Find the One Who Abandoned Me - Chapter 46

“We’ll need to move him into a new room first. The one he’s in now probably doesn’t even fit a real bed.”

Calliope spoke as if she didn’t even need to see the room to know. She wasn’t wrong either, which left Erben clenching his jaw in silence. At this rate, he’d probably grind his teeth down by the end of the day.

Under her quiet pressure, Erben had no choice but to arrange a proper room for Isaac—right in front of her eyes. Calliope simply told him not to interfere; she would handle all the expenses. Then, she left with Isaac to walk together toward the estate’s front gates.

“If he ever tries to backtrack or push you away, come find me.”

There was no chance Erben would back down for good after just one confrontation. He’d need a second, firmer push later. As she thought about it, Isaac walked beside her in silence, his face heavy with guilt.

Calliope gave him a small, reassuring smile and gently ran her fingers through his awkwardly styled hair.

“I’m… afraid I won’t be able to give back everything you’ve given me.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But still…”

“You’ve already given me more than enough.”

She brought her hand to his cheek, gently guiding him closer until their foreheads touched. Calliope closed her eyes, while Isaac looked at her closed eyelids, his gaze lingering on her long eyelashes.

Calliope said she’d look forward to seeing him again, then departed from the estate. Isaac stood still for a long time in the spot where her carriage had disappeared.

He hadn’t given her anything. That’s why he couldn’t understand her words. All he could do was assume—maybe the person he reminded her of had once done something truly meaningful for her.

9. 9. The Genius Painter

Calliope informed her family that she wanted to hold a small engagement ceremony with Isaac. Both Irlan and Circe agreed without hesitation. Only the youngest siblings showed a bit of protest.

“She’s changed.”

“Yeah, she really has.”

“How?”

At a rare tea time with just the three of them, Carolie pouted as she voiced her frustration. Next to her, Kaphir nodded in agreement. Calliope, sipping her carefully brewed tea, raised one brow. Carolie smacked the table, causing her tea to slosh, and quickly caught the cup with both hands.

“Ever since she got a fiancé, she only spends time with him!”

“‘Him’? Carolie, that’s your future brother-in-law you’re talking about.”

“Ugh! You’ve already planned the whole wedding in your head!”

Carolie gently placed her teacup down and turned her head dramatically, arms crossed in a sulk. Kaphir, who would normally scold his little sister, actually spoke up to support her.

“She has been spending less time with us, though.”

“I still make sure to see you at least once a week.”

“But you used to spend time with us at least three days a week. You helped us with our schoolwork too.”

Calliope gave a helpless little smile and set her teacup aside. Leaning forward slightly, she rested her chin on one hand, elbow on the table.

“Hm. What should I do to cheer up my precious siblings?”

Carolie didn’t hesitate.

“Take me out somewhere fun, and I’ll forgive you!”

“Where to?”

This time, Kaphir chimed in.

“There’s an exhibition by a new painter. Come with us.”

Calliope glanced between them. Judging by how quickly they answered and the way Carolie nodded along, they had clearly planned this together. With a soft laugh, she agreed.

“When?”

“Tomorrow!”

They were clearly determined.

The next day, Calliope, Carolie, and Kaphir dressed for an outing and got into the carriage. When Calliope asked if just anyone could attend the exhibition, Carolie replied,

“She just debuted, so no one really knows her yet. So yeah, anyone can go.”

“I actually helped sponsor her debut,” Kaphir added, “so even if it were restricted, we’d still be allowed.”

That surprised Calliope a bit. She paused to think back to her past life. Before the regression, Carolie had been heavily involved in supporting young artists. She’d helped launch the careers of well over a hundred painters and musicians. But had she really started that early?

“You must really have an eye for the arts.”

“I just give money to people I like. That’s all.”

She said it like it was no big deal but still lifted her chin proudly. It made sense—children of high-ranking nobles were often raised with strict expectations. Still, taking initiative like this at her age was impressive.

Carolie definitely had talent in this area. Calliope began recalling the names of the painters Carolie had discovered in her previous life.

“What’s this painter’s name?”

“Leona. She’s a commoner, so she doesn’t have a family name.”

“Leona?”

Calliope blinked. If it was the same Leona, she was thinking of… Her gaze shifted thoughtfully.

