Microscopes and Canvases - Chapter 62

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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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Chapter 62
“We’ve only been looking around the edges of the marsh all morning. Let’s go deeper now.”
As they ventured inward, the texture of the earth beneath their feet changed subtly. The soggy mud gave way to sponge-like ground, saturated with moisture.
Beatrice grew uneasy watching the black mire swallow their ankles with each step. The dense fog that had begun closing in around them weighed heavy on her chest, and the reeds and cattails that occasionally protruded vanished entirely from view.
A world where nothing existed but black earth stippled with endless colonies of green moss. An eerie silence seemed to press down upon the entire swamp, muffling all sound.
The two moved forward slowly, each step preceded by several prods of the Walking Stick to test the firmness of the ground before shifting their weight.
“Follow only in my footsteps.”
Patrick glanced back occasionally, his voice low and measured.
“Be careful of the moss carpeting—it looks like emerald velvet, but half of it is floating on water. It’s false ground.”
The damp fog clung to her body, sticky and suffocating. Despite her thick layers of clothing, a bone-deep chill seeped through, and Beatrice shivered slightly.
Quiet deepened around them. The only sound that reached her ears was the wet, sucking noise of their boots being pulled from the mud.
She watched Patrick’s broad shoulders ahead of her, following his form as he cut through the fog. Suddenly, a memory surfaced—something he’d told her in the Laboratory before.
All around them, murky pools heavy with black sludge came into view. If this was where the Red Heart Moss had been found, had Patrick Bennett become lost here alone?
Beatrice stared at his back as he moved forward in silence, then glanced anxiously around them. Though he’d called it a collecting expedition, Patrick clearly knew how dangerous this place was.
He who had suffered such terrible anguish had come here alone, deep into a place where no one could find him. Perhaps he had come deliberately, resolved to—
No, no. What was she thinking?
Beatrice shook her head and followed him. Just then, Patrick turned to look at her.
“Beatrice, aren’t you frightened?”
Startled from her thoughts, Beatrice shook her head. Patrick studied her eyes for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the distant peat fields and murmured softly.
“This is where I lost my way.”
He turned again and continued forward slowly, probing the ground with his stick. The deep black pools of mire seemed to stare down at them like the eyes of some vast creature.
“It looks more dangerous than I expected,” Beatrice said carefully, matching his pace.

“It was dreadful.”
Patrick’s measured voice drifted low through the fog.
“When I stood in that cold mire and felt myself sinking slowly, I wasn’t afraid. But I was sorrowful. A terrible sense of injustice and loneliness washed over me all at once.”
He paused and gazed toward a distant hillock where a faint crimson tint seemed to glow.
“I’ve come here several times since then to see the Red Heart Moss, but each time I came alone. Every time I stood on this ground and looked out at the peat field, that same dreadful loneliness returned. The residue of terrible injustice and loneliness remained.”
He turned gently to face her.
“But now… especially today.”
Her honey-colored hair caught the cold wind, and her teal-blue eyes looked at him with concern—both were held clearly in his gaze. A faint, gentle smile crossed his lips.
“It feels strangely different. Perhaps because for the first time, I’m here with someone else.”
Beatrice traced her thumb over the worn Brass Magnifying Glass in her pocket and raised her head.
“Then we’ll continue to come together. We’ll always be together.”
She spoke each word with quiet conviction.
The wind passing across them grew a little stronger than before. Patrick stared at her without moving, then exhaled softly.
“…It is my honor.”
The two gripped their Walking Sticks again and stepped forward into the fog. When they reached the final hillock, they had to crouch and clamber up its slope.
Then the fierce wind swept the fog apart in a grand, billowing rush, and a sight of impossible beauty revealed itself.
“Oh, Patrick.”
The entire world, the whole expanse of land, blazed crimson.
Beatrice had never seen such an intense landscape in any painting. No work she had ever beheld compared to this vision.
Spread beneath a heavy grey sky across the heart of the Peat Field lay a breathtaking sight—layer upon layer of deep crimson satin, so vivid it seemed blood would seep from it at the slightest touch.
“These mosses covering the land are all…?”
“Yes. I haven’t been here in a while, but they’ve grown even more luxuriantly. It’s all Red Heart Moss.”
The two descended the hillock and began observing the moss colonies. Even without the lens, the sheer vitality radiating from them was magnificent.
Beatrice knelt carefully on the moss bed, forgetting that her knees were sinking into black mud.
She drew the Portable Magnifying Glass from her pocket and held it between her fingers. The luminous cross-section of moss, like a ruby fragment, utterly captivated her.
It was entirely different from the dried specimens. Within the star-shaped, transparent leaf veins lay deep crimson sap that created the rich color of the entire colony.
“I need to sketch this.”
Beatrice withdrew the Portable Sketch Kit.
With trembling fingers, she captured the delicate form of the living moss, then turned the page and rapidly sketched the grand, majestic crimson expanse that stretched across the entire Peat Field.
Patrick approached quietly and stood beside her. They were close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. As he tilted his upper body slightly toward her, Beatrice’s cheeks began to flush with heat.
“You’re staring so intently you’re making me shy,” Beatrice murmured, smiling with embarrassment.
But Patrick made no move to step away. Instead, he leaned his head closer toward her.
She swallowed. Her head moved slightly in response to that subtle pull. She followed the source of warmth, drawn toward his breath, reaching for his lips—
“….”
“….”
In the moment their eyes met and held, Beatrice suddenly startled and pulled back. Patrick flinched too, creating distance between them.
What was that?
Beatrice’s mind became a tumultuous mess in an instant. Patrick, standing at a distance from her and hastily lowering his gaze, was equally flustered—his distress plainly visible.
“Let’s go.”
He quickly adjusted his grip on the Walking Stick.
“Shall we move to that section over there and continue collecting?”
The two of them hurried on with their collecting. They had safely placed the final specimen into the Vasculum, and Beatrice was stowing the Portable Sketch Kit into her bag when cold raindrops began to fall, tap-tap, upon her shoulder.
“It’s raining.”
It was time to return. Beatrice turned to Patrick, taking one last look at the expanse of Red Heart Moss undulating in deep crimson hues.
“Patrick. Thank you for letting me see such a beautiful world.”
Patrick started at her words, meeting her gaze. What she had spoken was impulsive, a confession she could no longer contain, swept up as she was in an unstoppable tide of feeling. She pressed on, the words tumbling out more quickly.
“You told me that before, remember? You said you were glad I didn’t leave for Berkyon, that you hoped I would stay beside you.”
His blue eyes wavered greatly, as if seen through mist. Swallowing her embarrassment, Beatrice let the truth overflowing in her chest pour out in her faltering confession.
“The truth is… I’ve come to feel the same way now. Rather than running away to somewhere unknown and starting my life anew….”
But she could not finish the sentence.
A low rumble.
From the lowering sky, dull thunder shook the earth.

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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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