Limited Extra Time - Chapter 39

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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—— Page 1 ——

After hesitating for quite some time, I gently grasped the tip of Millaiyen’s finger. When he showed no sign of pulling away, I firmly gripped his index finger and exhaled a long breath.

“Sigh…”

Carina turned her head in the complete opposite direction from where Millaiyen stood and drew in a breath. The tension made my ears ring, and my rapidly beating heart drowned out the surrounding sounds.

Anxious that Millaiyen might pull his hand away, I stiffened as I felt him squeeze back, his grip firm against mine.

‘…Millaiyen is kind.’

He was clearly a compassionate person. While his words and manner might be slightly unguarded compared to other nobles, his actions were gentler than anyone’s. Unlike me, who barely managed to hook my fingers around his, he held my hand completely firm, as if to ease my anxiety. Without realizing it, I wore a faint smile.

Millaiyen gazed at Carina with her head bowed low, unable to see her expression. He looked down at her hand clasped in his, watching as her fingers trembled slightly. He wondered what she was doing, but then realized she was searching for the right moment to hold his hand. After taking a deep breath and observing carefully, her only action was to grasp his finger. ‘How adorable.’ A smile unconsciously curved his lips. As he focused on her movements, at some point he found himself holding her hand firmly.

‘…’

Honestly, I was a little surprised myself. But I didn’t want to show it. Her hand was always warm—or rather, hot. I thought “heat” was a more fitting description than “warmth.” Her body seemed to naturally generate considerable warmth. I could feel her heartbeat pounding through our joined hands.

—— Page 2 ——

.

“This way.”

As we entered the heart of the Market, crowds began to thicken.

Millaiyen pulled her through the throng of people as he spoke.

Carina hurried after Millaiyen, who strode forward with long steps.

Following the path as Aria had directed, an old building that looked as though it might crumble at any moment came into view.

It was a brick structure common in the Northern Territory, with moss creeping in various places, and the wooden door that served as the entrance hung slightly askew.

Above, a creaking wooden sign hung crookedly from an iron chain.

The characters engraved on the sign had faded so much that they were difficult to read clearly. I even doubted whether this was truly the Paint Shop.

“…Is this place actually open for business?”

Millaiyen Pestellio’s voice carried a note of bewilderment.

Carina Leopold, who had been about to shrug, caught the scent wafting from within and her eyes widened involuntarily before she nodded.

“I’m not sure if it’s currently open, but it does seem to be a Paint Shop.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I can smell paint from inside.”

That distinctive, pungent, slightly intoxicating oily scent of paint hung in the air—a smell she’d grown familiar with from her frequent visits to paint shops.

“Is that so?”

Though his eyes remained skeptical, Millaiyen Pestellio obediently grasped the Paint Shop’s door handle.

The warped, stiff door creaked as he applied more force, pushing it open.

As the door swung wide, the oil paint scent that had been seeping through the gap intensified considerably. Yet Carina’s face only brightened at the potent, dizzying aroma.

“Wow…”

An exclamation escaped her lips as she stepped inside.

Nestled between narrow alleys and tightly packed houses, the Paint Shop’s interior unexpectedly allowed sunlight to stream in from the opposite side of the entrance.

Shimmering rays of light illuminated rows of various drawers that exhaled the scent of aged wood.

Beyond that, a faintly musty dust smell mingled with the distinctive aroma of paper, all dominated by the assertive, pungent scent of oil paint that assaulted the senses.

Some would wrinkle their noses in disgust at such a smell, but for Carina, no scent offered greater emotional solace.

She naturally released Millaiyen Pestellio’s hand and ventured deeper into the Paint Shop.

Millaiyen Pestellio watched her receding figure with indifference, his gaze following her as she moved away.

The palm that had been burning warm moments before suddenly lost its heat, growing cold in an instant.

‘I wish I could have held on a little longer.’

What a shame.

The thought that suddenly crossed Millaiyen’s mind caused his eyes to widen noticeably.

‘A shame?’

About what?

—— Page 3 ——

Her letting go of his hand?

Why on earth?

