Episode 19
“Ah, anyway.”
Randel’s voice was casual as he focused on his food, but Autumn’s cheeks flushed red.
“How can you eat like nothing happened? Ugh, unbelievable.”
“Hoo… Not many people know that the young master is the playwright of this troupe,” Huson added a few words, though it didn’t really help lighten Autumn’s mood.
“Hmm… maybe just a few investors, me, Lord Hazeland, and Lady Caitlyn?”
Autumn couldn’t hide the sour expression on her face.
“Is it really okay to just tell me that so easily?”
“You’re someone I hired.”
Randel took a napkin and neatly wiped his lips in a composed manner.
“And our contract clearly states that any internal matters of the troupe discovered during the contract period are strictly confidential. Nothing changes. Here.”
He casually called a servant to clean up the mess she made.
“Well then. Shall we go, now that we’re done eating?”
‘What the… Since when?’
After the meal, they returned to Randel’s office.
Autumn sat on the sofa, watching Randel work at his desk.
She had momentarily forgotten, but seeing him write again reminded her that he was the secretive playwright. It started to feel a little more real.
“From the beginning? Or since the troupe was first founded?”
Even as she still felt distant from him, she leaned back on the leather sofa, simply watching.
Sensing her burning stare, Randel opened his mouth while still facing his desk.
“…If you’re curious about something, it’s best to just ask.”
“No! I’m absolutely not curious!!”
Autumn vigorously denied it, shaking her head just as Huson came in with warm tea and coffee.
“…But, are you working right now?”
Autumn peeked over his desk as she handed him his coffee.
“I usually write after 8 PM,” he said, glancing at his wristwatch. A consistent answer.
“I’m finishing the latter half of the script. Still need to write and refine about half.”
Autumn squinted her eyes playfully and joked.
“Hm… so you came down here not just for rest, but also to write quietly, didn’t you?”
“…Something like that.”
He accepted it rather quickly—one of his strengths.
“I’ve always written all my works here without fail. Ah, thank you.”
He drank the coffee quickly, emptying the cup after just a few sips.
Autumn watched him as if memorizing how he held his pen again.
She thought she had figured him out by now.
So far, Autumn had understood him to be strict, gruff, but incredibly diligent. Sometimes, she wondered if spending time with her was just taking away from his already tight schedule.
She had once stumbled upon his detailed daily planner and asked,
“Do you really follow all this?”
“Why wouldn’t I? A plan is made to be followed.”
“But it feels suffocating. It’s all just work.”
He woke up at 5:30 AM every day and started his morning by making his schedule.
Except for waking and sleeping, his routine never strayed far from writing, eating, troupe work, acting practice, and walks.
Though his schedule mostly revolved around writing and work, he would occasionally go out if needed.
“But that’s only in very special cases,”
Watching him follow his packed routine, Autumn couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Am I… in your way?”
Her soft voice pierced through Randel’s concentration like a needle behind his back.
He flinched. His brows lifted slightly from the paper.
“Ah~ Now I get it.”
Autumn theatrically touched her forehead as if having a realization.
“No wonder. I thought it was a bit much for the director to send me down here relying only on me.”
“But if you’re this busy, shouldn’t we cut our practice time down to like… three hours?”
“No.”
A curt, yet sincere response.
It was the most heartfelt thing she’d heard from him that day.
“You don’t have to think that way.”
“Why not?”
“…Because the time I spend with you brings more life to the main character of this play.”
“Ah, really?”
Autumn snorted, clasped her hands behind her head, and leaned back.
“Well, thanks—even if it’s just words.”
She laughed it off, dismissing his words lightly.
But then he turned his chair to face her.
Creak
“What… what is it?”
He stared at her and said,
“It’s true that I made an effort to come down here with you.”
“You’re the main character of this play.”
His voice rang gently in the quiet room, heavy with sincerity.
“I… I see.”
“I must finish the script before you return to the capital. So perhaps all the moments I experience here with you will be reflected in this writing.”
‘What a weirdo.’
Autumn cupped her cheeks with both hands while he returned to writing.
But somehow, his usual stiff expression looked… kind of cute?
“I didn’t know. The director really did need me.”
Autumn cheekily poked his shoulder with her finger again.
“Ugh, this damn popularity. It never dies down.”
Randel ignored her and kept writing.
“…I’d like to finish this. Could you step back a bit?”
“Geez, no fun.”
Even as she mumbled, Autumn realized she’d been too naïve for believing him right away and following him down here.
She went back to the sofa, swinging her legs as she muttered again.
“For someone his age, he sure isn’t very fun…”
Even while scribbling furiously, he still managed to hear her small voice.
“You’re doing your part well.”
It was almost a compliment—unusual for someone usually so cold and reserved.
“Really?”
The sound of the pen scratching and its motion paused for a moment.
“Someone once said, ‘casting the right person is almost everything when completing a play.’”
“Yes! Yes! I said that!”
‘It was the legendary director Hardy Oslo who picked the cast himself!’
Autumn proudly stomped her foot, showing off her knowledge.
“I fully agree with that statement.”
“So, you’re saying I should trust the discerning eye of the great director who convinced me to be here?”
She teased him playfully.
“No.”
Randel continued without looking at her.
“The glorious protagonist of my play is right here in front of me. What more could I possibly want?”
“Huh?”
Then, as if contradicting himself, his voice rose just slightly, like he was sulking.
“…You could want more, you know.”
Autumn flinched, suddenly feeling pressured.
But Randel didn’t seem to hear—or maybe he pretended not to—as he continued firmly.
“How could I dare?”
‘Why do I feel like I did something wrong and have to look down…?’
Autumn’s eyes shifted awkwardly.
And Randel’s eyes, looking slightly pouty, still weren’t turned toward her.
