.
On special days, they celebrated with champagne, paired Chardonnay with fresh oysters, and sometimes enjoyed Malbec with tacos. The first alcohol Elian tried after reaching drinking age was also Malbec.
Tacos from the neighborhood restaurant where Elian and his mother were regulars, and Argentine Malbec. The two had toasted with red wine, sauce on their lips, celebrating Elian becoming an adult.
However, now Elian couldn’t enjoy tacos or wine. He could chew and swallow, but couldn’t taste the flavor. Steak and french fries became dishes that only differed in texture but tasted merely salty. Each dish had lost its unique flavor.
The champagne Lorenz chose was clearly quite premium wine, but to Elian it was just carbonated water with acidity. He couldn’t smell any aroma.
Hiding his complicated emotions behind an expressionless face, Elian put down his glass.
“It feels like we’re at a high-end restaurant.”
“It’s better in terms of being able to converse comfortably.”
Elian nodded in agreement. Lorenz brought his wine glass to his lips and added.
“I don’t particularly like dining out either.”
Lorenz Lockhart, who unlike Joshua Lockhart avoided external exposure. He had known that point in advance through investigation. After actually observing his schedule since moving in, the nickname “recluse” didn’t feel exaggerated at all.
They’re quite different brothers in many ways. Though they resemble each other in face and build.
Elian looked around the interior of the dining room, being careful not to look around too much.
It was his first time eating in this main dining room. Like the other spaces in the mansion, the dining room was decorated in a classic rather than modern style.
The main building of the mansion had two kitchens and two dining rooms prepared. The main kitchen where the hired chefs prepared food, and the family kitchen for use by the mansion’s household members.
On one side of the family kitchen was a large oval dining table, and Elian used to eat there. Contrary to the name “family kitchen,” Lorenz Lockhart seemed not to use it at all. There was no way Lucas, who couldn’t leave his room, would use the kitchen.
Lorenz seemed to eat almost always in this main dining room. He imagined him sitting alone at the head of the large table for twenty, lighting candles and cutting steak. It seemed to match the image of a vampire in old-fashioned clothing from an old movie.
Soon the appetizer was served.
It was Ala Ascolana—fried olives stuffed with meat and cheese—and salad. When he put the bite-sized fried food in his mouth and chewed, the textures of the bursting olive and minced meat harmonized. The texture alone seemed somewhat satisfying.
Lorenz, who had swallowed his food, reached for his wine glass and asked.
“Do you always move around by bicycle like that?”
“Most of the time.”
“Isn’t the subway faster?”
“Not for short distances. I don’t have to go down underground and come back up. And I don’t have to spend time on the platform.”
“It seems dangerous.”
“The bicycle lanes are quite well-maintained.”
“It still seems dangerous.”
“……”
What…?
Is he worried in his own way?
Elian tried to read his intention from Lorenz’s complexion, but it wasn’t easy.
This was the first time meeting someone with so little expression.
To be precise, it was more an issue of variety than intensity of expression. He conveyed emotion with only limited expressions. What Elian had witnessed so far were only expressions like furrowing his brow or the area under his eyes. And the brief laugh he’d glimpsed earlier in front of the mansion.
