Chapter 68: Test of the Rose Windmill Cabaret (2)
The young mans blade, which had been entering at a perfect angle, wavered and went slightly off target the moment he made a sound.
As a result, the blade accidentally grazed the inner cambium(??) of the trunk.
A hazy liquid sprayed out.This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com
Oh, this
With that, the trimming of the bark was ruined. Unless the inner cambium of that portion was completely cut off, that type of tree would never grow into a beautiful shape.
The blade wielded by the young man might look like an ordinary strike to an onlooker, but Gascon could tell.
It was a highly concentrated skill that required precise control down to ones fingertips, and it wouldnt come out without utmost focus.
In such a situation, anyone who quietly approached and disrupted that focus was bound to irritate the person. And that annoyance was bound to show on their face.
Courtesy is about considering those around you.
For someone who had entered the realm of perfect concentration, there was nothing outside.
It was only going inward.
This was a phenomenon similar to what magicians call a meditative state.
In such a situation, emotions unintentionally surfaced on a persons face.
It was not easy to hide.
Were there no stories of such incidents?
A living saintly monk, revered by many, finally reached the end of a long period of fasting till death. But when his mischievous disciple attempted to steal his last meal, the monk, not even realizing it himself, furrowed his brows and cursed, recognizing that his own practice had gone astray, and he returned to prayer.
Even the ascetic monk who had endured such hardships found it difficult to conceal emotions in a state of perfect concentration.
Irritation. Anger. Disgust. Contempt.
Gascon didnt doubt that the young man would show these emotions towards him for disrupting his focus.
But the old man was surprised by an unexpected sight.
Who are you?
He couldnt find a single trace of dark emotions on his face as he gazed at him.
Only pure curiosity.
He looked at him with the innocent, eager eyes of a child.
Um, sorry. I disturbed your work.
The old man unintentionally lowered his head.
If his disciples had seen this, they would be astonished.
The old troublemaker, a grumpy old man, apologizing to a young stranger.
Gascon couldnt understand why he was acting this way.
He would have preferred it if the young man had expressed anger or cursed at him; he could have brushed it off with confidence
No, I just swung without any particular thought, haha.
The young man burst into laughter.
When Gascon heard his laughter, he felt as though something has pierced his chest.
Swung without any thought?
Gascon let out a hollow laugh without even realizing it himself.
Many craftsmen had reached the pinnacle of their craft. No matter how untalented someone may be, dedicating their life to a single field often resulted in producing one or two masterpieces from the ocean of devotion.
Among craftsmen, there were those who were unwaveringly dedicated to their craft and had no attachment to any other field.
However, it was difficult to find someone who had no obsession with the pinnacle of their craft, even if they were a master who had transcended their life.
Most of them hoped to create a masterpiece that they could offer in life.
But here was a kind of human he had never seen before since he was born.
He appeared to be no more than 30 years old, but the skills he had mastered in his body far exceeded those of veteran craftsmen who had honed their craft for decades, and his experience seemed equally impressive.
Despite possessing such skill, there was not a hint of arrogance or conceit in him.
Where did this fellow come from?
Have you ever learned garden work?
The young man hesitated for a moment before nodding.
If Wonderstein had heard it, he would have pointed out that there was some exaggeration in his account.
He hadnt even received a rotten tomato baptism, hadnt been dragged onto the stage like a dog by angry nobles, and hadnt been spat on in the face.
Gascon, upon hearing the story, let out an uncomfortable groan.
He had always considered Wonderstein to be a fallen aristocrat or at least a court jester based on his appearance and behaviour. After all, a gardener was someone who worked for nobility or a major household. It required a certain status and formality. In practice, it was a profession bordering on the nobility.
He had never heard of gardeners who were Gypsies or wandering gardeners.
Im a gardener?
His smile and the look in his eyes that appeared with it.
The old gardener now understood what that meant.
Such talent thwarted by social status.
If this had happened just a while ago, he would have felt disillusioned by his proposal.
In the midst of his heart pounding with anger and pity, the old gardener realized why he had become increasingly sarcastic and cowardly, resenting the young and finding fault in everything.
It was because he lacked talent.
Gascon, who had become the manager of a tomato greenhouse in his thirties, had not found any replacement talent in the thirty years since.
So everything had become meaningless.
He was annoyed and frustrated with everything because he constantly felt that he had invested his whole life in the garden but it would crumble when he died.
And the reason he had found pleasure in watching the young Wonderstein was the exact opposite.
Only now did he understand the true feelings that his teacher had expressed, saying he was fortunate to leave.
Suddenly, he envied his teacher.
He, too, wanted to leave like that.
A fire was ignited in his decaying heart, emitting a foul odor.
Have my legacy.
Politics, status, power.
Suddenly, none of that was frightening at all.
For the first time in a long while, he felt like he had returned to being a pure artisan.
That afternoon, rumours spread across Charlotia about Sebjeongs support for the Vergsong family in the dispute that had spilled over among the nobility in this region.
Originally, he had maintained a somewhat ambiguous stance on this issue.
In ordinary circumstances, what Sebjeong did was his own business, but many people were disappointed in his actions in a situation where the nations prestige was at stake due to a major incident during an international event.
However, was his attitude all just a ruse?
He secretly dispatched Gascon Halidon, the Tomato Greenhouse gardener, to the hotel where the Vergsong family was staying. Sending the gardener was a way of conveying a message.
In conflicts among nobles, it was common for Sebjeong to subtly insert a message when he got involved.
According to Sebjeongs usual personality, it would probably end with just restoring the garden.
Make amends and go back to his usual place.
However, the audacity continued.
In the restored hotel, a new sculpture was erected, something that had not been there before.
The meaning of it was clear to anyone, even those who had only skimmed the surface of the incident.
He had bent the rose vines into a windmill shape, and even the presence of white roses symbolizing innocence and acquittal sent a very obvious message.
The Sebjeong family was well-known for its generations of strict neutrality and a conservative attitude.
There was even a saying that the one who underestimated Sebjeongs power the most was Sebjeong themselves.
But this Sebjeong family was acting differently.
Was the rumour that the new Sebjeong was more timid and foolish than his father distorted?
Or was it Sebjeongs own disguise?
It hadnt been long since he took office, yet he had lifted his head.
The nobles of Luz tried to subtly uncover clues about Sebjeongs true intentions by inviting the gardener to their residence, but he urgently boarded an airship and returned, so they couldnt ask him.
One thing was certain, the power struggle among the nobility in the Luz region had ended in the victory of the Lord Mustang and the Vergsong family, that much was certain.
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