Ch. 120 It Must Be Painful (1)

Why was it that malice and hatred towards someone was so easy? Unkind words flew farther than kind ones. Gossip was naturally feared, as it deceived people by dressing itself up as justice. Then everyone thinks, are you really going to do nothing? Go on. Move. Hurt and harass. Then everyone was in favor.

‘And so what Louise Sweeney did was evil.’

Louise was lost in her thoughts as she stared at the steam rising from the glass jar she was boiling.

The school year started well. Stella was back too, but Louise hadn’t seen her yet.

Ah, there was one correction.

The school year started mercilessly. The Academy was a perilous place, and as Hesse warned about a while ago, many found themselves at the mercy of the cold season. During class Louise constantly heard people coughing into their handkerchief, and sickness did not discriminate between students and professors. Louise knew that being in a group left one vulnerable to infectious diseases, but she didn’t realize it was to this extent. And so, the faculty and student council of the Academy united in declaring war against this vicious epidemic.

Currently, Louise was disinfecting the bottles by boiling them. She turned her head and saw Ian and Claire swiftly slicing up some lemons. It was the most important part of the student council’s work– the mass production of lemon cheong. (TN: lemons matured in sugar, then used to make a lemon tea. Popular Korean cold-buster)

Next to her, the caretaker was beating Dean for putting his hand in the sugar and eating it.

‘Will Stella be okay?’

Louise suddenly worried about the other girl, but the thought of Stella succumbing to a cold was not the reason. During vacation, the Lapis family was caught embezzling money, using it for gambling, and attempting to cover it up. In the original story, and entire chapter was devoted to describing the bullying Stella experienced, the reason being the disgrace of her family.

‘It was the biggest moment of Louise Sweeney’s villainess talent.’

She began the harassment of the other girl.

‘She took the lead in putting evil into action.’

The original was indeed a hard-working villainess. Come to think of it, it was almost like she gave up her studies and bullied full-time. How could anyone do that?

‘Your notes are a mess, aren’t they? Be careful, Stella. What the hell is this?’

‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t expect you to fall…’

‘You mean Ian Audmonial, who’s been tired of the Lapis family all summer?’

‘I’m curious. There’s no word for ‘shame’ in the Lapis family, is there?’

Louise felt guilty as she remembered all the despicable things the original said and did. Of course, the path changed because she didn’t behave that way now. While she sometimes regretted it, now she felt pride for not doing so. She didn’t want to replay that terrible behavior.

‘Plus I would have to grab the President’s arms and smile and call his name.’

Then she would have to deal with Ian’s unfriendly face looking down on her.

Ugh…the original Ian was not very good either, and she couldn’t remember why she was so enthusiastic over him. She wasn’t happy thinking about that antagonistic expression in those illustrations now.

Louise picked up another glass jar with her tongs.

Cheolpeog!

It slipped from her and plunged into a huge pot of boiling water, causing hot water to splash onto Louise’s arms and hands.

“Ugh.”

Louise set down the tongs and stepped back.

“Louise!”

Ian came running over with his knife in his hand and his face filled with worry. Louise momentarily forgot about her burned hand and smiled. She felt relieved, to be honest. It was not the cold face she remembered in the original novel.

Louise’s smile made Ian look at her in puzzlement, but there was no shadow of hatred. This was a good expression, Louise thought. That sounded a little silly.

“Come here.”

Instead of nagging her, he plunged Louise’s hands into cold water.

“Thank you, Claire.”

“Why are you thanking her and not me?”

“She was the one who prepared the cold water. Though I was about to say ‘thank you’ to you, too. Really.”

She was going to say it, she was just too embarrassed to. She didn’t want to blame him for the accident, even if it was the original Ian’s fault.

“What on earth could distract you from a boiling pot of hot water in front of you?”

Ian then declared that she take a break and brought her a stool to sit on. Louise made herself comfortable and then shook her head.

“I wasn’t distracted by anything.”

That was a lie, of course. She was thinking very deeply. About Stella, and Ian.

Louise gazed into the face of Ian, the man in the center of her thoughts. He was looking around and barking out additional instructions to the rest of the room.

I told you to keep an eye on Dean so he wouldn’t dip his fingers in the sugar. Claire cut herself, so get her a stool too. I need some medicine from the infirmary.

And so on.

After Ian finished ordering people about, he went back to Louise and placed his hand on her forehead. Louise shook her head so that he wouldn’t worry she was sick.

“I don’t have a cold. I dressed warmly at night and early morning. I cover myself well with blankets.”

“You weren’t sick and you weren’t thinking of anything, yet you still dropped the glass bottle.”

“I guess I wasn’t concentrating.”

Normally, Ian would’ve tapped her forehead and said, “Concentrate,” but this time he didn’t.

“Are your new classes this semester hard?”

“Ah, that’s right. There’s something I wanted to tell you about a class.”

“From that face, you’re going to fight me again. Tell me.”

He smiled slyly, as if he liked it when Louise opposed him like this. This man was a real pervert.

“Why didn’t you tell me we don’t actually paint in cultural art class?”

“Did I have to tell you? You asked me ‘How is this class?’ and I just said ‘It’s OK.’”

“You should have told me. It’s not like any other art class.”

After a moment, he ultimately nodded.

“That’s true. In cultural music you sing and play instruments yourself.”

“That’s right.”

“In cultural dance you also dance yourself.”

“Exactly! And in cultural literature they take the time to publish their own poems.”

“But cultural art is more like art history.”

Louise nodded indignantly with tearful eyes.

“You look sadder than you when you burned your hands, so you really must have wanted to paint.”

“That’s not true.”

Louise bit her lip, without noticing Ian wincing at the action.

“I just wanted to take a subject where I had less to memorize.”

Instead, cultural art was an art history class with a whole sea of content to cram into her head.

“Then why don’t you give it up and pick a different class? I think you still have time to reschedule.”

“Well, I did think about it, but in the end…I just decided to sit in and listen.”

“Ah.”

“It’s something I’ll need to know anyway. Someday.”

“You should stick with it. And it helps that the class is quite interesting too.”

“Interesting?”

Instead of answering, he pulled one of Louise’s hands from the cold water and studied it carefully. There was a red mark on her pale skin that looked like it would last a while.

“It must be painful…”

Ian frowned.

“A little. Tell me more about cultural art.”

Louise plunged her hand back into the cold water to urge Ian to continue.

“I meant that the class is like listening to old stories from long ago. Memorization shouldn’t be hard since it’s similar to history class, though sometimes it’s difficult to understand what artists think and how they express it.”

Ian quickly finished off his explanation, as the medicine for Louise’s hand arrived.

“Give me your hand.”

As Ian reached out to Louise, the boy who had been standing next to them approached cautiously, an uneasy look on his face.

“Um, President.”

“Hmm?”

“There…it says she shouldn’t touch water for an hour after applying this medicine, you know?”

“Of course I know that. It’s written on the bottle.”

Ian shook the bottle, which read, “Sweat for one hour after applying, but do not touch any liquid, even if it is water.”

“I’m glad you know. I also assumed you would make Louise work right away.”

The boy looked relieved, and then ran to hit Dean Crissis on the back, who was helping himself to the sugar again.

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