His mind reeling, he rubbed his face roughly.

Whether or not that was the case, Carina Leopold was bending her waist slightly and poking her head through the gaps between the furniture.

“Is anyone here?”

After scanning the interior of the Paint Shop, Carina Leopold called out to someone.

In response to her voice, rustling sounds came from deeper within, and then

a partition that had been blocking the way suddenly swung open.

“Who is it?”

It was a man’s voice, rather hoarse and rough.

There was another door on the opposite side of the Paint Shop, and from within emerged a man in a shabby tunic, trudging forward while scratching his head with one hand in a languid manner.

Carina Leopold’s eyes widened.

One sleeve of the shabby tunic the man wore fluttered like a flag.

There was no arm where there should have been one.

Where her left arm should have been, there was only a fluttering length of cloth.

Millaiyen Pestellio’s expression remained unchanged, but Carina Leopold found herself slightly taken aback.

“This isn’t a tavern, I don’t offer directions, and we don’t sell oil here—if you’ve come to the wrong place, you should leave.”

The man yawned and answered without enthusiasm, leaning against the inner door.

Dark circles hung heavily beneath his eyes, making him appear utterly exhausted.

Carina offered an awkward smile.

“…I’m looking to purchase painting supplies. I have the right place, don’t I?”

“…Painting supplies? Here in the Northern Territory?”

“Yes.”

“What tools do you need, little lady?”

Carina’s expression grew contemplative as she considered her purse’s limitations.

She needed tools that were both immediately necessary and not terribly expensive.

Carina glanced back at Millaiyen Pestellio, gauging his reaction.

‘…Would he be hurt if I asked him to leave?’

Carina pressed her lips together, her expression troubled.

“Bring out everything needed to set up a Paint Shop for the first time.”

It was Millaiyen Pestellio, standing behind her, who spoke instead—apparently interpreting the meaning in her eyes.

“…Everything, you say?”

“Yes. Scrape together everything. Think of it as furnishing an entire studio.”

“Ah, I see…”

The man’s face twisted grotesquely upon hearing Millaiyen’s words, one side contorting in an unsettling grimace.

The empty space where an arm should have been swayed like a flag with each movement of his body, weightless and perpetually in motion.

“It seems you speak as though you’re some nobleman’s son, but as you can see, our shop carries nothing refined enough for the likes of your station. I suggest you look elsewhere.”

The man waved his remaining hand dismissively as he spoke.

His manner was so contemptuous, as though he were shooing away vermin rather than a person.

—— Page 4 ——

Millaiyen’s expression darkened. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say the man was treating him like an insect. In truth, such disrespect toward nobility could warrant charges of lèse-majesté.

“Why this attitude?”

“What attitude, sir?”

“You show no intention whatsoever of making a sale.”

“If I don’t have something, what else would you have me say?”

The man matched Millaiyen’s sharp retort with one of his own, neither yielding an inch.

Carina, observing the two in silence, shook her head slightly.

Millaiyen noticed her gesture and closed his mouth, swallowing the retort he’d been about to make.

“We don’t need anything particularly refined. The type doesn’t matter.”

“The type doesn’t matter?”

“No, as long as I can paint with it. What I need right now are paints and flat brushes. Do you happen to have any?”

At Carina’s quiet explanation, the man’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He had been leaning against the door in silence, but suddenly straightened himself.

“Excuse me.”

The man strode toward Carina Leopold with purposeful steps, extending his arm to seize her hand before flipping her palm upward with a swift motion.

“What are you—!”

As Millaiyen Pestellio raised his voice and stepped forward, Carina Leopold reached out her hand to restrain him.

She allowed the man’s actions to proceed uninterrupted, as though she had anticipated what he was doing, her gaze fixed intently upon her own upturned palm.

Millaiyen Pestellio’s brow furrowed.

His hand was barely grasping her fingertips, and as he turned his head away, what was the meaning of that infuriating smile?

Whether or not the man was aware of the deep furrow etched across his own brow, Millaiyen Pestellio’s eyes remained fixed upon the hand the stranger held—Carina Leopold’s hand.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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