Chapter 41.2

Chapter 41.2

Andre lightly raised his wine glass. Miran instinctively extended her glass to clink it with his, then quickly pulled it back and responded.

“Cheers!”

Andre, with a faint smile, held the stem of his wine glass and swirled it. The red wine swirled inside the round glass. Watching him closely, Miran mimicked his actions. When Andre brought the glass to his nose to smell the aroma, Miran, glancing sideways, half-inserted her nose into the rim and sniffed.

Resting his chin on his hand, Andre watched her with a long, drawn-out smile before finally breaking into a laugh. She was never boring to watch. Embarrassed, Miran blushed and mumbled in a hesitant voice.

“It just smells like alcohol made from grapes…”

“That’s right. It’s just alcohol made from grapes. So, drink it well.”

Finally, Miran smiled slightly and took a sip of the wine. She rolled her eyes, savoring the taste, then tilted her head and smacked her lips.

“I thought it would be sweet like grape juice, but it’s more bitter than I expected. I think Majuang tastes a bit better. I was expecting more since it’s imported wine, but it’s just… alcohol.”

Andre couldn’t hold back and burst into loud laughter. If the proud vintner of the Lafayette Winery, who considered this wine his pride and joy, heard Miran’s assessment, he would be furious and overturn the vineyard.

“Why are you laughing?”

Miran asked, pouting her lips.

“You’re really funny.”

“Seriously, what did I do?”

After setting down her glass, Miran scanned the table full of dishes with a look of dismay.

“There’s so much, I don’t even know what to eat.”

Then, with a smile still lingering on his face, Andre served a little bit of each dish onto Miran’s plate.

“Try them and then decide.”

She ate with the mindset that they were like side dish, but before she knew it, it was as if she was in an eat-all-you-can buffet restaurant. By the end of the meal, there wasn’t much food left.

When Andre returned after placing the dishes outside the suite, Miran was contentedly patting her stomach and chuckling at him. She seemed to have already forgotten about the events on set, her usual cheerful self was back.

She was a healthy woman, both in body and soul. Like a resilient weed in a garden that regrows no matter how many times it’s pulled out, it always take root again.

She was different from his mother, who, despite her exceptionally strong will, was born with a delicate and sensitive body and secretly suffered from various ailments. Over time, her frail body gradually consumed her strong spirit and sharp judgment.

After she passed away, seemingly controlled situations began to unravel everywhere. Suspicious rumors were flying in from all directions, and the information Jared had shared upon returning from New York suggested that something unusual was happening. This was the reason Andre had decided to retire early.

His brow furrowed in thought as he leaned against the wall and gazed out at the scenery. The colorful night view stretching from Namsan Tower was in full view, but his eyes were focused on something far beyond.

Miran, who was sitting back with her legs stretched out on a long European-style chair with one armrest high like a backrest, followed Andre’s gaze and looked out the window. The wine, which she had been sipping, had grown on her and she was enjoying it.

She saw her reflection in the window. Sitting in a hotel room in a white robe, looking out at the night view while sipping wine.

‘Kang Miran, the fourth daughter of a Samgang Super. You’ve made it.’

It felt as though she had suddenly become a lady of high society. Thanks to Andre, she had experienced a hotel stay and tasted a variety of new foods.

“Andre, what was the name of that long vegetable you mentioned earlier, aspa…?”

Andre paused and shifted his gaze from the window. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“Asparagus.”

“Asparagus. What a grand name.”

Miran murmured.

The asparagus, which looked like a long wild sesame stalk, had a surprisingly crunchy texture that she liked. She made a mental note to treat her friend Juran to butter-grilled asparagus and melt-in-your-mouth filet mignon steak when she earned enough money.

Miran squinted her eyes and looked up at him. Andre, leaning against the window frame and staring out, resembled an Italian statue she had once seen in a documentary.

“Andre? I have something I’m curious about, can I ask?”

“…What is it?”