[TIDK] 102 – Fuelled By Hatred

“Huh? Ah. My ex-husband left it,” Scarlett told Liz.

Liz’s eyes widened.

“What? Why did he come?” She cried.

‘Because he once again became drunk….’

She wanted to curse at him but couldn’t.

Instead of answering, Scarlett returned the topic to the coat in her arms.

“Why is this coat so heavy?”

“It looks heavy. It’s huge.”

“Yes... Should I throw it away?”

Liv looked down at the coat and spoke earnestly.

“It’s in great condition. Why don’t you sell it?”

“Will a coat of this build sell?”

“I think it will be a little difficult.”

Liv’s face was filled with many questions, but she nodded grimly.

Scarlett looked at the coat again; it smelled like the forest. Her heart fluttered at the thought.

Surprised by the feeling, she rushed back into the store and threw the coat in the fireplace. Liv, following behind her, shouted in surprise.

“Scarlett! What are you doing?”

She rushed to Scarlett wanting to stop her, then halted in her steps.

The thick, luxurious fabric burned.

“My husband always smells like the forest, and his coat smells like it. I hate it.”

Scarlett spoke resolutely. She had to shield her heart from the wavering temptations. Then she looked at the burning coat, worried.

“...he wouldn’t ask me to pay it back, would he?”

Liv said, terrified at the remark.

“Why are you asking me that now!”

“I must have gone crazy for a moment…. Just thinking about him makes me so angry.”

She said as she looked at the burning coat.

She couldn’t exactly tell how she felt, whether it was fitting that she burned the coat because she was so angry at him. The hatred for the man who sent her to the monastery was also forgotten a little after a year. Sometimes she laughed at Viktor, and there were times when she was excited even though it didn’t make sense.

Would she ever forgive him someday?

Scarlett thought as she stared into the flames.

♔♔♔

Abel Crimson hadn’t been out of the hospital for a while. Even if he could come out, he seemed afraid of Isaac and deliberately planned not to leave for a while.

Isaac was going to go to court after he regained his sight and proved that he no longer needed a guardian. Meanwhile, Scarlett ran a newspaper advertisement.

[We are urgently looking for technicians who used to work at Crimson Factory 1. We are looking forward to hearing from you at Scarlett Crimson’s watch shop on 7th Street]

It was an advertisement to find engineers who were fired for pointing out that Abel Crimson’s watch methods and creations were wrong in the past.

They were going to ask them for advice and help to prove that Abel Crimson’s watch was wrong. However, there had been no contact for more than fifteen days since the advertisement was published.

In the meantime, Scarlett went back to her routine. She recently spent most of her profits on buying paints. Thanks to this, she had to skip meals for a while, but it was worth it. Her imagination would run wild whenever she saw the various colours of the paints.

Scarlett took out a glass bottle of rare paint that was hard to find, scooped some of the paint with a spatula and put it on the palette. She then dipped her brush in the paint, drew a line on the paper, and began painting the clock with concentration.

Scarlett, working hard designing the watch, soon turned over a page of her sketchbook and began drawing a machine using a spring device that suddenly came to mind.

Scarlett, engrossed in drawing, was surprised by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and covered the sketchbook.

Andrei said through the wooden grate door of the studio.

“I heard the sound of the sketchbook being closed. Are you doing something else?”

“…must be a ghost,” Scarlett replied jokingly.

“I’m getting sensitive because Boss, you keep doing something else,” Andrei grumbled.

“I was working and just did something else for a second; wait.”

Scarlett muttered as she opened the door and handed over the sketchbook, and Andrei opened it.

As he carefully examined the designs to see which watch would sell well, Scarlett said while looking at the paint.

“It’s strange. I miss my parents so much when I’m making a watch.”

“What do you mean strange? It’s normal.”

“When I was young, I tried not to miss my parents.”

“Why?”

“That’s...”

Scarlett thought for a moment and soon said with an aloof smile like an elderly person’s.

“I was too old to be clueless at the time.”

She closed her eyes, recalling the memories.

“I was twelve years old.”

Indeed, twelve was an awkward age. Where one was a child, but had begun to take on the expectations and awareness of the adults.