Soon, their carriage stopped in front of a small building. It was only one story tall, but the freshly whitewashed walls were clean and welcoming. Outside, a sign displayed the names of the exhibiting artists and brief descriptions of their work.

“Oh, it’s not a solo exhibition.”

Passersby occasionally glanced at the gallery, but few actually stepped inside. Carolie hopped out of the carriage first and made a beeline for the entrance. Kaphir followed behind her, then paused at the door when he noticed Calliope hadn’t moved.

“You’re not coming in?”

“You two go ahead. I’ll come in after getting a little air.”

“Alright. Don’t take too long.”

Calliope stood quietly, brushing back her hair as it swayed in the breeze, and looked out over the street. She knew the name Leona. In her past life, Carolie had tried hard to bring that painter back—one who had been taken from her. And the person who had taken Leona away?

Clatter.
A carriage came to a halt in front of her, snapping her thoughts. Calliope stayed still, eyes calmly focused on the crest engraved on the door.

So we meet again. Call it fate, maybe.

The door flung open.

“What are you doing here?” asked Otis Glayderth, startled, gripping the door awkwardly. His expression said it all—he clearly wanted to close the door again and leave. Had he still been under the same illusions as before, he might have thought she’d followed him. But that misunderstanding had been shattered long ago.

“I came to see a painter my younger sister is sponsoring.”

“I see. Then I hope you enjoy the exhibit.”

He began closing the door again, but Calliope held it with an easy smile.

“Didn’t you come to see the exhibition too?”

“Well… I did, but I just remembered something urgent.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on out.”

Reluctantly, Otis stepped out of the carriage. He had come to see the exhibit, after all. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he stood beside her and asked, somewhat suspiciously,

“How did you know I was here for the exhibition?”

“There’s a painter inside whose work matches your taste.”

“And how would you know what I like?”

The way he narrowed his eyes made her chuckle quietly. Without answering, she stepped ahead and entered the gallery.

“Well, didn’t you once say it felt like I knew the future?”

Otis assumed she was teasing him again, but Calliope was simply stating a fact.

“I’m joking,” she added with a smirk. “I’m just here to see my sister’s favorite artist.”

He walked beside her, matching her steps as they entered the building. The gallery was more crowded than he expected. It was modest but well-organized—each painting labeled with the artist’s name and a short description.

Carolie and Kaphir had already gone further inside and were out of view. Calliope and Otis walked slowly, stopping now and then to observe the art on the walls.

“I didn’t know the youngest Lady Anastas had started sponsoring painters.”

“I only found out recently. She’s just getting started, so it’s not many.”

“Is everyone in your family like this?”

The eldest daughter was smart enough to give advice to people like him. The son, Kaphir, was already known as a prodigy. And now the youngest, just nine years old, was sponsoring artists? What kind of family was this?

“If you had siblings, your family might be a bit more like mine,” Calliope replied, stopping in front of a particular painting.

Otis paused as well, letting his gaze settle on the canvas. The thick, textured brushstrokes depicted a stormy lakeside scene. The way the paint was layered made the surface ripple with motion—raw, vivid, and untamed.

Unlike most artists who catered to noble tastes with soft, beautiful landscapes, this piece had a striking intensity that made it stand out. Otis let out a quiet breath of appreciation.

“This one…”

“She’s a commoner. My sister is sponsoring her. You like it, don’t you?”

“So this is the painter you meant when you said I’d find something to my taste.”

Otis wasn’t a passionate art lover, but as a noble, he had been trained to appreciate the arts. Over time, that training had developed into a discerning eye.

For most nobles, supporting artists was just another way to show off their sophistication. For Otis, it was more of a duty—he only offered support to those who showed real promise.

That’s why he had come today. The building belonged to an art society he supported. Every month, they selected a new artist and held a showcase. It had been a couple of months since he’d last visited, so he decided to make time.

I’m just following my usual routine, he told himself.

Still, just like Calliope said, one particular painting had caught his eye immediately. If she’d said, I knew you were coming today, he would have assumed she had tracked his schedule. But instead, she’d simply said, there’s an artist here you’d like.

It almost felt like… prophecy.

“I really do like it,” he admitted.

“Good,” Calliope replied with a sweet smile. “Then forget about her.”

“…What?”

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